Page 49 of The Rogue's Curse

“I…” Paris glanced at him and smiled weakly. “Okay. Then you understand what that bond is like. They’re both assholes, but Lilah’s worse. She’s the brains, and she’s vicious. I’d much rather deal with Kieran.”

The drive out to the prison took half an hour. Several winding, two-lane roads led through dense trees. A private drive led up to a security gate, where Paris called ahead with a confirmation code. The dark metal gate swung open for them, and a short, winding drive led them to a break in the trees.

Set well back from the road, the Mausoleum looked from the outside like a well-kept Victorian mansion, complete with ostentatious ornaments and elaborate spires. Just as when he’d crossed into the Durendal compound for the first time, Misha sensed the thrumming of magic laid deep in the earth.

The driveway brought them to a tiny gravel lot behind the house, where Paris parked next to a black sedan. They emerged from the car, and Misha let his senses reach out to test the magic around them. It had the same live-wire crackle of Shoshanna York’s protections back in Atlanta. This was old magic; simple Weaving, but it had soaked into the ground over decades and grown like roots.

When they walked around to the front of the house, ornate wooden doors swung open to allow a statuesque brunette to emerge. Dressed in casual clothing, she smelled like dhampir. “Mr. Rossignol,” she said, nodding to Paris. Her expression faltered slightly as she said, “Mr. Volkov. We’re honored to receive a guest from the Crown. I’m Allegra Roman, one of the prison administrators.”

They strode forward, exchanging handshakes before following Allegra into the building. “This isn’t at all what I imagined,” Misha said mildly.

Allegra smiled back at him and said, “We get that a lot. The sublevels are quite different.” Then her expression faltered. “I hope you won’t take it as an offense, but I have to ask you to leave any weapons outside.”

Misha glanced at Paris, who nodded. They’d anticipated as much, though he couldn’t help wondering why, if all the prisoners were virtually comatose. He held up his arms and let Allegra pat him down. When she found his knife, he said, “That’s very valuable.”

“I apologize, sir,” she said.

“I am an agent of the Crown, and I will keep my weapon with me,” he said.

Allegra’s eyes met his. “It’s prison policy, sir. I can’t let you in to see a prisoner with a weapon.”

He debated putting his foot down and threatening to get Ophelia Klein on the phone. But he didn’t want to look as if he needed Mommy to fight his battles. Instead, he stepped away from Allegra and said, “I’ll put this in the car.”

“Thank you,” she said. As he backed away, Paris drew his gun and handed it over. Their eyes met, and Paris gave a little shrug.

Misha returned to their rental car and stowed the weapons in the trunk, out of sight. As he walked back to the front door, he toyed with the jeweled ring on his right hand. The small setting twisted open to reveal a wickedly sharp point. It wasn’t his trusty blade, but a razor-sharp edge was all the weapon a blood witch needed in a pinch.

Back inside, Paris looked unfazed as he waited with Allegra. The administrator led them down the hall into a small dining room filled with the tantalizing scent of warm blood. Several coffee mugs were set at the small, round table. “My assistant prepared a meal for you as requested,” Allegra said.

“Much appreciated. TSA frowns upon transporting blood bags,” Paris quipped.

Misha settled at the small table to take a sip from a mug. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the first taste slithered over his tongue. He took a long drink, and with the fire sparking along his senses, he was even hungrier for Paris. With his senses alight, he was far too aware of the other man’s scent, of every strand of hair and that wiry frame, barely visible beneath the sharp collar of his shirt.

“As requested, we’ve already awakened Kieran O’Brien,” Allegra said, leaning against the doorframe.

“He’s awake?” Paris asked.

“Barely,” Allegra said. “Given how long he’s been here, a few drops of human blood were enough to bring him out of a stupor. He’s not pleased, but he’s still subdued and secured with heavy duty shackles. He’s in a rather poor mood, though.”

“Understandable,” Paris said. “And Lilah?”

“As requested, we’ve not awoken her yet, but I have a team ready to help if needed,” Allegra said. “I’ll warn you that Kieran is as likely to scream profanity in your face as to answer questions. Months of starvation followed by a tiny taste of blood is not a recipe for an agreeable vampire.”

“Let me handle that,” Misha said. Allegra’s eyes drifted to him, and he saw the faintest flicker of curiosity in her gaze.

“I’ll take you downstairs, then,” she said.

Leaving behind the empty mugs, he and Paris followed the dhampir woman to a locked security door, which was oddly out of place in the beautifully furnished mansion. Past the door stood a steel-lined vestibule that led into a stairwell.

A cramp twisted through Misha’s gut, and he winced. Perhaps he’d drunk too fast, in a hurry to get the job done. His senses were on alert as he followed Allegra down two flights of stairs and onto one of the sublevels. “We’ve moved Kieran into a holding cell so you can speak to him. The regular cells aren’t conducive to interviews.”

“Thank you,” Paris said warmly. He cleared his throat, coughed, then cleared it again, and Misha caught a strange scent. Something was off.

As they strode down a narrow, concrete-lined corridor, Misha surreptitiously twisted his ring and opened the hinged setting. He tested the point against the pad of his thumb, the faint prick of pain reassuring him.

Allegra swiped at the card reader outside a door at the end of the hall. Strong, cloying scents of air freshener and bleach emerged, almost masking the scents of the vampire inside. “Come on in,” she said, standing aside to let Paris pass into the dimly lit room.

Misha followed him in, with Allegra close on his heels. The hair on the back of his neck prickled, and he heard the tiniest creak of metal. He whirled just in time to see the steel door closing behind them.

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