From Fear to Eternity

by Michelle Rowen

  And I felt like there was something else, too. Wasn’t there? Something important that I’d managed to forget . . .

  Whatever. If I’d forgotten it, it couldn’t have been all that important.

  Sebastien crossed his arms over his chest. “Thierry didn’t sire enough fledglings to warrant a full-scale reunion. I think we could be counted on one hand. A few fingers, actually. He didn’t care for the responsibility a good sire is required to take for a fledgling. He preferred to—how would you put it, Thierry?—forget about us?”

  There was more than an edge of contempt in that statement.

  Call me crazy, but I thought I had a good idea who might have spiked Thierry’s drinks. The waves of animosity rolling off this guy were nearly surfable.

  “Mon dieu! Sebastien, my darling!” Veronique made her way through the swell of guests now elbow to elbow in the parlor, her Louboutins clicking noisily against the floor.

  “Veronique,” he said warmly.

  She beamed at him before kissing him on both cheeks. “Where have you been all this time? I had believed you were lost to us forever. All these years—why haven’t you been in touch?”

  “Come.” Sebastien took her hand. “Let’s talk in private. We still have a little time left before the auction will begin. Thierry, you and your lovely wife are welcome to join us if you wish.”

  Without another word, he turned and led Veronique out of the room.

  This stupid auction was never going to start, was it?

  I eyed Thierry. “Want to give me a quick overview?”

  His gaze moved toward Atticus, who was still with Tasha. The actress didn’t seem intimidated by the boss of the Ring at all—she had a big smile on her face at whatever he was saying to her.

  “Sebastien was a human who supplied information for me when I needed it in Paris in the second half of the seventeenth century. One night I found him after he’d been attacked by enemies and left for dead, his throat cut. He had previously requested that I sire him, but I’d refused. When I found him so near death, I finally gave in and turned him into something like me. But I did much too good a job, since Sebastien inherited my thirst.”

  A shiver went through me and I lowered my voice. “Is he one of the bad guys—like Atticus?”

  Thierry considered this for a moment. “Despite his struggle as a fledgling, I never found Sebastien to be malicious in his actions. But he is an unexpected complication tonight, since I don’t know what his intentions are.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?” I asked.

  “Over three hundred years ago. There must be a reason he’s taken so long to contact us again.”

  “What do you think it is?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  “Okay. So let’s go find out.”

  We left the crowded parlor to follow Sebastien and Veronique out to the hall, where they were speaking in an alcove close to the library. Thomas nodded as he moved past us with a fresh tray of champagne.

  “It is so unexpectedly wonderful to see you again, my darling,” Veronique purred, still touching Sebastien like a cherished lost pet that had finally come home.

  “You too, Veronique. You’re every bit as beautiful as I remember.”

  She nodded. “Of course I am. But tell me, have you been so busy that you couldn’t even send word that you were well? I’ve been worried about you.”

  Sebastien had his hands clasped behind him. “I was unavoidably detained until recently. But one of the first items on my list was to make contact with old friends again. And here we are.”

  Thierry watched the other man carefully. “Making contact with old friends by sending out cryptic invitations to an auction? What is this, Sebastien?”

  “It’s fun, Thierry. That’s what it is. At least, it’s fun for those able to have fun.” Sebastien’s gaze landed on me. “I’ve tried to amass as much information as I could about what I’ve missed, but I don’t know everything about recent developments. There must be quite a story about how the two of you met.”

  “Five volumes worth,” I said. “Give or take.”

  “That is our Sarah.” Veronique laughed. “Always so amusing. The great love story is worth retelling, isn’t it? I mean, it must be. It was only recently that Thierry chose to officially end things between us.”

  “Things had been ended between us for centuries, Veronique,” Thierry reminded her.

  “That is certainly debatable.”

  Thierry’s expression held weary patience. “Not debatable. Truth.”

  Veronique sighed. “What can I say, Sebastien? Thierry is a difficult man to please. But it seems as if Sarah has managed to please him thus far.”

  I wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a compliment. It didn’t really feel like one.

  “I aim to please,” I said. “And I have very good aim.”

  “What’s this all about, Sebastien?” Thierry asked in an attempt to shift the subject back to the burning question. “Why tonight? And why not identify yourself in the invitation?”

  Sebastien shook his head. “You were never one to appreciate a little fun.”

  “Is that what you think this is? Fun?”

  “I do indeed. Look at us here, in my mansion—”

  “This is your mansion?” Veronique asked. “It’s very impressive, darling.”

  He slid his hand along a carved detail on the wall behind him. “Borrowed from a friend, I’ll admit. But certainly more than sufficient for the evening I have planned.”

  Personally, I wasn’t sure why borrowing a massive mansion from someone in Beverly Hills was necessary to host an auction. To me, it seemed as if Sebastien was just trying to impress his guests.

  All I knew for sure was that we were here for a very specific reason. And given the unpleasantness of the evening so far, I was tired of waiting.

  “How did you get the amulet?” I asked, then shrugged at Thierry’s look. “Why should we let the elephant dance around the room a moment longer?”

