Mircea’s smile wasn’t only for the paper in his hand. He was surprised to discover he enjoyed his new wife’s caresses and teasings.
Since their wedding-night, she was becoming more and more blatant with her affection. Something Elsabeta had never been. But never clinging. Something Elsabeta had definitely always been, to Micea’s irritation.
He was also bothered that his pleasure brought with it that same sensation he experienced the night of their mutual seduction...a pang he could only determine as guilt coupled with a wish to keep Diana unharmed though that went against his plans. Well, plans could be changed, if the end result was the same.
“This, my dear wife, is a cleverly-fashioned copy of an invitation to the Sectiune’s Ball. Our personal invitation to kill Marek Strigoi.”
Chapter 46
An hour before the guests arrived for the Sectiune’s ball, Marek and Céline exchanged vows in the presence of his kinsmen and the assembled staff of her household. Placing a ring upon her finger, Marek declared before all he freely chose to take Céline, Marquise duCharne, as his lawful and only mate for then and evermore. Under his direction, the ring had been created by special commission from a local jeweler, a wide golden band with two rows of malachite and turquoise stones, symbolizing the uniting of their clans.
“May these stones lose their color if I’m ever unfaithful,” he murmured, so quietly no one but Céline could hear.
The newlyweds had barely time for a kiss before Étienne, called away from the ceremony by the jangling of the doorbell, returned to announce the first guests had arrived.
Holding Céline close, Marek whispered, “Tell them to go away. Let’s go upstairs and begin our wedding night now.”
“You’re jesting, I hope?”
“Of course, chérie.” He laughed at her expression. “It’d be more than rude to postpone the ball at this late date, pas il? I can wait.”
“It’ll be worth it.” She placed her lips against his ear. “This is one wedding night you won’t forget, amour.”
“It’ll be my only wedding night. Damn, Céline, let’s find Ravagiu and dispatch him so we can begin our married life.”
“As soon as this tedious ball is out of the way,” she promised. Céline was as eager as he for all of it to be over.
A gesture from Étienne made her glance at the door.
“Someone’s here already. Why are there always early arrivals?”
Reluctantly, he released her to greet her premature guests, the three sub-Sectiuni. They took their places in the receiving line looking impatient for the debutantes and their parents to appear.
Céline wanted Marek with her, but he refused.
“Those three still think I’m trying to take over,” he told her, nodding at the sub-Sectiuni impatiently waiting. “At this moment I’ve no right. At the ball’s closing, chérie, after you announce our marriage, I’ll stand beside you.”
“It’ll be a fitting climax, ne pensez-vous pas?”
“I can think of other more pleasurable climaxes.” Kissing her hand, Marek released her to her guests.
She was laughing as she walked away, and he turned an impudent grin upon her three lieutenants. Feeling the need to keep out of sub-Sectiuns scrutiny, he made his way through one of the doors leading onto the eastern terrace, where he lit a cigarito and leaned against one of the stone balusters.
That was where Dan found him a few minutes later, his back against a marble pillar, blowing gray smoke into the night air and watching it drift into the darkness.
“There you are. I thought perhaps you’d come to your senses and bolted after realizing you’ve just shackled yourself for life.”
Things had been strained between them since Marek’s vicious little remark on their arrival and his cousin was still treating him with more than a little diffidence.
“Do you have that little faith in me?” Marek gave him a lazy stare.
“Don’t be an ass. After seeing you with Lily, I knew you’d fall easily into the role of husband. I do foresee a bit of a power struggle, however.”
“You think so?”
“Céline strikes me as a woman with a mind of her own. Besides, she is a Sectiune.”
“I’m having to redefine my way of thinking about women, I admit. I confess I always regarded Lily as my plaything.” Marek blew a smoke ring into the air. “Céline’s no one’s play-toy. I learned that quick enough. If anything, I’ll be thought hers.” He looked serious. “More likely it’s those sub-Sectiuni who’ll be a problem.”
“I noticed they were giving you the evil eye.”
