mma was just becoming aware of her surroundings when she felt a knife prick her neck. She winced, but refused to give Alek the pleasure of hearing her cry out in pain.

"You have a loud mouth," he hissed in her ear.

"Is the mortal giving you trouble?" Katya asked.

"No." Alek yanked on Emma's hair and tilted her head to expose her neck. "I just wanted a little taste." He leaned down and licked the drop of blood from her neck.

Her stomach twinged. Still, Alek's initial reaction gave her hope. He was pissed that she'd yelled out Paris, so most likely, she'd steered Robby and Giacomo in the right direction. She also noted that Alek and Uri neglected to tell Katya what she'd done. They were probably afraid of incurring the queen bitch's wrath.

Emma quickly surveyed the scene. They appeared to be in an old wine cellar. Candlelight flickered from rusty iron sconces along stone walls. Wooden racks cradled row after row of dusty wine bottles. The air was chilly and smelled of ancient mold. Angus lay in a neglected heap on the hard stone floor.

"Zhis woman is zhe infamous slayer?" a man asked in a French accent. He approached Emma with a mincing gait, studying her with eyes that looked like black slits in his puffy white face. "Amazing. She has killed four of your friends, non?"

"Six," Emma corrected him. "I've killed six of her little minions, and it was pathetically easy."

Katya slapped her.

The French vampire giggled. "Meow, hiss!" He curled his chubby white fingers to resemble claws. "I just adore a good catfight." He gazed at Emma fondly. "But she is special, zhis one, non? May I take a whip to her?"

"If we have time." Katya patted him on the arm. "Brouchard, we need to secure the prisoners before the sun rises."

"Ah, yes. But of course." Brouchard rubbed his plump white hands together. "Zhis is so exciting! It is not often that I have such honored guests." He laughed and waved his hand in the air. "Many visit my cellar, but very few leave."

He stepped closer to Emma. "Shall I tell you my darkest secret, how I lure my victims to their doom?"

"No."

He sneered. His pointed canine teeth looked yellow against his pasty white skin. "You are a fiery one, n'est-ce pas? I wager your blood runs hot." He leaned forward to sniff.

"Easy, Brouchard." Katya placed a hand on his shoulder. "I need her alive."

"Ah, yes." Brouchard stepped back. He flipped a lacy handkerchief from the pocket of his velvet dinner jacket and dabbed at his mouth. "She is a little present for Casimir. He will find her quite tasty."

Emma swallowed hard. She glanced at Angus. His eyes were following everyone's movements.

Brouchard strolled to a round table, topped with a pristine white tablecloth. Elegant china was set for two. "You see, my dear, when I invite zhe lovely young men and ladies to dinner, zhey come gladly to see my famous wine collection. Zhey never realize till it is too late zhat zhey are my dinner."

Creepy little serial killer. Emma kept her face blank to hide her disgust.

"I am a gentleman." Brouchard sauntered down a row of racks, running his pasty fingers over the wine bottles. "I always allow my guests to choose the wine. Once zhey have enjoyed zheir fill, I take... my fill." He patted his plump belly and giggled. "I have a big appetite for life, non?"

"Enough, Brouchard." Katya yawned. "The sun is rising."

"Yes, yes. I have coffins zhis way." Brouchard scurried past several rows of bottles. "And zhere is a storeroom where we can lock up zhe prisoners."

Alek pulled Emma along with him. Uri hefted Angus over his shoulder and followed them.

"Here are zhe coffins." Brouchard waved a hand toward a line of eight coffins. "Zhey are very nice, non? But you do not need so many now. Only zhree of you came." He looked at Emma and giggled. "Naughty girl. Are you sure I cannot whip her?"

"Later," Katya said. "Where's the storeroom?"

"Here." Brouchard shoved a tapestry on the wall to the side and revealed an old wooden door. He unlocked it with a skeleton key, and it opened with a loud creak. "Spooky inside, non?"

