Read The Passion Online

Authors: Donna Boyd

Tags: #Fiction, #Horror, #New York (N.Y.), #Paranormal, #General, #Romance, #Werewolves, #Suspense, #Paris (France)

The Passion (29 page)

Stil guarding my voice, I said, "Surely you're not suggesting that we would do better to return to those days."

With a gentle smile she shook her head. "Our greatest pride is that we never have to return to those days. But I think, in giving up our rough past for chateaux on the river and elegant dinner parties and gas lamps on every street corner, we may also have given up our greatest strength."

I was uneasy, because for the first time in our acquaintance I did not know—at least to some vague extent—what Elise was thinking. And because I could not help but recal those who, believing that civilization was a weakness, had chosen to prove their strength by returning to live in the wilderness of Siberia…

She smel ed it on me, the question and the anxiety, and she gave me a quick, reassuring smile. "Did you ever think," she inquired unexpectedly, "about how my il ustrious ancestor real y overthrew the Antonov?"

"Why, through cunning and boldness," I responded, relieved to be on a topic with which I was comfortable. "Everyone knows that."

She held up an admonishing finger. "Ah, but without one other component, no amount of cunning or ambition in the world would have made his plan a success. Shal I tel you what it was? Wil you guess?"

I shook my head.

"Timing," she said. "The time was right when old Valkyn broke his neck and the cub Leo took over, it's true. But there was an even more important element at work there. It was
time
for the pack to move on. We had outgrown our hunting grounds, outsmarted the humans, begun to acquire leisure time and wider interests. We were moving into an era of enlightenment and expansion already, and had we not been, nothing the Devoncroix could have done would have led us there."

There was a low quiet fire in her eyes as she looked out over the water. And though her gaze was focused on the distant shore she saw much, much farther. "We are moving into a new era, Alexander.

The time is past when al it took to conquer the earth was to be faster and stronger and smarter than anything else that lives on it, because now there are others who are just as strong and just as fast, and if they aren't as smart as we are, they are smart enough to use what we have taught them, and to build on it. We have to come together now if we are to survive in the world that waits for us."

I said, "I admire your ambitions, mademoisel e, and I share them. But I confess I fail to see how any of it can be accomplished—or what part Tessa, a simple human, can play in your plans."

Her smile was secretive and ful of confidence. "Not just Tessa," she responded, "but al humans."

At my baffled expression she turned again and continued walking, her tone and her movements ful of energy, her voice a symphony for the ears. "And so we have Marcionetti, the finest shoemaker in al the pack, who outshines the best of al the human shoemakers in Italy. Why? Because he is werewolf.

He is faster, brighter, more inventive, with a greater eye for detail and a finer sense of perfection than any human craftsman could hope to achieve. But does it occur to him to market his product to humans? Most likely not, or if so, he does it grudgingly, and as an afterthought. And so he competes with a dozen other shoemakers—al of them fine, al of them werewolf—to supply the pack, which leaves him perhaps three months of the year that he is busy making shoes. The rest of the time he must take up another trade—bookbinding, perhaps, or sail making, and again he competes with other bookbinders and sail-makers in the pack, al of whom are dividing up ever-smal er pieces of the same pie. They feed their families, yes; they have work to keep their hands busy, yes. But do they achieve greatness?"

"But if they came together…" I murmured, almost understanding.

She completed my thought with control ed excitement underscoring her voice. "And if they saw the globe instead of just the pack as their marketplace—that is their strength, Alexander. That is
our
strength."

"But surely, mademoisel e, this is no great secret.

We have conducted commerce with humans for centuries and always profited from it."

"The best of us have," she agreed impatiently. "Your family, mine, a dozen or so others, and we have increased our own fortunes quite nicely. But what about the pack? What about the shoemakers and the builders and the blacksmiths and the bookkeepers? What are they working for, what can they hope to achieve beyond their own short life-rimes? Do they not deserve greatness as wel ?"

"And so you wil cal the pack together," I said. My voice was soft with awe and humble with admiration. This was something that had not been done since the time of the first Devoncroix. The implications of what she planned, if it could in fact be executed, were mind-stunning.

 

"More than that," she replied with an impatient shake of her head. "To bring the pack together is just the first step. Oh, Alexander, don't you see?"

Now I detected the urgency in her voice, the anxiety in her scent. She gripped my arm and looked at me with eyes ablaze, the magnificence of a passionate conviction in her face. "For the first time in history humans have the potential to actual y compete with us in areas in which we have always been the masters. Once before they encroached upon our territory, in the old black times, but it was easy enough to defeat them. They had crude weapons, we had teeth and claws. Their strength was no match for ours, and we were the faster and more agile. We could hear their plots and smel their approach.

"But we can't outrun them anymore, for soon trains wil run even faster than we. Shal we use our teeth and our claws against bul ets? We've known for centuries the absurdity of that. We are a civilized people now, and we've learned to live in peace with humans, to avoid them when we can and to pity them when we must. But we cannot ignore them.

We cannot forget that they can, by the simple fact of their ambition, stil pose a threat to us.

"So if we can't outrun them and we can't ignore them, we have but one choice if we are to maintain our position of dominance on the earth. We must outsmart them. We must use our senses to smel them coming, to hear their plots, to know their plans.

We must do it together—and we must do it for profit."

It was so beautiful y simple. The prize has always been power. In times of old, power meant territory, a piece of land where game was abundant and water flowed freely and shelter was strong and easy to secure. In this bold new century, this dawning industrial age, power meant money. This was something that I, with my lucrative vineyards and my banks, had always taken for granted. Only a true visionary would have understood the broader implications.

