The Frenchman (A Legacy Series Novella) (The Legacy Series Book 3)

by Sheritta Bitikofer

  Darren crouched and rammed his shoulder into the opening he had created, but it wasn’t enough for his bulky frame to squeeze through. If he was the small, weak, frail boy he had once been, he could have slipped through easily. Now, he could barely wiggle the bulk of his arm through the close-set bars.

  The silver found the tears in his tunic and fried his skin just as it had his hands.

  “Stop it!” Jane cried. “You’re going to kill yourself!”

  More from the pain than her pleas, Darren fell back away from the bars, fresh blood seeping through the fabric of his shirt. Darren pounded his throbbing fists on the floor of his cage. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing!” he bellowed, his golden eyes glaring.

  Jane came closer and he saw her reach through the bars out of the corner of his eye. “Please, you must calm down or you’ll wake Richard and my plan will be ruined.”

  Darren turned on her, his fangs and claws making an appearance as his heart, the only beating heart in the room, thrummed louder and harder with fear. “Does this plan even include me? You’re just going to take your trinket and leave me here?”

  Jane gave him another look of pity, but this time it did not conjure resentment toward her. He almost regretted his words and wished he could have said them again slightly less reproachful.

  “Yes, it can involve you.” Her hands wrapped around the silver bars. “See? Silver doesn’t hurt me. I can easily get you out of this cage.”

  “Then do it!” he pleaded. “Why wait if Richard is asleep?”

  “Because he will come after the both of us, or perhaps another vampire or werewolf. We need to ensure he never hurts anyone ever again.”

  Darren knew he could manage that much. The way he felt at that moment, he would willingly rip out the throats of any man who stood in his way to freedom. “We could kill him in his sleep. Can you get out?”

  “I’m not as strong as you are,” she replied. “I have to wait until he opens my cage. Then, I can kill him and free you.”

  Darren ran his, now healed, hands through his hair and gripped at his scalp, wishing he didn’t have to wait until daylight. It was an indeterminant amount of time before Jane finally spoke again and Darren realized she was still holding the silver bars to his cage.

  “Please calm yourself,” she insisted in a soft, almost angelic voice that might have been enough to soothe a wild boar.

  “I… I feel like I’m coming undone,” he admitted.

  “That’s your wolf reacting to the cage. You need to put your mind away from this place. Take deep breaths.”

  Darren looked to her. “How do you know so much about loups-garous?”

  She smiled at the word, but did not ask him for a translation. She must have known its meaning. “My father knows more than I do, but I met a loup-garou once before. He was older than you. I’ve never met one so young, but no matter the age, all loups-garous are alike.” She rested her head against her own bars. “Tell me about yourself? You’re clearly English, so what brought you to France?”

  He knew exactly what she was doing. Distracting him from their current situation might have proved effective, but Darren doubted it. How could he take deep breaths when each one resounded with the reminder that he was not free? Like a sickly child, he was bound to a place and fate that seemed inescapable. How long would it be before Jane could enact her plan? Hours? One second was too long as it was.

  Yet, he indulged her. His guard completely dropped, he told her his name, about his family, his childhood, and how he came to be loup-garou. Once he began, it was hard to stop the flow of truth spilling from his lips. Reliving the memories and speaking it aloud seemed to steal some of its power over his soul. He would never forget those terrible, earth-shattering moments when he lost his mother, but it did not seem to sting as much. He relinquished his secrets to Jane as easily as handing her a parcel that meant nothing to him.

  He continued to talk and she listened attentively, smiling at the comical parts and sighing in sadness when he spoke of the ghosts that followed him. When he was done telling her all about the chateau and the pack, and how it was his curiosity that lured him into the trap Richard had set, Jane went quiet.

  Her stare, as beautiful as it was, bore into him like a vicious wolverine digging its den in the earth. It was as if she were looking for more, and finding exactly what she wanted.

  “It’s your turn now,” he said, breaking her concentration.

  Jane blinked a few times and whatever she had mentally latched onto fell away. “My turn?”

  “Yes, I just told you more than anyone else alive knows. Not even my alpha knows everything. You must return the favor.”

  She let go of the bars and let her hand settle in her lap. “I suppose I should start by saying that I am much older than you.”

  “How old?” Just like that, Darren did feel himself farther away from this cellar. He could not forget that he was a prisoner, but the ache of confinement did not hurt as badly as it had moments before.

  “I turn one hundred and one years this winter.”

  Darren’s brows shot up. “You don’t look a day over eighteen.”

  She smiled. “Thank you for the compliment. Just like loups-garous, vampires do not age the way humans do. Yet, we do seem to age a little more slowly than loups-garous.”

  “Is your father also a vampire?”

  With that simple question, it seemed that Jane had lowered her defenses as well. The quiet, demure lady who sat beside him divulged details of her life, her family, and their unique curse. They had a few things in common. They both lost their mother, too soon, to fates and men who did not understand what they were doing.

  Her mother, Caterina, was stolen from them by Richard, and by the time they found her body, she was too weak to survive more than a few minutes. Bled dry and starving, she could barely lift her head, as Jane told him. Darren couldn’t help but notice the way Jane’s eyes moistened when she spoke of her mother. Even after so many years, the pain was still fresh and it made him pessimistic for the centuries ahead that he would have to live with his own mother’s memory.

