by Lynsay Sands
“He knows what you tried to do?” Marguerite asked with confusion.
“No, of course not. Father never mentioned it to anyone. Julius just thought Father was overprotective because he was the only male.”
Vita paused by the wall and scraped her nails angrily down the dirt-covered stone. “I couldn’t kill him after that. The little prince survived to manhood and took his place on the family throne. He led his charmed little life, having everything given to him that should have been mine, and laughing his way through life as happy and jovial as an adult as he had been as a baby.”
“Vita?” Julius asked, a frown drawing his eyebrows together. “But she has never acted cruelly to me, never been mean or shown this jealousy you speak of.”
“Your sister is a master at hiding her feelings. So much so that I often wonder if she has any at all…besides her own interests, that is,” Nicodemus said quietly. “I should have tended to her back then, but I couldn’t prove anything, so I just had to watch you, and keep her as far away from you as possible.” He sighed. “As the centuries passed and there was no more trouble, I allowed myself to be convinced that all was well, that she had got over her jealousy and accepted your presence.”
“Not completely or you wouldn’t be bringing it up now,” Julius pointed out.
He nodded acknowledgment. “When Jean Claude reappeared and Marguerite left, Vita came to your side immediately. At first I thought she was just being a good sister. But more than once, while she was comforting you I thought I saw a flicker of unholy glee on her face, as if she was enjoying your suffering. However, it would be gone so quickly I thought I must have imagined it.” He sighed. “But I have seen that same glee flicker on her face since you went to England and this trouble began.”
“Maybe she is just happy that I have found Marguerite again,” Julius said with a frown.
“Maybe,” he allowed. “But this was when Dante and Tommaso returned and were giving an accounting of what they knew of the attack on Marguerite in the hotel. They were saying that you were terribly upset and obviously loved the woman. I would swear her happiness was over your upset. And I saw it again today when I arrived and found you confronting and being held by these men. She was standing back, watching with apparent delight. I was troubled too when you said it was Vita who told you that Marguerite was at the townhouse just before you found the dead maid. No one mentioned this to me before.” He allowed Julius to absorb that and then added, “But it was Tiny’s suggestion that it was someone who could not attack you personally for fear of revealing themselves that convinced me. Had you been found murdered at any time after that attack on you as a child, I would have looked to her at once.”
Julius frowned. He didn’t want to believe it could be his sister, but this was the only lead they’d had. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to talk to her and see if he got a sense that something was wrong? Glancing around he asked, “Where is Vita? She was here earlier.”
“She was leaving as we came in,” Marcus announced. “She gave me the tray to bring in and said she had to go home to get more clothes, she may be needed here for a while.”
Aware that the Argeneaus were all now looking at him, Julius frowned. He found it hard to believe that his big sister could be behind all of this, and could wish to hurt him like this. She’d always been fond of Christian, he’d thought. But it was the only lead they had at the moment and if his father was right…
Heading for the door, he muttered, “I’ll go to her place and talk to her now.”
“Not without me,” Lucian declared, standing to follow even as Tiny and Marcus fell into step on either side of Julius.
“We’re all coming,” Bastien announced as Lucian and Vincent stood up. “We rented a passenger van at the airport. We should all fit in it for the ride.”
When Julius paused and turned around to argue that he’d rather go alone, Vincent slapped a hand to his shoulder and grinned. “Give in gracefully. This family takes no prisoners. Welcome to the family, by the way…Uncle.”
Nineteen
“So Julius was happy and you couldn’t stand it,” Marguerite prompted.
“No, I couldn’t. I wished him misery and torture every day of his life,” Vita admitted grimly, but then smirked and added, “And then you appeared…the answer to my prayers.”
“Me?” Marguerite asked with confusion.
Vita’s smile was something unholy to behold. “Of course, you…and Jean Claude.”
Marguerite’s mouth firmed, but she remained silent.