He laughed as he removed a candle from a nearby sconce. "I will show you zhe room." He strolled inside. "It is perfect, n'est-ce pas? Zhere is no way out."

Uri walked in and dumped Angus on the floor.

Brouchard snickered. "He is a big one." He nudged Angus's kilt up with his foot. "A pity you can only stay one night."

"Leave him alone, you pervert," Emma muttered as Alek hauled her into the room.

"Shut up." Alek yanked her arms back. "I need some rope to tie her."

"But of course." Brouchard exited the room, but Emma could still hear him. "You will tell Casimir I was very helpful, yes?"

"Of course," Katya assured him. "You do have a mortal guard for the daytime, don't you?"

"Ah, yes. Hubert." The way Brouchard pronounced his guard's name, it sounded like Oo-bear. He minced back into the storeroom and handed Alek some drapery cords. "Will zhese do?"

"Yes." Alek tied Emma's wrists together behind her back.

"Take her tote bag," Katya reminded him.

Emma cursed silently as Alek cut her bag off with his knife. There went her cell phone and stakes.

Brouchard giggled. "You have made her angry." He patted her on the cheek. "You must behave during zhe day, ch. Do not make my dear Hubert angry. He can be very cruel."

Emma pulled away from Brouchard's chubby hand. "Then maybe you should whip him."

Brouchard yawned. "Oh, but I have. No doubt, it is why zhe poor brute is so foul-tempered. Poor Hubert."

Alek shoved Emma onto the floor next to Angus. "If you try to escape, Hubert will kill you both."

"Come, mes amis." Brouchard strolled from the room. "We must have our beauty sleep."

Alek closed the door. Without Brouchard's candle, the room was very dark. Emma remembered seeing some old chairs and tables pushed against the walls, but nothing useful for escape. She listened to the sounds in the next room. Once the vampires were dead for the day, she would only have Hubert to deal with.

"Emma," Angus whispered. When she gasped, he continued, "Speak softly so they willna hear."

She wiggled closer to him. "Has the poison worn off?"

"No' quite. I canna move my arms or legs. Emma, I will fall into my death-sleep soon. If ye can escape, ye must."

She started to protest, since she didn't want to leave him. But he was right. Her best chance for escape was during the day, and she could always bring back help for Angus. "All right. I think we're in Paris."

"Aye. Go to Jean-Luc Echarpe's studio on the Champs-Elys. The daytime guards there work for me. They can help you."

"Okay." She was still tied up, though. "Is your dagger still in your sock?"

"Aye. Take it." His speech became more slurred. "My sporran. I need the flask. Hide it... underneath me."

"Underneath you?"

"In case they take my... "

"Sporran?" She waited, but he didn't reply. She laid her head on his chest and heard nothing. He was gone.

A mournful feeling invaded her heart, and she suddenly felt like crying. Everyone she'd ever cared about had died. How could she stand to lose one more? "I'm so sorry. This is my fault."

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She needed her wits about her. Angus was counting on her. She rotated about so her head was next to his feet. Then she wiggled around till she felt her fingers make contact with the hilt of the sgian dubh hidden under his sock. She managed to pull it out, then sat up to saw through the cords binding her wrists. It was a slow and awkward process, but she kept at it.

So far, no sound from the other room. The storeroom seemed a bit lighter. She spotted a few slivers of light at the top of the far wall. Perhaps a small window that had been boarded up? She would need to make sure none of the sunlight fell on Angus.

She could barely make out his profile in the dim light. He'd told her the truth from the beginning. There were good vampires and bad ones, and Sean's activities with the Stake-Out team were nothing but a nuisance, getting in the way of the good Vamps who wanted to protect mankind. If she ever survived this, she was quitting her job.

Aha! The cords finally broke free. She slipped the knife into her belt, then dragged Angus's body to the darkest corner of the room. Heavy footsteps sounded in the wine cellar, and a shadow dimmed the light under the door. Hubert was there, listening. She needed to act quickly. She opened Angus's sporran and dug around. Thank goodness he carried a purse. She smiled to herself, imagining his reaction to the word purse.