"Let the tradesmen and the scientists and the technicians and the engineers al come together under one name," she continued, her eyes bright and her voice rich with excitement. "The pack name.

Let them pool their resources and their talents and build a power base from which to negotiate—even manipulate—the human marketplace.
That
is our destiny, Alexander, that is our cal ing."

She was beautiful. She was bril iant. I adored her with al my soul.

I said humbly, sincerely, "I am honored to know you."

It is one of the deepest compliments one werewolf can give to another, implying an admiration so vast that it encompasses body and soul and puts one's own personal vanity far into the shadows. It is reserved for only the rarest of occasions: victory in battle, an act of unselfish heroism, a life-changing idea or discovery or breakthrough in thought. I had never said those words before, nor could I imagine ever meaning them more.

Her eyes shone, and she held both my hands in hers in a brief, firm grip. "I knew you would understand. I knew you would see immediately."

She turned and, linking her arm with mine, began to walk back toward the vil age. "Of course, one of the first obstacles we must overcome is the pack's natural disinclination to do business with humans."

"And that, then, was where Tessa came in."

She nodded. "I must let them know where I stand on the issue. Let them see a human inside the very gates of the Palais and let them know that times have changed, and that the pack wil change with them."

"You were wrong in your approach," I insisted firmly.

"Wrong to use Tessa in such a way—who is only one human, after al , and not particularly representative of her species in any meaningful way

—and wrong to force her on members of the pack who aren't ready to be dragged into this new era of yours. If you had kept Tessa at the Palais during the festival, nothing but disaster would have resulted, I can promise, and you would have gotten off to a very bad start with a pack from whom you intend to demand much over these next years. Besides," I added after a moment, "I wouldn't think that by now there's any doubt in anyone's mind as to how you stand on the subject of humans, so you have accomplished your purpose without inconveniencing or embarrassing anyone."

She was thoughtful for a time, and I saw the slow curve of a smile touch her lips. She slanted me a glance beneath the brim of her hat. "Quite clever, Alexander, and I shouldn't doubt that you're right.

Perhaps I should seek out your advice more often."

"Perhaps," I returned, "you might even start listening to it now and again."

She laughed. "I'm comfortable with you, Alexander.

You'd be surprised how few of my acquaintances about whom I can say that."

I replied smoothly with the question I had been aching to ask for weeks. "Is that, then, why you've had me spied upon?"

She pretended surprise. "Have I done that?"

"You have excel ent ears, mademoisel e. But I doubt that even you could have overheard from here conversations that took place in Siberia."

"Hmm." Neither her manner nor her pleasant demeanor changed. "Quite right."

 

My humor was gone now, and I didn't try to pretend otherwise. "Or perhaps you send minions to fol ow al of your subjects when they leave the country."

She sensed my displeasure and her tone grew subdued. "No, not al ."

"Only those you suspect of treachery."

She was silent for a time, and I thought I had overstepped my bounds. Then she answered, in a voice that was quiet and strained, "Only those I would give my honor to protect."

This was not at al what I had expected. A half-dozen pithy retorts had been swirling around in my head in case she answered my previous statement in the affirmative. But for this—so surprising, so unpredictable—my step actual y faltered and al I could think to say was, in astonishment, "And where was your protection when I was fighting for my life?"

She smiled. "Guarding your flank, you fool. Didn't you notice?"

I shook my head mutely.

She gave a slight tilt of her head, perusing me with repressed amusement. "Not that it matters. You acquitted yourself quite wel without them."

At some point during this remarkable conversation I had let her arm drop. Now she walked on without me, toward the carriage that waited across the street.

I moved quickly in front of her, blocking her path.

"Why?" I demanded.

She looked up at me with eyes that drank my soul. I no longer felt my heart beat, or my breath move in and out of my lungs. Al I felt was her gaze, living in every part of me. "Oh, Alexander," she said softly,

"don't you know?"

And here, then, is the one thing al males have in common, both human and werewolf: the capacity to be rendered utterly helpless in mind and body by nothing more than a look from the woman they love.

I was lost in such a look, held breathless, mindless and speechless by it.

When I made no reply she dropped her gaze, smiling gently. "Perhaps I'll answer your question with one of my own. Can you guess why I have just confided to you things I have never discussed with another soul, not even my father, the great Sancerre?"

I knew I should make some light and easy reply, to rescue myself from the doe-eyed foolishness into which I had fal en. But my throat was like parchment and my thoughts like taffy. Al I could answer was, honestly, "Mademoisel e, I cannot."

"Because," she told me, "when you presented to me your reasons for going against my wishes and sending Tessa away, your only justification was the welfare of the pack. And when I remarked upon that, you replied without hesitation, 'Of course.' " She gazed at me solemnly. "That's why, Alexander."

She took my arm again and we walked to the carriage.

TESSA

Chapter Fourteen

 

 

It had taken Denis and his hand-picked, careful y screened attendants a month to travel down from Siberia. They moved slowly to avoid detection, employing human conveyances and sheltering in human hostelries to study their customs and absorb their mannerisms. He had spent another two weeks in the heart of Paris, that sweltering, filthy, human-infested city, to make certain the smel of the north was off his skin, and he waited until the countryside was fil ed with werewolves travel ing to Lyons for the Festival to move closer to his goal.

His time was wel spent. The news was al over Paris about Alexander and his human pet, how he dressed her up and took her to the theater and wore her on his arm like a new cuff link at receptions given by important families. Denis was not surprised. Alexander was always involved in some nonsense or other, and usual y his escapades concerned humans. Once, with an older brother's indulgent tolerance, Denis had believed that Alexander's reckless behavior was the natural result of youthful ignorance. Now, of course, he knew better.

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