Seducing the Vampire (26 page)

He touched a bloody finger to his mouth, but did not
taste it. “Tainted,” he pronounced, and wiped the finger on her bodice. “Help me lift her.”

Her body was handled roughly as Grim gripped her shoulders and Constantine groped about her skirts to get her stiff legs in hand. “Set her on the chaise, will you?”

Grim asked, “What of the—?”

“This first.”

Viviane's world tilted, her vision scaling along the shelves of books and the ceiling. Her skirts shuffled up her legs. Metal buttons clacked as Constantine released his breeches.

“You are a voyeur?” he asked the witch. “Give me a moment. I want to send my wicked lover to hell with part of me inside her.”

Viviane's bile curdled. She wanted to lash at the monster, to win her freedom.

He entered her. She could feel nothing. But the horror overwhelmed as he pumped quickly, gruffly, and gave an abbreviated cry of pleasure.

“Remember me, Viviane, as I drip down your thigh and you are unable to wipe it away.”

He stood and refastened his breeches. “Help me now, Grim.”

Through the house and out the back door they carried her. Were they setting her on the ground? She could not move her eyes, and could see only directly before her. The sky glittered with full, gorgeous moonlight. Rhys.
My love
. At this moment he must be loping freely across the countryside beneath the pale full moon.

Constantine kissed her on the mouth. She could not feel the touch. His face blocked out the moonlight.

She wanted to see the moon. To connect with her lover.

I am yours
. Her last words to him.

“Grim, hand me the crown.”

Her tormentor held a hideous thing before her. A ring of skulls. Small skulls similar to the rose hairpiece she often wore.

“Rat skulls,” he said, his eyes glinting. “I crown you Queen of the Rats.”

The moon flashed. Something moved over the top of her. It was glass, set in a narrow frame, for she could see the leading that connected it as if a box to the sections on the side.

What horror is this? They'd put her inside something. And now it was lifted from the ground and she could feel her body floating.

“You had your chance,” Constantine said. “And now I condemn you to eternity.”

A scream exploded behind her eyes.

Paris, modern day

D
ANE TOLD
R
HYS SHE'D START
making calls to gather a team when they returned to his estate. But as soon as she sat on the bed in the guest room, she fell into a deep sleep and dreamed of soft, cushy beds layered with satin sheets, and with men like Rhys Hawkes tucked between them. She woke later, smiling, thinking that was the best dream ever.

In her peripheral view, she noticed Rhys sat on the chair near the window, his heels on the windowsill. His profile revealed closed eyes to the high-noon sunlight.

“I thought I locked the door,” she said groggily.

“You did not,” he replied. “You going to sleep all day?”

She'd like to. “Sorry. Guess the lure of a real bed got the better of me.”

Rest would come soon enough. She'd already pocketed ten grand.

“What are you?” Dane boldly asked.

He tilted a smile at her. The sunlight admired his face, slipping along the lines fanned out at the corners of his eyes and in the crags wrinkling his forehead as he lifted his brows. “Half vamp, half wolf. What are you?”

“Familiar,” she offered plainly.

“I suspected.”

“Aversion to cats?”

“Their fur, not their demeanors,” he offered.

“How can you soak up the rays if you're half vamp?”

“My werewolf protects me. How can you sit in the same room as a wolf if you are a cat shifter?”

“I'm not afraid of wolves. Nowadays, they're plain stupid. But vampires are smart.”

“I would argue that summation, but to each his, or her, own.”

She had insulted him, but she wasn't sure how.

“How did it happen?” she asked. “I mean, if the legend is true. Where were you that some vampire was able to kidnap your lover?”

“It was the full moon. I'd left the city to put myself away from her. I had hired the biggest, strongest bravo I could find to protect her. I only wanted to keep her safe.”

Hell of a lot of good that had done.

“I thought the only problem a werewolf had during the full moon was wanting to mate. Why would you need to be away from her?”

Dane couldn't imagine what he must be struggling with right now. If it were true—which it wasn't—he must feel tremendous guilt.

“Because of my mixed blood my vampire mind controls my werewolf. Makes it bloodthirsty. It's never good. I should have taken her along with me. I could have chained myself. I should have…”

Dane felt Rhys's anxiety burst through to the top of the scale. At that moment the butler knocked and brought in breakfast.

