Adrian's face was plastered up against the window, his eyes almost white with fury.
"Onkel Saer!" Damian gasped, lapsing into German as he flung himself back in his seat, one hand thrown up protectively as if to ward off a blow.
Adrian snarled a curse, yanking the steering wheel to the side in an attempt to dislodge Saer. We spun through a red light, barely missing a big lorry, the sounds of crumpling metal and breaking glass that trailed us through the intersection giving testament that others weren't so lucky. I sent up a little prayer that no one was hurt as I scrambled under the van seat until my hand closed around a familiar-shaped object. I opened the leather-bound volume, squinting in the dim light provided by the street-lamps to find the charm meant to stop an ejection curse. I found the pertinent words, grabbing Adrian's shoulder to tap into the blackness inside him.
"Adulterinus succenturio!" I yelled, throwing every ounce of purpose I had into the demand that Saer be displaced. I had forgotten that I still wore the ring. Adrian was right about its powers—not only had it protected me earlier so I felt not even the slightest sense of strain when charming Damian's curse, now it took a simple ejection curse and added the equivalent of a nuclear-powered wallop to it. One moment Saer was slamming his fist through the windshield, grabbing for a screaming Damian, the next he was flung to the side, splatting against a wall of the museum.
Adrian looked back at where I knelt on my pile of mummies, the charm book clutched in my hands. "Remind me never to make you angry while you're wearing that ring," he said.
I started to smile at him, but saw through the cracked windshield another familiar figure as it stepped into the street before us. "Adrian!" I shrieked, pointing.
His eyes narrowed as he beheld the figure of Christian, standing in the middle of the street holding up a hand in a command for us to stop. The van jumped forward as Adrian stomped on the accelerator, clearly intending to run down the other vampire.
"No, you can't!" I yelled, jerking on his shoulder. "Don't kill him!"
"Why not?" Adrian growled, his fingers tense on the steering wheel as the van hurtled directly toward Christian. The stupid man just stood there, inviting Adrian to run him over, but I couldn't stand that. Not that I cherished any warm feelings for him—he'd done his worst to try to kill Adrian—but when we were so close to regaining Adrian's soul, I wasn't about to let him blow it on a hasty act of revenge.
"Because you don't have your soul yet!"
"I told you—that was because Asmodeus's curse continues to bind me. If that was removed, I could reclaim my soul."
"Not if you go around…" I glanced over to where Damian was crouched against the back of his seat. His eyes were wide with horror as he watched Christian loom up before us. "Not if you kill someone without just cause. You can't run him down, Adrian. Please, don't do this. Don't risk everything for a fleeting moment of pleasure."
"Papa?" Damian asked, his face a mask of worry as the van approached Christian.
The vampire just stood there, as if he were giving Adrian the choice to kill him or not.
"Verdammt noch mal!" Adrian spat in German, jerking on the steering wheel at the very last second. The van's tires, not used to such driving, screamed on the asphalt as we spun around in almost a 180-degree turn. Inside the van, both Damian and I screamed, the mummies' high-pitched shrieks cut off as the van sideswiped three parked cars with a great crashing and squealing of metal upon metal. The engine coughed, sputtered, then died in a glorious silence.
A silence that was quickly filled by the sound of sirens racing toward us.
"Quickly, you must come with me!"
I pushed off the mummified body that lay across my head and looked in utter disbelief at the man who yanked open Damian's door and pulled the boy out of the wreckage.
"What—" I started to ask as Adrian lunged across the seat—the driver's side of the van was crumpled in, effectively locking the door—and threw himself on Christian with a snarl of rage so intense it raised the hairs on the back of my head. "Adrian, don't you dare kill Christian! I forbid it! Dammit, Ginger, stop hugging my legs. I need them. Let go of me, all of you!"
The mummies protested with distressed little noises my climbing over them to the passenger-side front door. I ignored them, half falling from the van to stagger over to where Adrian held Christian by the neck.
"Let go of him, Adrian," I said, watching as the blue lights down the road grew brighter. "We can't fight everyone."
