by S J Williams
“What am I supposed to be seeing?”
Catarina appeared at her other side, frowning down at the diary with the same puzzlement in her eyes.
“Yeah, Lucien. Don’t leave us in suspense.”
“Look closely at the handwriting.” He murmured, sliding the note across the page so that the lines of text matched up.
With dawning suspicion, Effie looked again. Her hands clenched on Lucien’s forearm when it finally clicked.
“The handwriting’s the same.” She breathed, stunned that she had never seen it before. “This is Bartholomew’s diary.”
“It is?” Catarina leaned in closer. “My God.” She murmured. Then she pumped her fist in the air, making Effie jump. “We’ve got him!”
“Steady on.” Henry protested, leaning away as if scalded by the fervour in her voice. “This is five hundred year old handwriting we’re talking about. It’s not exactly catching him red-handed.”
“Since when do immortals care about a piddling half millennium?” Catarina snapped. “Bartholomew wrote the diary. All this experimentation, it wasn’t a mortal doing it. It was an immortal. Can’t you see what this means?” She didn’t give Henry time to answer. “It means Bartholomew wasn’t just involved in this, he started it. No one is going to blame Effie when they see Bartholomew is in this up to his fangs.”
“She’s right.” Sebastian said. “Immortals won’t want anything to do with this if they can see a vampire is behind it. There’s no way even Sonya will get them to trust it.”
“But what if this recipe does what Effie suggested it might and reduces a vampire’s need to kill humans?” Henry asked, his voice still slightly sceptical. “That might be enough to get other vampires on his side, not to mention give us an ethical headache when we no longer have the excuse of protecting humans to kill vampires.”
“That is yet to be proven and, even if it does work, we still have centuries of past murders to avenge. And I can’t see vampires hanging up their fangs for a vegetarian diet any time soon.” Sebastian said wryly.
Catarina nodded at him before turning eager eyes to Lucien.
“So? Will this evidence be enough?”
Lucien cleared his throat. “This is not, in fact, the only thing I’ve found.” Removing the paper, he pushed the diary to the centre of the table so they could all see the page he’d opened it at. It was the one where Amedeo — no, Bartholomew — had listed the portraits and the dates they’d been taken.
“This is really what brought all this to my attention,” Lucien continued, running his finger down the list of names and dates. His fingertip came to rest not on the list itself but on a note Bartholomew had made in the margin. Effie angled her head to read it.
“Padua, a.d. XIV Kal. Oct. 1501.”
She frowned. She knew it was a date written in the way of the Julian calendar but it meant nothing to her. She glanced up as Lucien continued his explanation.
“It struck me to wonder just how these portraits came to exist when we know that there were very few immortals in Florence at the time and, crucially, immortals make a point of not having any portraits taken. In fact, we are advised to destroy all likenesses that are taken of us when we are turned precisely to stop this kind of thing from happening. Which is what led me to ask the question: how did one monk manage to capture so many immortals in such a short space of time?”
Henry frowned at him.
“So you think this was deliberate? That Bartholomew was creating a hoard of portraits for blackmail or something?”
Lucien nodded.
“Or something, quite. I could easily imagine Bartholomew coming up with this scheme without having any clear idea of what he might use the portraits for, except that he could be sure they’d be useful at some point. He must have met Amedeo and seized an opportunity.”
“Why Amedeo, though?” Sebastian asked, his eyes flicking to Effie. “How did he change things?”
Effie frowned.
“I’m not sure I could tell you. Bartholomew might just have taken advantage of having an artist at the same monastery as he was. He can control mortals, after all. Maybe he controlled Amedeo to do these paintings for him.”
Lucien nodded.
“I could believe that. The proximity between them would allow Bartholomew to really cement his hold over Amedeo’s mind.”
“But it still doesn’t give us any proof.” Catarina said through clenched teeth. Fisting her hands, she leaned on the table. “How can we definitively pin this on Bartholomew?”
Lucien tapped the margin note.
“That’s where this date comes in. The fifteenth day before October or what we would now call the 18th of September. You see, the reason why so many immortals’ portraits could be taken by one artist in a city where very few immortals were reported to be living is that on this date, there was an important lecture at the university of Padua on anatomy and the healing properties of herbs. I remember,” Lucien smiled briefly, “because I was there, along with several other immortals.”
Effie stared at him, eyes wide.
“Of course. It’s only natural that Bartholomew would have wanted to go to this lecture. This was precisely what he was interested in.”
“And he brought his pet artist along on the off chance there would be some immortals about to sketch?” Henry asked, not sounding convinced.
Lucien shook his head.
“He would have planned it. Bartholomew knows us well. He’s spent centuries keeping tabs on us. As this diary shows,” he tapped the page, “he was able to second guess us much more easily than we could predict him.”
“You know,” Effie said thoughtfully, “apart from the convenience of having an artist living in the same monastery as him, Bartholomew could have intentionally groomed Amedeo for his talent as much as anything else.” She looked round at the others. “Among other things, Amedeo was a genius at taking quick sketches. He’d be excellent at taking likeness on the sly and then taking them home to turn them into proper oil paintings.” She ran her finger down the list of portraits. “That’s what all these dates are. The days he finished the portraits, not the day he took the likeness.”
