He frowned in what looked like genuine puzzlement. ‘Why would I try and make you laugh?’
‘Oh, well, let’s see: my wedding night, thatwas when I was paraded like a prize heifer in front of more than a hundred vampires I’d never met before, and then my only faeling friend was tortured and killed by the Autarch, all while hehappily told me her death was a wedding gift to please me. While allof you watched!’ I spat the words out, trying to get rid of the foul taste of bile and terror in my mouth. ‘And you ask why I don’t remember meeting you!’
A loud growl came from the dog.
‘Shh, Max.’ Fyodor absently stroked its head, his smile dimming. ‘I can understand why you may not value the Autarch’s concern for you; these modern times are more lax when it comes to dealing with such insults. But the girl was an upstart.’ He waved a conciliatory hand. ‘She tried to usurp your place, and the Autarch’s authority, Genevieve. What else could he have done?’
‘Sack her, send her off with a flea in her ear, maybe? Anything but what he did do.’ I clenched my fists, gently swinging the backpack, wanting to smash it over his obtuse, old-fashioned head. The dog gave a warning bark. ‘Oh, and just so you know, Cousin, his was the insult, not hers: she was seventeen, only three years older than me, and he’s the prince, the god you all bow to. What was she supposed to do when he started giving her jewels and fucking her? Say no?’
The dog leapt, jaws opening wide, and Fyodor’s shout of denial was lost in its loud barking.
I threw myself backwards, jerking the backpack up to shield my throat. I hit the thick-carpeted floor with a thud that knocked the air from my lungs and the rage from my mind. Stupid, to let my anger get the better of me! Adrenalin flooded my muscles as the dog snarled, and rough hair brushed my hands as the backpack was wrenched from my grip. The dog gave a series of high-pitched yelps and I brought my knees up, tucked my chin down and rolled back and away, expecting to feel its teeth in my flesh at any moment.
Then Fyodor’s deep voice shouted in a language I didn’t understand as I rolled into something hard: a wall. My mind raced, trying to figure out a way to escape as I instinctively curled tighter into a defensive ball, bracing myself against the dog’s attack. Even if it didn’t try to tear me apart, having a hundred and fifty pounds of dog on top of me wasn’t going to be fun. The seconds ticked by, and my adrenalin-hyped senses finally caught up with the fact that I didn’t have a huge wolfhound trying to rip chunks out of me. I peered out warily from between my arms.
Fyodor had the dog up on its hind legs—the dog was taller than him—and had one arm locked around its chest while his other hand twisted the chain at its throat; choking it as its back paws scrabbled for grip on the carpet. Fyodor made manhandling the animal look easy, but even the newbie vampires can peel the roof off a car like opening a sardine can. The dog was losing. I shot a look towards the entrance. The rest of the dogs were still lying there, blocking my exit, but they appeared unconcerned about their pack mate’s plight. I turned back as Fyodor started crooning something in the dog’s ear, speaking too softly for me to hear.
Magic prickled against my skin and I shifted uncomfortably. The dog’s silver-white coat glowed brightly, as if each hair was a live fibre-optic wire, then its fur receded, pulling back into its flesh like it was being sucked in by a vacuum. The dog’s hairless body shone blindingly white for a brief second, and an explosion of magic shattered my sight.Then the light dissipated and Fyodor was holding the pale, naked body of a male against him. Long platinum-blond hair hid the male’s face. For a second both were silent, unmoving, then the male opened his mouth wide in an ear-splitting shriek, showing all four of his fangs. Fyodor jerked the choke chain, cutting off the vamp’s scream, then released him with a disappointed sigh.
Max the dog/vamp slid bonelessly to the floor in a limp tangle of arms and legs.
I sat up cautiously, keeping a wary eye on the other dogs, not sure if Fyodor had just saved me from being Max’s doggy dinner, or whether it was all some devious ploy to make me feel obligated. ‘So the rumours are true then,’ I said. ‘Your vamps can turn into dogs.’
‘Gareth,’ Fyodor ordered, ignoring me, ‘please bring Max his cloak.’
The blank-faced Gareth rushed out of his booth with a white velvet cloak which he tenderly tucked around Max, tying the cords in a neat bow around the vamp’s throat as if he’d done it a hundred times. He probably had, but was never allowed to remember.
‘Genevieve,’ Fyodor said, and pointed at the prone vamp, ‘this is Maxim Fyodor Zakharin, my son, and your cousin, thrice removed.’ He walked towards me and held out his hand. ‘May I extend an apology on his behalf and assure you we both regret our lack of hospitality. I am at a loss to explain his behaviour, other than that his hound state is not always easily controlled.’
Maxim?Malik had called the vamp who’d invaded his dreamscape on Tower Bridge Maxim. I glanced at the unconscious blond vamp. Yep, he was the same vamp. I hadn’t liked him then, or the previous time I’d come across him, when he’d kidnapped a friend of mine and tried to blackmail me into taking his blood-bond. I liked him much more now he was out for the count.
Ignoring Fyodor’s hand, I stood. ‘What about them?’ I indicated the other dogs.
‘Do not be concerned; they are what they appear.’ He brushed a couple of hairs from his white frockcoat. ‘They are well-trained guard dogs to deter undesirables, and also camouflage, if you will. But to answer your assumption, no, the rumours are not true; my form of the Gift cannot confer the ability to become a hound. Max is the son of my loins, but I did not give him the Gift, and neither did your father.’ His face was calm, but his voice held a shadow of regret. ‘That honour was bestowed on him by the Autarch himself, a rare occurrence, for he does not share his power lightly. It is his magic that flows through my son’s blood.’
I briefly wondered if the Autarch’s psychotic tendencies ran through Max’s blood too. ‘You don’t sound too happy about that,’ I said, keeping my back firmly against the wall.
‘My son owes the Autarch his Oath; it is a situation that causes friction between us. He can be very defensive of any criticism towards his master. It is the only reason I can think to explain his attack, for which I apologise once again; it is unforgivable when we have offered you our hospit—’
The sharp end of a stake appeared in the centre of Fyodor’s chest and blood spurted from the wood, splattering my face and clothes. I gave a shocked yelp before I could stop myself. Fyodor’s eyes widened with the same shocked surprise as he looked down. He blinked, then grasped the stake with both hands and started to pull it out. For a moment I thought he’d succeed, but then he shuddered, his hands slipped away and he crumpled to the floor, the blood ruining the sparkling whiteness of his outfit.
Maxim stood in his place, white cloak draped around his shoulders, platinum hair drawn back from his widow’s peak in a ponytail, his eyes still disturbingly pale blue and hooded. ‘Dear Old Dad.’ He grinned, flashing all four of his fangs. ‘He really does nag on like an old woman at times.’
My stomach clenched uneasily as I glanced at the staked Fyodor: he’d been right when he’d said there was friction between him and his son. I looked back at Mad Max, and decided I positively detested him now I knew he owed his Oath to the Autarch, and was of his psychotic blood, andwas also standing in front of me looking way too pleased with himself.
‘Cat got your tongue, Cousin Sidhe?’ He laughed gleefully. ‘Now where shall we start—? Gareth, go and get some help and put Dear Old Dad in his coffin.’ He nudged Fyodor with his toe. ‘Oh, and leave the stake in, it’ll make a nice show for the members, and tomorrow we can charge extra for him. And now he’s out of the way, Cousin, you and I can have a nice chat’—he made an exaggerated show of checking over his shoulder—‘and look, we’re all alone, with no pesky Malik al-Khan around to spoil our fun.’