"Why would they die just because their leader died?" Helena wondered aloud. She quickly flipped through the pages to find another story, then another and another. All three were accounts of battles where Niccolo had won by capturing and killing the evil vampires' leaders.
That's it! Helena gasped. "Oh my God." Andrus hated the queen. He'd told her once that he planned to kill the evil bitch. Crap, Andrus was going to kill Reyna, and with her, every vampire she'd ever made would die.
She hopped up from the desk and ran down the side of library, up the stairwell, and then pounded furiously on the door. "Andrus! Open this door! I won't let you! Open the goddamned door!" She kicked and threw her fists at the thick wooden door for over ten minutes, but no one came. Finally, she sank to the step.
Chapter 17
The car radio was hammering some odd House music, when Viktor noticed Niccolo clutching the sides of his head in the passenger seat. "Are you all right?"
Niccolo shook his head. "She's in so much pain, I can't think straight."
"Oh. Thought you were going to lecture me again about the timeless, soul-enriching traits of Bach. Or, as I call him … Baaahhhhch." Viktor made a sour face.
Niccolo did not laugh.
"You need to feed, my friend." Viktor handed him a bag of cold blood from a small cooler in the backseat. "Here, this will help you keep up your strength."
The thought of tasting anyone but Helena made his stomach churn. Yet, drinking her blood, changing her into a vampire made his heart crack into two. What on earth was he going to do? Focus. Bring her back safely first, he reminded himself.
"I will be fine."
Viktor shook his head. "You are far from fine. As your friend, I am telling you that you are a liability. You couldn't even kill an annoying Cocker Spaniel. You're too weak."
Viktor was right. Always the voice of reason. But it was Niccolo's decision to defy Andrus' instructions. Niccolo wasn't stupid enough to hand Reyna over. If anything happened to that crazy shrew, he and his men would die. Niccolo also didn't believe for one moment that Andrus would kill Helena as the note said. Not after he'd seen Andrus kissing her so passionately in the bar a few nights ago. The memory made him grind his teeth.
Andrus likely wanted her for himself once he got Reyna and Niccolo out of the picture. How could he have let Helena go off with that cretin? Yes, Niccolo felt devastated by what he'd almost done to her in bed. But his need to keep her safe caused him to overreact, a fact he sorely regretted.
Niccolo turned his head and stared out the window towards the wrought iron fence that surrounded the entire Demilord compound. Somewhere on the other side of the thicket was their mansion. And Helena. No vampire had ever successfully penetrated the grounds. It was warded in every possible way. Some even said mosquitoes could not enter.
"I cannot let you go in alone," Niccolo groaned, barely able to speak from the throbbing pain in his head. "She is my bride. My responsibility."
"I won't be alone. We are twenty." Viktor sighed. "My friend, over the centuries you have saved my life in battle more times than I care to count. You kept my family safe so that I could watch my children and grandchildren grow. You stayed by my side when I had to watch each of them die from old age, unable to comfort or help them. You saved me from a life of darkness. Please, brother, it is my time to do this one thing for you."
Niccolo knew Viktor would go regardless, once he'd made up his mind, he didn't change it. Stubborn bastard. That's why he liked him so much.
"Buon, be careful. If anything happens, we shall rendezvous at our meeting spot."
Viktor nodded. "I hope this works." Viktor glanced at Niccolo's tattooed arm.
Niccolo lifted the sleeve of his black t-shirt. "What else could it be for?"
"A useless decoration?"
Niccolo shook his head. "No. Cimil is known for pulling this kind of crap. Did I ever tell you how I found her? About the legend of the Spanish monk I uncovered in an old text?"
Viktor's brows furrowed. "Not sure I want to know."
