Love and Blood (Evening Bower Book 2)

by Sherry Rentschler

  “We have to go shopping and go by the club. I want to see Steel and make sure he’s okay. And invite him to the wedding, but I guess he won’t want to come now. Does a wedding trump a death? Oh goddess, that sounded horrible and not what I meant,” Victoria put a hand over her mouth.

  Sondra patted her shoulder. “I know what you meant and if the princess is still getting married then, maybe he will want to come. Let me check on Destin first.”

  “Okay, let’s get ready and hit it.”

  The girls’ shock at Destin’s development mirrored everyone else’s. No one knew what to say and tried not to stare at the little boy who looked years beyond his age. While Victoria chomped on cereal and admitted to being a little frightened, Sondra confessed her fascination. Rhea scowled and warmed a second glass of blood, Sondra approached her.

  “Victoria says you have an old book that tells about phoenix. Maybe I should read it and learn more about Destin’s development,” Sondra offered.

  Rhea couldn’t help her abrupt response and immediately regretted her sharp answer.

  “No information can help. No phoenix was ever born part vampire.”

  “But Victoria said you had this big book,” Sondra pressed.

  Victoria joined them and tossed her purse over her shoulder. “What about The Great Book, Rhea? You said—”

  “I said no, there is nothing. Sorry. You girls have a good trip but do not stay late. There remains a great deal to do around here.” Rhea waved and left them.

  “Did I say something wrong?” Sondra blinked.

  “None of us has seen The Great Book of Forgetting. Rhea says that they wrote the information in many languages, and some she doesn’t remember. She’s secretive about it. But honestly, a vampire phoenix? I’ll bet not even Atlantis ever thought of that one,” said Victoria. The girls left, but a bemused Sondra considered Victoria’s words.

  Destin fell asleep immediately after his breakfast and Franklin carried the young sir back to bed. More and more Destin preferred his father’s vampire way, and Franklin admitted to himself he was disappointed. He, like the Mistress, hoped the phoenix would dominate his blood. Perhaps with the boy’s continued growth, there might yet be a change. He hoped the fire in Destin’s eyes promised a different future, for Madam’s sake. There was still the prophecy, and no one knew what it produced, except for the boy.

  Cooke worked the rest of the day on canapés and cake. The magnificent wedding cake towered four tiers decorated with spider netting and burgundy roses, which Cooke covered in a dusky pewter gray-blue. Unhappy with no white, no bright red (Rhea’s insistence), and no purple (Dra’s insistence), Cooke somehow managed to create a breathtaking design of gothic elegance. Rhea loved it and said Drahomira would love it too. Cooke hated it.

  With Franklin working on the patio construction, Cooke engaged in the interior decorations, the girls on their way downtown, Amor-el and Destin sleeping, Drahomira still in the city, Rhea escaped upstairs and said she was going to try on dresses. She planned to, but first, she wanted to consult her book.

  The Great Book of Forgetting from Atlantis never left her. Magically charmed by the leading Dragon Sage, she could hide the book in plain sight knowing charms kept it invisible to prying eyes. No one could see it, much less read it, unless she touched it and spoke the Atlantean words.

  With deliberation, Rhea climbed the tiny stairs to the attic, the ones off the end of the hallway in the empty north wing. When she first moved in with Am, they had dragged and stored all her miscellaneous things in the forgotten attic. Now Rhea knelt beside her old trunk and opened the lid. The wood creaked and revealed a few vintage evening gowns on top. One at a time, she removed them, thinking she might wear one of them for Halloween.

  Next came delicate shoes, a hand-carved jewelry box, and a few antique books. Underneath the books, a wooden box filled the trunk’s floor. She lifted it, closed the trunk and set the box on top.

  “Hello, old friend. I have missed you.” With another pause as she listened to the silent house, Rhea rested her palm on the box and whispered in Atlantean, “Beyond time, blood, fire, and shadow, with truth in my immortal heart, I, Ethyrea, phoenix and cousin to the dragon, now command you. Recognize my fire and reveal yourself to me.”

  She gathered a tiny flame in her fingers and ran it over the box’s edge.

