"Indeed. I often wonder." He pulled back his hood, revealing a half-human, half-feline head. "You may dislike it, Alexandra, but you are Kyn, and you belong to me. I am your liege lord, and I would know what you have learned. Do not force me to resort to less civilized methods of obtaining what I want."
Alex didn't want to tell him anything. Michael had related how angry the other seigneurs were, and how hell-bent they were on going to war. At the same time, she knew from her experiments that heat did not kill the Darkyn. The Brethren could have recovered hundreds of burned bodies from the arson sites and even now be torturing them.
Richard's threats weighed in as well. She knew how ruthless and unpredictable he could be.
"Come on." She went over to the seats by the window, sat down with him, and began telling him what she had discovered while in Chicago. How her experiments on Michael's blood had revealed that intense heat didn't destroy the pathogen, but merely rendered it dormant—even in Kyn blood heated to five hundred degrees Fahrenheit.
"My test results were conclusive," she finished. "Burning may not kill the Kyn. It may simply put them in a state of suspended animation."
"I have read the same police reports," Richard said. "No bodies of Kyn have been recovered from the fallen strongholds."
She nodded. "I think the Brethren are taking them. I think they're setting these fires expressly for that purpose."
"What of the unusual ammunition they are using on those who are able to escape? Is that being employed for the same reason?" At her startled look, his thin lips bared still-pointed teeth. "One hears a great deal while walking in the gardens."
"Did you eavesdrop the last time I talked about what a nosy bastard you are?" She let her shoulders slump. "All right. I think the explosive copper rounds are supposed to slow them down, make them easier to catch. It's the only thing that makes sense. Otherwise they'd shoot to kill, not to maim."
"I have had an accounting made for all those thought lost in the fires." Richard finished his wine and studied the empty goblet. "If your theory is correct, then I must assume that the Brethren have captured four hundred thirty-one of our kind."
"That many." Alex got out of her chair and walked blindly around the room. "God only knows what they'll do to them."
"God, me, Michael, and Gabriel," Richard said. "There is another matter we will have to resolve before we attempt to recover them."
"Put your matter on hold and call your best trackers." She didn't have time for more of his head games. "Our priority has to be to find them and get them out."
"If they are still alive, we shall," the high lord said. "The question is how. My trackers can follow scent trails if they are fresh. We will need someone who can find Kyn being held captive in secret, well-hidden locations. There is only one among us with that sort of talent, and she, my dear, is our unresolved matter."
As Alex realized what he meant, she closed her eyes. "Oh, hell."
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Chapter Fifteen
Chris regained consciousness on a stone floor inside what looked like an ancient prison cell. She moved her arms and legs carefully to assure herself nothing was broken before she pushed herself up and looked around.
Nottingham stood at one side of her cell, his back to her. The contessa and five men were gathered on the other side. A sixth man was dragging Robin, who appeared unconscious, into another cell directly across from Chris's. He tossed Robin inside and slammed the door shut.
"There, it is done," the contessa said to Nottingham. A rat ran across the floor, and she stomped on it, making it squeal as she crushed its skull. "The accommodations are not ideal, but I trust you are satisfied, my lord."
Nottingham approached Robin's cage, stopping an inch from the bars. He never took his eyes off him. "Release the girl now."
Salva gestured toward the door to Chris's cell. "Open it."
Chris backed away as one of the contessa's men entered the cell and grabbed her by the hair. She didn't struggle, aware that the man's strength was superhuman, like Robin's and the contessa's. He could probably snap her neck with one flick of his wrist.
"She is prettier than I remember," Salva said, coming into the cell to circle around Chris. She paused to finger the edge of the silk covering Chris's right breast. "You can feed from her for quite a long time, if you pace yourself. She looks fit enough to last weeks. Perhaps even a month."
"No, my lady." Nottingham finally turned around to face her. His whispery rasp echoed around Chris like the voice of a ghost. "She was never part of our bargain."
"Ah, yes. I only promised you Locksley." The contessa picked up the manuscript from where it had fallen before backing out of the cell. "At last." She walked out, clutching the book in her arms as if it were an infant.