She located the metal flask, then wedged it underneath his back. Normally that would be very uncomfortable, but poor Angus was dead to the world right now. She pulled out his cell phone and opened it. Whom to call? Connor was first in his directory, so she called him.

She glanced toward the door. Hubert might hear her talking, so she should text message instead. Unfortunately, the connection to Connor never went through. Shit. She wasn't getting a signal down in this hole.

She slipped the phone into her pocket and carried a chair over to the far wall. It looked like a fragile antique, so she hoped it would carry her weight. She climbed onto the cushioned brocade seat and reached for the window. Too high.

She found a wooden table about the size of a card table, light enough that she could carry it. She set it carefully beneath the window, then climbed on top. Now she could reach the slats nailed horizontally across the small window. She curled her hands around two slats and yanked. They held firm. She lifted herself up and peered through the gap.

There was a dingy narrow street. Sunlight dappled in puddles of rainwater that gathered in the broken pavement. Footsteps approached.

Emma glanced back. No sign of Hubert. The footsteps drew closer. There was one gait, heavy and determined, and a smaller one, quick and light with a pattering sound. A dog, perhaps.

"Psst!" Emma hissed. "A moi!" She flinched when a wet, black nose suddenly nuzzled her hand. Okay, so she had the dog's attention. Now if she could just contact the owner. The dog pranced about excitedly. A white poodle with a pink bow on its puffy head.

"A moi! Aidez-nous," Emma whispered as loud as she dared.

The poodle barked, loud and shrill. The dog's owner shouted and yanked on its leash. They hurried away.

The door behind her slammed open.

She dropped onto the table and turned. Light spilled into the storeroom from the wine cellar, along with the smell of sausage and eggs. In the doorway, a bulky black shadow loomed.

"Brouchard said you would be trouble." Hubert entered the room. His accent was as thick as his neck and arms.

He charged, bellowing like a bull. Emma remained on the table. She landed a good kick to his chest, but it only slowed him down. He grabbed one of her ankles and yanked. She fell onto her rear, but used the momentum to roll back, then forward. She kicked Hubert hard in the gut. He stumbled back. She jumped to the floor, whipped the knife from her belt, and lunged forward. The knife slid in with horrifying ease. He cried out, then collapsed backward onto the floor.

Emma stood over him, the bloody knife in her hand, and her stomach churning. Shit. She was used to killing vampires. They didn't bleed like this. They simply turned to dust.

Hubert writhed on the floor, moaning.

"Hang on. I'll get an ambulance." She'd find her way to Angus's security men on the Champs-Elys. But first there were four vampires in the next room who needed to be staked. Angus's knife would work just fine. She strode toward the door.

A board slammed into her face. She fell back onto her rear as lightning jolts of pain zigzagged across her face. Her eyes saw double for a second, then focused on one man standing in the doorway. He was small and thin.

"You made a fatal error, ch. I am Hubert. And I am prepared for the likes of you."

She scrambled to her feet, but he swung the board at her head once again. She collapsed to the side. Her head throbbed. The knife tumbled from her hand.

With a groan, she turned her head to see him. His figure wavered as pain shot through her.

He withdrew a syringe from his coat pocket. "I should kill you for what you did to my dear Rolfe." A stream of liquid squirted from the needle.

Emma willed her body to stand up and fight, but her brain was too battered to get the orders out. She felt the floor beside her. Her fingers touched the hilt of the knife.

"But my master wants you alive. So I will only make you sleep." He stepped toward her.

She struck at his shins with her feet, and he stumbled back.

"Bitch!" He leaped on top of her and stabbed the syringe into her neck. Instantly his face grew hazy.

He leaned forward, sneering at her. "You should not have made me angry. Now I will have to play with you while you sleep."

With a great surge of effort, she plunged the knife into his back.

He shrieked and twisted, trying to reach the knife. He fell beside her, his body contorting.

Her eyelids drooped. She almost welcomed the drugged sleep, for it numbed the throbbing pain.

