“I was going to tell you,” Vlad said, a hint of defensiveness coloring his tone. “I was going to tell everyone. All I needed was a few minutes of footage with authentic reactions first. I only told Maximus in advance because I knew Ian would react violently, and I didn’t want to stop him by lethal means. I didn’t, however, expect him to do that.”
None of us had. If I hadn’t seen Ian barter his soul for Mencheres’s life with my own eyes, I might not even believe it.
“I also didn’t intend to do this today, even though I mounted cameras around the exterior earlier just in case,” Vlad went on, sounding frustrated now. “When Mircea’s captors gave me their demand, I wrote back, ‘Ten days’ because I intended to find them and slaughter them by then. Henri’s death and this ruse was only to be a last resort, but the club fire forced my hand. Now this video should buy us a few more days to search for them—”
“They’re in Pleystein, Bavaria, beneath a church that’s built on a quartz-filled mountain.”
All of us turned. Ian was in front of the farmhouse, a satchel slung over his shoulder and blood coating him from the waist up. I was shocked at his statement, not to mention all the blood on him, but Vlad gave him a coldly appraising look.
“How do you suddenly know that?”
Ian smiled. Or at least, that was the closest thing I could call the cold tug of his lips.
“Until you have to pay up with eternal damnation, a demon soul-bartering brand has its power perks. Add those perks to a century of learning all the dark magic I could memorize, plus slicing up our captive enough to get his attention despite the mirror spell, and I was able to yank Mircea’s location right out of the bastard’s brain. Where he is, his captors will be, too. And now, since I’ve more than fulfilled my oath, I’m leaving. I only have two more years left, and I’m damn well not going to spend another minute of it with your lot.”
I was momentarily speechless. We’d gone through so much to get Mircea’s location, to now have Ian give it to us when there was still time enough to save more lives . . . well, saying thank you would be insultingly trivial. Yet how could I not say it?
“Ian, thank you so much. Really.”
He waved as if it were nothing. “I truly hope that you survive taking on these necromancers, Leila. Tepesh”—now his voice hardened—“don’t you dare tell Mencheres what I’ve done. He doesn’t need to grieve my decision when there’s nothing he can do to change it. Maximus”—a nod in his direction—“hope your loyalty doesn’t get you killed, and Marty”—another wave—“you seem a good lad, so stay out of trouble unless it’s fun.”
With that, Ian walked over Henri’s headless body, took the car keys from the dead man’s pockets, and got into Henri’s car.
“Wait!” I called out, running over to him.
He gave me an irritated look but stopped in the middle of backing up. “What is it?”
“It’s just that . . . I’m so sorry.” Once again, words were beyond inadequate in these circumstances, but no one had said that yet and someone needed to. “Isn’t there anything we can do to get you out of this?”
His mouth twisted. “If Dagon were dead, I’d be free, but that’s impossible. I could kill him myself if he were only a regular demon, yet he can pause time. He’d piss himself laughing while I stood frozen in mid-attempt to stab his eyes out.”
I seized on the chance. “I wasn’t affected by his pausing time, so I could kill him.”
He laughed, then stopped when he saw that I was serious. “Time freezing isn’t Dagon’s only trick, poppet. He would rip you into pieces before you even got close enough to kill him. Thanks for the offer, but no need to throw your life away for nothing.”
A flash of rage flooded with immeasurable degrees of oh HELL no! also told me that Vlad would never go for this, either. Fine, I wouldn’t do it, but maybe there was someone both strong enough and immune to Dagon’s time-pausing thing who could.
“A few hours ago, I told you that people see only what they expect to see,” Ian said, his tone musing now. “Yet I didn’t credit Vlad with caring about Mencheres enough to be incapable of killing him. Instead, I saw what I expected to see—someone so ruthless that he’d murder Mencheres despite their long history together.”
“That’s what I thought I saw, too,” I said softly, my heart breaking both for him and for my own lack of faith in Vlad.
He snorted. “Yes, but if I hadn’t made up my mind that Tepesh was a coldhearted murdering bastard, I would’ve sensed magic’s presence from that other fellow’s glamour. I didn’t, and that’s on me. It’s why I’m not killing your husband for what his trick ended up costing me,” he added in an almost offhand way.
I bristled even though I still felt horrible for him. “You mean, why you didn’t try to kill him,” I said, my tone making it clear that he wouldn’t have succeeded.
Ian snorted again. “Among too many other things to list, I managed to avoid one of the underworld’s most powerful demons for over five decades. Think a normal vampire can do that? No, luv. You of all people should know that sometimes, what looks like an ordinary Chihuahua is really a werewolf in disguise.”
Then, with a distinctly wolflike smile, Ian began backing the car up again. This time, I didn’t try to stop him.