From Fear to Eternity: An Immortality Bites Mystery

by Michelle Rowen

  She placed a hand on her chest as if taken aback by my words. “I don’t know what you mean. Strange in what way?”

  “My dear, what on earth is happening?” Veronique also joined us in the kitchen, and Tasha was right behind her.

  “Here’s what’s happening.” I took a position directly in front of the freezer. “Take a look at this!”

  I swung open the freezer door expecting to hear gasps of horror from those gathered in front of me.

  Instead, I got blank looks.

  I turned to see that the freezer was empty, apart from several ice cube trays. Peering closer at the inside, I could confirm that nothing else was in there. No bloodstains, no drool, no messages scratched by a desperate tooth. Nothing at all that would show that there had been a head in there.

  But there was a head in there.

  Wasn’t there?

  “Sarah . . .” Thierry’s voice was as gentle and supportive as I’d ever heard it, which wasn’t necessarily a good sign. “Do you see a severed head in the freezer right now?”

  Great. He really did think I was crazy.

  “No, there is no head.”

  “But there was before.”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you absolutely certain about that?”

  “Yes! I’m absolutely certain!”

  “You said you forgot about it until just a little while ago when you heard . . . a voice.” At my bleak look, he spread his hands. “I’m not doubting you. I’m simply trying to understand.”

  I racked my brain for answers. “Maybe it was a ghost. A ghost head.”

  “You are able to see ghosts?” Veronique asked, brightening. “Vampiric clairvoyance is a skill I’ve always envied.”

  I shot her a look. “Don’t envy it. It hasn’t been a lot of fun so far.”

  “I suppose it’s all in how you look at it, isn’t it? Thierry, you’ve had that ability as well from time to time. You didn’t see anything? Hear anything?”

  “No.” His jaw tensed. “However, I have discovered recently that Sarah’s skills at clairvoyance may be superior to my own. In the recent past, she’s seen things that I have not.”

  “Great. Just what I always want to excel at.” I sighed, and then looked in the freezer again as if I might have missed a human head sitting in there. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

  Had I imagined it? That would explain the first sighting, but not the talking in my head. I’d been known to have long conversations with myself sometimes, but not usually with an imaginary friend.

  “What did this . . . head . . . say to you?” Thierry asked.

  “Not much. He sounded confused, but he was certain he’d been murdered. Which isn’t much of a stretch. There aren’t too many decapitated heads walking around from self-inflicted wounds.”

  “Or walking around at all,” Veronique added unhelpfully. “Since it would have no legs.”

  “Maybe something was put in Sarah’s drink that might make her hallucinate,” Tasha suggested. “Recreational drugs are everywhere and if you’re not used to them they can pack a punch, even for a vampire.”

  “Drugs might affect Sarah more than the rest of us,” Veronique agreed. “She is, after all, a mere fledgling.”

  “It wasn’t drugs,” I said, choosing to ignore the “mere fledgling” remark. “I—I don’t know what happened, but he’s gone now.”

  “What did he look like?” Tasha asked. “Any discerning features?”

  “He looked . . . normal, I guess. Nothing weird. Just a guy. Brown hair, brown eyes.”

  “A ghost,” Thierry said, nodding. “It must be. Many of these old mansions are rumored to be haunted. I think this would be the most likely explanation.”

  “Perhaps he was murdered decades ago,” Tasha said. “And he’s been haunting this place every day since.”

  “I don’t know.” After the initial shock at remembering the head, I’d started to calm down and think a bit more rationally. Emphasis on a bit. “I guess that’s possible. And if so, I don’t think there’s much I can do to help him.”

  “We should leave,” Thierry said.

  Even though that was all I’d wanted to do since we first arrived, the thought of leaving now felt wrong. Maybe the ghost head had been here for ages, but the fact that he’d directly asked for my help and I couldn’t do anything to help him bothered me deeply.

  I did know that the average, run-of-the-mill ghost was not a threat to the living. They were more like watching something on a TV screen. They could be seen (by those with that ability), they could be heard, but they couldn’t harm the living. They couldn’t kill. They were just super-creepy. Especially when they weren’t all in one piece.

  “Sorry, ghost guy,” I said under my breath as I allowed Thierry to guide me out of the kitchen and back toward the foyer, where there was a mass exodus going on of guests leaving through the front doors.

  Atticus stepped in front of me and offered me a patient smile.

  “Sarah, we need to talk about the amulet.”

  Thierry nudged me aside. “You need to do no such thing.”

  “I believe I was talking to your wife, not to you.” His eyes flashed. “Had I known for sure that you would challenge me for that piece—”

  “What would you have done?” Thierry asked. “Please tell me. I’m fascinated.”

  Atticus stepped closer to Thierry, all pretense of friendliness gone. “Don’t push me, de Bennicoeur.”

  “I haven’t even touched you. Yet.”

  “I wanted the amulet.”

  “I know. That message has come through loud and clear. Unfortunately, you were not the winner of the auction.”

  “Nor were you.”

  “No. But the results are the same.”

  Atticus spoke to me over Thierry’s shoulder. “I will pay you twice the winning bid. I need that amulet.”

