Chapter Five

Through some quirk of fate, I sidestepped the priest after dinner, which likely gave both of us time to let things fester.

Sure enough, Fr. Dominic leapt from his seat as soon as I opened the door of his stateroom the next evening. The room held a desk, two upholstered chairs, and one obviously angry priest.

He was flanked by his cronies, a pair of men in black robes and monks' tonsures. One had been with the priest in Alexandria, as mean and ugly here as he'd been there. The other was less certain, his gaze shifting, his eyes sad.

"If you ever, ever , approach me like that again, you will not live to see another night."

Fr. Dominic's snarl did little to intimidate me. "So? I'm not alive now." And I wasn't. I was bored and hungry, I couldn't breathe in this clothing, and hell's fury, I wanted off this damned boat, even if I had to die to do it. "You already killed Hassan. Why should I expect any different?"

The priest motioned to his flunkies, waving them out of the room and ignoring their protests. His men obeyed him, and when they were gone, he turned to me, his eyes gone wholly black. "Don't be more of a fool than necessary. I need you to guard the icon, and if you please me, I'll find more tasks for you."

"And if I don't?"

Fr. Dominic smiled with such malice that I took a step back. "If you don't," he said, each word a hard knot of evil, "I will stake you myself."

Holding my coat open, I bared my chest to him. It was a gambler's move, one I couldn't afford to lose. "Do it."

He snapped his fingers and a long wooden stake appeared in his hand. I didn't move, because even a flinch would be a sign of fear. I'd had enough experience with this undeath to know that I had no interest in living forever, and if I had to die, right now would be as good a time as any.

The priest took a step toward me. I relaxed further, my eyes half-closed in a fake show of lust. I'd sooner fuck a horse as this demon in priests' robes. He took another step in my direction. Catching my lower lip between my teeth, I gave him a hint of tongue. This kind of play could get me killed or send him running in disgust.

"Gah." He dropped the stake. "You're repulsive." He threw himself into a chair. "And you have no idea what you're playing at."

Releasing my lapels, I leaned more heavily against the wall, as louche a posture as I could manage. "Why didn't you just have Hassan make this trip with you? Why have him give someone else this gift?" I spat the last word.

"Gamal Hassan did his part." He rubbed his palms together and sparks rose from his fingertips.

"Channeling the fires of hell?" I kept my tone jovial, teasing. This sport had higher stakes than any game of faro.

Again he fixed me with that black-eyed stare. "You have no idea what I can do." He snapped his fingers again, and something—some belt or chain—tightened around my neck.

I reached for it but found there was nothing to grab. It constricted my throat, though I did not depend on air for survival. My fingernails dug into my flesh and despite myself, my posture stiffened.

Hassan had told me very little about how to survive as a vampire, but common sense said that if he severed my head from my body, I would be truly dead. And although just moments before I'd invited him to kill me, now I very much did not want to die. I clawed harder, my scream more of a wheezing squeal. Tighter still. I fell to my knees, doubling over, a widening gap under my fingertips where his magic carved into me.

Then, release.

He might have snapped his fingers or said some bit of magic. Either way, I couldn't move, my forehead on the floor, my neck raw and bloody.

"Ahh, now I see. You're not as stupid as I thought." The priest came and stood over me. "I have a certain expertise, you see. I'm able to test your body's ability to survive in ways you could not imagine." He kicked me. "Now get up."

I took a moment to collect myself. Ya khasara, but I was in a mess. Stifling a hysterical laugh, I struggled to my feet.

Fr. Dominic sat in his chair, his eyes their normal brown. "I hope you have learned a lesson. As long as you obey me, I'll allow you to live, but"—he tapped his lips with a fingertip—"don't test me again."

I let my silence answer for me.

Still, that alone must have satisfied him, for he waved me to the door. "There's blood on your cravat. Get cleaned up, and if you need to feed, I suggest you find someone and be quick about it. I'll expect you here within the hour to guard my door while I sleep."

