And she …

… Went dark.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

OLIVER

I had been waiting for this moment, and finally it had come. Our enemies, vulnerable. Our future, finally visible, if only we could reach out and take it. On that far horizon was freedom from the fear vampires had carried in their bones since before I’d been made immortal.

Freedom to rule unchallenged, again.

Whatever magic Myrnin had worked, there was no doubt that if he said such drab stuff as this powder would work against the draug, it would work; he was insane, and of doubtful loyalty to me, but on one front he had always been unshakable, and that was his commitment to destroying our enemies. Even when it had been advisable to run, perhaps necessary, he had been one to argue for the fight.

We had that in common, unlikely as it seemed.

His message over the radio had been simple: The powder in the drum in the lab will kill the draug. You will find them at the locations marked on the map. Dispatch your teams. Destroy them all. Myrnin was capable of surprising ruthlessness when pushed. We had that in common, too.

But it was the other part of the message that had startled me. Myrnin had, I realized, known all along how this would end. It was a measure of him that he had not given me any indication of that—or, as far as I understood it, anyone. Not even his pet, Claire.

No. Surprising did not, in fact, quite cover things, I found. Shocking might come close.

Before following his instructions, however, I had a problem to address. Amelie’s sister was a danger to her rule and a potential usurper, but by definition that made her a competent enough leader, and I needed all our resources now. I had the guards summon her as I put on my battle clothing; I missed armor, but it had never done us any good against the draug. It had only weighed us down, and that was never an advantage when fighting something that thrived in water. Leathers would do.

Naomi must have thought the same, because when she appeared in the anteroom of the Founder’s apartments, she, too, had donned thick leathers. The black made her stark as bone by contrast, a pale, sharp face and blond hair pulled back in a simple style for battle. She looked a great deal like Amelie—but there was no tug of connection between us at all. She eyed me coldly and said, “I will not be summoned like a servant by you, Oliver. This had best be important.”

“I have need of your skills,” I said. “You heard the call to battle, I assume.”

“Of course.”

“Then I need not tell you that this is the time to strike, hard and fast.” I smiled thinly, allowing my fangs to show. She responded with the same, measure for measure. “I shall entrust you with command of this mission.”