“I expected better from you,” Vlad said over his shoulder, reaching for his whetstone. “Either the stories I heard of you as a boy were never true, or you’ve gone soft.”
His fingers had just closed over the stone when something else caught his eye, the gleam of unremarkable steel. He dropped the stone, laid his sword out on a towel, and instead picked up the knife he’d knocked out of the Russian vampire’s hands weeks ago.
It was one of a matched pair, both of them laid out beside one another. Black handles; sharp, straight, functional blades perfect for stabbing. Combat knives, Fulk had explained to him before. They dated back to the nineteen-forties, apparently. Soviet made – whatever that meant.
“Well,” le Strange said behind him, getting some of his breath back. He sounded wry. “When one loses a bloodthirsty master, one tends to become less bloodthirsty by default.”
“It’s your wife that’s the problem,” Vlad said, mostly to himself. He didn’t really care, fixated on the knife in his hands as he turned around and leaned back to brace his hip against the table. “She’s your softness.” He lifted his gaze in time to see that le Strange had bared his teeth, tendons standing out in his neck as he strained with sudden, barely-checked aggression. He smoothed his face over when Vlad’s eyes touched him, though. “The Russian,” Vlad said, showing him the knife. “What do you know about him?”
Fulk shook his head. He went to lay his own sword down, and picked up a bottle of water. When he’d drained half of it in one gulp, he said, breathless, “I know what you know. I read the files, same as you. Former Captain of the Soviet secret police put in charge of a top-secret military weapon. Turned by Rasputin’s blood.” He shrugged and turned the cap of the water bottle over in his hand a few times. “I know he was willing to die on your sword to save his wolf.”
At this he looked up, a guarded glance through his lashes, weighing.
Vlad snorted, dismissive. “That wasn’thiswolf. He wasn’t bound.”
Le Strange smiled, small and unhappy. “Even worse, then. The wolf is his softness.”
Vlad extended a single finger and rested the knife on it. Perfectly balanced. “He comes from an age of gunpowder, and not of blades?”
Le Strange sighed. “Yes.”
“I could tell he was inexperienced. Still. He fought well, considering.”
“Yes, and I’m sure he’d hold such a compliment dear. Coming from you, especially.”
Vlad flicked his fingers toward the wolf. Let him snark and snap if he wanted to. “I’m thinking of his potential as a soldier. I can fight this war alone, but the odds would be better if I didn’t have to.”
A soft sound as the wolf set the bottle down. He lifted his head, gaze direct now. “If you need generals, maybe you should start by freeing your brother and asking him.” His look was openly challenging.
Vlad shrugged and pushed off from the table, curling his hand around the hilt of the knife. “Maybe I will.”
Le Strange made a soft, shocked sound as Vlad turned his back on him.
“Wipe my sword down and put it away, wolf.”
“I’m not your Familiar,” he shot back.
“No,” Vlad agreed as he slipped through the door. “Not yet.”
~*~
“Your grace!” a familiar, obnoxious voice called out as Vlad crossed the main floor of the basement, headed for the staircase. Le Strange had informed him that there was no such thing as royalty here in America, but that hadn’t stopped Dr. Talbot from calling him by his honorific.
He paused and turned a flat look on the man. “What?”
Dr. Talbot quailed a little, but that was normal. “Your grace,” he repeated, visibly drawing himself up to his full, unimpressive height. “I’ve had word from the mage. He’s coming to–”
“What mage?”
“The – the one I’ve told you about. The father of the girl we had here, for a time.” He frowned, no doubt remembering the failure to retain the little redheaded witch. “The Necromancer, they call him.”
“They?”
“Other immortals. Some of them.”
“Hmm,” Vlad hummed, but felt a small inward twinge of unease. He’d heard of the Necromancer, same as he had the Baron Strange. At one time, they’d been the left and right hands of the same vampire.
Their hatred for one another was legendary.
