“Exactly. But since you had lost your parents, I’m sure he considered it his responsibility to provide a good future for you. You grew up here in the palace, so no doubt he wanted to make sure you maintained the lifestyle to which you are accustomed. Now that you’re twenty-one, it looks like your betrothed is moving forward with—”
“Who is he?” She motioned to the presents. “Who sent these?”
“The Grand Tiger of South Korea. You’re engaged to his oldest son and heir.”
Jia gasped. South Korea was so far away. It was a different culture, a different language. She didn’t know anyone there. “How could Grandfather do this to me?”
“It’s not uncommon,” Rajiv assured her. “If you recall, Grandfather married two of his daughters to distant were-tiger princes. One of our aunts is now the queen in Sri Lanka; the other, the queen of Cambodia. It makes for good public relations—”
“I am not a political tool!” Jia rose to her feet and paced across the room.
“I don’t expect you to be.” Rajiv turned to face her. “But look at it this way. You want to marry someday, don’t you?”
“I could live hundreds of years. What’s the hurry?” She paused in front of the window and gazed out at the stars.
“You could marry a villager and live in a shack. Or marry a prince and live in a palace. Which sounds better to you?”
The vision of a cave with an underground stream flitted through her mind. Could a were-tiger prince be anywhere as handsome as Russell? What was she thinking? The heartless worm was a vampire. With a shake of her head, she paced away from the window.
“What’s the harm in meeting this prince?” Rajiv continued. “You might like him.”
“I might hate him.”
“He might hate you.”
She snorted and affected an injured look. “How could anyone hate me?”
Rajiv’s mouth twitched. “Well, let me count the ways.” He ticked off his fingers. “You’re disobedient.”
“I obey if the order makes sense.”
“Argumentative—”
“I am not!”
“Childish—”
She stomped a foot.
He grinned.
She blushed and looked away. “If I’m such a terrible catch, you should warn off the prince.”
“He’ll be able to judge for himself whether he’s interested in you.”
Jia turned back to her cousin. “What do you mean?”
Rajiv rose to his feet. “He’s coming here in two weeks.”
She stiffened with a gasp.
Rajiv motioned to her food. “You should eat before it gets cold. We’ll talk again in the morning.”
Jia remained still as her cousin let himself out and closed the door. She heard low whispers as he talked to the guards. No doubt he was making sure she stayed put for the night.
Her gaze wandered to the gifts on the floor. Two weeks? A were-tiger prince was coming for her in fourteen days. If she married him, she would spend the rest of her life far away. Far from her family and friends. Far from the quest she’d worked on for the past thirteen years.
She took a deep breath. Once the prince arrived, she would be immersed in endless ceremonial duties. There was no time to waste. She had less than two weeks to escape from Tiger Town and kill Master Han.
Chapter Three
The following evening Russell was perched high in a tree, aiming his binoculars at the interior of one of Han’s encampments. He’d counted only a dozen soldiers so far. Half of them were immersed in a dice game, gambling away what little money they had. Others were dozing or drinking. Only one was gazing over the battlements occasionally in a halfhearted attempt at guard duty. Clearly, Han wasn’t here. Nor were any of his high-ranking officers.
With a sigh, Russell lowered his binoculars. As much as he enjoyed the thought that last night’s assassination attempt must have scared the crap out of Han, the result was damned annoying. The coward was hiding so well now that Russell couldn’t find him anywhere.
Last night, after delivering the princess to Tiger Town, he’d visited each of Han’s thirty camps, searching for the bastard. No luck. After finding two of Han’s officers, Russell had hidden on the roof to listen in on the conversation, hoping they would mention Han or even the location of a new camp.
Nothing. He’d considered kidnapping one of the officers and trying vampire mind control on him to acquire more information, but it probably wouldn’t have worked. Russell was able to erase memories, but all of his attempts to control supersoldiers had failed. As far as he could tell, the demon Darafer had programmed their minds to obey only him and Master Han.