“Just think. In a little while this will all be over. With Céline’s help we’re going to find Ravagiu. I can feel it.”
“You’re sure you aren’t simply experiencing wedding night eagerness?” Dan watched the little gray circle waft upward.
That made Marek laugh.
“I thought to have a smoke, then take up a position with the twins near the reception line, whee we’ll have a good view of the arrivals,” he explained.
“Good idea.” Dan held out a hand. “May I?”
“When did you start smoking?” Marek handed over his cigarito case, a gold rectangle containing a dozen tightly-rolled cylinders of tobacco, as well as several matches, wooden sticks dipped in a sulfur-mixture that ignited when struck against a solid surface.
“When I became surrogate head of the family.” Dan selected a cigarito and removed it from the case.
Unlike those Marek had been introduced to at the Inferno, these were shredded tobacco encased in thin paper.
“Thwarting Ruxanda’s attempts at assignation is enough to drive anyone to the stronger addictions.”
“That’s settled now, thank the Oracle.”
Taking a match from the case, Marek rubbed it against the balustrade, holding it up as it flared. Dan held the cigarito to his mouth, inhaling as Marek touched the flaming stick to it. He blew the smoke away from them. Marek shook the match, extinguishing the flame.
“Handy little device.” His cousin nodded at the match.
“One of Céline’s friends is a chemist. He’s been experimenting with it for a while. Calls them friction matches. He can’t go public with it, of course, so he has a human acquaintance in England who’s working to perfect the formula. The sticks have a tendency to burst into flame if they crowd each other.”
“And you carry them around in your pocket?” That earned him a raised eyebrow.
Marek shrugged. “If they start burning, the metal case should protect me until I can remove it.” He took a final puff and flicked the stub of the cigarito over the balustrade into the garden. “Dan, I’m sorry for the things I said to you. I had no right to hurt you like that.”
“You’re damned right you didn’t.” His cousin lowered the cigarito, staring out over the garden. “Anyway, that problem’s solved.”
“You mean, you’ve taken a lover? Tell me, who is he?”
“Thank you for so obviously thinking I’d chose a male.” Dan’s laugh was bitter. “Or that I’ve chosen anyone, for that matter.”
“What do you mean?” Marek selected another cigarito as he spoke, lighting it.
“It means, there are other courses of action.”
“Such as...?”
“Such as, I watched you with Lily, remembered how my mother acted around my father, and how Anike treated Uncle János. In Vienna I saw how doltish Karl-Josef is about the Grafin, and I realized women are utterly wonderful creatures, some of them intelligent and gifted. But eventually they all use their bodies to control their men. Conversely, when the twins and I were doing our own detective work in those bordellos I saw the toss-boys do the same thing with their regulars, especially the ones they appeared to actually care for. Those little bastards can be as bitchy as females on occasion.”
He puffed heavily on the cigarito a moment, sending clouds of smoke into the air.
“I thought a long time about what I’d seen, and I came to a ve
ry profound and shocking conclusion. No matter how much affection’s involved, or how one person may care for another, in the end physicality is all about power. Of one being dominating another. So I asked, Do you really want to be manipulated that way for a momentary physical gratification? No matter which gender it comes from?”
Dan tapped ash off his cigarito, not looking at Marek.
“I decided I didn’t, so I’m going to keep on as I have been…namely, not doing anything. Doing nothing becomes a habit after a while. And it’s a hell of a lot easier than trying to please someone else all the time. Therefore, that’s exactly what I’m going to keep doing. You look disappointed. Was it really of that much concern to you?”
“I’m sorry, Cousin.” Marek shook his head. “I don’t believe it’s natural for anyone to be alone forever.”
“No?” Dan gave a sardonic laugh and took another puff from the cigarito, releasing the smoke in a long, slow trickle. “The deomi encourage it for those embracing their religion. Demand it, in fact.”
“You’re not a deomi,” Marek reminded him. “Or a priest.”
“A fact for which I continually thank the gods. Can you see me in cleric’s robes?”
“It doesn’t have to be that way.” Marek could very easily envision Dan somber and serious in vestments.
