"Oh no." Vanda sat beside him on the couch. "What's Angus going to do?"
Phil described Sean Whelan's plan to help the Vamps. Then he explained Roman's plan to make Nightshade, and Laszlo's plan to make tracking devices. Vanda nodded, listening carefully in spite of numerous yawns.
She blinked sleepily. "I'm really glad to have a safe place to hide, but I feel a little guilty that I'm not doing anything to help." She sighed. "What am I saying? I worked with the resistance in the last war, and it was scary as hell."
Phil hesitated, not sure how to proceed. "The Coven Master of New Orleans has invited us to stay with them for a few nights."
Vanda yawned. "New Orleans?"
"You're about to conk out. Let's get you to the closet." He pulled her to her feet.
She leaned against him as she walked. "I've always wanted to see New Orleans."
"Gregori told me about this club called Vampire Blues. I think you'd like it."
She gazed up at him with a confused look. "It's a vampire club? I thought I was supposed to be in hiding."
Inside the closet, he sat on the blanket and pulled her down beside him. "Vanda, I have to be honest with you. Angus is desperate to draw Casimir out. If we can kill him now, we might be able to avoid an all-out war. Think of all the lives that could be saved."
Her eyes narrowed. "What's going on?"
"They want you to go to this club so you can be seen. You're on Casimir's hit list, so there's a good chance that as soon as he knows you're there, he'll show up to finish you off. There'll be lots of guys there to protect you. Phineas, Zoltan, Dougal, Robby, and me."
"Oh God." Vanda pressed a hand to her chest. "You're using me as bait."
"We didn't want to. The guys wanted to do this without you. Some of them are on the list, too, but we realized we really need you."
"Why? What can I do?"
"If you're there, we can get Corky to announce it on her show."
"Because she hates me." With a groan, Vanda fell back onto the blanket. "Lucky me."
"I won't blame you for getting angry."
She yawned. "I'm too sleepy to get angry."
He brushed her hair back from her brow. "I'm really sorry. I didn't want you to have to do this. But if it can stop Casimir from killing more Vamps, it would be worth it. I swear I'll protect you. I won't let anyone hurt you."
"Right." Her eyes flickered shut. "First thing tomorrow night I'm kicking your ass."
Phil smiled. "It's a date." His beautiful Vanda, so clever and brave.
She took a long shuddering breath and was gone.
A spurt of panic shot through Phil. He'd just watched Vanda die. If he failed her, she could die…permanently.
By noon Phil was pacing the cabin like a caged beast. He went outside, but the woods didn't calm him like they usually did. His inner wolf was howling. He had finally won Vanda's love, but now he could lose her.
Connor had assured him the plan was solid. There would be at least a dozen Vamp men at the club in New Orleans. When Casimir showed up, the Vamps would attack, and Vanda would be safe.
But Phil knew plans didn't always work. He couldn't expose Vanda to this danger without a backup plan. He needed a safe place to take her. They could come back here, but what if it was near dawn in New Orleans? It would already be daylight here. Going west would be safer.
And he had a hunting cabin in Wyoming. Or at least he thought he did. He hadn't been there in over four years. The place could have burned down. There was no phone, so no answering machine would pick up and give Vanda a beacon to guide her to the right place.
It had been a present to him on his eighteenth birthday, a bribe to make him more agreeable to his father's control. That had lasted about three months. Phil had tried to break loose, and his father, in a fit of rage, had banished him for life.
He'd gone to the cabin, but after a few months, he decided that hiding from life was not a life. He left, seeking an environment that was completely different, and he found it in New York City.
The first few years, he'd gone back to the cabin on vacation. That's when he discovered the letters his sister Brynley had left. At first she had begged him to come home. He'd left a note, telling her no, he could never go back. Then she left letters begging him to at least stay in touch. He entered her phone number on his cell phone but never called. About four years ago he stopped going to the cabin.
He punched in her number. No signal. He switched to the kitchen phone. His heart raced. He hadn't heard Brynley's voice in nine years. Would she be willing to do a favor for him? Would she even want to talk to him?