Vita moved to lean against the wall by the door, looking incredibly pleased with herself as she said, “I’m afraid I didn’t immediately recognize the beauty of his finding you. All I saw was that once again fate had slapped me in the face, giving him a lifemate before me, when I am so much older and had waited so much longer. I admit I was bitter.”
Still are, Marguerite thought grimly.
“Julius, of course, was delirious, walking around with a foolish grin on his face, practically flying with his joy. You were his everything: his hope, his future, his lifemate.” She grimaced. “You were no better. The two of you were constantly cooing like a pair of lovebirds,” she said with disgust.
“I couldn’t bear it,” she admitted. “I spent every minute of every day fighting the urge to lop off your heads, but of course I couldn’t. My father would have known it was me. So I suffered in silence…but when Julius announced that you were with child…”
Vita ground her teeth together at the memory, the sound loud in the silent room. “I nearly did kill you then, consequences be damned. But then I learned something that made me realize there was a much better way to handle the matter. I could crush my brother like a grape without killing anyone, and without any blame coming my way.” She smiled, and raised her eyebrows. “Do you know what it was? You should. You lived it. “She smirked and taunted, “Oh, that’s right, you don’t remember.”
Marguerite ground her own teeth now.
“Jean Claude was still alive,” she said finally. “After twenty years of thinking yourself a widow, you weren’t.” She glanced at her solemnly. “He really never should have married you. It was a foolish mistake on his part when he could read and control you. Who could resist doing so?”
“Who indeed,” Marguerite muttered. Certainly not Jean Claude. He’d tried at first, managing for the most part during their first five years together, but it had started to go downhill quickly after that. Her life had become a nightmare of his wants and needs. He could make her do absolutely anything. Not in the mood for sex tonight, wife? He was. And suddenly she was too…with one part of her mind at least. The other part was aware that she was being controlled and hated him for it. She’d become nothing more than a puppet to his whims when he was around, never allowed to show her displeasure or anger. If even a bit of it slipped out, he took control, turning her into a medieval Stepford Wife. Yes, husband, I’d love to rub your smelly feet. Yes, husband, it is my pleasure to go here, there, or anywhere you want.
“Of course, he couldn’t control you forever,” Vita continued. “You soon began to develop the ability to guard your mind and resist.”
“I did?” Marguerite asked with surprise, because it seemed to her that he’d controlled her right up until the very end.
“Yes, he told me so in one of his drunken rantings. By the time you had Lucern, he had to be touching you to control you, and even that didn’t ensure the ability. He could still read you clearly, but he couldn’t make you obey all the time. And once that began to happen, he soon grew tired of you,” Vita said as if it were inevitable. “Even the fact that you looked like his dear departed Sabia couldn’t hold his interest when he could read your hatred and loathing but not bend you to his will. So, of course, he strayed. Apparently it was usually only for several months or so. He’d find someone else to dally with and play with them for a while, then return to you.”
Marguerite’s mouth tightened. She’d suspected that of course, but
it still hurt to have it affirmed.
“Then Jean Claude met a true lifemate,” Vita announced. “A mortal he could neither read nor control. He was captivated. He secretly turned her and lived quietly with her for twenty years, leaving everyone to think he’d died.”
Marguerite’s eyes widened. “That’s where he was those twenty years? Why did he not just divorce me and free us both? I could have been with Julius and he could have been with her.”
“How could he?” Vita asked with a shrug. “We are allowed to turn only one. He used up his one turn on you. Jean Claude would have forfeited his life were it revealed that he’d turned another.” She shook her head. “So, he let you all think he was dead those twenty years, and I imagine he would have continued to do so had it been up to him.”
“What happened?” Marguerite asked curiously.
“I needed him,” she said with a shrug. “So long as he was off in his little cabin in the middle of nowhere with his true lifemate, my brother was free to live happily with you. So, when I learned through my very dear friend, Morgan, that Jean Claude was still alive, I went looking for him. Of course, it seemed obvious to me without even speaking to the man that Jean Claude would have no interest in what you were up to. So long as his true lifemate lived, he cared about nothing else.”
