by Lori Devoti
“Good.” He seemed to relax. Then he smiled, and for the first time, she felt like she was seeing the real Harry, the one that had been hidden behind his cold businessman exterior.
“What about today? Do you have plans?” he added, taking a sip of his coffee.
She shrugged. “Look for Karin, I guess, or some information on where she went. I asked the other employees at the bar, but they didn’t seem to know much about her.” She had found this shocking. Lindsey had worked at a number of bars and always knew more about the other employees than she had ever wanted to. It was like the cliché of pouring out your troubles to a bartender was contagious, and every employee caught the disease, except they shared with waitresses too.
“If Karin knew you were coming, I’m sure she will be back. Why don’t you just take a few days as a vacation? Sightsee?”
Lindsey laughed. “I’d need a car for that.” Actually, she would probably need a car to do about anything except sit in place waiting to see if Karin came back.
“Yes, your car. I can call the shop later and speak to the mechanic again. Hopefully, he’ll get the parts. Until then, I can find someone to show you around.”
“Oh.” For a moment, Lindsey had thought Harry might offer to show her St. Louis himself. It was a silly thing to hope; she had just met the man, and he was obviously busy.
“That isn’t necessary. I can take a cab or something.”
“There’s also the MetroLink, but I think we can do better than that.” He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and made a call. After a moment, he disconnected and smiled. “As I guessed, Emilie would love to show you around. She loves to meet new people, and she lives very close. She said she’d meet you around three.”
Three. Almost five hours away. A lot of hours to fill. Lindsey looked at Harry, again hoping he might offer to fill some of them himself.
He threw a five dollar bill onto the table and stood. “I’m afraid I have to leave. I have a project I’ve been working on for some time that I’m hoping will come to a close soon, perhaps even today.” His finger grazed the cross, and he stared at her, his gaze intent. “There is a lot to see in the Central West End, wander around, get to know the place, by tomorrow…” He paused as if forgetting what he was about to say or thinking better of it. Slowly he exhaled. “By tomorrow maybe your car will be ready and you can go further afield on your own.” Then he left.
Lindsey sat, nursing her coffee and trying not to feel sad. She was in a new city with a new well-paying job. Her tips the night before had been triple the best night that she’d had in New Orleans, even during Mardi Gras. And she had an apartment she could never have afforded on her own.
Life was, or should have been, great, but she didn’t have what she’d come here to get. She didn’t have a family; she didn’t have Karin.
o0o
Harry made a point of walking out of the café and around the outside of his building to the main entrance of the bar, making sure anyone interested would see him leave and know Lindsey was now alone and unprotected.
He realized that Marie Jean would suspect a trap, but he hoped her desire to capture her last remaining blood relative would overpower that suspicion. The fact that Lindsey was also Marie Jean’s double would hopefully add to that desire. If the legend was true, that feeding on your own bloodline especially on the anniversary of your turn, increased a vampire’s power, then feeding on your double would have to carry even more allure.
Hopefully, enough to pull Marie Jean out of hiding and soon.
Once inside the bar, Harry walked through the main room and into his office. There he opened a hidden door and climbed the stairs that took him back to the main floor of the building. His personal apartment was hidden in the building too, but he wouldn’t go there now. Now he had to shadow Lindsey and pray Marie Jean took this first apparently unguarded moment to make her move.
o0o
Rain-soaked and exhausted, Lindsey collapsed onto a bench. Instead of taking Harry’s advice and relaxing, she’d gone to every store/café/coffee shop that was open and asked about Karin and then the one person who had admitted to knowing her well, Rodrigue.
No one seemed to have heard of either of them.
She had walked up and down every street in the Central West End and gotten nowhere.
She pulled out her cell phone to check the time. Three thirty. She should have been back at the apartment a half an hour earlier to meet with Emilie. Now she would have to call her and apologize. Of course, that meant trying to figure out how to call her; Lindsey didn’t have her number. Too exhausted to worry over that, she leaned her head against the bench’s back and closed her eyes.
