Vanda paced toward the end of the table but didn't sit. Phil could feel the tension radiating from her. She was like a wildcat prowling in a locked cage.
Father Andrew made a note on the top sheet of his stack of papers. "I noticed you called Phil a traitor."
She scowled at Phil. "He is."
"After watching your interview, I can understand why betrayal would be a sensitive subject for you," the priest continued. "Do you believe your sister, Marta, betrayed you?"
"I don't believe anything about her." Vanda strode to the television and turned it off. "She's dead to me, just like the rest of my family."
"She changed you into a Vamp," Phil said.
"No!" Vanda spun to face him. "Sigismund changed me. Marta just bit me and drank from me till I was too weak to fight her off. Then she presented me to her new boyfriend like a dinner entrée."
"You definitely harbor some anger toward her," Father Andrew observed.
"Why should I be angry?" Vanda ejected the DVD from the player. "Marta didn't do anything. She just stood there and watched while her boyfriend changed me, and our little sister lay dying in a nearby cave. She did nothing!"
"Sounds like betrayal to me," Phil said.
"I don't want to talk about it!" Vanda snapped the DVD in two and threw the pieces at Phil. "Leave me alone."
He dodged the flying pieces. "I won't." He strode toward her.
She growled and reached for another chair. He grasped it, holding it down, and while they both leaned forward, he engaged her in a staring contest. She arched a brow and refused to back down.
The priest cleared his throat. "I am truly sorry, my child, for the family members you lost. Do you know if Marta is still alive? Or undead, I should say."
Vanda let go of the chair and turned away from Phil. "I don't know. Who cares?"
"She could be your only surviving family," the priest continued. "I think you should see her."
"No way."
Father Andrew clicked his pen and made a note on one of his papers. "I have a good friend in Poland. A priest who went to seminary with me years ago. I'll ask him to check on the whereabouts of your sister."
"I don't want to see her!"
The priest regarded Vanda sternly over the rim of his reading glasses. "I have an assignment for you. I want you to give serious thought to forgiving your sister."
"What?" Vanda looked at the priest like he'd suddenly grown two heads.
"How old was Marta when you fled to the mountains?" Phil asked.
Vanda gritted her teeth. "Fifteen, but - "
"She was a child," Father Andrew said.
"And Sigismund probably had her mind under his control," Phil added.
"I don't care!" Vanda shouted. "She let Frieda die! I won't forgive her. I can't."
Father Andrew removed his glasses. "Forgiveness doesn't mean that you condone her actions. You don't need to forgive her for her sake. You do it for yourself, so you can put all the pain to rest and start living again."
"Why should I live when they're all dead? Everyone I loved is dead! Next you'll be telling me to forgive the damned Nazis." Vanda ran to the door and wrenched it open. "Leave me the hell alone!" She ran down the hall.
Phil paused at the door, watching her. "I should make sure she's all right."
The priest sighed as he shoved his papers back into his portfolio. "Maybe we're pushing too hard." He stood and pocketed his glasses. "I was a bit worried when she blew up, but you seem quite capable of handling her."
Unfortunately, handling Vanda was about all Phil thought about these days. "You gave her a lot to think about. Let it stew for a while."
Father Andrew nodded and gathered up his things. "I'll be in touch, then. Thank you for your help." He patted Phil on the shoulder, then walked toward the banquet hall.
Phil took off in the opposite direction, hunting for Vanda. With his superior hearing, he caught the faint pattering sound of her high heels on the marble floor.
Then it stopped. She must have left the hallway and entered a carpeted room. But which room? Fortunately, he could also rely on his superior sense of smell. He followed the sweet, jasmine scent of her hair gel and tracked her to the end of the hall where the chapel was situated.
Tomorrow night Father Andrew would perform Mass in the chapel at Romatech. About twenty Vamps usually attended, more if they came for the free synthetic blood offered afterward in the fellowship hall.
Phil paused in front of the double doors leading into the fellowship hall. Vanda's scent lingered there, as if she'd stood there for several minutes, debating what to do. He glanced down at the crack below the double doors. Still dark. With her superior night vision, she hadn't bothered to turn on the lights.
He opened a door quietly and slipped inside. His night vision was excellent, too, and he saw several bare refreshment tables in the middle of the room and numerous empty chairs lining the walls. He scanned along the ceiling. No security cameras. Whatever happened here would remain private.
Across the room, Vanda stood by the window, gazing out at the stars. The door clicked softly when he shut it.
She stiffened but didn't turn around. "Go away."
He winced at the pain in the timbre of her voice. She was either crying or close to it. He moved slowly toward her. "I was worried about you."
"You never follow directions, do you? I said go away." She whipped around to glare at him. "I also told you not to snoop around in my past, but you deliberately went against my wishes. You even brought the priest into the act. How could you? You don't think I'm screwed up enough? You have to expose my old wounds for the world to see?"
He stopped by a table. "Your wounds are deep. Even Constantine, a young child, could see it."
Her eyes darkened, a storm brewing in their gray depths. "Oh yes, let's help the poor woman before she goes totally berserk. I don't want your pity, Phil!"
The energy from her strong emotions awakened his inner wolf, inciting a surge of power within him. Good God, he wanted to haul her on top of a table and show her how beautiful she was. He balled his fists to retain control. "I feel a lot for you, but none of it is pity."
Her eyes narrowed. "That's what this is really about, isn't it? Your eight years of unrequited lust. You want me mentally healthy so you can screw me."
He clenched his fists tighter. The animal inside him urged him to jump her, but he was an Alpha and master of the beast. "Don't insult me, Vanda. I want you to be happy. I want you healthy enough that you can forge your own future, instead of wallowing in your painful past."
"Is that all?" she scoffed, then strode toward him. "Here's a news flash for you. I can forge my own future just fine. I have all the confidence and guts I need." She stopped in front of him, her chin lifted in defiance.
"False bravado," he muttered.
She slapped a hand against his groin. "Does that feel false to you?"
He gulped. Her roaming fingers had quickly located his cock. Not hard to do as fast as he was swelling.
"This is what you want, isn't it?" She rubbed the heel of her palm up and down the length. "You've wanted it for years."
He hissed in a breath. "I know what you're doing. You're avoiding the meat of the matter."
"I've got the meat right here." She squeezed.
He groaned. It felt so good. But he knew she was using sex to vent her frustrations and throw him off track. It was wrong. It was glorious. He wanted more.
She unfastened his waistband. "You're getting so big." She unzipped his pants. "What an animal you are."
She had no idea. His inner beast strained to break free from the mental control he'd clamped down on it. How could he take advantage of Vanda when she was clearly desperate? What had happened to her in the past that she would rather throw herself at him than discuss it? "I think you should stop."
"Make me." She curled her fingers around the waistband of his briefs and tugged them down.
His erection sprung free. His inner beast howled. Take her. Take her now.
"Oh my." She wrapped her hand around the hard shaft. "You're magnificent."
He groaned when her thumb caressed the smooth tip. Moisture seeped from him, and her fingers glided over him, slick and urgent.