With dawn approaching, Russell had been forced to call it quits and return to his lair. Lying on his bed as death-sleep had stolen over him, he’d imagined the same scene he’d daydreamed for the last two years. The final battle where he beat the hell out of Master Han, ripped off his mask, and then killed him. If he envisioned it enough, it would eventually happen. It had to.
But then something odd had happened. For the first time ever, the dream hadn’t stopped with his victory. He’d seen himself teleport to Tiger Town after the battle and, on bended knee, present Han’s mask to the princess. She’d been dressed in a golden gown with a sparkling tiara on her head. The air around her had shimmered with candlelight, so she’d been surrounded by a golden nimbus, and he’d thought she’d looked more like an angel than a tigress.
“My lady, I have avenged your family for you.”
She’d clutched the mask to her chest as tears had glistened in her golden eyes. “Truly, you are the bravest, most noble man in the world! Nay, in the entire universe!”
With his eyes closed and his mind drowsy, Russell had still managed a derisive snort. Well, if he was going to dream, he might as well dream big.
“How will I ever repay you?” she’d continued, a tear slipping down her soft cheek.
“I’ll think of something.” He’d stepped close and wiped the tear away with his thumb.
“How dare you touch a princess!” She’d pulled her hand back and slapped the hell out of him.
“Shit,” Russell had muttered. Even his dreams turned on him. And with that final thought, he’d plummeted deep into the dark abyss of death-sleep.
Now he leaned against the tree trunk, stifling a groan. Tonight was looking like a repeat of last night’s failure but even worse, for tonight he was constantly plagued with the memory of that stupid dream.
Why did he keep thinking about her? So he found a beautiful woman attractive. Big deal. It just proved he wasn’t completely dead. Only fifty percent dead.
He snorted. How could a were-tiger princess ever be interested in a vampire vagabond who lived in a cave down by the river?
Perhaps the oddest thing about the dream was that it hadn’t ended as usual with Han’s death. For the past few years, Russell had been so intent on reaching his goal that he had never thought past it. What would he do once the villain was dead?
His chest tightened as an insidious, dark cloud crept over him, threatening to overwhelm him with despair. There was nothing for him to do. No family, no home to return to. Nothing.
Was that why he’d let this mission drag on for so long? Because it was the only reason he had to live?
For a moment, he recalled the way Jia had talked to him in the cave. So alive and animated as she’d tried to convince him to team up with her. Even now, the memory of her excitement made him feel lighter inside. What was she doing now? Was she planning her escape? Did she still have those knives strapped to her calf and thigh? He’d been tempted to remove them just as an excuse to touch her soft skin.
He shoved that thought aside and teleported to the last camp. High on a bluff, he studied the soldiers. They looked bored. Disinterested. If Han was here, they’d be on their toes, for he had a nasty habit of murdering any soldier he was displeased with.
No Han in sight. Another night down the drain.
Rus
sell teleported back to his underground lair. The bat cave, he liked to call it. After lighting a few lamps, his gaze drifted to the spot by the river where Jia had stood the night before. She was the only one who had ever seen his secret hideout. Our secret hideout.
He shook away the memory of her voice as he unloaded the pockets of his coat. He adjusted his watch and caught a glimpse of the tattoo on the inside of his right wrist. Slave, it said. Whenever he needed a reminder of how much he hated Han, he only had to look at the damned mark.
“Why, you bastard?” Russell muttered. Why had Han picked him? And why leave him in a coma for thirty-nine years?
With a sigh, Russell wandered over to the bookcase to plug the sat phone in to recharge it. Life had improved since he’d acquired the new solar-powered generator. The wires from the generator ran through the thin ceiling and up the nearby massive tree to the panels he’d installed on top of the oak tree’s sturdy branches. He popped a bottle of synthetic blood into his new microwave, then levitated to hang up his crossbow and quiver.
His gaze returned to that spot. Don’t think about her. He dropped to the ground, retrieved the warm bottle from the microwave, and paced about the cave as he drank.