“You want some?” she asked, hoping to alleviate his tension.

“No, I will leave you. I am eager to return underground. An hour?”

“Less than that. I'll round up a team. Thanks, Monsieur Hawkes.”

He nodded. “I'll have the next ten thousand waiting for you before we leave.”

 

R
HYS FOUND IT DIFFICULT TO
do nothing, waiting for Dane to gather a larger team of spelunkers, but it had been centuries. Much as it pained him to admit it, a few more hours was not going to matter.

Viviane had taken his blood the day before the fire. But he had not taken hers. Rhys now believed, with two centuries of knowledge under his belt, if she would have bitten him, cursed his wolf with the blood hunger, his vampire mind may have been appeased.

Or rather, he wanted to believe.

“Master Hawkes.” Poole stepped into the living room. “A Monsieur Lepore is here to see you.”

“Show him in.”

Rhys fisted a hand in his opposite palm, anticipation growing. One step closer to locating Constantine.

Vincent Lepore was a tall, slender vampire with gray hair and a nose that curved west. He'd served on the Council for a century, though, and Rhys knew from hearsay, his word was impeccable.

“Hawkes.” Lepore offered a hand and the two shook. “Your assistant tells me you are looking for your brother?”

“Yes, and I assume since you've come directly to me, you've information on his location?”

“Actually—” Lepore scratched the back of his neck “—I've discussed this matter with a few Council members.”

It had become a matter? That didn't sound promising.

“We've determined it unwise to reveal Salignac's location to you.”

“You protect a criminal?”

“What crime has Constantine committed?” Lepore asked, and for good reason for he could not be aware of Rhys's suspicions.

“I cannot say. I want to speak to my brother. Can you not, at the very least, give me a phone number?”

“Don't think he uses technology. He's very private, Rhys.”

“And yet you seem to know much more about him than I, his own brother.”

“The Council is aware of the bad blood between the two of you. You know we keep tabs.”

Yes, and yet another reason he'd been fine with his decision not to pursue a seat on the Council. Big brother, he was not.

“Constantine may have buried my lover alive, beneath Paris, two centuries ago,” Rhys blurted out. “Had her bespelled by the witch Grim.”

“The warlock is on the Council's watch list.”

Rhys chuckled. The Council had a tendency to watch more often than get involved.

“He lives in France,” Lepore offered. “That is all I will say. I can attempt to contact him on your behalf if that will serve?”

“Do so,” Rhys said. “Tell him I need answers regarding Viviane LaMourette.”

 

“C
HANGE OF PLANS, BOYS.”
Dane entered the living room a few minutes after Lepore had left and plopped onto the
sofa next to Simon, who protected his laptop from her elbow.

“You weren't able to gather a team?” Rhys wondered.

“Got the team. But today all efforts are focused in the Bois de Boulogne. Two of our own have gone missing.”

“
Our
own?” Simon intoned skeptically.

“Fellow cataphiles.”

“They are of no concern to our mission,” Rhys stated, still angered that the Council deemed it wise to protect his brother from him.

Dane jumped from the sofa and met him in the center of the room. “Look, wolf, if I spend the day helping my cohorts search for their friends, then they'll reciprocate. And it's not as if one more day is going to matter on your quest, is it?”

Rhys's heart clenched. Chimeras should not have such power over a man. “Twenty-four hours, then. You return to this mission promptly at eleven tomorrow morning.”

“I will. I'm going to take off.”

“She won't come back,” Simon commented as Rhys strode the floor. “That was a ruse. She got ten grand. She's going to run.”

“She'll be back. And you'll be sure of it. Grab your gear. We're going to join the search party.”

Paris, 1785

N
ORMALLY
R
HYS WOULD RUN
to Paris as a wolf, and shift in the forest edging the city. Today, he returned by carriage, feeling rather tall and high as the driver's box placed him.

As he gained the rue Saint-Honoré, carriages and horses stood at a standstill. An ashy scent overwhelmed. Gray flakes floated in the air.

Hackles stiffening, Rhys pressed the horses, but to no end. He was trapped, unable to navigate forward.

Leaping from the driver's seat, he squeezed between horse flesh and carriage wheels.

Heart racing and fists pumping to increase his speed, he did not see the world as he passed through the streets, turning and dodging to avoid carriages and people. Turning right, he shouldered an old man but did not call regrets.

