"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?
"Hello?"
His heart stuttered. Brynley's voice had acquired the deep, husky tone of a mature female werewolf. Memories flooded back. Growing up, she'd always been at his side. Werewolf cubs were usually born in pairs, so she was his twin. They'd gone through their first change together, their first hunt together. He'd shared his first kill with her. She'd licked the blood off his muzzle, and they'd howled their joy to the moon.
"Hey, I can hear you breathing, you pervert." She hung up.
He stared at the receiver. Now that went well. He started to dial the number again, then the phone rang. "Hello?"
"I star-fifty-nined you, you pervert. Now I have your number, and I'm turning you—"
"Brynley, it's me…Phil."
There was silence. He half expected her to hang up again.
"Philip?"
Now she was testing him. Most people assumed his full name was Philip. "No. Philupus."
She gasped. "Oh my God, it's really you!" She squealed, then burst into laughter. "Phil! Thank God! I've been hoping you would call for ages. How are you?"
"I'm…good. How are you?"
"Great! Now that you're back. You are back, aren't you?"
He winced. "No, I'm not."
"Phil, you have to come back. It's fate that you called just now. I was about to hire a P.I. to find you."
His skin chilled. "Why? What's wrong?" Surely the old man was all right. A healthy werewolf could live up to five hundred years, and his father wasn't quite two hundred.
"Everything's wrong," Brynley grumbled. "Howell is turning twenty next month. He's pressuring Dad to name him Heir Apparent."
Howell was almost twenty? Phil recalled his last memory of his younger brother and sister. Howell and Glynis had only been eleven years old when he'd left. "I didn't realize Howell had grown."
"Well, duh. We didn't stop living here when you left, you know. Howell has asked the Council for permission to become an Alpha."
"That's awfully young to be an Alpha," Phil murmured.
"Tell me about it. He's extremely ambitious, Phil. And if he manages to pull this off, the pack will be so impressed, they'll favor him over you. So you'd better get your furry ass back here to Montana and get your Alpha status. Prove you're the rightful heir."
He sighed. If the pack knew he'd managed to achieve Alpha status on his own, they'd never leave him alone. "I have a life, Bryn, and I like it."
"Are you crazy? Phil, you're a freaking prince here. You can have anything you want."
Except freedom. Or Vanda. The pack would never accept a Vamp as their queen. "Brynley, is my cabin still there in Wyoming?"
There was a pause. "Yeah."
"I may need to go there in a few days. Would you mind meeting me there?"
"I'd love to see you, Phil. I missed you."
"I missed you, too. Can you get there by tonight and make sure the place is stocked?"
"Okay. Are you on vacation? I don't even know where you work."
"I'll explain everything when I get there." He paused. This was going to sound strange, but there was no help for it. "I'll need some bottled synthetic blood at the cabin."
"You're kidding. Why?"
"I'll have a Vamp with me."
"A vampire? Shit, Phil. Dad will have kittens."