Ross regretted getting involved in the vampire world, but he had crimes to solve, yet Christian had asked for his help which made him feel just a bit frightened. He felt another jogger come up behind him and moved to the right only no one passed him. Instinctively, Ross reached for his gun as he turned around but someone grabbed him with such force he was knocked to the ground.
He fought back but the mugger had him pinned to the ground so fast he had no time to defend himself. The last thing Ross remembered was falling into a pair of familiar dark eyes.
Ross slowly woke up. His head was pounding and he was lying on something hard and cold. He felt nauseous and his right arm seemed numb. He could hear the faint sound of cars in the distance.
“Make a move and I crush your hand, Detective.” He could see the faint outline of someone standing over him. His long coat flapped in the cold breeze.
Ross’s right hand was throbbing. As his eyes adjusted he realized that the stranger had one foot on his hand and then he knew who it was and why he was here. He had been found out.
“What do you want, Thomas?” Ross stuttered through a dry throat.
“Now, Detective, let’s not be coy. You know who I am and why you are here.”
Though Thomas was slight, Ross knew he could crush his hand and more if provoked further. It was no use trying to reach for his gun, it was gone, and his hand was wedged under the vampire’s stylish boot. His odds were looking grimmer.
The wind had picked up and Ross noticed a flag waving in the sky behind the vampire. Could they be atop Blockhouse No. 1 in the northern end of Central Park? Thomas must have carried him there.
The vampire squatted down over Ross. He smiled and exposed his fangs. Ross broke into a sweat. He was trapped and utterly defenseless.
“He’s your friend, isn’t he?”
Ross felt the seductive power of the vampire’s words move over him in waves. He tried not to scream when Thomas pulled him to an upright sitting position by his hair. Then he saw the knife.
“This can be easy or this can be hard, Detective. Now tell me why he has you sniffing around me like a puppy dog.” Gaétan waved the knife past his face.
“I don’t know who you are talking about—”
“Come on, Detective. I know you two are friends and that you’re connected to the mortal girl as well. I can read your thoughts, remember?”
“If you can read my thoughts then why the stupid questions?”
The pain was excruciating as every bone in his hand exploded. Ross heard himself scream as the vampire ground his hand into the stone. Blood and bone leaked out from under his boot.
“Oh, God,” Ross moaned. The pain made him so nauseous he almost passed out.
“Tell me brave Detective Ross, were you a part of Christian’s plan or are you just his lackey?”
“Don’t patronize me you bastard …” Ross fought back trying to pull his hand out from under Thomas’s boot.
“If you ever want to see your precious Melinda or Florida ever again, talk to me.” The vampire growled in his face.
Ross suddenly was back on the playground at his old grammar school. Constantly picked on for his ethnicity and dark good looks he had made a reputation for himself as a bully, but he did not see it this way at all. He was protecting his honor from brats with no guts or self-esteem. The only way they could take him down was to jump him, to catch him unaware.
This vampire was no better than a bully who had jumped him from behind, not giving Ross a fair fight. He would not let Ross go, no matter what he confessed. There was only one thing left to do.
“So Detective, what is your role in all this?”
He stared down at Ross with a smile that made the detective sick. He would never use his right hand again and in all likelihood, he would never see the light of day again. It was immature, but it was all he had left.
Thomas growled as the spittle ran down his face and then the vampire was on him. Pain exploded in Ross’s gut as the knife tore through him. He felt his body go limp but Thomas held him up by his hair. The knife pierced his stomach again then slid up through his rib cage. Ross felt himself growing colder as his warm blood ran down his legs. The vampire tossed the knife and as Ross drifted into unconsciousness, the vampire buried his face in his warm blood and drank.
Chapter Twenty
Good evening my old friends,
It is Étienne calling from Paris. It is February first. You are probably wondering how I found you both and why I am calling you after all this time. Gaétan called a meeting in his apartment last summer. I accompanied Gabrielle and met with both he and….. Solange. He told us about Lucien coming to New York City and his experience with the mortal boy at your club. He also told us about the girl, Amanda. Gaétan led us to believe that her blood was a threat to our kind. Gabrielle sanctioned his plan to come to New York himself to kill the girl. He should have been home by now but there has been no sign of him. We have heard rumors that Solange has threatened to come herself to finish the job she fears Gaétan has failed to do. Lucien disappeared shortly after coming home. Gabrielle and I believe Gaétan murdered him and has whatever blood Lucien had brought back with him. You know I have never trusted them. Not since the old days has there been so much mistrust among us and the threat of war is in the air again. No one knows that I have contacted you. I fear even Gabrielle would take it as a sign of weakness, or worse, you know how she is. I miss you both so much and I think about the old days on the Rue de Rivoli when the four of us were together. Your friend forever. Étienne.
Christian played the message for the third time. It had been centuries since he had heard the soft spoken voice of their old friend, Étienne. He sat down in the leather chair and twirled from side to side still in disbelief about the presence that filled the office. Michel had come in to take care of some paperwork and noticed the flashing red light. He had hit the button just as Christian had come in, and Étienne’s voice had filled their ears.