Sebastian leaned over her shoulder.
“They all come after the 18th of September.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Your theory is definitely plausible.”
“But unless someone saw Bartholomew in Padua on that date, it’s not bullet proof evidence.” Catarina growled.
Lucien sighed.
“It’s not as good as a confession, I’ll admit. But this, along with the networking Bartholomew has been doing prior to opening his gallery and launching his book, is as close to that as we’re going to get. Whatever, it’ll have to be enough. We’ve run out of time.”
Effie’s heart plunged to her toes at those words. It was Thursday. Tomorrow was the night of the soirée when, one way or another, her fate would be sealed. Sebastian, sensing her anxiety, slipped his arms around her and hugged her to his front. She clung to him, letting him be her rock. She was going to need something solid to hold onto when the storm she could see building on the horizon hit them.
17
Effie smoothed the dress over her hips and the tops of her thighs. It was beautiful. Figure-hugging silk in a warm turquoise, it was a deceptively simple, floor length sheath dress with a pleated bodice that cupped the bust. The material trembled and fluttered, seemingly alive as it flowed down her back in a gauzy train that swept down to the floor in a generous cascade. The woman in the mirror looked almost ethereal, confident in the power of her appearance.
“I could actually pull this off.” She whispered aloud to herself, enjoying the rush of excitement that coursed through her.
“Of course you could.” The deep masculine voice was chased by a warm chuckle. Sebastian appeared in the mirror behind her. He was carrying an old, slightly battered jewellery box embossed with some long dead jeweller’s name.
“You are beyond stunning.” He breathed into her ne
ck, putting the box to one side so that he could wind his arms around her waist. “Every day, you make me thank the stars that I am alive.”
Smiling wryly, Effie turned in his embrace.
“I don’t look like this every day.”
He frowned at her quizzically. “What are you talking about? Of course you do.”
Effie blinked at that, the idea so strange, she didn’t know what to do with it.
“I bought you a gift.” He said, when it became clear she wasn’t going to answer. “Though it almost seems a shame to try to top perfection.”
Effie slapped him gently on the arm. “Enough. I can only take so many compliments.”
He grinned. “You always were terrible at that.”
Out of nowhere, guilt stabbed her in the stomach. She turned back to the mirror, working hard to keep the emotion from her face. She wasn’t successful because Sebastian immediately picked up on the change of mood.
“What’s the matter?”
She winced at her reflection. Then she glowered at the beautiful woman. “I still don’t remember. I feel like an imposter.”
“Is there any reason you suddenly should remember?” Sebastian asked, his voice neutral. Suspiciously so.
“No.” She said, resisting the urge to twist her hands in the material at her sides and crumple it. “But it’s clear you’re bringing so much more to this relationship than I am.”
Sebastian’s arms tightened around her again and he pressed his lips to her neck.
“You are bringing you.” He said, the vibrations of his voice running down her spine. Or maybe those were her own shivers? “That is all I require. The rest, the memories, really don’t matter.”
With a sigh, she dropped her head, giving him more access to her neck. Her shoulders began to relax. She hadn’t noticed when she’d tensed them.
“I just worry you’ll wake up some day and look at me and wonder why you’re wasting your time with someone who is just a shadow of your former lover.” She mumbled into her chest.
Sebastian’s lips paused on her neck.
“If I do, I would no longer be the same person and you would be the one to accuse me of being an imposter.” He said finally.
Effie glanced at his face in the mirror. His eyes glittered with a strange light. Fury, she thought. But his anger wasn’t aimed at her. She couldn’t tell exactly where it was aimed, either at himself or at something else entirely, but it was fierce. And gone in the next instant.
“Lift your head.” He said, turning his attention to something that was beyond her line of sight in the mirror. “And close your eyes.” He added as an afterthought. She rolled her eyes, but complied, lifting her chin and shutting her eyes.
Cool metal and stone touched the skin at her throat, making her pulse jump. Warm fingers brushed the back of her neck, fastening a clasp. Then they ran down her bare shoulders. There was no questioning it this time, she definitely did shiver.
Warm, masculine laughter raised goosebumps over the back of her neck.
Next, something heavy and cool was threaded through the holes in her ears with the most delicate of touches. Her pulse jumped again when lips followed his fingers and his teeth nipped gently on the outer shell of her ear.
“Open your eyes.” He whispered.
Effie’s eyes fluttered open. Then she blinked again, twice. In the mirror, stars sparkled around her throat. A narrow band of cushion cut diamonds sat snugly over her collar bones with a single tear drop resting at the centre, diamonds circling a sapphire that matched the dress with startling accuracy. Similar drops hung from her ears, winking at her and reflecting dancing lights against her throat and jaw. Effie reached up to touch them, just to assure herself that they were real.
“I had no idea that diamonds could have this effect.” She said. The woman in the mirror was the same woman, wearing the same dress, but now she looked like she was worth millions, like a queen.