  Thirty-four million dollars? “Why do you want it so badly?” I asked.

  “I have my reasons.”

  “Reasons to possess a powerful djinn with the ability to grant your wishes,” Thierry said coldly. “Interesting that you’d need something like that.”

  “Don’t even go there, de Bennicoeur. You were the one who wanted it first. What reasons did you have to exploit its powers?”

  “None worth sharing in present company.”

  “It’s fascinating to witness how many you’ve fooled. But, as they say, a tiger doesn’t change its stripes.”

  “Are you speaking about me or yourself?”

  “We were friends once.”

  “Friends don’t push friends into agreements under threat.”

  “I thought we’d dealt with this.”

  “Perhaps to your satisfaction, but not to mine.”

  I hooked my arm through Thierry’s and pulled him back a couple of steps. “Okay, let’s break this up. No reason why things have to get nasty.”

  “Your wife has much more sense than you do,” Atticus observed. “For all her youth, she surprises me with her ability to see potential difficulties.”

  Thierry’s arm was like steel beneath my grip. “She will not sell you the amulet.”

  “Be careful with this one, Sarah,” Atticus cautioned. “Get away from him while you still can.”

  “This is ridiculous,” I said, nervously tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “We should get going.”

  Atticus’s gaze moved to my throat. “Just as I suspected. Thierry, have you again given in to your thirst tonight?”

  Crap. I’d just flashed him the bite marks.

  Thierry’s silence spoke very dangerous volumes before he uttered a word. “We’re done here, Atticus.”

  “You think it’s that easy? You disappointed me. I thought we were starting out as friends anew, after all this time apart. I gue
ss I was wrong.”

  “You’ve been wrong about many things over the years.”

  “Not that you cared. You disappeared a hundred years ago and left Silas, Michael, and me with all the bulk of the responsibility. The others never forgave you for abandoning the Ring.”

  “Silas and Michael are dead now, aren’t they? They won’t be forgiving anyone anymore.”

  Anna and Frederic stood nearby, speaking to each other, but it was clear to me that they were also listening in on this argument. Tasha lingered by the entrance to the hallway leading back toward the parlor, and she shared a tense look with me.

  “Your thirst puts those around you in danger. It always has,” Atticus continued. “This is only more evidence. Perhaps I should call in an enforcer to deal with these difficulties.”

  “Oh, Atticus.” Veronique spoke up. She’d been observing till now, her arms crossed over her chest. “You always did overreact to the silliest things.”

  His gaze flicked to me before returning to Thierry. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but I’ve given my card to Sarah. If she has any issues with you, she’s to call me immediately.”

  “Issues?” Thierry’s brows shot up as his tone turned darker. “Let me repeat myself, Atticus. We’re done here. Sarah, let’s arrange payment for the amulet and be on our way.”

  By far the best idea he’d had all evening. Possibly all year.

  Atticus was deadly silent as Thierry put his hand on the small of my back and guided me across the foyer in the direction of the salon.

  “I’m sorry he saw the marks,” I said.

  “Don’t be.” His jaw clenched and his expression grew pained. “I’m sorry I bit you. Devastated, actually.”

  I shook my head. “I’m fine. Really, I am. Are you feeling better now?”

  His gray eyes flicked to mine, the ice that had been in them before while dealing with Atticus only a chilly memory now. “I wish I could say I was, but I’m not. I’m afraid it’s still dangerous to be around me right now.”

  “You have it under control.”

  “I do give that impression, but don’t buy into it completely, Sarah. If I ever really harmed you . . .” He hissed out a breath. “I don’t think I could live with myself.”

  I pulled him off to the side of the hallway and cupped his face between my hands. “Stop it. That’s not going to happen because you’ve got this. A little blood doesn’t make or break you. You hear me?”

  His expression remained tense, but he nodded. “I hear you.”

  “Good.” I couldn’t let this swirl around my mind a moment longer. I had to get it out. “Before we get the amulet, I have to tell you something about Sebastien.”

  I told him about the blood in the glass being Sebastien’s doing. About his being trapped in the tomb for centuries. About his assumption that it had been Thierry’s fault.

  Thierry’s eyes widened. “What?”

  It was a good reaction. I liked the shock. Thierry didn’t do shock unless he was really, well, shocked.

  “He’s simmering with a lot of anger toward you. I mean, rightfully so, really. If somebody locked me in a closet for hundreds of years, I’d be really pissed off, too.”

  He gaped at me. Again, Thierry did not gape. I didn’t think gaping was an expression I’d ever seen on his face before, actually.

  “I’m assuming that he’s wrong,” I said when he didn’t reply. “That you didn’t do it.”

  “Of course I didn’t.”

  Relief flowed over me. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to have a little confirmation.”

  “Did you believe him?”

  “No.” It was a tiny lie. I’d hoped really, really hard he hadn’t done it. I absently slid my hand over a golden frame on the wall in the dimly lit hallway. “But I knew you were a little more . . . well, ruthless, back in the day. For the record, I do separate that Thierry from you in my mind.”

  He had his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m the exact same man.”

  I flicked a look at him. “You’re not helping.”