After the third listen, Christian got up and went to stand before the antique map of the Bois du Boulogne. His thoughts raced back to a hot summer night in 1780.
Christian and Michel had just finished feeding on drunken prostitutes, a pleasure Michel never tired of, and were wandering in the park. The air was crisp and clear for a summer night, and the chirping of crickets was deafening. Christian looked up at the full moon, marveling in its beauty. The night sky was clear and full of stars. The two vampires strolled along together in silence, their leather boots making no sound in the dirt.
“I think we have company,” Michel whispered, feeling the faint reverberation of footsteps behind them. “Someone is following us.”
“Who would follow us?” Christian asked arrogantly, hearing only the sound of the crickets.
Michel turned abruptly and spotted someone standing in the shadows.
“A smelly boy,” he murmured under his breath, getting wind of his body stench. “Well, what have we here?” Michel asked Christian, stopping a few feet away from the boy, who blended into the shadows cast by the trees.
“Can we help you with something?” Christian politely asked the trembling boy.
“I am starving,” the boy explained, studying first Christian and then Michel.
“You have no home?” Michel asked, crinkling his nose up at the boy.
“We could not pay the rent and lost our business. We bartered everything we had. Now we are homeless.” He never took his eyes off both of them.
“Ah, another bunch of sans-culottes,” Michel sneered arrogantly.
Christian knew the child was afraid and desperate, yet his voice never quivered as he spoke to them. He is so thin, he probably hasn’t eaten in days, Christian thought. His clothes are filthy, yet he holds himself like an aristocrat; he has a regal manner about him.
“Michel, we are forgetting our manners,” Christian replied, studying the boy carefully. He was of average height, with wavy hair that looked to be brown.
“I am Chr
istian Du Mauré, and this is Michel Baptiste.” He nodded toward the other vampire. Michel rolled his eyes at Christian.
“My name is Étienne Forneau.” The boy nodded, glancing first at Christian and then Michel.
“And what brings you here?” Christian asked, folding his arms across his chest.
“Work.” He blurted out. “I am looking for work.”
Michel jingled the coins in his pocket until Christian shot him a dirty look.
“How old are you, boy?” Michel asked haughtily.
“Fourteen next month, sir.”
Christian touched his head affectionately. “Where is your family?”
“Hiding in the park. We are trying to stay alive, Monsieur.”
“Here, take these.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few livres.
“Thank you, sir!” Étienne rolled the coins around his sweaty palms. “All this for me?”
“He’s a rich painter, Étienne. He can afford three times what he just gave you,” Michel bragged, putting his arm around the young boy.
“What do you paint?” Étienne asked, and in the moonlight Christian saw his handsome smile and full set of teeth. His eyes appeared to be a light blue. He’s a beautiful boy. Either very brave or foolish. Someone will take advantage of him, and God knows what will happen to him.
“Portraits.” Michel volunteered, pointing over his head. “He has a studio on the Rue de Rivoli.”
“Have you painted the Queen?”
“No.” Christian smiled.
“Now that would be something, mon ami. You and Marie Antoinette.” Michel doubled over, laughing.
“And now Monsieur Forneau, we must be off.” Christian nodded and shook the boy’s hand. “It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Hurry back to your family, you little runt,” Michel snarled.
“Take care of yourself, Étienne.” Christian smiled at the boy. Étienne thanked them profusely before running off into the darkness.
Two nights later, he showed up at Christian’s studio looking for a place to sleep. Michel turned him away, but he returned the next evening and begged them again. As far as Michel was concerned, Étienne should be bled dry and his body dumped in the Bois. But Christian liked the boy; something in him touched the young vampire and reminded him of his own brother, Guillame. He missed him dearly, and so he allowed the boy to stay. Etienné never spoke of his family again. Christian wondered how they fared, and guessed that their demise was the reason Etienné had come to their door.
Étienne became their eyes and ears during the day. He managed the studio while they slept and never flinched when he learned the beautiful men who employed him were vampires. Enamored of Gabrielle and their world, he begged to be turned. So it was that two years later, at the ripe old age of sixteen, he took his last breathe as a mortal man. All he wanted was to be one of them, and Gabrielle readily obliged, taking his life and his virginity all in the same night.
Étienne had cried a river of red tears the night Christian and Michel left Paris. He had tried to warn them of the coming revolution, waving a copy of Rousseau’s The Social Contract in their faces. As he read excerpts from it while they sat around the fireplace, Christian wondered, why could we not see it coming?
Michel paced like a whirling dervish. “So if he has been here for months, why is Amanda still alive?”
Christian shrugged. “I wish I knew, Michel. Whatever the reason, Gaétan is in no hurry to go home.”
“Gabrielle still hates him, but sanctioned killing Amanda, yet neither she nor Étienne trusts him. No wonder they are on the verge of another civil war.”
“I guess we can take comfort in the simple fact that some things never change.” Christian shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. “I do know that Gaétan killed Lucien and that he took Ryan’s blood for himself. It has seduced him and marred his judgment. Étienne and Gabrielle obviously suspect he killed Lucien as well, and Solange …”
“That is all any of us need to have happen is her coming across the Atlantic. Hey, maybe she’ll kill off Gaétan and save us the mess.” Michel joked as his best friend stared at the map of the Bois.