"Nor do you have to," Christian said, his voice just a smidge hoarse. I had to give the vamp credit—I doubt that anyone else could have been throttled by Adrian and still be able to talk. "I am not your enemy. I am here to help you."
"I don't believe you," Adrian hissed. "You lie."
I shook my head at him, tugging on his arm. Damian stood behind the protection of his father, watching us all with bright, interested eyes. He didn't look afraid of Christian as he had Saer. "It doesn't matter if he's lying or not," I said. "We have to run. That traffic jam you left at the last intersection isn't going to stop the police for long."
Christian held up his hand. "I know now that it is Saer who is responsible for your son being held by Asmodeus, and that is the reason you sought the ring. I offer you my protection against your brother."
The mummies made it out of the van in one piece, hurrying toward us with happy little cries. An approaching car caught the weird trio in its headlights. The terrified driver slammed on the brakes, immediately shifted into reverse, and backed down the road until it crashed into an oncoming truck.
"Why would you offer to help us now when you have tried to kill me so many times in the past?" Adrian asked, his face hard with anger.
"It is your Beloved who made me realize the truth."
"She's your Beloved? Oh, no, now we're never going to get rid of her," Damian moaned.
I jerked Adrian's arm, ignoring the warning growl that resulted, shoving myself between the two men until I had Adrian's attention. "Look, it doesn't matter why he's had a change of heart, he has. So let's take advantage of it, because those guys"—I pointed down the street to where a phalanx of police cars was trying to circumnavigate the multi-car pile-up that blocked the intersection—"aren't going to take long before they go around the block! We've got to get out of here or we'll spend the rest of our unnatural lives in jail for antiquities theft."
"There is a threat much greater than the police," Christian added. His black eyes met Adrian's. "Your brother has raised an army, and is joined by Sebastian. Together they seek to destroy you, your Beloved, and your son."
Adrian hesitated. I put my hand on his chin and turned his face so he was looking at me. I was pinned between the two men, Adrian still holding Christian in a death grip. "We have no choice, love. We've run out of options. We have to trust him."
"You ask me to trust the man who just a few days ago planned to execute me? The man who would see you dead without a single regret? Why do you ask this of me?"
"I give you my word that I will not harm any of you," Christian said quietly.
I ignored him as I leaned forward to brush a kiss against Adrian's lips. Damian made gagging noises. "Why do I trust him? Simple, lambykins. He's the only man who's shown the good sense to believe what I tell him."
Chapter Eighteen
"I don't like this."
"I know you don't, my little spaetzel. But I am too worn out to run from both the police and your murderous twin, and Damian's looking peaky, plus Christian did apologize for trying to kill us earlier."
"I wasn't talking about that. It's your lamentable habit of using completely unsuitable love names for me that gives me grief," Adrian groused. "I am not a lambypie, nor am I a spaetzel."
"I believe it is a habit common to Americans." Christian, who was escorting us down a hallway toward the bedrooms of his house in a classy section of London, cocked an eyebrow at Adrian. "Has she called you snugglebunny yet? It is a particularly loathsome appellation, and yet American women seem to find it strangely charming. My own Beloved uses it frequently."
"Snugglebunny!" Adrian shot an outraged glare over his shoulder at me, silencing my giggles. "She would not dare. I am the Betrayer!"
Christian paused before a door, sweeping it open with a grand gesture for me to enter. "To set matters correct, I would never have killed you, Charmer. It was only the Betrayer's death we sought. I trust you will be comfortable in here."
I looked around the large bedroom, too tired to care even if we were back at Belinda's back room with the narrow cot. I rallied a smile, poking Adrian in the side with my elbow. "Thank you, it looks wonderful. Doesn't it look wonderful, honey pants?"
Christian rolled his eyes. Adrian scowled. "The room is tolerable."
"Mister Gratitude," I said under my breath as I turned to Christian. "Please excuse Adrian. He really is a nice man beneath that harsh exterior."
"I am the Betrayer. I am not nice."
Christian looked as if he wanted to smile but didn't dare.
"He's just not used to having anyone do anything for him," I told him.