“Lindsey!”
The clean scent of citrus flowed over her.
She opened her eyes. Emilie, wearing a full-skirted pink dress that looked like something straight out of some 1950s’ sitcom and matching pink pumps, slid onto the bench beside her.
“How lucky. I was on my way to your building and saw you here.” Emilie twisted her body so one shoulder jogged forward. “I’m so glad Harry called me. I do want to get to know you. Should we have a drink?”
Emilie’s spurt of conversation was more than Lindsey’s brain could compute; she blinked.
Emilie peeled off white cotton gloves and placed them primly onto her lap. Her nails were short but perfectly groomed, with pink tops that matched her dress and smooth white quarter-moon tips.
Lindsey folded her own nails into her palms.
“Lemonade, perhaps?” Emilie waved one glove toward an outdoor café with a giant lemon carved into its wooden sign. She tilted her head. “Always refreshing on a hot summer day.”
It wasn’t summer, and to Lindsey’s ears it sounded as if Emilie had developed a Southern accent. She frowned, but Emilie had already grabbed her by the hand and was steering her toward the café.
o0o
Thanks to Emilie’s tardy appearance, Harry was forced to leave the Central West End thirty minutes later than he had planned. He could only pray the female vampire would be more responsible in doing what he’d hired her to do—keep an eye on Lindsey and either convince her to return to the apartment or keep herself highly visible.
Marie Jean wasn’t known for taking on other vampires, and he trusted that Emilie’s presence would be deterrent enough until he returned. It would have to be. He needed to speak with the vampire prince, and he couldn’t very well drag Lindsey along with him.
He shook his wrist, letting the silver cross brush against his skin.
At the moment, thankfully, the charm was calm, telling him Lindsey was too.
Grateful for that, Harry navigated his BMW off the main paved road of Russell Boulevard and into the heart of Soulard.
In the neighborhood known for bars, bands, and the nearby Anheuser-Busch Brewery, Rodrigue’s house seemed secluded. The cobblestone street carried little traffic, and the six-foot iron-and-brick fence discouraged tourists interested in doing anything more than snapping a quick picture of the historic home on their way to the next brewery tour.
Harry parked his car a few doors down, put on his sunglasses, and approached the brick mansion with long, confident strides.
At the walkway that led to the home’s front door, he paused. He had never entered a vampire’s personal residence before, at least not empty-handed. He opened and closed his fists, his palms itching for the feel of cold iron or silver against his flesh.
But Rodrigue was not his enemy, not today. Let another dhamphir take out the ancient French warrior.
He carefully pulled the cuffs of his cotton shirt down over his wrists, hiding the cross, and strode to the door.
o0o
Seated at the café with a tall glass of pink lemonade in front of her, Emilie placed her gloves on the table and leaned forward.
“Tell, how did Harry find you?”
Confused, Lindsey bit her lip. “He didn’t. My cousin, Karin, did.”
Emilie widened her eyes. They were blu
e today, Lindsey realized. Yesterday they had been green.
“That’s right. You told me that.” Emilie took a dainty sip through her straw. “And your cousin, have you met her?”
Lindsey shook her head and let out a breath. “No. She emailed me. My family died when I was young.”
“Really? How?” Interest lit Emilie’s face.
Lindsey shifted in her seat. Most people made polite noises and then changed the subject when she told them her family had died; it was why she told the lie. The truth was worse. The truth was that she didn’t remember her family, didn’t remember anything about who she was until she was found on a street naked.
“A car wreck. I was five.”
Emilie frowned. “Are you sure?”
Lindsey hesitated.
“I mean maybe something caused the accident?”
“Well, yes, I suppose.” Something always caused an accident.
“Anyway…” Emilie waved her hand. “I took you away from your story. Your cousin contacted you. What took her so long? Surely your parents kept in contact with their families?”
“I didn’t know any other family.” Didn’t know my parents either, a voice reminded her.