Hubert grew still beside her. A sense of doom spread through her as the drug dragged her into oblivion. She'd failed Angus once again.

Angus awoke with the surge of energy that jolted his body every evening at sunset. With his first deep breath, he was accosted by the hideous smell of foul, congealed blood, which meant one thing: death. His heart constricted. No, not Emma!

He scrambled to his feet while his eyes adjusted to the dark room. His metal flask was on the floor. And there were three bodies. The devil take it, what had happened? He rushed to the first body. It was a huge man with a knife wound to the chest. He'd bled out on the cold stone floor. The smell of spoiled blood turned Angus's stomach.

He staggered to the next pair of bodies. A slim man lay dead with the sgian dubh in his back. The blood within him had congealed to a slimy goop, unfit for consumption. Beside him was Emma. Her heart was beating, slow and steady. Angus's relief was cut short by one look at her face. The bastards! Her face was a mass of bruises and lumps. Poor lass. She must have fought for her life while he'd rested nearby totally oblivious. He cursed his inability to protect her during the day.

He heard sounds from the wine cellar. The enemy was stirring. If only he had enough energy to grab Emma and teleport out, but he was too weak from hunger.

"Puir lass, I'm so sorry," he whispered, touching her face. The smell of her sweet blood triggered an instant response. Hunger flooded in. He grabbed his knife and stumbled back to his flask on the floor. He opened the top with shaking fingers. Pain lanced his gums where his fangs strained to surge out. A vampire's hunger was always worst when he first awoke.

He gulped down Blissky. Slowly his hunger was quenched. His fangs retreated and relaxed. God, how he hated being a slave to this hunger. It was why he always carried an extra supply of synthetic blood in his flask. As the last drop slid down his throat, he reveled in the renewed strength that coursed through his body. He was powerful once again. He would save Emma.

The door swung open. Brouchard sauntered in, carrying a candlestick. "Bonsoir, mes amis! Hubert, I want you to fetch us some tasty mortals for breakfast." He halted with a gasp. "Hubert! What are you doing, lying with zhat woman?"

Angus zoomed toward Brouchard and plunged his dagger into the chubby vampire's heart. Brouchard squealed, then turned to dust.

Uri and Alek ran in, both armed with swords. Angus was outnumbered, but he knew he'd be stronger. He'd already fed, and they had not. He dodged Alek's attack, then fended off Uri.

Katya entered, carrying her blowpipe. "You fools. There is only one way to subdue him." She lifted her pipe to her mouth.

At the last minute, Angus spun, grabbed Uri, and turned him to face the oncoming dart. Uri stiffened and fell, the dart embedded in his chest.

Katya's eyes flashed with anger. "Alek, kill the woman."

"Of course." Alek dashed toward Emma, his sword raised.

"Nay!" Angus shouted.

Katya lifted a hand to stop Alek. "I will spare her, Angus, if you surrender to me."

Angus hesitated. He needed to buy more time so he and Emma could escape. He released his knife. It clattered to the stone floor.

With a sneer, Katya kicked his knife aside. "I always knew you were a fool. You could have had me, but you chose that lowly... bug. I will enjoy watching you suffer."

Angus gritted his teeth. "I'm certain ye will. 'Tis in your nature to be cruel and vicious."

She scoffed. "There was a time when you said I was beautiful and full of potential."

He eyed her sadly. "I wanted ye to be good, Katya. I wanted ye to use yer powers for good. 'Tis no' too late."

"And you think she is good?" Katya glared at Emma on the floor. "That bitch is a murderer. She deserves to die. And if I give her to Casimir, he will spare my life." She gave Angus a seductive look. "You wouldn't want me to die, would you? We had such good times together."

"Ye're already dead to me."

She took in a hissing breath and pulled a dart from her pocket. "I will make you pay, Angus MacKay. You will wish you were never born." She jammed the dart into his chest.

He crumpled to the ground. His body refused to move. Despair seeped into his bones. He'd bought Emma some more time, but now he was unable to defend her.

