by Lori Devoti
She wasn’t, however, despite Montclair’s taunts, afraid of the approaching dawn. She was old enough and powerful enough in her own right to tolerate the first few hours of early light. But come noon… She bit her lower lip until it bled.
She, it appeared, was in need of a new home.
It had just become her banker’s lucky day.
o0o
The night was almost over, and Harry had found no sign of the vampire prince. His mansion was empty, and he hadn’t been seen at any of the usual vampire hangouts.
Harry was getting nervous. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Brett.
“Do you have the security camera on?”
“Of course.”
“And have you seen anyone?” He’d left Brett with instructions to monitor the balcony. The new wards were strong enough to drain the oldest of vampires, especially if they were fool enough to try and enter the building, but the balcony was in open air. The wards should do their job there too, but Harry was past taking chances.
“No, but...”
“But?” Dealing with the bartender made Harry’s head throb.
“Lindsey is quiet now, but she wasn’t earlier. The apartment, I’m afraid, is trashed.”
Panic rose in Harry’s gut. “Trashed?”
“By your bait. Based on the noise the outdoor microphone picked up, she tried to throw a chair through the french doors. She also called here about a hundred times. It was bad enough, I climbed up and peered in the glass. She was on the floor, awake and well but obviously exhausted.”
“So she knows.”
“She knows she’s trapped inside that apartment, and my guess is she knows who did it too.”
Harry closed his eyes. Lindsey couldn’t know for sure that he’d locked her in, but she would know he hadn’t come to get her as he’d promised. “Did you talk to her?” he asked.
“Should I?”
There was mumbling in the background.
“Who’s there?” Harry asked, instantly wary.
“Emilie. She’s being quite the pest. Insists that she’s here to help, with what I don’t know.”
“Tell her to go away.” Harry was still frustrated with how the vampire had handled the information she’d shared with him the day before. Lindsey had returned unharmed, but ‘all’s well that ends well’ was not a motto Harry subscribed to. Emilie should have come to him quicker, called rather than sauntering in like a cat with a mouse caught between its jaws.
“With pleasure.” There were more mumbles, and the phone disconnected.
Harry frowned at his cell. He hadn’t answered Brett’s question as to whether he should talk to Lindsey or not, but really, there was nothing the bartender could say to her that would explain what was happening. Nothing, at least, that didn’t need to come from Harry first.
If he managed to find and kill Marie Jean, he might also be able to come up with some tale of jammed doors and being called away unexpectedly—some desperate lie to save the relationship that was growing between him and Lindsey.
If he didn’t find the vampire…then he would have no choice. He would have to tell Lindsey the truth—all of it.
o0o
Lindsey jammed a case knife into the space between the french doors and shifted her weight against it. Wood creaked. She pushed harder. Something moved, and her heart jumped. Then the knife gave…bent into a right angle, and she fell forward onto her face on the floor.
The knife clattered beside her. She shoved it away.
She was trapped—well and truly trapped.
At first she’d thought the door was just jammed, but then she’d realized the french doors wouldn’t open either. Even then she hadn’t panicked. Harry had said he’d return soon—but he hadn’t. And he hadn’t answered her calls either. No one did, and she knew someone had to be at the bar. Brett or Harry, one was always at the bar.
Which meant they were ignoring her, which also meant, as much as she didn’t want to believe it, that Harry had locked her in.
Which lead to one final conclusion—Karin had been right. Lindsey couldn’t trust Harry.
o0o
The night had passed, the day was almost over, and Lindsey was still trapped in her apartment.
Exhausted and her spirit broken, she lay on her living room floor. Her chest moved up and down with each breath, and her skin was covered in sweat. She had tried everything to escape the apartment, dialed every number on her phone and thrown every valuable knickknack the place had to offer against the doors. Her calls went nowhere, and while the expensive objects crashed into rubble, the doors didn’t budge.
It was as if a force field held them in place, held her in place.
She closed her eyes and willed her mind to calm. Panic would get her nowhere.