“No family records or anything?”
Lindsey stared at her hands and shook her head.
“That is sad, and so lucky that Karin found you.” Emilie smiled so widely she almost glowed.
Emilie’s expression was too bright, too interested. Lindsey wiggled in her seat and took a drink of lemonade.
“So as far as you know, you have no living blood relatives,” Emilie added.
Lindsey looked up. “Except my cousin.”
“Yes, your cousin.” Emilie smiled. “She will be thrilled to hear about you, I’m sure.”
“She has heard about me.” Lindsey said the sentence slowly, unsure if Emilie was truly following their conversation or not.
Emilie laughed. “Of course, I meant she must have been thrilled to learn of you—when she found you.”
Eager to change the topic, Lindsey slid her glass to the side. “Do you know her? You must have seen her at the bar.”
Emilie poked an ice cube with her straw. “We’ve met, but your cousin is a bit…aloof.”
“Really?” That wasn’t how Lindsey had imagined Karin. But then she realized it was difficult to really read someone’s personality from one email.
Disturbed by the thought that Karin might not be the outgoing, accepting person Lindsey had built her into being in her mind, Lindsey pressed her lips together. “What about Rodrigue?” she asked. “Do you know him well?”
“Rodrigue?” Emilie’s eyes lit with interest. She twisted to the side as if about to share a confidence. “Not as well as I would like.”
“Oh.” Lindsey rolled her straw between her fingers. Little droplets of lemonade escaped the top of the straw and splashed onto her hand. “Were he…are he and Karin…involved?”
“Romantically? They were once, but I don’t think they are anymore. In fact…” Emilie edged forward on her seat. “I’ve heard it is quite the opposite.”
The opposite? What did that mean? “You mean they broke up?”
Emilie pulled her straw from her glass and placed its tip against her lip. “You could say that.”
“Was it a bad breakup?” Scenarios ran through Lindsey’s mind. Rodrigue had said that Karin had run away before. She hadn’t thought at the time what that might have meant, but now… “Did he abuse her?”
“Rodrigue?” Emilie raised her eyebrows. Then she laughed. “I guess it depends on what you mean by abused. I wouldn’t mind a little rough play from that one.” She bit down on her straw, revealing her teeth…
For a second, Lindsey’s vision seemed to blur. She blinked. The world slowed. She could hear air moving around her.
Emilie smiled, and Lindsey blinked again. This time Emilie came back into focus. She was still biting on the straw, showing a perfect set of even, white teeth.
With a small shake of her head, Lindsey reminded herself where she was and what Emilie and she had been discussing. “Do you know where he lives?” she asked.
Emilie dropped the straw. “You aren’t thinking of going over there, are you?” Again her eyes widened, and Lindsey could see thoughts ricocheting through the other woman’s brain, like a metal ball in a pinball machine, hitting one bumper before sailing off to another and then another.
“Harry would not approve,” Emilie added. The thought seemed to make her inordinately happy. She smiled and placed her hands onto the table top. “I can take you.”
“You can?” Lindsey hadn’t thought through what she would say to Rodrigue, especially now that Emilie had given her the idea that he might have abused her cousin in some way.
“Of course! Let’s go!” Emilie stood, sending her chair screeching backward over the brick patio. Then, waving her gloves overhead, she sailed from the café.
Lindsey paused, confused by Emilie’s abrupt departure and unsure whether to follow.
Emilie wouldn’t take her to Rodrigue if she thought he was dangerous. And he had admitted knowing Karin better than anyone.
It would be silly of her to pass up this offer.
Decision made, she dropped money for their drinks on the table and hurried after her new friend.
o0o
Harry waited on Rodrigue’s front step, his eyes forward and face calm. There was no bell to ring, but Harry knew one wasn’t needed. Some employee manning the camera that twisted left to right, continually panning the small front yard, had, Harry was sure, already alerted Rodrigue of his arrival.