  Jane stopped and gave a mirthless laugh.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Your alpha never told you, did he?”

  Darren was now sitting cross-legged, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Told me what?”

  Jane looked to him, still grinning. “He never told you that vampires and loups-garous don’t get along?”

  John had once said that there were still some fairytales that held a shred of truth, but he never explained what he meant. Darren simply assumed that there were other things hidden in the dark, but never had he guessed that vampires existed, let alone that he should be at natural odds with them.

  “No, he never mentioned it. I only learned about hunters the other day.”

  Jane shook her head. “It’s just as well that you learn now, I suppose. If any other loup-garou were in your place, they would never have spoken to me, much less carry on a long conversation. I pray you never adopt such prejudices.”

  “Why should our kind hate one another?”

  Before Jane could answer, she went still and the smile faded from her lips. Darren heard it too. A faint stirring above their heads, the rustle of fabric and creaking of bed rails as someone was awakening. Darren waited, his breath quickening with anticipation. Finally, he would lay eyes upon the man who had captured him.

  Chapter 10

  The same guttural growl that rumbled in Darren’s chest returned when he heard the soft tap of Richard’s shoes upon the stone steps as he descended toward the cellar door. The damp air around him became saturated with a kind of evil that Darren had never felt before. Not even when the mob stormed onto his farm did he sense such a powerful tide of malignant intent.

  Yet, the man that stood in the threshold was not what he had expected. Somehow, Darren thought he would be faced with an older, ugly man with ragged clothes and hair disheveled. He expected to see the lo
ok of a madman, but he was met with something far more devious. Instead of looking the part of a murdering psychotic, Richard appeared as a man dressed in clean, fashionable clothing. His facial hair was groomed and trimmed, his body clean and smelled fresh as if he had just bathed.

  Richard was a wolf in sheep’s wool, a murderer in disguise who could walk through a crowd and never be seen as anything suspicious. He might not have been a vampire or a loup-garou, but he was certainly a monster akin to them.

  Beside him, Jane became a completely different person. Instead of the strong, independent woman with a plan, she reduced herself to a sniveling, frightful child who huddled in the back of her cage and sobbed at the very sight of Richard.

  Darren played along and did not give her a look of disbelief as he wanted to. This must have been part of her scheme. Richard would never think a coward would fight back. It was too bad that Darren could not do the same. He growled and bared his teeth, his body tensed as if ready to pounce, even though the silver bars separated them.

  Richard entered the cellar and moved around the room, ignorant of his two captives, to light the lanterns and sconces along the walls. The room became bathed in the amber glow of firelight that flickered in the puddles and cast deep shadows along the floor. Then, he finally turned to the two cages with his dark eyes that were as black as coal and just as heartless.

  “Oh, my dear,” he said to Jane. “Must we go through this every day?”

  He stepped forward and picked up a long instrument with prongs at the end, ideal for grabbing. Darren rammed against the cage bars to make a point that he wasn’t afraid of the pain, but Richard did not pay him any mind. So sure in the protection the silver offered him, the madman walked right past his cage and squatted in front of Jane’s, displaying the tool for her.

  “If you don’t come to me, I’ll have to drag you out,” he threatened in such a sweet, but condescending voice, as if he were talking to an insolent child. He unlocked and opened Jane’s cage door, but as long as Richard’s body was blocking the way, Jane could never get out.

  “Leave her alone!” Darren yelled.

  Richard did not even flinch, but turned to regard the loup-garou with eyes that could have killed on the spot. Darren did not budge.

  “You’ll have to wait your turn,” he said. “I have something special in store for you.”

  It was then that Darren knew he had to be taken seriously. He continued to ram his shoulder against the bars, his flesh blistering and sizzling with each impact. He gripped the bars and tugged as hard as he could, inflicting as much damage upon his body as possible.

  Richard was in the business of using them, wasting the body until there was nothing left. If Darren could make the madman fear for the safety of his newest vessel, perhaps he would take his focus from Jane just long enough. He hated to see her whimper and cower like a fool with no nerve.

  Just as he suspected, Richard stopped groping for Jane’s arm with the instrument and came to his cage.

  “Stop it!” the false nobleman screamed. “Stop it this instant!”

  “What do you want with me?” Darren snarled as he winced at the intense pain that riddled his body. Swollen and charred flesh began to heal, but so slowly.

  “You, my little friend, will complete me.”

  “What are you talking about?” Darren had to pretend as if he and Jane hadn’t been talking while the madman slept.

  Richard pointed his prongs toward Jane, who continued the charade, pressing herself against the back wall of her cage with her face twisted in feigned fear. “Do you know what that is? It’s a vampire, a creature of the night. She is immortal and her blood makes me immortal too.” He then pointed to Darren’s chest. “But, do you know what you can do for me? You may be immortal as well, but you can give me so much more. Invulnerability. Your strength, your speed, your healing abilities, I want all of it.”

  Darren bared his fangs, his golden eyes flashing with pain and anger. “You think my blood will do that for you?”