  The box shimmered and the ancient glamour faded. Under her hand rested an enormous book over two feet wide and almost three feet long, covered in cracked black and gold dragon skin and stuffed with yellow vellum. The flames danced along the book’s spine then came to rest in the center before they dissolved. Rhea caressed the tome lovingly.

  “Let us examine what you have to say about me, yes?”

  The book opened with a sigh.

  For the next hour, she read and attempted to remember the passages written in odd languages. Some things she worked through but nowhere did she find anything related to her current situation. She found a few passages about the old prophecy, some disturbing references about misleading prophets and the unknowing, but nothing useful. She marveled over the hand-painted images, pages of delicate calligraphy and scrollwork, and the forgotten images of creatures the world would never know.

  Sadly, there was nothing about her current illness or anything more about the prophecy. Hints and vague references filled the pages but nothing useful now.

  “Well, back to sleep for you,” she said and carefully closed the book, resealing it with another tiny flame.

  Once she returned it to the trunk, she whispered another Atlantian phrase. The book shimmered again, the glamour returned, and the trunk bottom held a simple wood box. Gently, she replaced every article, trinket and book, save one gown with matching shoes. She locked the trunk and carried her goodies back downstairs, disappointed and worried.

  By the time she reached her room and readied the gown for the cleaners, she fought off another bout of dizziness that left her panting and her body quivering. Something was wrong with her, no matter how hard she tried to pretend otherwise. Could Victoria be right?

  VICTORIA AND SONDRA shopped until Sondra complained about how much her feet hurt and how badly she wanted water. Victoria relented because they found amazing dresses for the ceremony. She loved hers so much she could hardly wait to show it to Rhea. As a reward for her patience, Victoria treated Sondra to a buffet lunch at The Court of Two Sisters.

  They missed the tourist lunch crowd. Most of the latecomers were locals, and the place was less crowded. Victoria even recognized a few who were kindly solicitous about the loss of her shop. Sondra gathered some goodies that Victoria said were “Cajun delights” and the two girls tried not to gobble, such were their stomachs’ demands.

  Sondra drank four glasses of water to Victoria’s one. Refreshed, they strolled over to Dra’s club. Inside, white fabric draped over the smoky windows. A sign on the front door read, “Closed due to death of our manager, Janice August Wilson. Join us in two weeks for an old-fashioned wake.”

  Sondra’s mood deflated. “Well shoot. I thought I was going to get to see it.”

  “We still might. C’mon.” She pulled Sondra around the side until they came to the metal door designed for staff. Further down the alley and past the dumpster, leftover police tape fluttered in the warm air. Victoria ignored it and banged on the door. No one answered.

  “Sorry, I thought Steel might be here,” Victoria said, pulled out her phone and dialed as they turned and started back to the car. Steel didn’t answer.

  As they rounded the corner, they met a dark-haired woman pouting at the club front.

  “Excuse me,” she said, “do you know where I might find someone who works here?” Her voice had a warmth like hot chocolate, and her eyes glittered like chrome.

  Sondra openly stared. Victoria elbowed her.

  “My boyfriend works here, but I don’t know where he is right now. Are you looking for someone specific?” Victoria wondered.

  The strange woman nodded m
aking her long black hair ripple like water. “His name is Seth, I think. I was hoping he might tell me where I could find my boyfriend.”

  “I know Seth. Perhaps I know your boyfriend?” Victoria elbowed Sondra again who continued to stare.

  “Tobias. Tobias Wickam. We met up here last night. I thought he might come back here, but the club is closed. Shame. Cool place.”

  Victoria’s sixth sense blazed and at the name, her heart hiccupped. “Nope, sorry. Don’t know,” she said stiffly and backed away.

  “Well thank you anyway,” the woman said with a warm smile. “I’m Zephyr and new in town.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Sondra said in a small voice.

  “Yes, pleased. Welcome to NOLA. We have to go, sorry. Hope you find him,” Victoria rushed the words, grabbed Sondra’s hand and practically jogged to the car.

  “What is wrong with you? That was rude,” Sondra jerked away and glared as Victoria started the car, ordered her to get in, and pulled out of the parking lot before she even buckled her seat belt.