"Word had traveled to the church about a Mayan legend of a powerful seer in southern Mexico. The monk had been plagued by years of violent dreams of his brothers turning on one and other in a murderous rampage. Desperate to stop his nightmares from becoming reality, the monk traveled for months to reach her. And when he finally did, she merely said, ‘Sorry. Can't give you the time of day.' But the determined monk wouldn't give up. He stayed in the jungle, living at the edge of the cenote-her portal-waiting for her to pass through, which she did on numerous occasions. Each time, she simply repeated her words."
"I'm guessing the story doesn't end well," Viktor frowned.
Niccolo's eyes grew darker. "The poor monk died of a fever, but the local priest documented that there was a date tattooed across the monk's chest. At his burial, an agitated, strange redhead appeared out of nowhere. She said, ‘What the hell happened to him? I gave the guy the date of the massacre so he could stop it! I tattooed the goddamned thing on his chest so he wouldn't forget. I mean, really, just because I didn't know the exact time of day. Men!"
Niccolo paused. "I'm guessing Cimil gives people help when they ask, but doesn't provide detailed instructions. Either that, or she simply enjoys watching them squirm."
Viktor nodded. "Well, now that I'm feeling inspired by your uplifting story, I guess we should test your theory."
Niccolo nodded and re-read the tattoo on his arm. It translated as, "True to the gods, you shall enter. I brake for leather pants and garage sales."
Niccolo once again felt his stomach churn. Cimil had a cruel sense of humor to create a spell using those words, but she was beyond twisted for tattooing the damned thing on his arm. He focused his thoughts away from throttling her. If luck smiled upon him, there'd be time for that diversion later. For the moment, he had no choice but to trust that she'd carefully planned this moment.
"But are you certain you translated the symbols correctly?"
Niccolo nodded. "Sì. And when I see her again, she's going to pay. Especially if I find out her little spell doesn't work."
Viktor opened the car door and stepped onto the dark street. The other men, who'd been eagerly waiting in a row of black vans behind them, exited their vehicles and melted into the night.
For the first time in a millennium, Niccolo prayed. May his men return unharmed with Helena safely in their possession.
"Safe to the gods, you shall enter. I brake for garage sales and leather pants."
Dea pazzesca, Cimil. This better work.
***
Slumped against the locked door, Helena sobbed for over thirty minutes before her wits returned. She couldn't give up. Not yet. Not when Niccolo's life was on the line. It didn't matter what he'd done or how badly his rejection hurt. She still loved him and had to do something to keep Andrus from killing the queen-and therefore Niccolo. Sooner or later, Andrus would return to check on her, and she was going to be ready.
She marched back down the stairs and began searching the library for a weapon.
Books, shelves, a desk, and lights. Nothing useful. She did another lap around the enormous room to make sure she didn't miss anything.
She sighed loudly. There had to be another way to warn Niccolo! If he could feel her emotions, could he hear her thoughts too? Anything was worth a try. If you can hear me, Niccolo, Andrus wants to kill the queen. Don't come for me. Don't bring Reyna here.
"He can't hear you, ya know."
Helena jumped. There was a petite woman with long red hair standing in front of her. She wore pink leather hot pants and a half-tee with Saucy Trollope written in purple glitter.
The woman winked. "But I can."
Helena hated to ask; the woman radiated hazard, "And you are?"
The woman lifted her pasty hand over her heart. "You wound me. I am Cimil, your divine cheerleader and sponsor of chaos. And you are a very, very naughty human." She shook her finger.
"Sorry?" The woman seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. "You wouldn't happen to drive a taxi or have a gay brother who gives kissing lessons, would you?" Helena asked.
Cimil pointed innocently at her own chest. "Me? Nooo."
Helena frowned. "Sorry, but who are you, again?"
"You should be sorry! You've totally ruined my fun. You just had to make the one choice that would tip the scales of fate toward the bad guys so when the apocalypse comes, they win."
"Apocalypse?"
Cimil perched her hand on one hip and shook her finger again. "Now the other gods are totally peeved at me, and I have to do all the cleanup to set everything on the right path again."
Gods? Cimil? The name suddenly clicked. "Oh my god, you're the one who put Niccolo to sleep."