"My cousin is not afraid of dying," he said. "He courts death. He has been that way since he came back from the Holy Wars."
"When he found out Marian was gone." That explained quite a few things about Robin. "I'm confused. If you don't want to kill him, why go through all this?"
"I want to see him suffer as I suffered," Nottingham said, his voice grating over the words. "Ten years I spent in a dungeon because of him. If the contessa had kept her promises to me, I would have left him to rot in that cage forever."
"After making him watch you rape me," she added helpfully.
He looked away. "He should never have brought you with him."
"I see. It's his fault. Again." She tilted her head. "It's funny how he's always the bad guy, and you're nothing but the victim. But I can see why you wouldn't want to kill him. If he were gone, you wouldn't have anyone left to blame for your problems."
Nottingham gave her a filthy look. "You know nothing. Your mortal life has lasted a handful of years. I have endured centuries alone on this earth."
"Why not kill yourself then?" she asked. "What have you done with your life besides hating Robin, blaming Robin, or planning to get even with Robin? How could you waste all that time on something stupid like revenge over a woman who never wanted either of you?"
Nottingham slapped her hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. "You will not speak of her."
Chris swallowed a sob and turned away from him, moving as far as she could to the other side of the seat. She sat there for a long time before she felt a brush of leather against her hand, and jerked around.
"I am sorry I hit you," he said, his voice gruff as he pressed a handkerchief into her hands. "You have a talent for provoking me. Stop weeping."
She sniffed and dried her face. "Don't you be nice to me."
"I dislike seeing females in tears."
She took the handkerchief he offered her and wiped her eyes. "At least mine aren't toxic." She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "What did the other Kyn say when you told them about the contessa and this vial of her sister's tears?"
"I did not call London."
"You're kidding." She crumpled the handkerchief in her fist. "Oh, my God. You're not."
"There was no need to call ahead," he told her. "Salva is traveling by land. We will reach England before she does."
Chris tried to work that out. "Why wouldn't she fly there?"
"Kyn despise air travel," he said. "She flew to Rome only because she could not spare the time to make the crossing by boat and train."
"You don't seem to have a problem with it," she pointed out. "Neither does Robin."
"My cousin is a reckless fool," Nottingham said. "I fear nothing."
"You seemed pretty terrified of that vial." She saw his hand contract into a fist against the armrest. "How poisonous are her sister's tears?"
"We Kyn each have our own talent," he said slowly. "As you have seen, the contessa can persuade a human to do anything she wishes. Your lover charms them. I command the cold and ice. But there are those with far more powerful talents. One of our kind can shatter flesh and bone with a touch. Our high lord can inflict great suffering on humans and Kyn with his voice."
If he had told her that two days ago, Chris would never have believed him. Now it made her stomach turn.
"Beatrice's talent was the most lethal of all," he continued. "Her blood was poison, and anything it touched—Kyn, mortals, animals, plants, anything alive—died instantly. For a short time her family concealed her talent by hiding her from the rest of us, but she escaped them to run away with a mortal who had fallen in love with her. She did not think about the blood of her virginity. He died in her arms."
Nottingham told her how, weeping with grief, Beatrice had thrown herself into a river.
"She did not drown—we cannot be killed that way—but 'tis said that she wept tears of blood into the water. Every mortal who drank it sickened overnight," he said. "Their bodies swelled with black boils, and they went out of their heads with fever. Anyone who touched them also became ill. So the sickness spread through villages and towns and cities. It traveled on ships from one country to another."
What he was describing sounded like the Black Death. Chris couldn't quite believe that a vampire like immortal could have caused a plague with her tears, but she'd seen so many strange things already that she was prepared to take it on faith. "How many people died?"
"Too many to be counted." His mouth tightened. "In Florence, where I lived, every mortal who served me died of it. So did half the city. It took us months to collect the bodies of the dead and burn them."
"What happened to Beatrice?"
"She went back to her family and begged them to hide her. They put her into a convent, but she could not overcome her grief. Her tears first killed all of the sisters, and then their livestock and gardens. She poisoned the wells with them, and when the rains came the wells overflowed and plague began to sweep throughout the land again."
