Page 140 of Red Rooster

“Yes, I’d imagine so. So many things to learn about: English, America. iPhones and zippers and frozen pizza. It’s a world of wonders, isn’t it?”

Vlad growled, a single low note of warning. “There is a war coming. I’m familiarizing myself with modern warfare.”

“A war,” Val scoffed, but inwardly, his stomach curdled. “When is there evernota war for you? You can’t live without war, brother. It’s in your blood.”

Vlad tipped his head back a fraction, looking down his prominent nose at Val. “You with all your wandering, and you’d deny the darkness that’s coming? How typical.”

“What darkness?” His heart pounded hard in his chest; no doubt Vlad could hear it.

Vlad’s smirk was too vicious to be mocking. “They haven’t told you, then.”

“Who hasn’t told me what?” There was only a little frustration in his voice.

“You are a prisoner. Prisoners aren’t consulted in these matters.”

“What are you talking about?” he sneered. But something twisted inside him. Vlad was many, many things: but he’d never been a liar. Even his great historical deceits had been fraught with overt clues for those who’d bothered to look for them.

Vlad studied him a long moment, gaze betraying nothing. And then he squatted down on his haunches so he and Val were face-to-face through the bars. “Do you remember,” he said, “when we were just boys. Before.” No need to explain beforewhat. There was only ever onebeforethey spoke of: before the sultan took them. Before everything changed. “When Uncle Romulus came to visit.”

“Yes,” Val said, breathless despite his best efforts. His lungs tightened of their own accord, and he felt sweat bead at his temples, beneath his shoulders where they were pressed to the cool stone. He could recall the nursery of his earliest memories: the roaring fire, the Asian-patterned carpets, the intricate toys carved from wood, and cast in gold, set with precious jewels. Scent of the rose oil Mother dabbed behind her ears, the warm voices of their elders conversing.

Uncle had come to see them, alone, had crouched down in front of them much the way Vlad was crouched now, backlit by the fire, his Roman features cast in flickering orange light.

“One day,”he’d said, smiling at them in a way that was very different from their father,“you will be great generals in my army. When we take the world.”

It was years later that Val would learn taking the world meant breaking it first.

When Vlad got down on one knee before the Holy Roman Emperor and vowed to send their uncle to the hell he didn’t believe existed. Back to the awful dark place from whence Romulus’s army had crawled.

“Vlad,” Val said, and took a steadying breath. “They woke you up to get to your blood.”

A smile cut across Vlad’s face, the fast, humorless slice of a knife. “To heal their soldiers. To make them stronger. Yes. And what do you think they need so many soldiers for?”

Val took another breath, and another.

“They have you. They have your blood. Why do you think they needed a crusader?”

Val closed his eyes and let his head fall back. He’d known; he’d felt the shifting, the way, even back in the nineteen-forties, immortals were growing restless. He’d thought that Philippe’s failure, and Rasputin’s death would slow things…and it had, no doubt. But he couldn’t stop what was coming. Not from the inside of a cell.

“They found something in the desert,” Vlad said, clothes rustling as he stood. “It’s awake.”

Val cracked his eyes open a fraction and watched his brother step back and brace his broad shoulders against the wall. Fold his arms.

“You’ve been dream-walking,” Vlad said like an accusation.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“No. It’s in your nature to be slippery and deceitful.”

“My, your grasp of the English language is extraordinary. Did they teach you any of the curse words yet?Fuckis my favorite. And Americans use it so frequently and creatively–”

“If you’re trying to interfere with what they’re doing here, you’re going to regret it.”

“I regret most things, brother. Why should this be any different?”

Vlad wasn’t amused. “This is not a joke, Radu–”

“That’s not my name!” Val shouted before he could catch himself. The words just came boiling out like steam.