Chris heard a groan and saw Robin was out cold. Quickly putting together a bluff, she said, "Contessa, I went to the American embassy in Rome and arranged a surveillance team to follow me here to Venice. In a few minutes they'll have this place surrounded. Let us go, and I'll use my authority to arrange safe passage for you and your men back to the States."
"Safe passage." Salva chuckled, handing the manuscript to one of her men in exchange for a gun. "No one has followed you but us, my dear, and we are going to England directly." She pointed the weapon at Chris's face.
Aware that she could do nothing more, Chris faced her death with her eyes open.
At the last moment the contessa changed her aim and fired. Nottingham reeled back, dropping a dagger in his hand, and then drew another from his belt as he lurched toward Salva. She shot him a second time in the leg, and he went down and didn't move again.Red blood seeped out from under his body.
"Give me the book." The contessa took it from her guard and opened it, pulling at the top of the binding. She snarled something obscene in Italian, and then threw the book away from her.
It landed open next to Chris's cell, and she saw that the pages were blank.
"You dare give me a forgery?" Salva went over and kicked Nottingham's wounded leg, rousing him to groaning consciousness. "Where is the book?"
Nottingham lifted his head and managed a faint sneer. "Not here, my lady."
"I should have expected this. Once a traitor, always a traitor. Get him on his feet." Salva paced back and forth with jerky movements as her guards hauled Nottingham up from the floor. "I have been patient with you and your demands, my lord. That time is over. Tell me where it is. Tell me now!"
Nottingham said nothing, and his head snapped back as one of the guards punched him.
"I will skin you alive," the contessa promised.
"Kill me," he rasped, "and you will never find it again."
"Wait," Salva said as the guard prepared to hit him again. "Bring the girl out here."
The guard holding Chris shoved her out with the contessa and Nottingham.
"You desire this female, don't you?" Salva said, moving to stand behind Chris.
Nottingham looked away. "She is a mortal. She is nothing to me."
"But you danced so divinely together." The contessa put her arms around Chris's waist and rested her chin on Chris's shoulder. "I was watching you at the ball. I saw you kiss her. You can have her, my lord, and do whatever you like with her. When he wakes, Locksley will have no choice but to watch. Only give me the book."
Nottingham said nothing.
"Very well."
Chris gasped as she felt the contessa's fangs sink into her shoulder. The pain lasted only a moment before she was pushed away.
"She reeks of Locksley," Salva complained, wiping the blood from her lips with a grimace. "It is like drinking that foul Earl Grey tea."
Chris tried to make a run for the stairs, but one of the guards caught her and threw her to the ground, her face only inches from the crushed rat. He kicked her over onto her back, and she covered her head with her arms, trying to protect her face.
Bars clanged, men shouted, and Chris was plucked up and held, feet dangling, while the guard who had kicked her used his fist on her ribs and chest. She twisted, trying to escape the blows, but then she felt the cold burn of a dagger slice across her upper arm.
"I do not have to feed on her," the contessa said. "I can simply cut bits of her away and watch her bleed." She poised the tip of her dagger against Chris's left breast. "Shall I start here?"
"Stop," Nottingham said. "The book is hidden in the nursery on the third floor."
"Lock him in with the mortal," the contessa said as she and one of the guards mounted the stairs.
Chris was thrown back in the cell with Nottingham, who tried to overpower the guard. The others rushed in, and Chris huddled against the bars as the men beat Nottingham unconscious.
The contessa returned, her guard carrying the real manuscript, and walked over to peer at Nottingham. "You did not kill him, I hope."
"No, my lady."
Robin rolled over and groaned.
"You have what you want now," Chris said quickly. "Take it and go."
"You are eager to bid me farewell." Salva walked over to Robin's cell. She covered her hand with a linen handkerchief as she tested the door lock, and glanced over her shoulder at the guard with the book. "You are certain that the old bars will hold, Caesar?"
"We tested them, as you directed, my lady. Just as in the days of your husband, not even the strongest of us could bear to hold them more than a few moments." The guard nodded toward two of the men. "Dominic and Giancarlo will remain at their posts until we return."
"You are not to give them blood," the contessa said. "Nottingham has the girl for that, and I want to know Locksley died starving."