But she'd done the same things a Malcontent did. Good Lord, he would hate her, too.
Another pull of sleepiness swept through her. She trudged toward the blanket.
Then she heard Brynley's voice overhead, loud with anger. Phil responded, much more quietly. It was a private conversation, none of her business.
But they were talking about her. Damn. She moved underneath the trapdoor, then levitated close to the ground floor.
"You can't marry her," Brynley said with an urgent tone. "Dad will never accept her."
"I don't give a damn what he thinks," Phil replied. "He has a narrow mind, and a narrow vision of the world."
"He's got a lot of power."
"And what does he use it for?" Phil demanded. "Raising cattle and sheep. Buying more land. Raising more cattle. More sheep. And the highlight of his existence is going out once a month to kill a defenseless animal."
"It's what we do. You enjoy hunting, too."
"It's not enough!" Phil shouted. "There's a whole world out there."
"A world of vampires?" Brynley sneered. "No thanks."
A wave of sleepiness hit Vanda, and she dropped a few feet. She shook it off and levitated once more to the trapdoor.
Phil was explaining how important it was for the Vamps to defeat the Malcontents. "This is huge, Bryn. If the Malcontents win, they could take over the entire world."
"Fine," Brynley snapped. "Help your good Vamps win. But don't marry one of them! This is crazy, Phil. You're a freaking prince, for God's sake."
Prince? Vanda shook her head. She couldn't have heard that right.
"And what about Diana?" Brynley continued. "You were betrothed to her years ago."
Vanda gasped. Her concentration broke and she tumbled to the floor. "Ouch." She winced as she stood up. Her ankle had twisted.
She limped to the blanket. At least the stupid ankle would heal during her death-sleep. She stretched out on the blanket. Prince? Prince Philip? Engaged to Diana? This was Wyoming, not bloody Britain. This couldn't be right.
Death-sleep tugged at her again, stronger and more pervasive. She yawned and closed her eyes. Images flitted through her mind. Phil pinning down Max the Mega Member. Phil leaping off the balcony and landing neatly. Phil fighting the Malcontents and surviving. Moving so fast.
Too fast. She gave up the struggle and succumbed to death-sleep.
Vanda awoke with a jolt. She stared into the darkness, unsure for a few seconds where she was. Oh, right. Phil's cabin in Wyoming. She fumbled beside her and found her whip.
A heavy feeling of dread swept over her, so heavy it took some effort to sit up. The war had started. Robby was captured. Marta had betrayed her once again. Dougal was handicapped for life. And Phil's sister hated her.
She rose to her feet. The ankle had healed. She tied the whip around her waist. It was quiet upstairs. Quiet outside. She levitated to the trapdoor and pushed. It creaked open a few inches.
"Oh, you're up." Phil pulled the door open the rest of the way and smiled at her. "I don't suppose you need the ladder?"
"No." She levitated through the opening in the floor.
He took her hand and pulled her toward him. Her feet landed on the floor, and her arms wrapped around his chest.
"You look like a cowboy." She smoothed a hand over his plaid western shirt.
"Brynley went into town today and bought us some clothes." He kissed her. "Do you want to look like a cowgirl?"
She snorted. "How are you? Are the cuts still hurting you?"
"I'm fine. I got some sleep during the day, while Brynley was here."
Vanda looked around, but the cabin was empty. "Where is she now?"
"She's…taking a hike outside."
"In the dark?"
"It's a full moon. Do you need some breakfast?" He led her toward the ice chest. "Brynley brought us some more ice."
"That's good." Vanda grabbed a bottle of blood from the ice chest. She thought about asking Phil if he was really engaged to some lady named Diana, but she didn't want to admit that she'd been eavesdropping.
She took a long drink. "So what's the latest news?"
He leaned against the kitchen counter, frowning. "They weren't able to finish the tracking device before sunset. So we have no idea where Robby's being held prisoner."
"Oh, God. Poor Robby." She set the bottle down on the counter. She didn't feel like drinking when Robby was probably being tortured. "What will they do to him?"