  Sebastien’s gaze tracked to me and his smile widened. “Straight and to the point. I think I like you, Sarah.”

  “Gee, thanks.” But I wasn’t sure if it was a good thing to be liked by this guy. Even with the shiny smile and the suave and well-dressed exterior, there was something incredibly unpleasant bubbling just beneath the surface of Sebastien Lavelle.

  He was up to something. And I was willing to bet it was nothing good.

  Sebastien cocked his head. “Can you be more specific, Sarah? What amulet do you mean?”

  “Don’t play games,” Thierry growled.

  Sebastien grinned, but it was more the baring of teeth than a genuinely pleasant expression. I recognized it, since Thierry had a predator’s smile just like that when the situation called for it. “Why not? Games are fun. I’ve always liked having fun.”

  “You never took anything seriously.”

  His eyes narrowed. “And you, my dearest daddy, took everything far too seriously. Believe me, the last three hundred years have increased my need for fun and I’ll get it wherever and however I can.” Sebastien raked a hand through his hair, which struck me as a nervous gesture. He began moving along the hallway, gazing up at the oil paintings of cherubs and Greek goddesses. “I have several items up for auction tonight that I’ve acquired in the past and safely stored away until now. Perhaps I just want to make a little money from them. Immortals need to think about their retirement plans, after all.”

  “So that’s where you’ve been,” Veronique said. “Scouring the earth from corner to corner for new trinkets, having adventures, getting into trouble. You always did enjoy traveling.”

  “Adored it,” he agreed. “I mean to travel again extensively. I have an uncontrollable urge to stretch my legs.”

  “The amulet, Sebastien?” Thierry prompted. “I searched f
or years for that piece. Only recently did I learn that it was destroyed centuries ago.”

  The edge of ease that had been in Sebastien’s expression fell away as he returned his attention to his sire. “I heard that rumor, too, but I’m not sure who started it.”

  “The council thought Thierry had it hidden somewhere,” I said.

  Yet now they wanted Thierry to acquire it so Atticus wouldn’t. Funny how a few weeks could change things.

  And by “funny,” I meant not the least bit funny. At all.

  Sebastien moved past me, again studying the paintings as if they were much more interesting than this conversation. Veronique watched him, her expression guarded, but I could see some confusion there.

  “Thierry was once the one most interested in acquiring it,” Sebastien said, “so I’m not all that surprised that he would be the one most would assume to possess it. I acquired it back when he was obsessing over it. I’d planned on giving it to him as a surprise gift, to prove my worth to him, so he wouldn’t continue to think I was ‘a pathetic waste of breath.’” He gave Thierry a tight smile that missed the mark if he was aiming for friendliness. “But I never got the chance to give it to him. Perhaps it’s better that I never did. You taught me that, Thierry.”

  Thierry’s mouth was a thin line. “What did I teach you?”

  “That power corrupts.” He shrugged. “After all, I saw your corruption whenever you had an extra ounce of power.”

  I glared at him. “Hey. Watch it, Junior.”

  Sebastien laughed, a short, almost nervous bark of a sound. “She comes to your defense like a vicious Chihuahua, Thierry. Isn’t that adorable?”

  I did come to Thierry’s defense, whenever the situation called for it. I couldn’t help myself. “You might not think my bite is adorable. I leave marks.”

  “I’m sure you do.” He regarded me with curiosity in the shadows of the alcove. “So different from what I’m used to when it comes to your choices, Thierry. This is quite a revelation.”

  Thierry stepped forward, his hands clenched at his sides. “Enough, Sebastien. You always liked to cause trouble, didn’t you? Are you certain you want to go to such dark places with me tonight?”

  “Oh, I think I can handle you.”

  I’d stopped breathing, sensing that something horrible was about to happen. Something violent. As I shared a tense look with Veronique, she slipped between them and put a hand on each man’s chest to keep them apart.

  “We were once good friends, the three of us. We had many enjoyable years together and it can certainly be like that now. Let us be friends once again. Sebastien, I will get you a copy of my memoir to remind you of more pleasant days. You, among many others, helped inspire my story. And remember that girlfriend of yours? The plain one you insisted was your one great love? What was her name—Bettina?”

  The fury faded from his gaze. “I remember her.”

  “What ever happened to her?”

  “We parted ways. Not everything can last forever.” His expression grew haunted. “And Bettina wasn’t plain. She was beautiful.”

  “Reminiscing isn’t his goal tonight. It’s something else entirely.” Thierry hadn’t relaxed a fraction. “What is it, Sebastien?”

  “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” Sebastien said smugly.

  “Can we put an actual time on that?” I asked. “I mean, ten? Ten thirty?”

  “Soon.”

  Great.

  There were plenty of people who had an uneasy history with Thierry, but this one felt . . . I wasn’t sure. More personal in his distaste. This kind of tension came only from those you were closest to—at least at one time.

  However, just because someone was family didn’t make them any less dangerous if they had an ax to grind. Sometimes those axes were literal ones.

  Veronique hooked her arm through Thierry’s. “Come. Let’s go back to the parlor. You barely got the chance to become properly acquainted with my new lover.”