“I beg to differ.”
He was shocked by how hopeless Dan’s words sounded. Before he realized it, he was placing a hand on his cousin’s shoulder.
“You’ve got it all wrong. It’s true mere carnality can bind a man stronger than the thickest chains. It can be as brutal as an addiction, but love… Genuine love isn’t about domination or submission. It’s about uniting. Coming together to share the most wonderful experience of all, an emotion allowing you to soar as high as you want. Without wings. I know you, Bogdan, and I believe you’re level-headed enough to recognize the difference.”
“So here you are.”
They both turned toward the open doorway.
* * *
“Le Marquis de Ravage and his daughter.” Ravagiu handed the counterfeit invitation to the doorman, who examined it, nodded and returned it to him.
“Bienvenue, M’sieu le Marquis, please enter.”
They were waved inside. Joining others in the reviewing line, they were soon welcomed by Céline and introduced to her sub-Sectiunes.
“Stephan de Ravage, my lady.” Smiling serenely, Mircea introduced himself to Céline. “This is my daughter, Diana.”
Diana curtseyed.
“Thank you for coming.” Céline nodded graciously. “The presentations will begin as soon as everyone has arrived. In the meantime, please go into the reception hall. There are refreshments waiting.”
“So that’s the murderer’s mistress,” Diana whispered, as they walked away. “Pity such a beautiful woman has such poor choice in lovers.” She looked up into Mircea’s eyes. “Dearest, will you let me be the one to kill her?”
“My bloodthirsty little darling.” He gave her a pleased smile, caressing her cheek. “With the utmost pleasure. I doubt she’ll give us much trouble after I dispatch Strigoi. Come, let’s go onto the terrace where we’ll have a good view of the reception hall.”
Smiling and bowing as they passed noblemen and their wives, he led her across the crowded floor to the double doors opening onto the west terrace.
Chapter 47
“Thought I might find you two out here smoking that noxious weed.” Andrei stood in the doorway, resplendent in the most severe of evening clothes, complete with new-styled straight-legged ‘stovepipe’ trousers, and two yards of cravat. Against the darkness of his coat, his blond hair shone like spun gold.
Over his shoulder, Marek could see Vlad just as elegant, speaking to a man and woman while their daughter stood beside her mother and kept interrupting to gain his attention.
“You’re just jealous,” Dan laughed. “Because it makes both you and Vlad cough.”
“Not so, cousin.” Andrei affected a superior air. “It’s because we discovered quite early that young ladies—real ladies—prefer a man without smoke on his breath. Especially if he’s going to kiss her.”
“How many has that allowed you to kiss?” Marek asked.
“More than you’d believe.” Andrei smirked.
“Did you abandon your little sister to let some of these young ladies smell your breath?” Dan dropped his cigarito to the terrace, grinding it under the toe of his evening slipper, then nudged it through the baluster, watching it fall into the flower bed.
“Where is Ruxanda, anyway?” Marek looked into the ballroom.
Andrei and Dan turned to glance inside, searching for her amid the many white-gowned female figures.
“Never mind, I see her.”
“Where?” Dan asked.
“There.” He pointed to a young woman on the other side of the room standing at the top of the stairs leading to the terrace on that side of the house.
“You need spectacles,” Dan said. “Ruxanda’s over there.” He gestured away from where the girl stood.
Looking in the direction he pointed, Marek saw his little sister standing by the refreshment table, speaking with a red-haired girl and a young man. He looked back at the girl in the door. “I was certain… Dan, doesn’t she look like Ruxanda?”
“Damned if she doesn’t.” His cousin studied the girl. “Don’t you agree, Andri? Now, there’s a wonder.”
Andrei nodded. “Who do you suppose she is? She looks vaguely familiar…other than looking like Xandi, I mean.”
“I think…” Dan studied the girl. “Marek, is it my imagination, or does she resemble Anike, too?”
Marek turned to look at the girl again. “Damn, you’re right. She’s nearly Anike’s image. How strange is that?”
