“He will,” Drake said, his voice filled with quiet menace. “Never doubt it for a minute.”
The town lay dark and quiet under a bright yellow moon when Drake knocked on Tavian Dinescu’s front door.
Standing on the porch, Drake watched the lights go on inside the house, heard the man’s heavy footsteps as Dinescu shuffled toward the foyer.
Drake caught the faint scent of metal and gun oil, heard the rapid beat of Dinescu’s heart just before the door swung open.
Dinescu’s bulk filled the doorway. He would have made a comical figure, clad in a white T-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting pajama bottoms, save for the large pistol held in one meaty fist.
“You!” Dinescu hissed. “What the devil do you want?”
“Do not ever threaten my wife again,” Drake said.
“Your wife,” Dinescu said, sneering. “Your widow, you mean.”
“Are you threatening me now?”
“No threat,” Dinescu said, bringing up the gun. “I’ll just shoot you where you stand, then drag your body inside and claim self-defense.”
“What makes you think you will get away with it?”
“There’s just you and me. And you’ll be dead. Besides, who’s going to doubt the word of the chief of police?” Dinescu asked smugly, and pulled the trigger.
Drake absorbed the impact without flinching, then plucked the smoking pistol from the astonished man’s hand.
Dinescu stared up at him, a fine sheen of sweat dotting his brow. “What are you?”
“Listen to me,” Drake said, exerting his preternatural power over the man’s mind. “You are going to turn yourself in for murdering your daughter. And you will confess to any other crimes you may have committed. You will write your confession out, in detail, and deliver it in the morning.”
Dinescu nodded. “In detail.”
“If anyone asks why you have decided to come forward, you will tell them you cannot live with your guilt any longer. And if, for some reason, they do not find you guilty, you will come to me, and I will mete out the justice you deserve. Do you understand?”
“Understand. Yes.”
“See that you do as I have instructed. My justice will not be as swift or as merciful as that of the court.”
Chapter 23
The confession of the chief of police was the lead story in the local paper and on the nightly news. According to reporters, he had confessed to killing his daughter, Jenica Dinescu, as well as Emil Bramwell, the banker’s son.
The police arrived at Wolfram Castle early that morning with a warrant to search the grounds for the body. Drake had warned Elena to feign ignorance of the location of the corpse, saying it would only complicate matters if she told the police where to look, and might cause problems in the future when the police wondered why she hadn’t come forward to report finding the body.
When questioned, she told the officers what she had once thought of as the truth—her cousin had run away from home with one of the boys from town.
“It’s what my uncle told me the morning Jenica went missing,” Elena said. “I had no reason to believe otherwise.”
There was no pretense in her tears when they exhumed her cousin’s body, placed it in an ugly black bag, and carried it away. They found Emil Bramwell, too, buried in a far corner of the garden, as well as another, unidentified body.
It fell to Elena to arrange for Jenica’s funeral, which was held two days later. Nearly everyone in town attended. They offered Elena their sympathy, murmuring words of kindness, of disbelief, that a man like Tavian Dinescu could have done such a terrible thing.
The following day, Emil Bramwell was laid to rest. Again, the townspeople turned out to pay their respects and offer their condolences to the family.
Elena felt duty-bound to attend Emil’s funeral. She stood at the grave site, feeling lost and alone, and wishing that Drake could be at her side. He had been a great comfort in the past few days. She missed him now, missed his arm around her, giving her strength, his calm assurance that everything would be all right.
Standing there, she had an inkling of how he must feel when he was among mortals. He looked human, but he didn’t really belong. And it occurred to her that as long as she lived with him, there would always be a gulf between her and her own kind.
She stayed at the funeral only as long as necessary, and then hurried up to the castle on the hill where a big gray cat waited to greet her.
“I am sorry I could not be there for you,” Drake said later that night. They were sitting on one of the new sofas in front of the fire, his arm draped around her shoulders, her head resting against his arm.
“I know. They’re both at peace now,” Elena said, and hoped it was true. “They still haven’t identified the third body. It’s been there much longer than . . . than the others. I overheard one of the townspeople say he thought the body belonged to a young woman who had stayed at the inn eight or nine years ago. She went missing, though she had left all her belongings behind.”
She took a deep breath, wishing this was all behind her, but there was still her uncle’s trial to get through. “Do you ever think about death? About dying?”
“Not often.”
“Stefan said your father is over a thousand years old.”
Drake nodded.
“I can’t imagine living that long. Does he ever get bored, do you think?”
“With twenty wives and dozens of children? I doubt it.”
“So, you have other siblings besides those on the Council?”
“Yes.” He lifted a strand of her hair and let it slide through his fingers.
“Why did he choose those twelve?”
“They are his favorites. Many of the others live elsewhere, as do his other wives whenever Liliana stays at the Fortress.”
She grinned. “That’s what Stefan said.”
“She is very jealous. I always found that odd, since she claims to have no love for her husband.”
“Do you believe that?”
“Not entirely. I believe she cares for him as much as she is able. As much as he will allow.”
“We’ll never have children, will we?”
“It is doubtful. As far as I know, no mortal woman has ever given birth to a child sired by one of us.” His hand stroked her nape. “Does that bother you?”
“A little. Doesn’t it bother you?”
“No. You are all I need.” His hand cupped her cheek and then he was pressing his lips to hers, his tongue slowly teasing hers, until her stomach quivered with excitement. His hands caressed her, gently, tenderly, and then with greater and greater urgency, until she lay beneath him, her legs wrapped around his waist. She had no idea where her clothes had gone, didn’t care about anything but the urgent need that grew inside her.