He would do some laundry. That would keep him busy. He set his bottle on the table, then grabbed a bucket and went to the river to fill it up. There he spotted the imprint in the sand from where she’d stepped into the river and back onto the shore. There had been a cat woman in his bat cave. The thought made him smile.
What the hell was he doing, grinning like an idiot? He tossed the bucket down and strode away. “She’s not my problem.”
He dragged a stool up to the table and went to work cleaning his handguns. The ritual was always the same, and it relaxed him, helped him focus. Not my problem, he repeated to himself as he went through the motions.
He had only one problem. Killing Han. And what then? His gaze slid back to where Jia had stood the night before. Not my problem. But didn’t she have the same problem he did? Would it hurt to keep her informed? What if he went to Tiger Town to give her an update?
With an abrupt move, he stood, knocking over his stool. He paced about the cave, but it seemed like the walls were closing in on him. He finished his bottle of blood, then checked on his stash of synthetic blood. One ice chest was empty; the other still had six bottles. The ice had melted, leaving a pool of water.
Good. Something to do. He threw on his coat and leather gloves, grabbed a knife and two buckets, then teleported to the edge of a glacier in the Himalayas. As a Vamp, he could tolerate cold better than most mortals could, but even so, the instant change to subzero temperatures was like slamming into a brick wall. He went to work at vampire speed, and within a few seconds, he’d chipped off enough ice to fill his buckets.
Back in his cave, he emptied the ice into the second ice chest and pulled out the stopper so the melted ice could drain into a bucket. This was the water he used for brushing his teeth. Sometimes he warmed it up to use for his shower.
As he pulled off his gloves, he checked his watch. Five hours had passed since he’d awakened. Five hours that he’d not talked to another living soul. Since when did that ever bother you? His gaze shifted back to Jia’s spot. Damn her for making his solitude seem so . . . solitary.
The sun would have set at Zoltan Czakvar’s castle in Transylvania. Even though Russell had enough blood to last a few more days, it wouldn’t hurt to have more. He loaded his empty bottles into the first ice chest, dropped the fully charged sat phone into his coat pocket, then grabbed the ice chest and his quiver and teleported to Zoltan’s castle.
The second he landed in the armory, an alarm went off, the pitch designed so that only vampires and shifters could hear it. Thanks to Zoltan’s head of security, Howard Barr, the castle now boasted the best in high-tech security. Ironic, Russell thought, since he wasn’t sure Zoltan needed security anymore.
After eight hundred years of being a vampire, Zoltan had accidentally re-mortalized himself two months ago by drinking too much of the Living Water from the hidden valley of Beyul-La. As far as Russell could tell, Zoltan was taking the change fairly well. He was so damned happy with his new wife, newly adopted son, and baby on the way that he constantly had a dopey grin on his face.
Russell stifled a groan. He wasn’t going to begrudge Zoltan his newfound joy. After eight hundred years, the guy deserved a break. And he’d always been a good friend. He’d been the one to help Russell adjust to being undead. He’d taught him how to use his new skills, and after Russell had gone AWOL, Zoltan had generously allowed him to take whatever supplies he’d needed from the castle without reporting him to Russell’s old boss, Angus MacKay.
It was different now that Howard Barr was at the castle. The Kodiak bear shifter worked for Angus, so everything Russell did or said on these premises was reported.
Russell set the ice chest and quiver on the table. When the alarm abruptly stopped, he glanced up at the newly installed camera. No doubt Howard knew exactly where he was. Any second now, the nosy were-bear would come charging down the spiral staircase to butt into his life and ask him a million questions.
With vampire speed, Russell filled his coat pockets with ammo. Then he set the box of arrows on the table and pried off the lid.
Footsteps pounded down the spiral staircase. “Russell.” Howard ducked to keep from knocking his head on the low stone archway.
“Howard.” Russell grabbed a handful of arrows and stuffed them into the quiver.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” Howard said as he approached. “You usually wait two full weeks before returning.”