At that moment, a tall blond man came through the terrace doors and spoke to the girl. She whirled around. He reached out and caught her wrist as if to pull her toward him.
“Gods!” Madrek drew in his breath so sharply Dan and Andrei stared at him
“Marek, what is it?”
His face bloodless, Marek clutched the stone railing for support, fingers looking as if they might snap under the strain. For a moment he seemed unable to breathe.
“Ravagiu. Oracle protect us. It’s Ravagiu.”
Dan and Andrei stared from him to the figure in the doorway.
“Dan.” Marek exhaled raggedly. “Go around the verandah and block the entrance to the garden. Make sure he doesn’t try to get away by going through the gate.”
Dan nodded and hurried away.
“Andrei.”
His brother looked at him expectantly.
“We have to get the house guards in here. I’ll find Latrec. Have Vlad stay by Céline.” As he spoke, he moved to the double doors. “You guard these.”
Andrei hurried to find his twin. Without taking his gaze from Ravagiu’s tall figure, Marek stepped onto the stairs. He wanted nothing more than to race across the reception hall, flinging bodies aside, and throw himself upon Ravagiu.
Have to keep this quiet, not draw more attention than necessary. He saw Latrec and caught the domestique’s arm.
“Summon the guards. Ravagiu’s here.” He tried to make the announcement as quietly as possible.
In spite of that, Latrec looked around wildly. “Where? Oh, sir…”
“Stop that. Do you want him to know we’ve seen him?”
“Where is he?” Taking a deep breath, Latrec instantly calmed.
“In the west terrace doorway.” Without turning his head, Marek looked toward the stairs. Latrec’s gaze followed his.
“But that’s le Marquis de Ravage.”
“No matter his name, it’s Ravagiu. Get moving.”
With a nod, Latrec pulled his arm from Marek’s grasp and started to the stairs at a rapid walk. He passed Céline who was coming down. She called his name, staring after him when he didn’t reply but hurried on. Marek’s heart sank as she continued down the stairs
toward him.
“Cher, whatever’s the matter with Latrec? I spoke to him and he ignored me and practically ran up the stairs.”
“Ravagiu’s here.” He bent toward her, lowering his voice. “In the reception hall.”
Her start of shock made him place a hand on her shoulder. Like Latrec, she looked around. Maek put a hand on her cheek, forcing her to look at him. “I’ve sent for your guards.”
“Brother?” Vlad appeared behind him.
“Stay with Vlad.” Marek pushed Céline toward his brother. “I don’t want you hurt if things get violent, as I expect they will.”
At that moment, Ravagiu looked out over the hall, his brutally calm eyes meeting Marek’s fury-filled ones across the room’s expanse.
* * *
“Look at them, Diana. The elite of French aventurieri, unknowingly harboring that murderer in their midst. Don’t be so conspicuous, my dear.” He drew her away from the doorway. “We don’t want to call attention to ourselves. Yet.”
“I was trying to find him,” she replied, “but I see no one fitting your description.”
“Perhaps that’s because he wasn’t in the room...” Ravagiu said. “…until now.”
Diana looked back, seeing a tall black-haired man walking determinedly through the crowd. She drew in her breath sharply. “I never thought he’d look… Mircea, he appears to be an equal opponent.”
His answer was a short, sarcastic laugh. “I doubt that.”
There was a sound behind them. Dan appeared on the terrace near the garden steps.
“A froth sent to threaten me?” Mircea’s dark eyes flicked negligently over Dan and away. “Is that the best Strigoi can do?”
“Don’t think to escape, Ravagiu.” Dan’s good hand clenched into a fist as he forced himself not to react to the insult.
“Don’t worry, crippled one. The thought never entered my mind.” Releasing Diana’s wrist, Ravagiu took a step onto the landing and into the reception hall.
* * *
Marek saw Ravagiu move away from the girl. There was a challenge in the renegade’s eyes, as plain as if he’d shouted it.
Come fight me. Here, in this room full of innocents. See if you can kill me before I kill them.
Strigoi Page 37