Seducing the Vampire

by Michele Hauf

  “They are of no concern to our mission,” Rhys stated, still angered that the Council deemed it wise to protect his brother from him.

  Dane jumped from the sofa and met him in the center of the room. “Look, wolf, if I spend the day helping my cohorts search for their friends, then they’ll reciprocate. And it’s not as if one more day is going to matter on your quest, is it?”

  Rhys’s heart clenched. Chimeras should not have such power over a man. “Twenty-four hours, then. You return to this mission promptly at eleven tomorrow morning.”

  “I will. I’m going to take off.”

  “She won’t come back,” Simon commented as Rhys strode the floor. “That was a ruse. She got ten grand. She’s going to run.”

  “She’ll be back. And you’ll be sure of it. Grab your gear. We’re going to join the search party.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Paris, 1785

  NORMALLY RHYS WOULD RUN to Paris as a wolf, and shift in the forest edging the city. Today, he returned by carriage, feeling rather tall and high as the driver’s box placed him.

  As he gained the rue Saint-Honoré, carriages and horses stood at a standstill. An ashy scent overwhelmed. Gray flakes floated in the air.

  Hackles stiffening, Rhys pressed the horses, but to no end. He was trapped, unable to navigate forward.

  Leaping from the driver’s seat, he squeezed between horse flesh and carriage wheels.

  Heart racing and fists pumping to increase his speed, he did not see the world as he passed through the streets, turning and dodging to avoid carriages and people. Turning right, he shouldered an old man but did not call regrets.

  As he neared Montfalcon’s neighborhood he could smell the lingering sulfurous miasma of what must have been a raging fire.

  Try as he might, he could not find Viviane’s scent. But he could smell none of the people he passed, so that gave him hope.

  He rounded the corner to havoc. A portion of the neighborhood had been charred to a skeleton of wood and stone framework. Smoke wafted from the simmering wreckage. Three houses had burned to black crenellated stumps. And the center house was where Rhys had left his vampire lover to await his return.

  Legs going loose and wobbly as he approached, he reached out, but did not grasp a reassuring hand or land his lover’s slender waist.

  One man picked through the ash.

  “Get out!” He stomped through the charred remains. It was warm yet for steam rose amongst the wisps of ash.

  A man bent over the remains straightened and tugged smartly at his cloth-buttoned coat. A smear of ash dashed his white jabot. “And you are?”

  “This is my home,” Rhys gasped. Well, it had been for the short time. He had no home at all now. Two burned in so little time… “Do you scavenge in the ruins of my life?”

  “Forgive me, monsieur. I am Philip LeMarck, the city inspector. You are just arriving?”

  “Yes, I’ve been away…but a day.” His voice broke. Rhys clasped his throat.

  The city inspector. So he was not poking about, looking for something to steal. At once Rhys wanted to fall against him for support, and yet he would not allow any to see his shock.

  He rallied strength with a deep inhale. “When did it happen?”

  “Burned through the night. Only got the flames extinguished early this morning. Bit of rain fell a few hours ago, which helped.”

  Feeling his bile rise, Rhys stumbled forward. He landed his hands on the inspector’s forearms. The man braced him.

  “My lover,” he gasped. “Viviane LaMourette. She was here. Though…she was to be at her home packing.” Hope momentarily sparked.

  The inspector’s face bowed and he shook his head. “This way.”

  Frozen in the middle of the destruction, the wind stirred thick gray ash flakes before Rhys. A storm to match that within his heart.

  “Monsieur?” The inspector stood before the study, which had been directly below the bedchamber. “Perhaps you should sit a moment before we do this? I’ll call for the water carrier, and you’ll have a drink. Better yet, some hard ale.”

  “Do? Do what?” Innately, Rhys knew where the man wanted him to go. Tread forth into hell. Open his eyes to a truth he could not bear. “What is over there?”

  “Are you sure you’re ready—”

  “Just tell me!”

  “We found two bodies.”

  Rhys dropped to his knees. Sulfur tangled at the back of his throat. Tears spilled down his cheeks. Had his hands ever shaken so horribly?

