I blinked. "What?" He laughed, and it was a full-throated, sexy sound, one that I was fairly sure the guy I'd met blubbering over his candles would never give. "Have you forgotten me so soon? When we met only last night?”
"Last night?" It took a second, but light dawned. "You're that spirit from the ball!”
"Incubus, please, my lady." I jerked in surprise. So that's what it was. I'd seen plenty of incubi, but never outside a host. "May I presume upon our acquaintance to ask why you are here?”
"You first.”
He sighed. "I would prefer not to use this body any longer than necessary. It is in a large amount of discomfort. Trust the master to scupper my plans without even knowing what they are.”
"What plans?" It was making my neck hurt just to look at him. I moved so Stoker's head wouldn't be at that crazy angle anymore.
"But that is what we need to discuss.”
"Look, I really don't have time to chat!" I tried to move past him, but the large body was blocking the door. "Get out of my way." I could move him, of course-even without feeding recently, Augusta was stronger than a human-but I didn't want to hurt Stoker. He'd had enough of that for one night.
"No, I do not think so. As I recall, I did you something of a favor at our last meeting. I expect you to return it.”
"Return it how?" I didn't like where this conversation was headed.
"I require a body for the evening, and this one has been rendered useless. It will collapse at any moment. I need a strong body, and yours will do nicely.”
I backed up a step. "You can't invade vampires.”
"No, but you can see me even without a body, as you proved at our first meeting. Very well. I will give directions, and you will follow them, and we will let this poor fellow go off to his soft bed and his shrewish wife.”
"I don't have time to help you. I have my own job to do.”
He smiled gently. "Yes. You wish to help Lord Mircea imprison his dastardly brother and make Europe safe from his fiendish ways once more, am I right?" He laughed at my expression, and again it was that goose-bump-inducing sound. "I saw you with Mircea at the ball. I see his mark on you now.”
He paused because we both heard it at the same time-the ring of steel on steel from somewhere nearby. That would be all I needed, for Dracula to kill Mircea before Myra had the chance! I pushed at him, but he grasped my arm.
"Tell me, am I right? Is that why you are here-to save his life?”
I threw him off violently, not caring at the moment that poor Stoker's hand hit the wall with a bone-crunching thump. "Yes! Now get out of my way!”
I ran past him, fairly flying toward the stage, and reached the wings in record time. On the boards, two figures were engaged in a sword fight like nothing I'd ever seen. Power sizzled and crackled around them, brighter than the sparks that were struck off their swords. I concentrated on Mircea, but if he'd been hurt there was no sign of it. He wore a white shirt open at the throat, and there were no bloodstains on it that I could see. His hair had come out of its usual clip and it followed his motions, whip cracking around his lean form as he flowed through complex moves with deadly grace. I blinked and looked away, forcing myself to concentrate. When I looked back, I got my first glimpse of his legendary brother.
Usually, I get a tingle up my spine when I see a vamp, but there was nothing this time. I wasn't sure whether that was because I was in Augusta 's body, or because my brain was too busy screaming to focus. There was a strong sense of wrongness emanating from the vamp like nothing I'd ever felt. It was like the danger in the room had coalesced into a red mist, as if there was blood in the air. It went well with his dead white face and burning green eyes, the color of emeralds on fire. It did not go well with Augusta 's instincts, which were practically begging me to run.
The two vampires flowed through the motions of battle like it was silent, deadly poetry. Even with Augusta's senses I had trouble following them, their blades were striking so quickly. The sound of clashing metal echoed around the theatre like machine-gun fire, and every time I blinked they'd moved yards away from where they'd just been.
I clutched the curtains, watching with my stomach in my throat as Mircea flung himself to the ground, barely evading a savage slash from his brother's sword. He flicked his own saber at his assailant's ankles, but Dracula leaped, clearing the blade easily. By the time he landed, Mircea was back on his feet and they were off again.
" 'Out, out brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more.'" I had been so intent on the combat, I hadn't sensed the Stoker's arrival until he started quoting.
"What do you want?”
"I told you before, dear lady-your help.”
"I'm busy," I snapped. Dracula flipped over his brother's head, his sword slashing downward, and if Mircea hadn't moved even faster than Augusta could see, it would have been over.
"Is it your plan to stand by and watch as they kill each other?" Dracula's blade had nicked Mircea's left arm, splattering his shoulder and chest with red, and I didn't think it would be the last time. Mircea was rumored to be a better-than-average duelist, but it looked to me like his younger brother was the faster of the two. It was a tiny difference, a fraction of a fraction of a second, maybe caused by the wound Dmitri had inflicted the night before. But sooner or later, it would be enough. And if Mircea lost, I somehow doubted Vlad had prison in mind for him.
"Who would have thought," the incubus murmured softly, a silken whisper in my ear, "the old man to have so much blood in him?”
Their shadows flickered in and out of the scenery, soaring against the back wall in a deadly dance. Something clicked as I watched them. I'd seen this before. It was the same scene as in my vision-the one that ended with Mircea's ghastly death. I swallowed thickly and turned to the incubus. "What's your plan?”
He pointed out a very familiar-looking box behind the curtains. I grabbed it with a sense of profound relief. I'd been wondering what to do about Myra since I'd left my box in a backpack somewhere in Faerie. She might be playing for the ultimate stakes, but I wasn't thrilled about having another death on my hands. Even hers.
"What's your interest in this?" I asked when I returned with the trap.
"The same as yours. We have much in common, I think. We both love dangerous creatures.”
"You're Dracula's lover?" It looked like Stoker had gotten one thing right, after all. Only he'd put succubi in his novel. A nod to nineteenth-century morality, I guessed.
"I have waited many years for my master's release," the spirit said, "but it will profit neither of us if he is killed shortly thereafter. The Senate knows he is near-I spent most of the night laying false trails, but they will not work for long. They are coming. My master does not believe that imprisonment is better than death, but I feel otherwise.”
Things suddenly made more sense. "That's why you helped me at the ball. You wanted Mircea alive so he can trap Dracula.”
The spirit blinked Stoker's eyes at me. "Next year or next decade, I will find a way to free him again. As long as he is alive there is hope.”
"So you want to trap him to save him? He won't thank you.”
"Perhaps; perhaps not. What does it matter to you?”
He had a point. And with Dracula safely tucked away, Mircea would have no reason to hang around this death trap. I held out the box. "Okay, so tell me how to work this thing.”
A couple of minutes later I was crawling behind the scenery, the box in my pocket and doubt in my mind. If the incubus was playing me I was in a lot of trouble; if not, I was still in a lot of trouble, but at least one problem would be solved. Of course, I should have known better-I never get one mess cleaned up before another makes an appearance.
This time was no exception. Myra flashed in so close to the fight that she might have been skewered had the two opponents not broken apart at just that moment, pulling back from an impasse. Dracula did something that caused Mircea to stumble-it was so fast I didn't see it-and he whirled to face the new threat. But before he could run her through, a dark shape plummeted from the rafters overhead and would have landed on him like an anvil if his reflexes hadn't been so sharp.