Chapter Twenty-Six #2
So, whew. A vampire whisperer, I was not, but I had succeeded in driving a hard bargain. One I hoped the vampire would keep his word on.
My word is my bond, Henrik had assured me.
I had my doubts, but hey. It might turn out to be a useful insurance policy.
The problem was, the box was back in the library, and so was the sentry.
Alarms sounded through the building. A cue to save my skin, or my chance to sneak back in while the guard was distracted?
Save my skin was tempting, but I found myself shadow-walking back into the library instead.
Maybe that was a side effect of unlocking a new power, like a genie refusing to squeeze back into the bottle.
Maybe it was pure hubris, like a kid racing around town on a freshly issued driver’s license.
Or worse — maybe Henrik had managed to cast a thrall over me, ensuring that I didn’t abandon his treasure.
Either way, I padded into the library a second time, right under the nose of the sentry.
But Henrik’s box was halfway across the room, not just a step or two into one corner.
My heart pounded as I moved quietly toward it.
My head pounded too, because maintaining the illusion of a second me, even out of sight in the office, took a hell of a mental effort.
“Unit three, unit three. Position untenable,” the uneasy sentry called into his mic.
Boy, I could relate.
I tiptoed all the way over to Henrik’s box and gingerly lifted it. It was the size of a cigar box, but surprisingly heavy.
Do not open it, Henrik had growled over and over.
Ha. As if I were even tempted.
I started slinking back quietly, then lost my nerve and rushed toward the office. Somehow, my shadow held, and the sentry didn’t notice.
“Quick! Get the paintings and the carvings!” Dobrov barked from somewhere down the far hallway.
I slid around the office door and shut it behind me. I stood there for ten terrifying seconds, listening. Sweating, too, I was that nervous — and because the fire outside was now licking over the windows. The whole room heated and grew stuffy.
I rushed to the dumbwaiter. Roux should have had plenty of time to grab the paintings and send the dumbwaiter back up. But it wasn’t moving.
My stomach dropped. Had he grabbed the paintings and left me?
“Roux!” I cried as loudly as I dared.
The dumbwaiter rattled, and Roux called urgently.
“Let go of the rope.”
“I’m not holding it,” I whisper-yelled back.
Flames crackled, and I jerked around to see them creeping over the roof, toward the library.
“Quick! Get the paintings!” Dobrov barked on the library side of the door.
A crash sounded — part of the roof collapsing? — and another man yelled. “It’s too dangerous!”
“Just get them, dammit!” Dobrov ordered.
“Roux…” I called desperately.
He muttered and jiggled the rope. “Dammit…”
I gulped, trying to stay calm and evaluate my options.
“Hurry!” I yelled down the shaft, failing on both counts.
“I’m trying, dammit!”
Windows blackened, and flames weren’t just creeping, but engulfing the ceiling. I coughed a few times, then doubled over in a full-on coughing fit.
“Hurry!” Dobrov yelled to his men.
I wished Roux would, dammit.
Finally, the dumbwaiter lurched into motion and resumed its upward journey. I held my scarf over my mouth and eyed the ceiling. How long would it hold?
A beam creaked and shifted, setting off an avalanche of roof tiles. Some simply slipped into a new position, but others fell and slammed to the floor.
I looked around, growing panicked. This wasn’t a fire. It was an inferno.
The dumbwaiter creaked into position. I stood back, studying it, then the windows. Surely jumping out was a better option?
The flames blazed higher, cackling something like, Want to try, honey?
“Mina!” Roux called. And, yikes. Even he sounded panicked.
Okay, so no windows. I stuck my upper body into the dumbwaiter, then wiggled around.
“Hey!” I yelped when it started moving. “I’m not in yet.”
“No time,” Roux barked.
The guy was merciless, and my shins and knees banged four or five times. On the (very slim) plus side, that forced every appendage into the tiny space, and I was on my way.
On my way, but suffocating. I heaved for air, but the fire was busy consuming it. Henrik’s box poked into my belly, giving me even less space to breathe. My head started to swim, and my eyes watered. Or were those tears?
Both, probably. Tears for myself, tears for the paintings. Tears for my father, whom I’d failed, and my mother, who would be gutted if I didn’t survive this. Tears for—
Something clamped around my foot and yanked. I felt myself falling, then being lifted. Henrik’s box was pried out of my hand, and a faraway voice called.
Was I dying or getting rescued? If the former, I hoped I would at least get to see my father. If the latter… Well, I hoped my dress wasn’t up over my ass, revealing everything.
As it turned out, I was being rescued, and — big bonus — my dress wasn’t over my ass. Whew. I was bumping wildly, though, and upside down in a fireman’s carry. Gradually, I worked my way from coughing to flailing to pitiful protests, which my rescuer ignored.
Then there was a roar, and I was torn from Rescuer One’s arms and cradled in Rescuer Two’s. And just like that, everything stopped. The bumping. The coughing. The urge to fire off dozens of questions. I sank into a warm, fluffy cloud, feeling totally, utterly at peace.
“Mm,” I murmured, nuzzling my rescuer.
If it had been Roux or Bene, I would have been really embarrassed. If it had been Henrik, I would have been downright traumatized.
But, whew. It was Marius. And even if we hadn’t yet figured out where the undeniable pull between us was leading, I knew one thing. I’d never felt safer or more grounded than when I was with him.
“Are you all right?” His obsidian eyes glinted anxiously.
I nodded. Using superhuman effort to resist the urge to kiss him, I pointed my feet toward the ground. He set me down gently, keeping firm hold of my shoulders in case I toppled.
I didn’t, though I did sway.
“I’m fine,” I said, then folded into another coughing fit.
Eventually, an invisible vise released its grip on my lungs, and I wiped away the accompanying tears.
“Really okay?” Roux asked, peering in from the right.
Rescuer One, I realized.
“Yes. Thank you.” I looked around, then grabbed Roux’s arm. “The paintings…”
He held them up wearily. “Got them right here. Both of them. And this thing.” He showed me the box, clearly irritated.
“Dammit, Mina,” Marius growled. “What were you thinking?”
A comment I might have taken offense at, but his hands and voice were shaking.
I held his hand to my chest. “I was thinking about the painting and how to get us all out of this. But you’re right,” I added before the angry spark in his eyes turned into an inferno like the one raging behind us. “It was dangerous, and I’m sorry. And grateful.” I turned to Roux. “Thank you.”
Roux muttered a reluctant, “You’re welcome.”
Marius crushed me against his chest. “Swear to me you’ll never do that again.”
Ha. Easiest promise ever.
“I swear,” I mumbled into his pecs. And, oops. A totally inappropriate wave of longing swept over me.
Marius’s growl dropped to a lusty hum, and who knew what we might have done if Roux hadn’t cleared his throat and pointed behind us.
“Can I suggest we get away first and express undying affection later?”
Not a bad plan. Marius and I eased apart, but his eyes glittered with a vow.
Maybe not now, but soon…
My heart thumped, and I made my own vow. But Roux was right. We weren’t in the clear yet.