“I would tell you what I think.” Sebastian said with a hint of mischief. “But someone told me I’ve already run through my quota of compliments for the day.”
She found his leg behind her and gave it a pinch. Then she spun in his arms again.
“I can’t think of the right words to thank you. So this will have to do instead.”
She pulled his face down to hers. He came willingly, his teasing smile becoming darker. He tasted of heated dreams and carnal temptation.
A knock interrupted the fantasy that was building a palace in Effie’s mind.
“Effie?” Catarina called out. “Are you ready to do your hair?”
They broke apart. Sebastian sent an annoyed look towards the door.
“That keeps happening.” He said to no one in particular.
Effie grinned at him. “And it will keep on happening if we don’t let her in. Begone. I’m sure there’s some rule about you not being allowed in while I’m still dressing.”
“If there is such a rule, whoever made it should be shot.” But he strode to the door, bowing with a flourish as he opened it for Catarina in a burst of playfulness that Effie had rarely, if ever, seen from him. At least, not in this lifetime.
Catarina, dressed in her own finery of a long, figure hugging gown in dark gold silk which brought out the gold flecks in her eyes, gave him a haughty sniff that Effie suspected hid a smile. Then she turned her attention to Effie as Sebastian disappeared from the room with one last wink.
“Wow.” She said, eyeing Effie’s new jewellery. “Whatever you might say about Sebastian, you can’t deny he’s got taste.”
Effie stroked the diamonds again self-consciously.
“Now,” Catarina said briskly, “let’s see what we can do about your hair. I want to make the most of those curls.”
Effie resigned herself to being steered into a chair and having her hair pulled about by a muttering Catarina. Her mind kept drifting off to Sebastian, to what he might be doing, to what he might be thinking. And to that vague but persistent worry that she wasn’t good enough for him. It had nothing to do with what he wanted. It was all her. She was convinced that he deserved better than a little girl who was dressing herself up in his memories.
Sebastian was just adjusting his cufflinks when the women walked in. He glanced up and felt the floor fall out from beneath his feet. Effie had been beautiful before, but now… He was seeing her as the world would see her, and he was transfixed.
Her long golden brown hair was piled in artful curls on her head, leaving a few ringlets loose to dance around her cheeks. Her eyes were startlingly green in their dark outlines, smokey bronze shadow and dramatic eyelashes. Her skin glowed a pale gold which set off her tinted lips, drawing the eye to them every time she talked or smiled. She was stunning, capturing just the right balance between delicate womanhood and striking mystery. Fragility and strength.
“You.” Catarina speared him with a hard stare over her reticule. “You will not touch my creation. You will behave yourself. At least until all this is over.”
Beside him, Henry laughed weakly. “Good luck there, mate.”
Sebastian glanced over at him, surprised. Then he saw where Henry’s eyes were fixed and it wasn’t on Effie.
Lucien appeared, also dressed in formal wear. He had a sheaf of papers in his hands and was muttering to himself. He glanced up at the women.
“Ah. I assume this means I’ve run out of time.” He gave the papers one more quick scan, then tucked them into a folder. Sebastian watched the scholar expectantly.
“I think I’ve worked out the best line of approach for this. Really, we want to turn the tables on Sonya quickly. Turn the room against her without giving her any warning or room to manoeuvre.”
“What are her chances of keeping the council on her side?” Henry asked, dragging his eyes away from Catarina.
Lucien grimaced. “High, if we can’t persuade them this whole coming out to the mortals is the master stroke of a vampire’s plan to remove their power.”
Catarina snorte
d.
“All we have to say is they’ll lose all their power and they’ll desert her like rats from a sinking ship.”
Lucien shook his head.
“It won’t be that easy. The council are too arrogant to believe the mortals could take them down. All Sonya has to do is flatter that confidence and they’ll flock to her like flies to honey.”
Sebastian’s lips twisted.
“It seems not all the greatest tragedies ever written will teach the council the price of hubris.”
Effie walked forwards and slipped a gloved hand around the arm he immediately held out for her.
“I have every confidence in you, Lucien.” She said, bestowing a warm smile on him. She somewhat ruined the effect immediately afterwards by turning to Catarina and asking, “How was that?”
Catarina gave her a double thumbs up. “Perfect debutante behaviour.”
Effie gave her a serious nod. Then her face broke into a rueful grin.
“I don’t think my acting skills will be up to this.”
“They had better be.” Catarina growled, accepting Henry’s arm when he hurriedly presented it to her. “I don’t have to tell you what stakes we have riding on this night being a success.”
On those grim words, she swept out of the door and into the waiting night.
The taxi drive over to the hôtel was far too short.
Effie leaned over Sebastian’s lap to get a better view when the car pulled up at the front. It was one of the grand old palaces in the centre of the city, a majestic testament to Parisian architecture overlooking the river.
“Is this really the right place?” She asked, her eyes scanning the elaborate arrangement of lanterns and light studded trees that were festooned around the entrance. “It looks like some fairy grotto.”
“Just wait until you get inside. This is something of a signature style for Sonya and, by the looks of it, she’s gone all out.”