A voice broke her meditation.
“Lindsey?”
Afraid to believe what she was hearing, Lindsey pushed herself to a sit.
“Are you in there? It’s Emilie. I came to get you, to take you somewhere.”
Hope surged through Lindsey; she raced to the door.
“I’m trapped. The door won’t open. I can’t get out.” Her voice broke. She knew she sounded panicked, but hiding the shock and heartbreak of Harry’s betrayal was beyond her.
“I think I see the problem.” Emilie’s voice broke too, not with fear, but…pain.
“Emilie? Are you okay?”
“I—I just need air, outside air. Here. Wait. I can do this.”
The last seem directed more at herself than Lindsey, but Lindsey took the other woman at her word, and fingers curled into her palms, she waited.
“Now, open it.”
Lindsey wrapped her fingers around the knob and jerked the door open. Emilie, her face pale and sweat beaded over her upper lip, stared back at her. A weak smile moved across her face.
“Good, you’re dressed. You need to come with me. We have a party to go to.”
o0o
Harry had searched the city and come up empty. Wherever the prince had been for the past day, he had not wanted to be found, and Marie Jean had been equally elusive.
A little before dusk, he returned to Rodrigue’s home. Not bothering to hide his presence, he sat on the vampire prince’s front porch, his body blocking the steps and his gaze wandering over the yard.
The front gate swung open on silent hinges.
Harry stood and waited.
“Dhamphir, another visit? You must stop coming. People will talk.” Rodrigue raised a finger, signaling for Harry to step out of his way.
Harry stood his ground. “Tell me where Marie Jean hides.”
Rodrigue’s brows rose. “An order?” He smiled. “The boy who could be ordered about by you, or anyone, is, I’m afraid, long dead.”
Rodrigue as a boy. It wasn’t an image Harry could even conjure, but he wouldn’t be pulled from his purpose, not tonight. “Marie Jean,” he repeated.
Rodrigue sighed and waved his hand to the side. Two of his companions moved forward, intending, Harry guessed, to brush him aside like a gnat.
He didn’t move his gaze, didn’t tense a muscle. “Don’t,” he said.
Rodrigue’s brow twitched again, and one finger lifted. The vampires froze. “You are serious.”
Harry stepped closer. “You’ve protected her too long.”
The vampire stilled. “In that you speak the truth.”
Like water, he flowed to the side, out of Harry’s reach. He stood back, watching Harry, his expression unreadable.
The dhamphir followed suit, studying the vampire’s entourage and weighing the battle sure to come. “Where is Montclair?” he asked.
Rodrigue’s lieutenant was an obvious omission from the group.
Rodrigue tilted his head. “He’s at a party or on the way there.
Harry’s nostrils flared. Almost May Day and someone connected to Rodrigue was having a party. “A party? Whose?”
“Montclair’s thorn, Emilie.” Rodrigue’s gaze was
heavy, weighing, almost pitying.
Emilie. At the bar with Brett, feet from where Lindsey was imprisoned.
Reaching for his phone, Harry spun toward the street and his car.
A wall of vampires moved forward, forming a wall to stop him.
Harry stared them down with grim determination. With a war cry worthy of Rodrigue’s Osage ancestors, he rushed forward, but as he did, the wall parted, and he raced unheeded toward the street.
Rodrigue’s voice echoed in his head. “Try to save what I couldn’t, dhamphir. If you succeed, I will know it was meant to be.”
Jerking his phone from his pocket, Harry ran faster.
o0o
Emilie didn’t wait for Lindsey to follow; she stumbled down the stairs on her own. Worried about the other woman, Lindsey raced after her.
At the eye, Emilie stopped and took a step toward the wall.
“Are you sure—”
Emilie held up a hand. “I’m fine. I just… That thing bothers me.”
Lindsey followed her gaze to the mosaic. The tiny tiles that made up the eye seemed to flicker, like a flame reaching out, ready to devour any bit of dry kindling that crossed its path.
