Insatiable by Meg Cabot

Author:Meg Cabot
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2010-01-07T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-eight

9:00 P.M. EST, Friday, April 16

910 Park Avenue, Apt. 11B

New York, New York

Meena could only stare wordlessly at Alaric as he went on. “Lucien—that wasn’t his name back then—and his half brother went into hiding after Vlad, for reasons unknown but likely related to his ambitions to conquer the world, bragged to Stoker about what he was. That was how one of our officers managed to track him down and stake him.”

Alaric had settled back into the armchair and was regarding both Meena and Jon, but mostly Meena, with a grimly serious expression.

“Then Stoker’s novel came out and the name Dracula became infamous and synonymous with evil. His sons have been hiding in the general population ever since, frequently changing their names and professions, trying to stay one step ahead of us. But I can assure you, Vlad Dracula’s death at the hands of the Palatine a hundred years ago made his eldest son, now calling himself Lucien Antonescu, the new prince of darkness. He has to be exterminated.”

Alaric’s blue-eyed gaze was so direct as it met Meena’s, it again riveted her to her seat.

“And you’re going to help us do that, Meena Harper, by telling me where you spent last night with him, so that we can find him and put him—and then all the members of his clan, the Dracul, whom we believe are the vampires responsible for killing those girls, as well as almost killing my partner—down.”

Meena stared up at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. She couldn’t stop remembering Lucien’s face as he’d told her the story of the woman who’d plunged to her death in the Princess’s River rather than be taken prisoner by the Turks.

If what Alaric was telling her was true, that woman had been Lucien’s mother, whom he’d watched commit suicide before his very eyes.

Those dark eyes that Meena had found so filled with sadness.

And no wonder!

But that was impossible. Because if he’d actually seen Vlad the Impaler’s wife kill herself, that would make Lucien five hundred years old.

On the other hand, if she hadn’t been his mother, why else had Lucien made such a special point of showing her Vlad Tepes’s portrait? It had to have some special, personal meaning to him.

Except…

There was no such thing as vampires.

Was she really supposed to think Lucien Antonescu was a vampire who’d magically transported himself into the museum, knocked out all the guards, and turned off the alarms…just to impress a date?

Except…

What had happened to all the guards?

And what about the bats? The bats that had attacked them outside of St. George’s Cathedral?

“It can’t be true,” she said faintly, shaking her head. “He never…I mean, he seemed so…normal.”

Except for the part where he’d been absolutely perfect.

Even to the point that she never got a sense that he was going to die someday. Of course not.

Because he was already dead.

What had Leisha said that day on the phone when Meena had told her about Shoshona getting the head writer gig? If someone who can tell

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