Marek didn’t ask what Heinrich was doing at such a place. He waited to hear what else Rikhard had to say.
“Marek, you’re my friend.” Rikhard sounded so distressed he was startled. “You’ve a right to your private life, but do you know the type of reputation one can get from frequenting a place like that?”
“Rikhard, I…”
Should I confide in him what I’m really doing? How I’m searching for word of my family’s murderer? Rikhard’s a decent human and if he knows, he might offer to help. I don’t want him endangered.
“I suppose I owe you an explanation...ifi you’ll listen.” Marek thought whirled as he spoke. What to say? How much?
“Whatever you tell me, I promise you I’ll keep it between us,” Rikhard assured him.
“Very well.”
Marek took a deep breath, as if he were preparing a confession, and in a way, he supposed he was.
“The Cat offers relief for a certain...condition...I possess.” He spoke very carefully. As Rikhard’s eyes widened slightly, he hurried on, “I promise you it will never cause me to act in public in any way embarrassing society at large…or cause you to regret our friendship.”
“Don’t tell me any more. I’ll trust your word,” Rikhard placed his hand on Marek’s, “and not let it cast a doubt on our association, though it does sadden me you have a need for such a place.”
Marek met his gaze, startled that this human, whom he’d known only a few months, could be so concerned.
“Be assured if you ever need assistance,” Rikhard went on earnestly, “or just wish to talk about it, I’ll gladly listen.”
“Thank you,” he managed. “It’s good to know I’ve such a concerned friend.”
Oh, gods, he probably thinks I’m a latent pederast or something. That thought left him shaken.
Rikhard’s trust, without known anything more, made him waver. He had planned to return to the Inferno that night, following-up something he’d heard on his last visit. Instead, he stayed with his friend, playing another game of chess and indulging in a little too much brandy. It was after midnight when they parted, Marek offering his friend a ride to his nearby rooms.
When he arrived at the Graf’s, he was startled to find Dan and Ruxanda waiting for him at the top of the stairs. Xandi had fallen asleep, her head resting against her cousin’s shoulder. She started slightly as his foot hit the first step.
“What are you two doing out here?”
“I didn’t think Ruxanda should stay up this late by herself.” Dan stifled a yawn. Though he was wearing a dressing gown, he still had on his trousers and boots.
“You said you wouldn’t go back to that place.” Lips trembling, Ruxanda pulled away from Dan and stood up. “You lied to me.”
Turning, she ran to her room before Marek could defend himself. As her bedroom door slammed, he heard sobs. He started on up the stairs as his cousin got to his feet.
“Are you going to condemn me, also, without giving me a chance to explain?”
“Should I?”
There was such disapproval in Dan’s voice Marek clenched a fist. He stopped mid-way the staircase, looking up.
“You’ve been to the Inferno several times, haven’t you? After you promised Xandi you wouldn’t. At least, I’ve smelled that odd odor at night when you pass my door, and I’d swear it’s the same as was on your clothes that first night the twins carried you home.”
“Did you set this up? Tell Xandi some tale of me running wild in brothels and bawdy houses?”
His cousin drew in a deep breath, held it a moment, then exhaled quietly. “What have you been doing? At this particular moment, there’s no scent about you but that of good, aged brandy.”
“Come to my rooms.” Marek reached the top step, standing beside him. “I don’t want to talk where others might hear.”
“You’re not drunk, either,” Dan decided, as he followed him into his bedchamber. “Why the deception?”
“I’ve been trying to find Ravagiu.”
“In brothels and bordellos?” Dan’s expression changed as he understood. “Of course. He wouldn’t dare reveal his true nature, but he’d have to go somewhere to feed his bloodlust.”
“I’m glad you understand without my having to go into detail.”
“That’s all you’ve been doing?”
“I’ve had two sieges.” Marek avoided his gaze. “Otherwise, I’m trying to ferret out information and that’s all.”