“So you killed her,” Marguerite guessed unhappily.
“Yes,” Vita admitted with a grin and then laughed with glee. “It was perfect! No one would have reason to suspect me of doing it. No one even knew I was in the area. And what possible reason could I have to kill her anyway?”
Vita released a little satisfied sigh. “It all went as if it were preordained. Jean Claude rode into town for some reason or other, and I rode up to the cabin. She heard the horse and came out, saving me from even having to dismount. I simply lopped off her little unsuspecting head with my sword before she realized what was happening.
“I returned to England at once, expecting him to return home to find his lifemate dead and flee back to his family and you.”
“I gather he didn’t,” Marguerite murmured, noting her unhappy look.
Vita shook her head. “The idiot buried his lifemate and crawled into a barrel of ale. Literally. He wasn’t even just biting drunks, he was drinking himself. Months passed. You grew rounder and everyone got happier…except me. I finally had to go back to get him,” she said with disgust. “It was not easy, I can tell you. Jean Claude seemed to have lost the will to live. All he was interested in was having another drink and moaning about his loss. It took a lot of whispering in his ear to convince him that he should return.”
“How did you do it?”
“I gave him a reason to live,” she explained. “Hatred of you.”
“Me?” she asked with amazement.
“Certainly. I pointed out that it seemed terribly unfair that you were living happily with Julius when your very existence was the reason he hadn’t been able to openly turn his lifemate and place her in the safe bosom of his family. It was all really your fault that his lifemate was dead.”
“Your reasoning is really something to behold,” Marguerite muttered.
Vita stood up to begin her pacing again. “I arranged it all, timing it to happen when Julius was away. It was very close,” she confessed with a shake of the head. “Julius dallied about leaving that day, uneager to be away from you, and Jean Claude was early. They rode right past each other on the street. But it all worked out.”
Vita tilted her head and smiled at her pitilessly. “You were not happy to see Jean Claude. You demanded explanations and cursed him to hell and back. But he convinced you to return to Martine’s with him to hear him out. Once he had you there, of course, he wouldn’t let you leave.”
Marguerite shook her head, wondering how she could have been foolish enough to go with him in the first place.
“Eight months pregnant, though you were, you decided to flee.” Vita paused to peer at her. “Jean Claude was particularly enraged about your pregnancy, by the way. Did I mention his true lifemate was heavy with child when I lopped off her head? They were both very happy, apparently. Well, until I killed her and the unborn babe.”
Vita continued pacing. “At any rate, you waited until Jean Claude was deep in drink and then you ran out to the stables.”
She paused and Marguerite waited for the other shoe to drop. Vita didn’t keep her waiting for long.
“Fortunately, I happened to arrive as you were hurrying out to the stables.”
Truly the fates seemed to have been aligned against her, Marguerite thought.
“It was all rather pathetic,” Vita went on with a smile. “You had no idea I was behind all your misery and were so happy to see me. I rode my horse up to you and looked oh so shocked at the news you babbled at me, then I held out my hand, you took it and I swung you up behind me on my horse.
“‘Thank you, Vita,’ you said with heartfelt relief. I was touched really,” she assured her. “And then I turned the horse and rode you up to the front doors of Martine’s manor, dragged you inside, and locked you in your room with a guard on the door. I then had to get Jean Claude sobered up. I spent hours convincing him that something had to be done. We couldn’t risk you trying to escape again. I convinced him that the easiest solution was to perform a three-on-one cleansing of your memories.”
Marguerite closed her eyes. She wanted to curse Jean Claude for being so weak and easily led, but this woman had taken from him too. He had been a pawn as much as she, and Marguerite actually felt sorry for the poor bastard.