Still, after a moment, he lifted the heavy, horse-head-shaped knocker and dropped it down, three quick times. Almost immediately the door opened.
To Harry’s surprise, Rodrigue himself stood on the other side.
Without saying a word, the vampire stepped back and held out his arm, telling Harry to enter.
The half-Osage, half-French vampire looked every bit the bronzed savage today. He was naked from the waist up, and his long hair was unbound. The style wasn’t traditional with the Osage, but as long as Harry had known of Rodrigue, the vampire had sported long hair. Perhaps, he guessed, in revolt against a people who had held his French half against him or deserted him once he was turned.
“What do you wait for, dhamphir? You need no invitation to enter here.”
Raising a brow, Harry accepted both the statement and Rodrigue’s obvious offer.
The vampire immediately turned, leaving Harry to shut the door or leave it open as he felt comfortable.
He pushed it closed. He had no need of an open door, no plans to race from this place. And he wanted Rodrigue to know it.
But if the vampire noticed, he gave no sign. He had already traveled across the marble floors of the entryway and made his way into a formal parlor which lay to Harry’s right. He stood in front of the fireplace, a tall glass of amber liquid in his hand.
“Indians shouldn’t drink. Did you know that, dhamphir?” Rodrigue downed the contents of the glass in one swallow and walked to a side table where a crystal decanter filled with more of the alcohol sat. He refilled his glass and walked back to the fireplace, this time choosing to stare out one of the windows which flanked it.
“Where did you find her?” he asked.
Harry didn’t have to ask who the vampire meant.
“Louisiana.”
“You should have left her there.” Rodrigue took another drink, this one smaller, but tension showed in the muscles of his back.
“I couldn’t.”
“Nonsense.” He spun, his arm rising as he did. The glass left his hand and crashed into the wall behind Harry.
Rodrigue’s face was dark, and his features twisted with rage. His fangs hung low and fully visible in his mouth.
“You should not have brought her here.”
Harry’s own vampire half reacted. His muscles tightened, and a hiss left his lips. He clenched his fists, fighting for c
ontrol.
He didn’t come here to fight with Rodrigue. A war with the ancient vampire, even one Harry won, would only get in the way of his goal.
“You know why I had to,” he replied, his body stiff and the words stilted.
“Why?” The vampire flew forward, moving so quickly a human wouldn’t have even noticed the shift in his position before the vampire was on him, would have lacked the time to register that death was coming.
Harry, however, wasn’t human, not fully.
He stepped to the side, and Rodrigue flew past, knocking into the same wall his drink had splattered seconds earlier.
He spun again. “If I kill you, she will be safe.”
“And is that what you want?” Harry had wondered about the answer to this question for decades, since Rodrigue had started making the occasional visit to his bar.
Rodrigue froze, and his face paled. The rage left him as quickly as air from a punctured balloon. He walked past Harry, looking defeated and lost.
“Do not ask me that.” He ran his fingers through his hair.
“She isn’t whatever memory you have in your mind,” Harry murmured, afraid to push the vampire too hard, too quickly. “I’ve heard rumors. I’m sure you have too. She is building a following. She will challenge you.”
His eyes sad, Rodrigue shook his head. “She hasn’t the strength.”
“But she will.”
“Only if you give her this gift.” Anger flashed in Rodrigue’s blue gaze once again.
“Lindsey is not a gift.” She was a trap, one Marie Jean, Rodrigue’s lover turned enemy and Harry’s reason to exist, would not be able to resist.
“And if you fail? If mon oiseau is stronger than you? If she takes this gift? Then what, dhamphir?”
“She won’t.”
Rodrigue laughed, then murmured words that were neither French nor English. Were instead, Harry guessed, his mother’s tongue, Osage.
“I don’t ask that you help me. I never have.” It was true; Harry had never approached the vampire like this before. “I only ask that you don’t work against me.”
“And how would I do that?” The vampire raised one brow, looking, despite his bare chest, 100 percent the French gentleman again.