“Xandi’ll be glad to know that.” Dan looked serious. “That child’s very worried about you. I think she’s little short of terrified you’re going to get yourself killed in a brawl or something. After all, you’re the only father she knows.”
“I had no idea she was worrying so.” He felt a stab of shame. “I’ve neglected her lately, haven’t I? Truth be told, Dan, I’ve found nothing. Either Ravagiu isn’t here and never has been, or people are afraid to talk.”
“They’d have good reason, wouldn’t they?” Now it was Dan’s turn to look away. “Since you’ve told me this, Marek, I’ve a confession, too.”
“Oh?” Marek allowed himself a slight smile. “Have you waded into some den of iniquity and found your calling?”
“Hardly. Unless you call a propensity for winning at cards a calling.” Dan’s smile was much broader. “I’ve been doing my own investigating. Somewhat along the same lines as yours, as have the twins.”
“You mean. when they go out every night, it isn’t merely to carouse?” Marek’s surprise wasn’t feigned. “Those little devils.”
“As far as I know, those two haven’t caroused, as you put it, in almost three months. Left to their own devices, they wearied quite quickly of licentiousness and sin. Since it appeared you hadn’t, however, I thought we’d better do something positive, so…”
“…so we’ve all been playing at cross-purposes.” Marek slapped his cousin on the shoulder. “Damn, Dan. This definitely raises my opinion of those two. As for you...” He shook his head. “It merely strengthens my belief in your level-headedness.”
“Why don’t we have a family gathering after breakfast tomorrow night and compare notes?” Dan suggested. “It may be when we hear everything, one of us might recognize something the others have ignored. Right now, I’ll say goodnight, and let you sleep off that brandy.”
“I suppose I should go to Ruxanda, and assure her my reputation’s still untarnished.”
“It can wait until evening, I think.” Dan went to the door. “She needs her sleep. For a week now, she’s been trying to stay awake and wait for you. She falls asleep on the stairs and I carry her to bed. That’s why I was sitting with her. Tonight, I decided this had to end.”
“Dan, there’s one other thing. When we find Ravagiu, it’s going to be dangerous for anyone close to us. Karl-Josef seems to believe otherwise, but he’s placing himself in enough jeopardy by giving us refuge. Frankly, I’m surprised the Domnitor hasn’t already done something about his blatant disobedience. Surely he knows.”
Marek was well aware of the network the Prince had in place, keeping track of his far-flung subjects.
“Perhaps we’re not as important as we think,” Dan said. “Ciprian may have decided, ‘Good riddance,’ and forgotten about us.”
“One can hope,” Marek answered. “However…I think we should look for other dwellings, far enough away that the Graf and his people won’t be harmed…if the worst happens.”
“I'll get on it,” Dan promised. “Tomorrow, I’ll send Sandor to enquire at some of the realty houses.”
Chapter 32
In a modest town house overlooking the Danube, Mircea Ravagiu sipped his brandy and considered his current position in the world. It wasn’t too dreary, he supposed, even if he could never return to the Motherland.
Belgrade, Vienna, Berlin, or Paris might not be Carpathius, indeed were infinitely more enlightened, but as far as he was concerned, those cities would always be a pale copy of the wild forests and the dark an
d brooding cloud-covered mountains of his home. Since he could never again go back, Europe’s gathering-places would have to do. They always had room for another outwardly well-to-do gentleman of breeding, as well as offering opportunities for his real self, the dark, lusting killer taking such joy in the pain he bestowed before conferring the death blow.
He’d been very fortunate to discover that intimate little establishment hidden away on the outskirts of town, where one might do anything one wished, if enough marks were exchanged beforehand. Indeed, after a session there, even his insatiable desires were almost quenched.
Almost.
Finishing the brandy, he studied the empty snifter before setting it beside his chair. His thoughts had stirred him physically. He must do something about that. He supposed he’d have to summon Elsabeta to his bed though that would be more annoyance than satisfaction.