Alek and Katya took turns going out to feed. Then Katya removed his sporran. He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see her triumphant smirk. Alek hauled him out of the cellar and dumped him in the alley. Angus cursed silently. Here he was, alone and free to go, but he couldn't move. Soon Alek returned, carrying Emma. He set her down and frisked her.

"A cell phone." Alek removed the phone from Emma's pocket and handed it to Katya.

"Ironic, don't you think?" She punched a button on his phone. "I can use your whore's phone to take you to your doom." She leaned down to grab his arm. "Galina? We're coming."

Katya vanished, taking Angus with her. He felt a floating sensation, then a hard floor beneath him. He opened his eyes to look around. They were in an old stone building, sparsely furnished. Alek appeared next to him, carrying Emma.

"How do you like my place?" a red-haired female asked.

Angus recognized her from the last vampire ball. She'd been there with Ivan Petrovsky. This had to be Galina, the former harem girl who had helped Katya murder Ivan so they could be co-masters of the Russian coven.

"It's perfect." Katya looked around. "Do you have the room ready for our guests?"

Galina laughed. "Oh yes. They're going to love it!" She waved at a bulky blond man. "Burien, will you and Miroslav carry our guest?"

The two male vampires hefted Angus up and followed Galina outside.

"Where's Uri?" Galina asked.

"Detained," Katya muttered. "He'll join us later."

Angus looked around the best he could. The night sky was clear, the stars bright. It was later in the night here than in Paris, so they had traveled east. They might be in eastern Russia since Katya came from there. He recalled reading a report on Galina. She'd come from the Ukraine, so that was another possibility.

They were definitely in the countryside. The nearby hills were forested. An old stone wall encircled the property. A wooden barn nearby was falling down. He spotted Alek, carrying Emma.

They proceeded down some stone steps. A storm cellar? A root cellar? He heard a heavy door creak open.

"Put her on the cot there," Galina ordered.

He heard bedsprings squeak. He was dumped on the floor.

"There's one light," Galina said. With a small click, the room was lit by a lone lightbulb dangling from the ceiling.

Angus blinked. The whole room seemed to shimmer with sparkly lights.

Galina laughed. "Pretty, isn't it?"

"Expensive," Katya muttered.

"The plates on the ceiling are pure silver," Galina boasted. "And the walls, window, and door are covered with silver necklaces. It's almost like the old chain mail that knights wore."

"As long as it keeps them from escaping." Alek prowled around the room, examining the walls.

"Oh, it works," Galina assured them. "I had Miroslav try teleporting through the walls, and he couldn't. He bounced right off and ended up with severe burns. And Burien tried to send telepathic messages to me, but nothing could come through."

"Excellent." Katya sounded pleased. "Now all we need to do is locate Casimir and offer him our little gifts."

They filed from the room and slammed the door shut. A bolt slid across. Angus closed his eyes. As soon as the nightshade wore off, he would see to their escape. But a room lined with silver would be difficult. Thank God Emma was mortal. Silver wouldn't burn her. Nor would it stop her from using her psychic abilities.

An hour or so passed, then he heard movement on the cot.

"Emma?" he managed to croak.

She groaned.

He cleared his throat. "Emma?" That sounded better.

"God, my head hurts." The cot creaked. "Are you all right?"

"Canna move. Nightshade."

"Oh, bummer." The cot squeaked again. "Shit, they took the phone." Footsteps came toward him. She knelt beside him.

He saw her face splotched with purple and black bruises. "Bugger."

She touched her face and winced. "Lovely, huh?"

"Ye're always lovely. But I feel badly that ye were fighting for yer life, and I wasna able to help you."

"I feel badly for getting us into this mess." She looked him over. "They took your sporran." She gave him a sly look. "I mean your purse."

He growled.

"Any idea where we are?"

"I'm guessing either western Russia or the Ukraine. I canna teleport or send psychic messages through the silver."