“It is—” Before Lindsey could continue, Emilie’s knees crumpled, and she fell forward. Lindsey grabbed her around the waist, keeping her from hitting the floor.
“Air.” Emilie gasped. “Get me outside.”
Past questioning anything, Lindsey dragged the other woman through the front door and out onto the walk.
Immediately, Emilie’s color improved. She sucked in a breath, and a real smile curved her lips. “I did it,” she muttered. Then her eyes turned to Lindsey, and she added, “Well, not quite yet.” With a sigh, she righted herself and dusted her palms together. “As I said, there’s a…” Her gaze shot to the left, past the outdoor café area and toward the stairs that led to Bloody Harry’s. She grabbed Lindsey by the arm. “We have to go. I’ll explain in the car.”
Glancing to the right, Lindsey saw nothing, but the urgency in Emilie’s voice couldn’t be ignored. She followed the other woman’s lead, leapt to her feet, and hurried down the walk to some point she couldn’t yet see down the street.
o0o
Emilie’s roadster was parked only half a block away. Lindsey and she were in it and hurtling down Highway 55 within minutes.
Lindsey wrapped her hand around her seatbelt. The strap cut into her palm. “Where are we going?”
“I told you, I’m having a party.”
“A party?” Lindsey had heard no mention of a party. She didn’t like the idea of seeing Harry just yet though. She had a lot to sort out. “Will Harry be there?”
“No, but your cousin will.”
“Karin?” Lindsey’s fingers relaxed. Talking to her cousin was exactly what she needed right now. Lindsey had so much to talk with her about that she couldn’t with anyone else—not without them thinking she was insane.
Of course, Karin might also think she was insane, but it was obvious to Lindsey that Rodrigue was either a vampire or connected to vampires. Her cousin’s need to go into hiding had to be connected too.
“The party is in Ste. Genevieve. Your cousin grew up there.”
“Really?” Lindsey had never heard of the town. “Does she have family there?”
Emilie gave her a sideways look. “Not anymore.”
“Oh.” The news was disappointing, but Lindsey was eager to get to their destination, both to see the town where her cousin had grown up and to see her cousin.
“Just close your eyes and relax,” Emilie murmured.
And, despite the fact that Lindsey had been wired just moments early, she felt her shoulders lower and her head sag to the side.
Finally, she was on her way to see Karin. She would get answers soon.
o0o
When Harry got to the apartment, Brett was standing outside, and his face was grim.
The talisman Harry had made for him dangled from one hand.
“She stole it.”
“What?” Harry was already moving past Brett, toward the building’s front door.
“Lindsey isn’t there,” Brett called after him.
Harry stopped and turned. He looked at his friend then. Brett was pale. Dark blood had run from his nose and congealed on his upper lip. The hand he held out to Harry, the one with the talisman, was shaking. His whole body, Harry realized, was too.
Harry took a step toward him, but Brett held up one hand. “I fucked up. When you called, when Emilie was there, she must have done it then.”
“Done what?” Panic and rage warred for dominance inside Harry, rising up like two battling dragons.
“She took the talisman. This one’s a fake.”
Harry grabbed the round piece of metal strung on a leather cord from Brett’s hand.
Not a fake, but not the talisman keyed to Harry’s wards.
With a curse, he threw the object on the ground and turned on his friend. “I trusted you.”
“I know.” Brett met his gaze. There was no apology in his eyes and no arrogance, just deep, dark regret. Then his stamina gave out, and he fell to the ground.
With another curse, Harry was on him. Hands fisted in the bartender’s shirt, he dragged him to his feet. “You went in there, didn’t you? Without the talisman. You had to know immediately you had the wrong one.”
New anger ripped through Harry. Damn his friend; he very well may have killed himself. He shook him. “You don’t get off that goddamn easy.”
“Wouldn’t expect to.” The words were soft, little more than a whisper.
Harry cursed again. Then, his arm looped around his friend’s waist, he dragged him to his car.
o0o
Harry glanced at Brett, passed out in the passenger seat beside him. Damn him. Harry wanted to be angry with the vampire, and he was, but he was worried too. The vampire didn’t look good, and being dragged around in the bright of day was not going to help him.