Russell shrugged and added more arrows to his quiver.
Howard planted his hands on the table, leaning toward him. “I heard you saw the dragon shifter, Xiao Fang, last night.”
Russell paused, then put the lid back on the arrow box. No doubt J.L. had reported immediately to his boss, and it hadn’t taken Angus long to spread the word.
“How was he?” Howard asked.
“He looked okay.” Russell returned the box to its place on a shelf. “Han was giving him an archery lesson. Patting him on the back like a proud papa.”
“Sick creep,” Howard muttered.
“Exactly.”
“Look, the next time you see Xiao Fang, give J.L. or Mikhail a call. They’ll come instantly and bring some shifters with them. We’ll help you get the boy out of there.”
“I work alone.”
Howard gave him an annoyed look. “I know you want to kill Han all by yourself, and you’re welcome to it, but this is a young boy we’re talking about. From what I hear, he could start shifting any day now. We need to get him away from Han as quickly as possible.”
Russell slipped the quiver over his shoulder and reached for the ice chest.
“Wait.” Howard strode over to the shelf where he kept the sat phones. “Take a new phone with you so you can call.”
“I have a phone.”
“I gave you that one two months ago.” Howard selected a new phone. “Take this one. It’s fully charged.”
“So is mine.”
“What?” Howard blinked. “How—”
“I’m going to the kitchen now—”
“Wait!” Howard stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “I noticed something odd when Mikhail and I went back to Beyul-La to pick up the supplies. One of the solar-powered generators was missing. And a microwave.” He crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head with a wry look. “Any idea what happened to those items?”
Russell returned his wry look. “Not a clue.” He teleported to the castle’s kitchen.
He unloaded the empty bottles from the ice chest and tossed them into the recycle bin. Then he helped himself to a Bleer from the fridge. He was halfway through the mixture of beer and synthetic blood when Howard charged into the kitchen and screeched to a halt.
Russell glanced at his watch. “It took you longer than usual. Been eating too many donuts?”
Howard glared at him. “I’ll take your hasty departure as a sign of guilt. I always suspected it was you, so I never reported the missing stuff to Angus.”
Surprised, Russell set his Bleer bottle on the counter. “I appreciate that.”
“We would have never defeated Lord Liao or won that last battle without your help.” Howard gave him a frustrated look. “Whether you like it or not, we’re on the same side.”
“I work alone.” Russell turned to open the refrigerator.
With a sigh, Howard lumbered toward the kitchen table. “I was alone for years, and it sucked.”
A vision of Jia flashed across Russell’s mind, but he pushed it aside and started loading his ice chest with bottles of synthetic blood. “Is Zoltan here?”
“Mikhail teleported him to his townhouse in Budapest.” Howard sat at the kitchen table and reached for his box of donuts. “The monthly coven meeting started about twenty minutes ago. It may be awhile before they get back.”
Russell paused with the ice chest half full. “Why would Zoltan go to a vampire coven meeting?”
Howard bit into a donut. “He’s still Coven Master of Eastern Europe.”
“But he’s no longer a vampire.”
Howard shrugged. “As far as I can tell, no one wants to believe it. The villagers went ballistic when he broke the news to them. That’s why I’m still here doing security. Zoltan’s in the weird position now where someone might try to kill him for not being a vampire.”
Russell frowned as he finished loading the ice chest. “Why can’t people be happy for him? It took the guy eight hundred years to get some joy in his life.”
“I know.” Howard took another bite from his donut. “But the villagers are dependent on the tours that come twice a week. Busloads of people come here to see a real vampire castle and spend money in town. If rumor spreads that Zoltan isn’t really a vampire—”
“They could lose their cash cow,” Russell concluded.
Howard snorted. “You could put it that way.” He stuffed the last of his donut into his mouth. “At last month’s coven meeting, Zoltan broke the news to all the Vamps and told them they would have to vote on a new Coven Master this month.”