“Of course the procedure brought on early labor and Christian was born, but we expected that. I hoped for it actually. I told Jean Claude to kill him, but he did not have the heart to do the deed himself. He was regretting the three-on-one, regretting interfering in your life at all out of his own bitterness. He handed the child over to me and told me to send it away and then stumbled from the room and back to his misery and guilt. I don’t think he ever recovered.”
“I should have killed Christian there on the spot with my own hands,” Vita said grimly. “But I wanted to torment Julius just that little bit more.”
“So you controlled me and made me order the maid to kill Christian.”
Vita nodded. “With the message that you had returned to Jean Claude, he was your first love and lifemate, and Julius was never to trouble you again.”
“But Magda didn’t kill Christian,” Marguerite said with triumph.
“No, she didn’t.” Vita’s gaze slid to Christian. “My own maid would have done what I said out of fear of death had she disobeyed me. Your maid wasn’t quite so biddable. You obviously don’t instill the proper respect in your servants,” she reprimanded then continued, “When I got to my brother’s townhouse later that day, the child and maid were installed in a room on the second floor.”
“What of the maid’s murder?” Marguerite asked.
“Oh,” Vita waved a hand vaguely. “I couldn’t risk her recognizing me, so she took a tumble down the stairs as soon as I could arrange it. She died, and I managed to point the finger in your direction, first by saying I’d seen you there and then by putting your broach in her hand.”
“I thought that was a masterful touch,” she preened and then frowned. “I was sorry to lose the broach, though. I’d always liked it and had taken it from your box for myself. I did ask you first and you didn’t protest. Of course, you were catatonic at the time.” She burst out laughing at her own joke.
Marguerite ground her teeth as she waited for her to finish.
“Anyway,” Vita said once her laughter died, “Julius had fits over you trying to kill your own child. It’s most unfortunate that I couldn’t arrange his death at the same time, but I was under a bit of pressure and couldn’t think of anything to kill him as well.”
She shook her head dismally and then continued, “Julius packed up the child and fled England, and Jean Claude bundled you up and took you to France while you were still in the catatonic
state. We put a memory of a European tour in your mind to replace the memories we wiped, and he eventually moved you to Canada.” She shrugged. “And so five hundred years passed, you in your miserable marriage and Julius in his own misery, mourning the loss of you.” She smiled and admitted, “I quite enjoyed his suffering, but I fear I may have rubbed it in a bit.”
Marguerite was not shocked by the admission. Growing tired of the woman’s crowing about all the misery she’d caused, Marguerite said, “So the plan now is to cause Julius more misery, by what…? Killing both of us?”
“And him,” Vita said calmly. “Fun as it is to torment Julius, I’m growing tired of the game. And now that everyone is thoroughly convinced that Jean Claude is behind these attacks on you, my father will never suspect me.” She smiled. “I can finally get the annoying little gnat out of my hair.”
Marguerite tensed as Vita crossed the room to stand on the other side of Christian.
They took two vehicles in the end. Dante and Tommaso were just arriving as they walked out of the house and Nicodemus ordered them into his car with him and his driver. Julius, Marcus, and Tiny rode in the van with the Argeneaus. Julius spent the ride worrying. Judging by the silence of the rest of the men, they were too. It was a grim group that piled out of the van when they arrived at Vita’s home, a centuries-old stone building that Vita had owned for as long as Julius could recall. He’d always thought it grim and cold and it still appeared that way to him now as he approached.
“There are lights on,” Tiny commented, peering through the window beside the door when there was no answer to Julius’s knock.
“She won’t hear us if she’s in the basement,” Julius muttered. “She has rooms down there where she used to practice her swordplay.”
“She still does practice down there,” Nicodemus informed him quietly and held out a key.
Julius wasn’t surprised to see the key. His father had keys to all his children’s homes, in case of emergency. Taking it, he unlocked the door and led the way in, some instinct telling him not to call out.