  “One body appears male,” the inspector said. “Found him outside the back door.”

  The bravo. Had he tried to get inside to rescue Viviane from the flames? How could she have been trapped inside? It wasn’t as if he’d locked her up tight. Had the flames eaten at her gown, the smoke smothering her cries? No. Please don’t let her have suffered.

  Lifted from his knees by the inspector, Rhys shoved him roughly. “Show me, then.”

  “I walked through quickly when I arrived this morning, monsieur. I’m waiting for the surgeon to arrive to help me, er…recover the bodies. Over here where the top floor dropped down and the bed…”

  A charred bedpost jutted out as if it were a stalagmite in a dark cave. Here the ash swirled like summer snow. Flakes landed on Rhys’s shoulders and hair. His hands trembled. A reedy moan escaped and he again landed on his knees before the charred hand visible amidst scattered lumber.

  The inspector squatted and gently pushed aside a heap of ash, revealing the bottom of a jawbone and the reticulated spine bones. Black and charred and—Rhys looked away, closing his eyes, but that did not stop the tears.

  His heart pounded. Dead!

  He felt his muscles grow slack. The world wobbled.

  Mercy. He had not been here to save her.

  He heard a snick and turned to see what the inspector had tugged from the body. But a few strands of black moire ribbon were intact. Coated with a black smudge, tiny skulls tumbled away and dropped.

  Rhys plunged his hand into the ash and grasped a skull no larger than his fingertip. Red roses clutching skulls. The first time he’d seen her wearing that piece her azure eyes had sparkled.

  He clutched it to his chest and reeled forward, rocking. He was aware the inspector rose, patted him on the shoulder, then left him alone with his agony.

  His heart spilled out in wretched cries. And when they turned to howls, he pressed his face to his knees to stifle the strange sounds that might see him revealed for the creature he was.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Paris, modern day

  SIMON KEPT PACE WITH DANE and didn’t grumble as they descended to the third level beneath the park west of the city to track the missing cataphile, Marcus Leonard. They were on the trail now. If Marcus had come this way, and gotten lost because his equipment had failed, they would find him.

  Rhys had joined the search with a separate crew, which surprised Dane. Simon explained the man did have a tendency to draw into himself when troubled. Being with strangers was probably less stressful for him right now.

  “I’m impressed you didn’t take the money,” Simon commented.

  They strode, side by side, rubber boots occasionally slipping on the slick stones. This tunnel was ten feet high and about as wide. Ahead, lights from two on the rescue team flashed across the walls.

  “Wasn’t mine to take,” Dane said. “Look, I know you don’t trust me, and that’s your prerogative. But if you knew the big bads I owed money to, you’d know I’m in this for the big payoff.”

  “Human or other?”

  “Other.”

  “Vampires?”

  “Something like that. It’s tribe Anakim. You know about them?”

  “I know vampires form tribes, but that one is not familiar to me.”

  “They are night walkers. Can’t access the daylight unless they can restore their bloodline.”

  “How do they do that?”

  “By getting their hands o
n a nephilim.”

  “Isn’t that a—”

  “Yep.”

  Simon whistled.

  Dane had said enough. “You really think we’ll find the coffin?”

  “Honestly?” Simon paused to lean against the curved wall and swiped sweat from his brow. Dane was impressed he’d tracked in this far. He was no athlete, to gauge from his spare frame. “No. But, as you have discovered, it’s worth the search.”

  “My brand-new purse is doing the happy dance. But are you getting a bonus for this adventure?”

  “I’d do anything for Rhys. The man has integrity dripping from his pores. He would walk the world for me if I needed him to. I hate to imagine what this will do to him if we find out it’s true.”

  A shout ahead set the lead lights bobbling. Dane gripped Simon’s hand. “They must have found something. Come on!”

  As they raced through the tunnel, a terrified scream joined the melee.

  Dane’s hackles lifted. A foul scent alerted her she wasn’t going to like what was around the corner. If she were in cat form right now her back would be arched and her tail high.