  “I didn’t trap Sebastien as he claims.”

  “You said he had your thirst. If he was harming people . . .”

  “If I had a serious issue with him, locking him away would not have been my solution. I would have chosen something much more permanent.”

  “Again, not really helping, especially spoken so casually.” I grimaced at the thought. “So basically we have a little problem that what he thinks happened did not actually happen.”

  “He always hated me. Now, believing this to be true, he’ll feel justified in trying to seek revenge.”

  “All the more reason for us to get out of here ASAP. But first we need that amulet.”

  “Agreed.”

  In the parlor, the last of the winning guests were finishing up with Thomas, gold and platinum credit cards sparkling under the light from several chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling.

  Sebastien watched us approach. “Problems?”

  “Numerous,” Thierry replied.

  Please don’t say anything, I pleaded internally. I just wanted to get out of there and deal with the fallout tomorrow. Or never. Never would be good.

  Don’t get me wrong, I actually felt horrible for Sebastien. I couldn’t imagine what he’d been through. And for him to believe it was someone he’d looked up to as a father figure who’d betrayed him so horribly . . .

  A simple explanation or a flat denial wasn’t going to do a thing to change his mind right now. I knew it wouldn’t for me.

  “Did I hear something about a head?” Sebastien asked.

  “Yes.” I tried to sound casual, though I felt anything but. “I’m seeing severed heads floating around tonight. Either it’s a ghost on the loose or I’m finally going insane. It’s fifty-fifty, really.”

  “Who does this mansion belong to?” Thierry asked. “Perhaps the owner would know if it’s haunted.”

  Why was he asking questions and prolonging this? I glanced at the clock. We were getting closer to midnight. Time to make like a pumpkin and scram before I lost my glass slipper.

  Sebastien shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know them personally.”

  “Earlier you said it was a friend.”

  “I was exaggerating. Many multimillionaires will rent out their houses to movie producers or those who wish to throw elegant parties to impress their friends.”

  “Did you think it would impress everyone to be here?”

  “I’ve recently felt the intense need to surround myself with luxury.”

  Do not say anything, Thierry, I thought. Just don’t.

  “It’s time we wrap this up,” Thierry said. “I’d like to arrange payment for the amulet.”

  “Excellent.”

  Thierry handed over an American Express card, which Sebastien gave to Thomas. Thomas dialed a number on a phone and held it to his ear, stepping a few feet away from us.

  “Both a butler and a bookkeeper,” I said. “Handy.”

  Sebastien’s gaze flicked to me. “We’re short-staffed tonight.”

  “So I gathered. I spoke with your werewolf server earlier. Lovely girl. She takes direction well, doesn’t she?”

  “She certainly does.”

  He was definitely infuriating. And smug. And incredibly hard to read. It was only a reminder that we’d stayed long beyond when we should have gotten out of here.

  “Is there anything further you wish to say to me, Sebastien?” Thierry asked.

  My fingertips dug deep into his arm.

  Sebastien swallowed and a shadow of pain crossed his eyes, which I hadn’t expected. It wasn’t outrage. It wasn’t fury.

  It was sadness.

  “Nothing at all,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  He’d spiked Thierry’s drink with blood to b
ring out his dark side, he’d been spouting angry words earlier and hinting at unpleasantness ahead, and yet now I had the sudden urge to give him a hug.

  “It seems you’ve acquired a very powerful amulet, Sarah,” he said, after getting a nod from Thomas as the butler ended his call.

  “I’m not sure it’ll go with any of my outfits.”

  “Be very careful with it.”

  “I’ll try my best.” I hesitated as something occurred to me that I’d pondered earlier. “You said you didn’t have time to use it, but I know you did. You could have tested it out. Wished for a million dollars, or something.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You really want to know why?”

  “If I didn’t I wouldn’t ask.”

  “It’s said that to own an amulet like this will curse you with bad luck.”

  My stomach sank. “Sure, now you tell me.”

  “I received the worst luck simply by owning it, not by using it. I decided not to press what little luck I had left. Now it’s your choice if you will or not. Perhaps it’ll work out better for you.”

  A cursed amulet with a troublemaking djinn trapped inside. All for seventeen million dollars. What a deal.

  “We’ll be putting it somewhere safe,” Thierry said. “No one will be accessing its magic ever again.”

  Sebastien’s jaw was a tight line. “I think that’s a very good plan.”

  “Is that why you let me win?” I asked. “So Atticus wouldn’t?”

  “That sounds rather underhanded, doesn’t it?” he replied after a moment.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Atticus’s reputation precedes him. I doubted his motives for wanting to add this piece to his collection.”

  “But you didn’t doubt mine?” Thierry said.

  “Perhaps. But you didn’t win it. Sarah did.”

  “Does that really make a difference?” I asked. “I mean, it’s Thierry’s money”—or, the council’s money—“that’s paying for it.”

  “Intention is the most important thing, especially as a piece like this shifts from one owner to another. The amulet now belongs to you, Sarah, and you alone. It doesn’t matter whose name is on the credit card.”

  Sebastien reached behind the podium to draw out the black velvet box.