But Rodrigue could.
So Harry was on his way back to the old French neighborhood to ask for a favor, two favors, actually. One to save Brett and another to find Emilie and her party.
The house was quiet. He pulled Brett out of his car and carried him to the front steps.
He dropped the door knocker against the wood with angry determination.
When there was no answer, he balled his fist and pounded again. He was about to approach one of the windows when the door cracked open.
“Let us in,” he muttered. His muscles screamed from holding his friend, but he knew ignoring polite expectations and barreling into Rodrigue’s home would do nothing to help his case.
He needed the vampire prince on his side now more than ever.
There were murmurs inside; then the door slowly swung open.
Harry strode into Rodrigue’s parlor and deposited his friend onto the couch.
The prince stared at him from the depths of a wingback chair. He picked up a brandy snifter and took a sip of amber liquid. “Have you brought me a gift?”
Harry shoved his fingers through his hair. “He needs your help.”
Rodrigue tapped one finger against the glass he held. “Many do.”
“Brett deserves it.”
“He’s a traitor.”
“He’s my friend.”
“Hmm.” Rodrigue swirled the liquid in his glass, then stared down at it as if fascinated by the tiny tornado he’d created. “Most would say the two are the same, dhamphir.”
Harry waited. He knew the vampire had more to say.
“And what of your Lindsey? Have you forgotten her so soon?” Rodrigue looked up; his eyes were piercing and filled with an emotion Harry couldn’t name. “You are a disappointment, dhamphir.”
“I haven’t forgotten her. I won’t forget her, but I need help there too. I need to know where they have gone. Where Emilie has taken her.”
“The party. Are you saying your invitation got lost?” The vampire took another
sip, then set the glass down onto the walnut table beside him.
Again, Harry waited. After a moment of holding his gaze, Rodrigue stood and walked to the window. With his back turned, he continued the conversation. “Marie Jean was damaged when I found her. I should have known then what was to come, but I refused to see.” He spun to face Harry. “Can you understand that, dhamphir?”
Harry wasn’t sure he could, but he knew better than to voice the thought. He nodded.
Rodrigue studied him a bit more. “It is no more her fault what she has become than the abused dog that bites your hand when you reach for her. But then that could be said of us all, couldn’t it, dhamphir? We are all a product of our pasts…good…bad, even pure evil.”
Harry swallowed and tried not to move. If he rushed the vampire, any ground he had made here would be lost.
“When I met your Lindsey, I hurt. She is, you see, everything I wanted Marie Jean to be, but she isn’t mon oiseau, and she isn’t mine.” Pain washed over the vampire’s face so intense that Harry felt it too.
“Is she yours, dhamphir? Would you make her yours? Sacrifice your revenge to save her?”
Harry didn’t have to think; he knew the answer.
“Yes.” And he meant it. He didn’t care about Marie Jean or avenging his father, not anymore. He only cared about Brett and Lindsey—the people he loved.
Rodrigue let out a breath, then nodded. “Emilie is smarter, perhaps, than you or I have given her credit. Where better to finish this story than where it began?”
Where it began? Where it began for Harry was here, in St. Louis, not far from Rodrigue’s home. But for Marie Jean it started years before and miles south.
Ste. Genevieve. Emilie had taken Lindsey to Ste. Genevieve.
He spun, ready to dash out of the mansion, but his gaze landed on Brett, still pale and lifeless on the couch. He paused. “Will you save him?”
“The traitor? That I have yet to decide.” Rodrigue raised his hand and motioned toward the door. “Go!”
And Harry went. He could do nothing for else for Brett. He just prayed he could still do something for Lindsey.
o0o
It was dark when Emilie pulled into the town of Ste. Genevieve. She stopped the car in front of a small wooden house. A metal placard notifying the public that the home had been built in 1770 and moved after some flood to the current location was attached to the front.