  One of the lead team members pushed past her, hand over his mouth. He didn’t make it far before she heard him retching.

  “Oh, Christ.” Simon wrenched his forearm over his nose. “What is it?”

  She pressed a palm to his shoulder as a sign to stay put. Two others stood glued to the wall, eyeing her, shaking their heads miserably.

  “I’ll take a look,” she offered, and turned the curve where the rock ceiling suddenly dipped.

  On the dirt floor lay a body crawling with beetles. The stench of death was so strong Dane had to swallow her bile. “Marcus?”

  One of the leaders nodded and rushed past her to join the others.

  Moving her head to direct the headlamp away from the body, Dane surveyed the area. The wall behind the body was splattered with a dark glistening substance. Blood.

  “Something attacked him?” she muttered.

  “Attack?” Simon called. He kept out of keen vision of the body. “What do you see?”

  “Marcus’s body,” she relayed to him. Her nose could not adjust to the odor and she spat to get the foul taste from her mouth. “The wall and the floor are spattered with his blood. It’s like an animal attacked him. Or someone went after him with a weapon.”

  Simon gagged.

  Dane leaned over the body. The insects were not en masse, so the body could not have been dead long. Dane was no forensics expert, but she figured it should take at least a few days for massive insect invasion. Peering over his neck revealed claw marks. Not deep or wide. She wouldn’t say wolf or any particular creature. Could simply be fingernails. In fact, when holding her fingers near the wounds without touching, they were a good match.

  Another shout alerted her to a turn in the tunnel ahead.

  “Stay there!” she called to Simon. “I’ll go check it out.”

  Around the corner she found Roger, a burly German whom she’d dated once—until she’d met his six real cats; she did not do fetishes. He beamed his headlamp upon a scatter of thick limestone pavers. They’d been toppled from what looked to have been a half wall. Here and there a centuries-old skull pocked the wall.

  “Another body?” she asked cautiously.

  “I’ve heard the legend,” Roger said in wonder, “but dismissed it.”

  His statement giddied her belly. Dane scampered over to view what Roger’s headlamp illuminated within the torn limestone wall.

  “A glass coffin.” Broken, or rather shattered.

  From the inside? Or had Marcus found it and broken the glass to get to what had been inside?

  RHYS, WHO STOOD TOPSIDE after assisting a guide who’d twisted his ankle, spied Vincent Lepore standing on the street corner, another man at his side. At sight of the tall, dark-haired man, Rhys rushed across the street, fists bared.

  Lepore stepped before the man, grabbing Rhys’s wrists to keep him from an attack. “He’s come to talk! Honor that, Hawkes.”

  Growling, and shoving into Lepore’s body as if he could move through him to get to the man standing behind him, Rhys gave a surrendering growl and disengaged. He fisted the air and yowled out his frustrations.

  “You bastard!”

  Constantine stepped forward. The vampire had not changed in appearance save his shoulders sagged and he appeared submissive, beaten down. His dark eyes did not fix to Rhys for more than a nanosecond at a time as he swept the area back and forth to Rhys.

  “How could you do this?”

  “It took you a long time to miss her, brother.”

  The statement prodded his werewolf, and Rhys lunged, shoving Lepore aside to slam Constantine’s shoulders to the brick wall behind him. Talons grew out of his fingers and into his brother’s flesh.

  “Still so quick to anger.” Constantine gritted his jaws, and met his glare. “I was jealous of you.”

  Pulled from behind, Rhys snarled as Lepore detached him, his talons dragging bloody gouges in Constantine’s shoulders. “You said you wanted to speak to him. It will do no good to kill him now.”

  “I will do my heart a world of good to slaughter this vile creature.”

  “Before the world? Mortals walk across the street and drive by in their cars. Be smart, Hawkes.”

  Rhys huffed and stepped back of his own accord. He flicked a wrist, drawing his talons back in. Blood dripped from his fingertips. “You could never step back and allow me to have happiness, could you?”

  “You stole her from me!”

  “Gentlemen.” Lepore stood between them, his arms out to grab the next one who made a move. “What’s been done is done.”