As he neared Montfalcon's neighborhood he could smell the lingering sulfurous miasma of what must have been a raging fire.

Try as he might, he could not find Viviane's scent. But he could smell none of the people he passed, so that gave him hope.

He rounded the corner to havoc. A portion of the neighborhood had been charred to a skeleton of wood and stone framework. Smoke wafted from the simmering wreckage.
Three houses had burned to black crenellated stumps. And the center house was where Rhys had left his vampire lover to await his return.

Legs going loose and wobbly as he approached, he reached out, but did not grasp a reassuring hand or land his lover's slender waist.

One man picked through the ash.

“Get out!” He stomped through the charred remains. It was warm yet for steam rose amongst the wisps of ash.

A man bent over the remains straightened and tugged smartly at his cloth-buttoned coat. A smear of ash dashed his white jabot. “And you are?”

“This is my home,” Rhys gasped. Well, it had been for the short time. He had no home at all now. Two burned in so little time… “Do you scavenge in the ruins of my life?”

“Forgive me, monsieur. I am Philip LeMarck, the city inspector. You are just arriving?”

“Yes, I've been away…but a day.” His voice broke. Rhys clasped his throat.

The city inspector. So he was not poking about, looking for something to steal. At once Rhys wanted to fall against him for support, and yet he would not allow any to see his shock.

He rallied strength with a deep inhale. “When did it happen?”

“Burned through the night. Only got the flames extinguished early this morning. Bit of rain fell a few hours ago, which helped.”

Feeling his bile rise, Rhys stumbled forward. He landed his hands on the inspector's forearms. The man braced him.

“My lover,” he gasped. “Viviane LaMourette. She was
here. Though…she was to be at her home packing.” Hope momentarily sparked.

The inspector's face bowed and he shook his head. “This way.”

Frozen in the middle of the destruction, the wind stirred thick gray ash flakes before Rhys. A storm to match that within his heart.

“Monsieur?” The inspector stood before the study, which had been directly below the bedchamber. “Perhaps you should sit a moment before we do this? I'll call for the water carrier, and you'll have a drink. Better yet, some hard ale.”

“Do? Do what?” Innately, Rhys knew where the man wanted him to go. Tread forth into hell. Open his eyes to a truth he could not bear. “What is over there?”

“Are you sure you're ready—”

“Just tell me!”

“We found two bodies.”

Rhys dropped to his knees. Sulfur tangled at the back of his throat. Tears spilled down his cheeks. Had his hands ever shaken so horribly?

“One body appears male,” the inspector said. “Found him outside the back door.”

The bravo. Had he tried to get inside to rescue Viviane from the flames? How could she have been trapped inside? It wasn't as if he'd locked her up tight. Had the flames eaten at her gown, the smoke smothering her cries? No.
Please don't let her have suffered
.

Lifted from his knees by the inspector, Rhys shoved him roughly. “Show me, then.”

“I walked through quickly when I arrived this morning, monsieur. I'm waiting for the surgeon to arrive to help me, er…recover the bodies. Over here where the top floor dropped down and the bed…”

A charred bedpost jutted out as if it were a stalagmite in a dark cave. Here the ash swirled like summer snow. Flakes landed on Rhys's shoulders and hair. His hands trembled. A reedy moan escaped and he again landed on his knees before the charred hand visible amidst scattered lumber.

The inspector squatted and gently pushed aside a heap of ash, revealing the bottom of a jawbone and the reticulated spine bones. Black and charred and—Rhys looked away, closing his eyes, but that did not stop the tears.

His heart pounded. Dead!

He felt his muscles grow slack. The world wobbled.

Mercy. He had not been here to save her.

He heard a snick and turned to see what the inspector had tugged from the body. But a few strands of black moire ribbon were intact. Coated with a black smudge, tiny skulls tumbled away and dropped.

Rhys plunged his hand into the ash and grasped a skull no larger than his fingertip.
Red roses clutching skulls
. The first time he'd seen her wearing that piece her azure eyes had sparkled.

He clutched it to his chest and reeled forward, rocking. He was aware the inspector rose, patted him on the shoulder, then left him alone with his agony.

His heart spilled out in wretched cries. And when they turned to howls, he pressed his face to his knees to stifle the strange sounds that might see him revealed for the creature he was.