  “No, not your blood,” he laughed. “Your bite and hers.”

  “What!” Jane screeched.

  If Darren’s nose did not lie, it told him that Jane was no longer faking her terror. Something in what the madman said inspired true, unadulterated fear in the vampire and that was enough to give Darren pause. If something was about to happen to make Jane so afraid, then it should have terrified him as well.

  It was already clear that she knew far more than he did.

  “We can’t both bite you,” she insisted, fresh tears streaming down her perfect cheeks. “It… It will kill you!”

  Richard was not convinced and neither was Darren. Something much more diabolical would happen if they both bit him. Her reasoning of death was a lie.

  “You’re talking about the bite that can change you, aren’t you?” Darren asked.

  Richard nodded, a wicked grin splitting his face. “Indeed, I am. If both of you bite me and change me, I can become something far more powerful than both of you combined.”

  “I don’t even know how to change anyone,” Darren said. “And if you slip your arm through these bars, I’ll just rip it off.”

  The madman chuckled. “If you don’t cooperate, the pretty bloodsucker will get hurt. Do you want that?”

  What Darren had said was the truth. He didn’t know how to change anyone. Why should Jane be punished for something he was incapable of doing? “I’m telling you, I don’t know how to change you!”

  Richard dropped the prong tool and went back to the table. Darren looked to Jane for any sign that she was ready to move, but she seemed to be immobilized by some haunting thought or vision. She simply stared, gray eyes wide and unblinking. This would have been the perfect time to carry out her plan while their captor had his back turned. Yet, she stalled and Darren wanted to scream to snap her out of it.

  The madman turned back to show Darren a sharp, tapering dagger longer than his forearm. In his other hand, was a bottle of some thick, milky and chunky substance. As soon as he uncorked the bottle, the fresh scent of crushed garlic permeated the air.

  “Vampires, like werewolves, have a particular weakness to something so simple,” he explained as calmly as if he were giving the time of day. “Instead of silver, they cannot stand the taste or touch of garlic.” Richard slowly poured the mixture over the shiny flat of the blade. “If I pierce her chest with this, she will die.”

  Darren looked to Jane again and he could already see her eyelids grow red and puffy. The very smell of garlic was already having an affect over her. She sniffled, but the harsh awakening of the garlic seemed to bring her out of whatever delirium she had fallen into.

  Richard walked toward her cage with the dagger. With every last bit of strength he had, Darren lunged through the widened gap in the bars and grabbed for Richard’s leg. His claws sunk deep into his calf and the man yowled in pain.

  With one good yank, Darren brought Richard to his knees and dragged him closer. Even with the silver branding into the skin around his shoulder and chest, he managed to hold the madman there until Jane darted out of her cage.

  Richard, unconcerned with the loose vampire, reeled back and slashed at Darren’s arm with the dagger. Before the blade could make contact with his skin, he grabbed Richard’s wrist and snapped it backward. The dagger clanged to the floor and the blade became submerged in one of the shallow puddles to wash away the garlic he had slathered over it.

  Jane found her opportunity and took Richard’s head between her hands and bit down into neck. Richard screamed and grabbed at her blonde hair to yank her mouth away. Her fangs must have been in too deep, because she would not give an inch.

  Darren dislodged his talons from Richard’s leg and plunged them into his abdomen, slicing through the thick fabrics of his vest and tunic to feel the soft and unprotected flesh beneath. Blood poured from the belly of the murderer as his screams and cries were slowly muffled into the last gurgles of life still hanging by a fraying thread.r />
  The wolf, through the pain and anguish of the silver burns, reveled in this victory as he heard the last few heartbeats of the man who sought what man should never seek at the expense of others: power and immortality.

  Jane continued to drink long after the spark of life died away in Richard’s chest and Darren pulled his hands away from the corpse. Somehow, killing this man who had murdered so many others did not faze him as had killing the innocent deer. Both kills were justified in their own way, but there was a sweet satisfaction in the way he watched Richard’s skin turn ashen and pale. The madman would not hurt anyone ever again, human, loup-garou, or vampire.

  The blood on his hands didn’t matter so much as it had before. He simply wiped the sticky substance on the seat of his pants and patiently waited for Jane to finish her meal. Once she was finished taking back the blood that had been stolen from her and all the others of her kind, she let go of his neck and pulled away to revealed the gnarled and grisly revenge she had exacted.

  Her chin and upper lip were covered in the dark liquid and she would not meet Darren’s gaze. After she wiped her face clean, she moved toward his cage and broke the padlock with her renewed strength that must have come from the feeding. Darren emerged and stood tall to stretch out his legs and back that had been cramped inside the cage which would have been a better fit for a large dog than a man.

  Without a word, he stepped around Richard’s body and moved toward the door. Jane followed close behind.

  “It might be morning,” she said. “I can’t go into the sunlight.”

  Darren nodded as they hustled up the stone stairs. “Where is this thing you were searching for? The thing that belonged to your mother.”

  The promise of fresh air was ahead of them, seeping through the cracks of the wooden door that led to the topside world of the living and sane.

  “It was a ring. It might be in his chambers. We’ll have to search for it.”