Lately, there had been a definite cooling of their relations, and he sensed it was because of Diana. If Mircea didn’t know better, he’d think his mistress was jealous of the child they called their daughter, but until recently, he would hav said she had no good reason.
Now, however…?
Mircea was currently wrestling with a dilemma that would’ve shocked anyone who knew him well: He believed he’d actually fallen in love.
He had never thought of himself as having any paternal emotions. He’d certainly never wanted offspring, and still had no understanding why he’d spared the Strigoi daughter’s life. When he ordered one of his servants to fetch the child while her brothers slept, it had been so he could kill her. All he wanted from an infant was its sweet blood, and to suck the life out of János Strigoi’s daughter would’ve been near-ecstasy.
The moment she was placed in his arms and ceased crying, however, resting her cheek against his chest, he felt such a pain in his heart it shook him.
Later, he realized she’d innocently given him the ultimate insult, that his height and long dark hair calmed the baby, reminding her of her elder brother.
That was irony in the extreme.
Startled by his hesitation in ending the infant’s life, he was even more shaken as a new scheme came into his mind. He sent his men scouring the Strigoi estate for a family with an infant. As luck would have it, they found one who was both blond and female. They dispatched the family, brought him the baby, and he substituted it for the Strigoi child.
Almost immediately, Marek and his men attacked, and he’d been forced to escape, taking their little sister with him. He had no chance to see whether his ruse worked and they killed the infant when they discover it was deomi, still didn’t know if the surviving peasants protested to the Prince.
For a while, he worried about His Majesty, wondering if the bastard would keep his promise.
Well, Ciprian had called off his search, which was good enough, though he hadn’t expected to be banished.
There was nothing for it but to leave Carpathuis, and take the child with him.
Ravagiu turned the baby’s care over to Elsabeta, now being careful to refer to his mistress as his wife. Adhering to the custom of most noblemen, he truly had nothing more to do with the infant, other than inquiring about her welfare from time to time. To ensure no one questioned why he had a blond child, he changed his appearance, bleaching his dark hair to a straw-color matching her own.
Everything had gone well with those plans…until this past year.
He could actually pinpoint the day it happened.
He had observed Diana with Elsabeta, and the thought came, She’s a lovely young woman, and he realized it was true. Diana was lovely and, by both deomi and aventurieri standards, she was now a woman, fast approaching the age when a young aventurieri female should be presented to Court, to announce she was ready to be courted…and wed.
Ravagiu was startled to experience dread at the thought, and to realize a small kernel of actual affection growing within the granite soil of his heart.
Affection that had nothing paternal about it.
That rankled as well as worried.
At first, he rationalized away the uneasiness with arguments that were feasible and at the same time feeble, even as he thought them.
Of course he had concern for Diana. She was an important of his plan for the Strigoisti’s downfall.
When she’d been so sickly because of that damned Fantoma heritage, he was the epitome of the concerned parent, startling even himself with his care for her welfare. He’d done everything he could to strengthen her. When his physician suggested she needed male blood to supplement the nourishment she took from her nurse—after all, male aventurieri blood contained more strength than a female’s—he allowed draughts of his own to be siphoned out and infused into her ailing veins.
Mircea was determined Diana would survive.
She had to, if she was to be part of his revenge.
The problem was…with the last two times Diana had been given his blood, though there was no physical contact between them, he’d experienced a strange exhilaration, a shocking physical excitement he couldn’t explain.
Rising from the chair with a grace of movement known to make both women and men tremble, though for different reasons, he went out the door. He headed for the little room down the hall where the child he called his daughter had her lessons
* * *
“Sir,” said Hans-Claud, as Marek slid his arms into the sleeves of the velvet coat the boy held. “May I speak to you about something?”
“Of course, Hansel.” He waited patiently as the boy smoothed his lapels and deepened the folds of his cravat. “When would you like to have this conversation?”
“Now, if you don’t mind, sir.” Hans-Claud gave a final pat to the wrapped and folded length of linen and stepped back.