Still silent, I left him, though as soon as I'd closed his door behind me, I fell against the wall. This man—this thing — possessed a truly evil power. Common sense said I had to escape him. Fear said he'd find me wherever I went. If there was a reasonable solution to this, I'd never find it in my current state.

I needed blood.

Moving more swiftly than any human, I made my way down a narrow flight of stairs to the second level. Here, the hallway was darker, the closeness of the doors showing the rooms were smaller. I paid little attention to anything until I came to the small sign.

Ship's Doctor .

There, something, some scent or vibration, slowed my pace. Ship's doctor? I would have no need of him. But…I laid my palm against the door and closed my eyes. One heartbeat, slowed with sleep most likely. A familiar scent.

The man from the hall. Hugh St John.

My mind recreated his image. Tall, sturdy, with shaggy hair and stern features. The kind of man I would have sought out before this current disaster befell me.

Hunger, and a strong sense of the minutes passing, finally drew me away. I found another staircase, this one leading to an even lower level. A rat chased me down the stairs and into the stench of animal dung, burning coal, and vomit.

This was the prow of the ship, where the noise of the engine and the motion of the waves were the strongest. I came upon a poor soul, weakly hugging the wall. The smell of him made it plain that he was the source of the sickness. He wore the black and white uniform of the crew, gave no protest when I drew him into the shadows, and sank to the floor when I was done, though I'd taken no more than a mouthful.

Another rat ran over my shoe, and I had a sudden vision of a horde of the creatures finishing off what was left of this young man. A single smoking lamp cast baleful shadows around us. Hassan's gift made my eyes stronger than they'd been in life, strong enough to see the young man's cheekbones were gaunt and his eyes sunken. Under the dirt, he was not that different from the man I'd been.

Ship's Doctor .

Without pausing to make any sort of plan, I lifted him as easily as if he were a child and ran for the stairs.

The rats would have to look elsewhere for their meal.

I wasn't the only one to seek out the doctor in the middle of the night. One person was ahead of me, a slight soul with a stern expression and a soft curve to his hips. "Can I help you?"

He spoke with sharp confidence.

I turned enough to show the face of my victim. "I found him down below."

"Found him?" The man at the door glanced from my face to the man in my arms. "You sure you didn't accidentally knock him down?"

"No." I kept my tone soft, though his disposition annoyed me. "Are you the doctor?" I asked the question, fairly sure of the answer.

"His assistant." His expression softened. "Wait here and I'll get him."

The man slipped through the door, disappearing long enough that I began to worry I'd miss Fr. Dominic's deadline. I'd just meant to reintroduce myself to the doctor, not spend all night caring for my meal.

When the door opened again, the doctor appeared behind it. "You," he said, as if surprise had yanked the word out of him against his will.

"Good evening, St John. I'm sorry to bother you, but I found this man collapsed in the hallway and thought you might be able to help."

He looked the man over, then lifted one of his hands. Even in the dim light of the hall, the marks I'd left on his wrist were plain to see. The doctor's expression went from surprised and confused to something hard, cold. "I see. Bring him in."

He opened the door wider, but to my embarrassment, I found I could not cross the threshold.

"Come in, I said."

He'd moved from cold to disgusted, enough to make me feel ashamed though I did not know why. Still, I brought the man in, and when St John's assistant pointed to the bed, I laid him there.

"I don't suppose bleeding him will help under the circumstances," St John said, a cruel edge to his voice.

"You're the doctor." I moved to the door with as much speed as I possessed. "I'm sure you'll—"

"Wait." He came toward me, and Jesu Christe, I let him come. "I know what you are, and if you make a habit of this, I'll string every door with garlic and put a crucifix in every room."

I grinned despite myself. "Don't worry, I truly did just stumble over this one and didn't want to leave him for the rats."

"Liar."

I shrugged with as much saucy carelessness as I could muster. "My meals are much more pleasant affairs. You should try one sometime."

I left him standing with his jaw hanging open and his gaze hot with anger. Or it could have been closer to want.