  “Did you hear what she said? Her boyfriend is Tobias Wickam. The same guy that Drahomira hates. Oh, this is bad. Very bad. Goddess, I have the worst luck.”

  “I thought she was pretty and I liked her. She can’t be that bad,” Sondra said with a long sigh.

  “I guess there is no accounting for taste.”

  The rest of the drive Victoria wondered if this new girl might be the witch who left the runes. Why else would she be hanging around with Tobias? Victoria’s senses tingled around Zephyr. Although that wasn’t necessarily a bad sign, it was curious. She needed to do a reading. She needed to do Rhea’s reading. She needed to ask Cooke about the rune, too. She needed!

  BY THE TIME they returned to the mansion, Victoria had decided it was time she pressed for answers. Unfortunately, everyone had other plans.

  The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. Everyone worked on final wedding arrangements. Franklin decorated the dining room for a finger-food buffet, and he moved the dining room chairs into the hall. Cooke prepped the sideboard for the wedding cake and accompanying libations. A cheerful fire blazed in the library. Every floor shone with a mirror-like sheen. The hall chandelier and all the crystal wall sconces glittered in the light. Franklin added blue roses everywhere, and so far, they bloomed without trouble. The old mansion was a magnificent house. Rhea would miss her but vowed to make her new home as elegant as this one.

  Outside, the party planners finished and departed before sunset. Tonight, the patio boasted a distinctive elegance. Despite the black tarps and the wrought iron fencing, warm twinkle lights added a magical aura over the stones lined with urns of burgundy rose bushes in full bloom. Their heady perfume drifted into the house and filled the rooms with an intoxicating sweetness.

  Twilight barely tickled the sky when Amor-el came down the stairs. Rhea met him with a welcome hug.

  “I smelled the roses and the lemon polish before I ever reached the landing,” he smiled and wrapped Rhea in his arms. “Reminds me of that first night when I held a welcome party for you. The night we knew we were not alone. Tonight it looks as wonderful, but this time I hope we are alone. Are we sure Drahomira is still going through with this?”

  “As far as we know, Am. I have not seen Dra since last night. You know she does not wish to do this. She may not show until just before the ceremony. Then she is leaving for New York right after. As far as Alexander is concerned, I doubt Dra has even considered him. Which reminds me, you need to know what you missed and another reason why Drahomira is not here.”

  They settled on the loveseat beside the last stair and Rhea recounted the news of Janice’s death with all the gory details.

  “My God. Is this Tobias too?” he asked coldly.

  “We cannot say. We do know he was at the club. We know he was with Janice. More than this, no. But Am, he swore an oath to kill Drahomira. I wonder if he has hired someone to cause trouble because the detective mentioned a new odd and beautiful woman in Wickam’s life. Her name is Zephyr.”

  “Likely he is using a witch, given his relationship to Nathan and the gang. Been done before. But seems oddly careless don’t you think? Unless perhaps she is part of his new club.”

  Rhea nodded. “That seems possible, and I promise you I will investigate. For now, let us table this until tomorrow. Tonight, as you said, we have to put on happy faces for Dra. I want her to realize tonight means good things ahead for her and Sergei. She needs to solidify her destiny with him, for her people and the future of her crown.”

  Amor-el studied Rhea’s face and then slowly smiled again. “If only she can be half as happy as I am, then she will be blessed.”

  The clock chimed seven and Rhea came to her feet.

  “I should dress. I think Alexander said he would be here around nine. You too, handsome man. Time to put on your suit.”

  Amor-el rolled his eyes, and they laughed. Victoria and Sondra filed out of the kitchen, carrying china destined for the dining room. Victoria rushed back and stopped by the couple.

  “Miss Rhea, I’m glad I caught you. Could we do that card reading now? I am worried, and you said you needed proof.”

  Rhea put her arm around Victoria and guided her away from the others. When they were far enough away, and she noted Amor-el had drifted outside, she said, “There is no time. I do want to but perhaps after the ceremony. Let us get Dra married and then you, and I may have a private session.”

  Victoria wanted to protest, but logic held her back. Only a few more hours.