  “She could be dead,” Rhys argued.

  “You thought her dead centuries ago,” Lepore reasoned.

  “What if she is alive?”

  Constantine smirked.

  “I will kill you!” This time Lepore delivered a gut punch to Rhys as he charged, which caused him to bend over. The vampire had a mean right lunge. “Why do you protect him?” he muttered, slowing rising straight. “The Council should not take sides.”

  “The Council has only just become aware of a situation that may or may not be deemed a crime. Have you found a coffin?” Lepore insisted.

  “No. But he’s alluded to it. You did it, didn’t you? Tell him of your crime!”

  Constantine wrapped his arms across his chest and eyed the sidewalk. “If I cannot have her, then no man shall.”

  Rhys felt the tingle of his rising werewolf goad at his neck and spine. It would be so easy to shift, take his brother’s head off, and Lepore’s, too. He was not a man to murder, but sometimes even the staunchest must surrender to pure anger.

  His brother had taken Viviane from him.

  The jangle of his cell phone momentarily diverted his rage. Normally, he would ignore it, but Simon and Dane were still below ground. “Don’t move,” he said to the two men.

  He answered and Simon’s excited breathing startled him. “Take a breath, man. I can’t understand you.”

  Simon huffed through his short, rapid sentences and the staticky connection, but Rhys heard a few key things. Murdered. Coffin. Escaped.

  “A coffin? I’ll be right there,” Rhys said.

  “I’ll meet you topside to guide you.”

  “Not necessary. If there’s blood, I’ll scent you right to the location.”

  He shoved the phone in a pocket and stepped up to his brother. Without touching him, he stood face-to-face, seething. “They found the coffin.”

  “Is she alive?”

  Lepore said, “Make a deal, gentlemen. If she is alive, you walk away with the girl, Hawkes, and leave your brother with the guilt over what he has done.”

  He didn’t like that idea, but the growing excitement that there might possibly be a girl to find made him nod. “And if she is dead?”

  “I will leave you two to fight it out.”

  “Deal.” Rhys smacked a handshake
with Lepore, then turned to walk off.

  Just off the curb, he twisted and rushed back to his brother. A right swing caught Constantine’s jaw and he felt the bones crack and saw the broken fang fly through the air.

  Constantine dropped unconscious.

  “Keep an eye on him,” Rhys said to Lepore.

  RHYS TRACKED UNDERGROUND through miles of tunnels, agility moving him swiftly. He located the rescue team in less than twenty minutes. Strong blood scent tickled his vampire’s hunger. He had not fed in weeks. Over the centuries his blood hunger had grown lesser and his werewolf mind had but to appease the vampire once a month. A wise man would have done so before descending, but it was too late to worry now.

  More than one team member had been sick, and he avoided the evidence as he raced around the corner and ran smack into Simon.

  “You’ve found her?”

  Simon gripped Rhys’s forearm. Sweat drooled down his face and he trembled. It wasn’t hot down here. The man must be in shock.

  “No, but there’s a coffin.”

  “Of glass?” His heart already sat in his throat. After all these years, Constantine still had not changed. The arrogance of him!

  Simon nodded effusively. “Glass. It’s real.”

  Feeling the tingle of change at the tips of his fingers, Rhys shook his hands, fighting the vampire’s menacing hunger. Inhaling, he maintained composure and clamped his arms across his chest. “Show me.”

  Simon pointed. “There’s a body around the corner. I put my head around but didn’t want to add to the stench with my own sickness. Dane’s with it right now.”

  Rhys left the man and swung around the corner. He’d seen many a dead body. This one was a fresh kill. The blood had coagulated, but it was still bright red.

  Fortunately, the stench consisted of more than blood, for the foul scents of death and trauma rose. He felt his vampire cringe, backing from it like a mongrel from rotting meat.

  Something glinted in the eye….

  Rhys leaned in and plucked out a small object from the eyeball. It was no longer than an inch, like a straight pin, yet fashioned from—

  Heartbeats scurrying, Rhys gasped. This was— It looked as if it had been carved from wood, and had been broken off from the larger piece.