"What if it was coincidence?" she asked. "Historians say that rats spread the plague through the fleas they carried."
"I cannot say. Among the Kyn, it was said that Beatrice was the angel of death, sent by God to bring about Armageddon." The corner of Nottingham's mouth curled. "True or not, that belief spread like the sickness, and eventually reached our high lord. He assembled his seigneurs and came to Venice for her."
Chris almost felt sorry for the contessa. "Didn't they test her tears to see if it was true, or give her a chance to defend herself?"
"No," he admitted. "Beatrice's family did beg for her life to be spared, and promised to keep her at the convent, but of course she could have left at any time and they would not have been able to stop her. Richard and the others had seen too much death on their journey to Venice." He gazed at the clouds outside the window. "I think they were right to kill her. After she died, the plague ceased spreading, and mortals began to recover instead of die."
Chris thought about what he had said. "You knew all this, and you didn't call London and warn them?"
"I am an outcast, thanks to your lover." He looked through the window at the clouds. "No one would believe me anyway."
"Oh, give me a phone," she snapped. "I'll make them believe it." When he didn't reply, she stared at his profile. "You can't be serious. What do you think you're going to do when we get there? Swoop in and save the day and show them what a hero you are?"
"Be quiet."
Chris saw frost crawl up the inside of the window. "Do you think they're going to pin a medal on you? Assuming the contessa doesn't kick your ass again."
He turned then and grabbed her shoulders, his grip as cold as the air around them. "You know nothing about me, mortal."
"I'm the mortal who got you out of the contessa's cage." She clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering. "I really don't need another dose of hypothermia, if you don't mind."
Nottingham removed his hands and took off his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders. "Forgive me." He walked up to the front of the cabin and disappeared.
Chris got up and went immediately to the in-flight phone station, grabbing the receiver. It wouldn't budge, and only then did she realize it was frozen solid.
Chapter Eighteen
Michael woke up alone. Alexandra had been rising early every afternoon to attend to the patients in the refugee hospital, and rarely returned before dawn. He knew how important her work was to her, and how it kept her from worrying about John, but if she kept going at this pace she would soon exhaust herself. As he dressed, he decided he would go down there after the latest session of le conseil supérieur to talk with her.
"Good evening, master." Phillipe came in with a bottle of bloodwine and prepared a glass for Michael. "Lady Liling called and gave me a message for Alexandra." He glanced around the room. "I will take it down to the hospital."
Michael felt a brief glimmer of hope. "Did Liling have news of John?"
"No, she said she had forgotten to tell Alex something when they spoke this morning. She asked me to write it down." He took a scrap of paper from his pocket. "She said there were forty-seven girls in her group, and only three boys."
"What group?"
"I cannot say, master. Alex asked me to contact Suzerain Jaus very early this morning. She took the call in Geoffrey's library and remained in there well past dawn."
Michael checked the time. "I think I will call Chicago myself."
Valentin Jaus did not seem surprised to hear from Michael, and dispensed with the usual formalities. "I trust all is going well with le conseil supérieur, Seigneur."
"Things could be better, mon ami, but they could also be much worse. I understand that our women spoke for a time last night. Did Liling mention to you Alexandra's reason for contacting her?"
"Yes, she spoke to me immediately after the call," Jaus said, his voice turning cool. "Your sygkenis stirred up some unpleasant memories for my lady, but Liling assured me that the matter was of great importance to Lady Alexandra."
"Please give Liling my apologies," Michael said. "Alex has been treating a great many Kyn refugees for their injuries, and at such times she often becomes thoughtless of the feelings of others."
"It was not that she was unkind." Jaus sighed. "You know how Alex can be when she wishes to know something. She asked Liling a great many questions about the Brethren breeding centers where she was kept for the first part of her life. Liling was but a child, Michael, and they imprisoned and tortured her and her brother for years. I do not think she will ever speak easily of those days."