“Very well.” Gesturing to the chair near the fire, Marek over to the hearth. “Sit down and let’s talk.”
Good food and kindness had made the boy flourish. He’d gained weight since leaving the Inferno and was now wearing the blue-and-gold-braided livery Sandor chose for the male house staff when they took possession of a town house a few blocks from Karl-Josef’s home. Its dark color complemented his red hair and freckled complexion, and as Marek looked back at him, he reflected Hans-Claud appeared so wholesome no one would suspect he’d been a boy-whore in one of the worse establishments in town.
At present, he was a very serious-looking young man. Having Marek’s attention, the boy hesitated, fiddling with a gold button on his waistcoat.
“There’s only one chair. It wouldn’t be proper for me to sit while you stand, my lord.”
“Then we’ll both stand.” Waving the boy to the fireplace, he looked down at him with a smile.
Hans-Claud continued twirling the button, making it in danger of being pulled from his vest. “Well? What is it? Do you want to begin your time off early to visit your friends?”
“No, thank you, sir. You’ve been more than generous in giving me from sunrise to sunset on my free day to spend with them.”
“What is it, then?”
“It…I wish to tender my resignation.”
“You want to leave my employ?” Marek blinked. He forced himself to lean against the mantle, attempting to look as if this announcement hadn’t startled him. “Why? Aren’t you happy here?”
He’d certainly thought so. The boy was becoming an efficient valet. He’d fitted easily into the household and was extremely helpful in aiding his search for Ravagiu.
“This has been the happiest time of my life. Everyone’s been very good to me.” Hans-Claud straightened his shoulders and looked up at his master. “When I came here, I told you what I thought your real reasons were for wanting me.”
“I thought we had that straightened out and forgotten.”
“We do, sir,” the boy assured him. “You see, I’ve spoken to Sandor and Zoltan and Dr. Lavelle, and they explained about thralls. I thought perhaps you wanted me as one of those. I know you can make a person almost like yourself, to keep him
with you for eternity, but you haven’t done it. I’ve been here nine months now and you haven’t done it.” His voice rose accusingly. “Please, sir. I wish to be your servant forever. I want to be as you are.”
“Hansel, you can’t be as I am.” Marek spoke quietly. “Even if I made you my blood-thrall, it wouldn’t be for eternity.”
“Then let me serve you as long as I can.” Hans-Claud raised both hands as if to touch Marek’s, then dropped them. “Please.”
“I can’t.” Marek sounded as if he truly regretted refusing the boy.
“Can’t or won’t, sir?”
“Why do you want to be a thrall? It isn’t simply so you’ll age slowly, is it?” He had to make certain the boy hadn’t gotten a warped idea of what was involved.
“No, sir.” He gave a quick shake of that red head. “It’s…don’t laugh…I feel I’m part of your family, though I’m a servant. I see how you treat Sabine and Zoltan and the doctor,” he hesitated slightly. “I want to belong, too, sir, as they do.”
Marek was touched by the boy’s sincerity, yet he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Hansel.”
“So am I, sir, because that means I can’t stay here.” Hans-Claud’s tone held finality.
“Are you giving me an ultimatum?” Marek was astonished the boy might care that much.
“I suppose I am, sir.” The boy took a step back, looking up at him. “Will you give me a
good character?”
“If you must go, of course I will.” Marek forced himself to smile, though he was dismayed at losing the boy, certain he’d be back at the Inferno within two days. “When do you wish it?”
“How about now? My bag’s packed.”
“You were so certain I’d say no?” That made him laugh, if a little ruefully.
“I think I’ve come to know you quite well, my lord.”
“Very well.”
Going to his desk in the alcove he used as a study, Marek sat and pulled a sheet of vellum from a drawer. Flipping open the cap of the gold inkwell. he lifted the quill and dipped it inside. After a moment’s concentration, he began to write, the black words flowing across the creamy paper:
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