  “Yes, ma’am. I can’t wait to show you my dress.”

  “I am excited to see it. You and Sondra rush off and get ready. We only have a couple of hours before our company arrives. Hurry now.”

  Rhea strolled through the rooms one more time. She checked the details and admired the efficiency and organization that somehow came together in a single day and night. Whatever else happened after tonight, she intended for Dra to know they cared enough to make this event memorable. Satisfied, she joined Am upstairs to dress for the evening.

  ALEXANDER EXAMINED HIMSELF in the mirror as Tobias pinned the last of his numerous medals on Alexi’s sash. In his official uniform of the Viceroy, he cut an imposing figure. The purple sash crossed the burgundy and charcoal uniform and complimented his gold buttons. A matching burgundy stripe lined the outside of his uniform trousers that broke smartly over polished boots.

  The betrothal ring filled his breast pocket, and the royal emblem of the Order of the Premyslds waited in a red box. A miniature of the royal Vratislav crown also waited in a box. He promised to hold the tiny crown over her head while she recited her vows, affirming her royal status as the future queen. Once the ring was on her finger, the emblem would be his as the proxy husband, and he could proceed with his plans.

  “Does she know about the blood consummation?” Tobias wondered as he stepped away.

  Alexi’s face changed, and his smile was strangely soft. “I’m afraid the subject never surfaced. The princess plans to leave for New York right after the ceremony.”

  “What? She can’t. The Duke is counting on her going home. To be removed from the board, I think he said.” Tobias’ protest only made Alexander laugh.

  “Yes, I plan to do that for Raikas, as promised. I plan to do more than the blood consummation with my queen and wife. Remember, I will be a husband and therefore afforded certain special privileges.” He let his voice trail off with a wink.

  Tobias stared at him, and suddenly he laughed until he thought his sides would burst. Maybe he would get his revenge after all without ever lifting a finger.

  “Time to go, Tobias. You will not see me again after tonight. I will be wedded, crowned, bedded, and fed. You may congratulate me.” Alexander gathered his boxes.

  “Your Majesty,” Tobias bowed low.

  The limousine waited out front for Mr. Frederick. Tobia paid the hotel bill and then chuckled again when he thought about what was coming. His only regret was
that he wouldn’t see the result. But he could imagine it.

  An imposing and highly decorated Prince Fedorovich walked out of the hotel shortly afterward. Tobias shook his hand, and then turned toward the waterfront, whistling as he walked.

  Neither noticed the sleek Ducati motorcycle speeding by as Alexi climbed into the limo.

  Some say there are no accidents.

  NO ONE EVER called New Orleans dull or boring, however, sometimes Mace wished he could pass on the formal chicken dinners. Tonight, he joined his fellow officers in a celebration of retiring State Supreme Court judge, the Honorable Pam LaRue. According to his police commissioner, NOLA would suffer without the judge since she was the toughest advocate against juvenile drugs the city had in almost a decade.

  Luckily, he avoided the chicken dinner heartburn this year when the justices decided to have their dinner at Mr. B’s Bistro. The Creole food soothed his need for a taste of home, and the ironic wood surroundings appeased his senses.

  After an exhaustive litany of speeches, Mace itched to get back to his desk and his open case files. Something about the recent fire and the death of that club manager bothered him.

  “Give you a ride?” Mace’s ex-partner Miranda Binson offered. Miranda and Mace worked together back when he was still a patrolman in the Ninth Ward. She had moved on to the crime lab and retired a year ago. He still missed her.

  “No thanks, Andy. Walking back to the office,” he waved and grinned at her surprise. She hadn’t heard him call her that for a while.

  As he exited the restaurant, he thought about enjoying a cigar during his stroll back (his office was a long four blocks away), when he watched a sleek Ducati motorcycle speed past. He blew a frustrated smoke circle at the speeder. Sometimes he wished he were still a patrolman but maybe not right now.

  Movement across the street caught his eye, and he stepped back into the building’s shadow. Outside the Hotel Monteleone, the guy who was part of the Club Malachite altercation shook hands with a tall man in a military uniform. The uniformed man departed in a limousine, and the man of interest from the club strolled away.