  I couldn’t help but notice that she looked worried. That made two of us. With Atticus and Sebastien both under this roof, I wasn’t sure how smoothly the rest of the evening would go.

  “Sarah?” Thierry cast a tense glance over his shoulder at me and our eyes locked.

  Why did I want to protect him so badly when I knew he could take care of himself?

  “I’ll be right behind you,” I assured him.

  He nodded, then allowed Veronique to lead him back toward the cocktail party.

  I stayed right where I was, since Sebastien hadn’t yet made a move to follow them. I needed to know what his problem was and what level of threat he might be tonight.

  The best approach would be to keep things light. “Did Veronique always try to push Thierry around?”

  “She tried her best.” Sebastien watched me curiously, assessing me from head to toe without attempting to hide it.

  It was making me extremely self-conscious. “What?”

  He shook his head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re the last woman I’d ever expect Thierry de Bennicoeur to end up with.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because you seem very nice. It’s not a word I would ever associate with that man.”

  I tended to make a first impression on people that got them to either like me or hate me. There wasn’t usually a lot of indifference. Maybe I could use this to break through Sebastien’s guard and get to the truth. “That just goes to show that you don’t know me at all. I used to be nice. Then someone bit my neck and made me a vampire against my will, with hunters lying in wait, wanting to end my life. That can shake the nice out of anybody.”

  Thomas walked past us in the hallway with a tray of drinks. He nodded at Sebastien, but didn’t slow his steps. No cranberry juices on the tray. No whiff of blood. Just more champagne.

  “It certainly can. But it is a good test of one’s personal will to see how driven she is to survive.”

  I couldn’t figure this guy out. Was he an old acquaintance with a strange sense of humor or was he up to something nasty? Unfortunately, my gut instinct was gesturing wildly toward door number two. “Why haven’t you stayed in touch with Veronique or Thierry? Three hundred years is a very long time.”

  “You have no idea how long three centuries can feel.”

  “True.” The ice in his words made a chill run down my spine. “So why now? Why after all this time have you made the decision to reconnect?”

  Sebastien paced to the other side of the room, his face in shadows, his jaw tight. For a moment, he reminded me so much of Thierry that I thought they could very well be blood relatives after all.

  “He never told you about me?” he said.

  “Sorry, no.”

  His expression darkened. “How easy it must have been for him to forget.”

  “Forget what?”

  “What he did to me.”

  I thought I was finally starting to get the hang of this. Sebastien Lavelle was not much better than a fanged college kid with a long list of separation issues when it came to his parents. He was having a temper tantrum because enough attention hadn’t been paid to him over the years. Well, too bad, Junior.

  I was going to try for patience to deal with him. Maybe it didn’t have to get any more unpleasant than it already had. Our number one priority tonight was dealing with the Atticus situation. Anything else wasn’t worth our time and attention.

  Still, this guy was obviously in pain about his past with Thierry, a sire who hadn’t really been as attentive as he could have been. In that regard, I felt bad for Sebastien.

  “Whatever your deal is with Thierry,” I said gently, “you need to let it go. You don’t have to have a relationship with him, but I’m sensing some serious anger issues here. However, having his drink spiked with blood when apparently you have the very same b
lood addiction isn’t cool. You’d know very well what kind of torture that is for him.”

  “Spiking his drink?” Now a smile played at his lips. “What do you mean?”

  I narrowed my eyes, my sympathy waning in record time. “Yeah. Don’t try to tell me it wasn’t you who told the blonde to put blood in Thierry’s drinks. You know his problems and you wanted to make him lose his composure tonight.”

  “That would be a cruel trick.”

  “Yes, it would.”

  “He seems fine.” His attention moved to my neck, mostly covered by my hair. “But perhaps that’s only an act. Is it?”

  “You need to back off.”

  “Do I?” His gaze grew glacial again in seconds. “Do you know what he did to me? This man you proclaim to love with all your heart?”

  I didn’t flinch from his furious glare; I met it full on. “Go ahead. Tell me. It’s obvious that you’re dying to.”

  He raked a hand through his hair, turning to pace a few feet down the hall before he swiveled to face me again. “Up until three months ago I was locked in a tomb no bigger than a closet. Trapped. Abandoned. Starving and wasting away to nothing but skin and bones. Your darling new husband did that to me, Sarah. He locked me up and threw away the key.”

  I stared at him in shock. “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not lying.” There was not even a glint of humor in Sebastien’s eyes anymore. “Spiking his drink to bring out his dark side is the very least I wish to do to dearest Daddy this evening. And if you’re smart, I’d suggest you stay out of my way.”

  Chapter 4

  Sebastien walked off without another word, and all I could do was watch him go since I was busy picking my jaw up from the floor where it had fallen.

  Thierry had described him as a complication, taking attention away from his assignment regarding Atticus.

  A complication was definitely an understatement.

  No way this could be true. Not a chance. I knew Thierry had done some shady things in his life, but locking a fledgling in a tomb and forgetting about him for three centuries? No way.

  Sebastien had to be lying . . . although, he sure hadn’t looked like it. No, he’d looked as serious as a heart attack.