"Silver?" She glanced around, then up at the ceiling. "Good heavens, it's everywhere."

"I wish I could touch you," he whispered. "It grieves me to see ye in pain."

Her gaze lowered back to his face. With a small smile, she touched his cheek. "What happened while I was knocked out?"

"I killed Brouchard."

"Oh." Her eyes widened. "Wicked. Congratulations."

"Uri and Alek attacked. Katya missed with her blowpipe and hit Uri."

Emma grinned, then winced at the pain. "Ouch. I guess the royal bitch managed to hit you eventually."

"Aye."

Emma gave him a worried look. "I get the feeling there's something personal between you and her."

Angus closed his eyes briefly. "It was a mistake. And a long time ago."

"She hates you now."

"She hates you, too."

Emma smiled. "Well, I did kill six of her men."

"'Tis more than that. She... suspects that I care very deeply about you."

Emma's smile faded. "She could be wrong."

"Nay. She's always had good instincts."

Emma's eyes glistened with tears as she touched his face. "I'm so sorry. They would have never captured us if I'd stayed put like you asked."

"But they would have kept killing every night until we came. The showdown was inevitable."

She leaned closer. "I'll get us out of here. Somehow."

"We'll do it together."

She searched his eyes, and he thought his heart would break. Her gaze lowered to his mouth. She touched her lips against his, then sat up.

His mouth quirked. "I'm completely helpless. Are ye sure ye wouldna like to have yer way with me?"

She snorted. "You're such a he-man." She rose to her feet and moved from his view.

"Oh, gross!" Her voice came from a far corner. "Our bathroom consists of a wooden tub, a bucket of water, and a chamber pot."

"I used a chamber pot for centuries. Ye'll get used to it."

"I guess," she muttered. "I really need to go."

"Then go." He heard a series of curses and scrambling noises.

"They call this toilet paper? I could file my nails with this stuff!" Finally she announced she was done. He heard a splash of water as she rinsed her hands.

She paced around the room. "Next time we're staying at the Hilton."

Something hit the floor.

"What was that?" Angus asked.

"I turned the cot onto its side." She grabbed him under the shoulders and dragged him. He tried to move his legs to help, but they were still dead weight.

She propped him up against the cot in a sitting position. "There. Isn't that better?"

"Yes." He could see more of the room now. A screen hid the primitive bathroom in the corner. Other than the cot, the only furniture was a small round table and two chairs. High up on the eastern wall, there was a small window.

The bolt on the door scraped.

Emma grabbed a chair and plastered herself against the wall next to the door.

The door creaked open. No one came in. A woman's voice on a walkie-talkie spoke in Russian.

"Put the chair down," Alek's voice ordered. "We know what you are doing. We have cameras in the room."

Emma lowered the chair and gazed around the room.

The Russian vampire Burien stepped inside and pointed a machine gun at her. She raised her hands.

Alek marched into the room with a tray in his hands. "We saw you were awake. We thought you might be hungry." He set the tray on the table.

"Ye make a good servant," Angus muttered.

"Indeed," Emma agreed with a sweet smile. "Be a dear and empty the chamber pot for me?"

Alek glared at them both. "We are watching your every move. And very soon, we expect it to be quite entertaining." Chuckling, he left the room.

Burien followed him. The door slammed shut, causing all the silver on it to glimmer. The bolt slid home.

Emma brought the chair back to the table. "What a creep. After I eat, I'll find all the cameras and destroy them." She touched the stuff in the bowl and tasted it from her fingertip. "Porridge. Not bad, actually, and I'm starving."

Angus sighed. His flask was gone. His heart twisted. Poor Emma. Katya had come up with the perfect way to torture them both. No wonder she wanted to watch.

"I hate to eat alone." Emma sat at the table, frowning. "Those jerks didn't bring you any food at all."

Then her eyes met his and her spoon dropped with a clatter on the table. At last she was realizing the true nature of their imprisonment.

"Aye," Angus told her. "As far as they're concerned, they have left me a source of food."