Blood on Silk by Marie Treanor Read Free Book Online Page B

to that of the man who’d accosted her moments later. Her gaze lingered, taking in the empty scabbard on the carving.
    She had a brief unbidden vision of “Saloman” rising from the stone table, then walking toward her in a cloud of dust while yanking the sword from his chest and throwing it on the ground. But it hadn’t been a sword. There had been no metallic clank on the stone floor. The sound of it falling had been softer, blunter, like wood.
    They’d fooled her with a clip-on wooden sword, and now that she thought through the stunned fear of that scene, she realized it had been too short for a real sword.
    “Well, that’s one trick explained,” she murmured.
    She refocused on the photograph, looking for more clues. The sarcophagus was undoubtedly stone, far too inert and dust covered to be the human male at this stage. And yet she’d been right—there was a gleam of black paint beneath the dust of his eyes and his hair and his cloak. It must have been old. No one could have rustled up something so wonderful just for a prank.
    “So how did they do it?” she murmured. “Did they destroy it, hide it? And why is the dead man carved with a sword through his chest and an empty scabbard?” She sighed. “I wish I knew if you were really Saloman. . . .” She touched the computer screen with her fingertip, brushing the sarcophagus’s face. “If I can’t find Dmitriu, I’m going to have to speak to the vampire hunters, aren’t I? And why am I talking to you anyway, computer image?”
    Closing the lid, she pushed the computer aside and stood up. Her stomach rumbled, and she realized she’d forgotten dinner again. Well, she’d go out and get something from one of the stalls. She needed some fresh air before bedtime anyhow. And while she walked, she could decide whether to leave Bistriƫa tomorrow as planned, or hang around to talk to the vampire hunters about bloody Saloman.
    She grabbed a sweater for defense against the cool of the evening and went in search of food.
    It was a clear, starry night, too late for there to be many people still around in the quiet streets near her hotel. But there was nothing threatening about this town. It was merely peaceful in the darkness, and by the time she approached home, munching her way through the warm pie from the corner stall, she’d made up her mind to spend one more day on the elusive Saloman. Though she was in danger of wasting too much time on one anomaly, another day couldn’t hurt. And it would be worth it if she solved the mystery of his existence once and for all.
    Emerging from the picturesque vaulted arches that covered the pavement in this part of the old town, she glanced up at the jeweled sky—and something hurtled down on top of her, rolling her to the ground.
    Winded and shocked, she could do nothing for the first disoriented moment. Then she realized it was a man’s heavy body pinning her to the ground, a man’s brutal hand shoving her face to one side, and she reacted from pure instinct. Grabbing his hair in both her hands, she heaved with all her might. At the same time, she jerked her knee up between his legs and felt it connect with the softness of male genitalia.
    He didn’t scream, and the rising cry from her own throat got lost in shock as she stared into the red, glaring eyes of her attacker. His mouth gnashed like an animal’s, revealing long, pointed incisors. He seemed to grin as he lunged once more toward her neck, paying no attention to the hair that came away in her hands as he pushed downward toward her bucking body.
    She changed tactics and punched his face instead. Though it drew a grunt from him, it made little difference to his progress. In wild desperation, she tried another, thudding her left fist into his ribs at the same time. But still his slavering mouth found her neck—just as he was plucked off her and thrown several feet across the pavement.
    Gasping for breath, Elizabeth glimpsed a tall figure with his back to her. He