Christian feared Solange coming to New York yet deep in his heart he knew she would never face him. She would send an assassin to do her dirty work while she hid in her upscale apartment and manipulated lesser vampires. Despite Michel’s confession that Gaétan fathered Solange, he could not help but still think of her as his progeny. He had spent more than one lifetime both protecting her as well as avoiding her at all costs. He needed time to ponder Étienne’s phone call and speaking of phone calls. Ross had left a message but that had been over twenty-four hours ago. Where the hell was he? Everything was picking up momentum and Christian needed to sort through it all. Perhaps taking a walk and getting out of the club would help to clear his head.
Amanda left her cell phone on her lap all through dinner just in case Thomas called her. In a sense she was relieved when plans for Jeff’s birthday party had changed again. He had been called out of town and would fly out early Friday morning, so Bethany had quickly changed venues and luckily everyone was able to make dinner on Thursday night instead.
Work had been tense that day and as far as Amanda knew there were no suspects in the robbery. Cole had been behind closed doors most of the day and Amanda felt like she was on automatic pilot as she tried to focus on her work. She could not wait until 5:30 had come so she could leave work.
Bethany kept giving her the “I’m so sorry” look. What she didn’t understand was Amanda’s sense of relief at not having to drag Thomas to the Grey Wolf later on, where Christian might also be this evening. Thomas’s response—or lack thereof—had been strange, something to address when they met up again.
Amanda glanced around at all the happy couples: Bethany and Jeff, Jeff’s best friend Jason and his girlfriend Marie, and Dave and Lauren. The only other person who sat alone was Charles, another close friend of Jeff’s. Suddenly Amanda realized how lonely she felt. She had never imagined herself married with children; nothing about those choices appealed to her solitary, independent nature.
Jeff and Bethany would probably marry next year. They had their lives all planned out. Bethany’s life seemed so easy and flawless; everything she wanted she got effortlessly. Amanda’s life, meanwhile, had been one tragedy after another. That coupled with her sixth sense had given her such a strange view of the world and now she was in love with a vampire; no infatuated with a vampire, that’s different, she told herself. It was all so weird, it was hard to believe.
“This is way cool,” Jeff yelled above the music as they all entered the Grey Wolf. The group had left La Crusada and gone to another bar for drinks. After dropping off Dave and Lauren, the two couples plus Amanda and Charles entered the Grey Wolf. Bethany and Amanda feigned delight at entering such an unusual club, while Amanda kept looking for either Christian or Michel.
She tried to see who was tending the bar, but it was too crowded to even get close, but they managed to get a table in one of the side rooms. A scantily-clad young woman in black leather came out of nowhere to take their drink orders. Jeff and Bethany, along with Jason and Marie, ordered beers and then headed toward the dance floor, leaving Amanda and Charles alone.
Amanda scrambled for something to say to the prematurely balding school teacher whom she had only met once before. She decided to wait until her drink came, take a few sips, and then excuse herself to try to find either Christian or Michel. She turned her cell phone off in an act of defiance, and then she and Charles took turns yelling at each other over the music until their drinks came.
When she could not sit still any longer she politely excused herself just as her friends returned to the table. She skirted the dance floor and pushed her way over to the bar, where she saw Michel. Their eyes locked and he smiled as Amanda forced her way toward him. He came out from under the bar wearing one of his usual exotic outfits.
“Is
he here tonight?” She yelled over the music.
Michel glanced around the room. “Oh, he’s floating around somewhere.” He smiled at her again and she suddenly felt weak, as if she were falling down a long tunnel with no end in sight. He was so dangerous looking, but she found his green eyes and sculpted face mesmerizing. She felt his power caressing her like the hands of a lover, soothing yet sensual. Amanda wondered if it was vampiric, or if he just had that much power over women. She felt the urge to run from him, unsure of his motives, just as he grabbed her hand.
She heard herself yelling in protest as he dragged her onto the crowded dance floor. She tried to protest, but it was useless. Just one dance, Amanda told herself. Michel led the way, pushing through the crowd and moving farther onto the dance floor. She felt sweaty; the hot lights were beating down on her and the loud music pounding her body. Her uncomfortable shoes made it hard for her to dance. Michel wrapped his long arms around her shoulders. It felt too intimate for her, but before she could react he pulled her toward him.
She focused on his chest, which was adorned with silver necklaces. He let her go and held his arms over his head, dancing around her like a flame, hot and intense. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed people staring at the beautiful vampire writhing under the warm lights, barely sweating. His hair swirled around his stunning face. His carefree demeanor felt liberating to her, and suddenly, she didn’t care what anyone thought. She was enamored by him and found herself dancing in his arms, spinning frantically, laughing, and letting herself go.
Whether she was releasing the stress of the day or had fallen under his spell, she didn’t care. He rubbed himself up against her and she laughed; she spun in his arms, pressed her back up against his chest, and gyrated into him while he held on to her. She tossed her head back and laughed at the irony of dancing with one beautiful vampire while wanting his best friend.
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