Until her.
"Oh Luc, do you still have your panties in a bunch because Claude picked me over you?" Darby asked with a gleam in her eye.
“Interesting twist on things, blondie,” Luc replied, “because the way I see it, you, my dear, are the very thing that drove Claude to his death. He would rather die the final death than spend another day with the likes of you.”
Darby turned away from Luc, not wanting him to see the hurt in her eyes. He verbalized the very thoughts that crossed her mind on a daily basis for years after Claude left her and even now, decades after Claude’s death, plagued her from time to time.
“Ah, the truth cuts like a knife, doesn’t it?” Luc asked snidely as he approached Darby’s chair, “but this conversation is wasting my time and I would like to spend as little of it as I have to in this wretched city, so let’s get down to business, Ms. Winthrop.”
Luc stopped in front of her, put on industrial-looking rubber gloves and then removed a long, thin, silver chain from his bag. With a twinkle in his eye, he proceeded to chain Darby to the chair, beginning at her ankles, burning her wherever the silver touched her skin. Darby writhed in pain, the burn searing her at her very core, but she refused to scream. She would not give Luc the pleasure.
“Ah, ma chère, does that burn?”
Luc wove the last bit of silver back around her waist and pulled it tight before securing the chain with a lock. He then left the room, returning minutes later with a chair that he placed in front of Darby and took a seat.
“All right, Darby,” Luc clapped his hands together and smiled, “we both have an extreme distaste for one another so the sooner we can finish this, the better. Now tell me, where is she?”
Darby stared blankly at Luc. He waited a few seconds before reaching into his bag and pulling out a short blade. Without pause, he slashed her across her face, opening a large gash on her cheek. Darby screamed and raged, thrashing against the silver chains, gnashing her fangs.
“How dare you mess with my face?” she spat.
“Where is she, Darby?” Luc repeated his question as he cleaned his blade on his jeans.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Luc.”
“Darby, Darby, Darby,” Luc shook his head, “this must be the stubborn streak in you that Claude loved so much. But I am not Claude, so tell me again, where is this girl?”
“And I’m gonna tell you again: I don’t know where she is. You can cut me up as much as you want, it’s not gonna make a difference.”
“Chère, why do you keep lying to me. I know you know where she is. I can smell her magic all over you.”
Darby tossed her head back and laughed.
“That’s your little friend, Olivier, you’re smelling all over me. Not some girl.”
Luc leaned close and sliced open one of Darby’s thighs and then the other. He then pulled a small torch out of his bag and seared the insides of her wounds. Darby screamed and thrashed and screamed some more, but she refused to give Luc the information he sought. He continued this process for a while: asking her about the girl, listening to her denials, then cutting open another part of her body and searing the wound with his torch. On and on he went, for hours, until she was barely conscious, unable to focus due to the massive loss of blood.
“Darby,” Luc stood over her, grabbing a fistful of her hair to hold her head up, and whispered, “don’t you pass out on me. The fun’s just getting started.”
Going into his bag one more time, Luc came back with a small vial of blood and pliers.
“I must say, this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you,” Luc laughed, “actually, that’s a lie, chère. This is going to hurt like nothing else, you little bitch.”
Taking the pliers in one hand, Luc pulled back Darby’s head, opened her mouth and ripped out her fangs, one after the other. The blood poured from her mouth, splashing all over as he pushed her head away in disgust. He would love to kill her, to rid the world permanently of Darby Winthrop, but he wasn’t done with her just yet, she still had a role to play for him.
But the sun was coming up and Luc needed to go under ground, so his plans would have to wait until later. Feeding her some of the blood in the vial to make sure she would regenerate a bit, Luc pushed her into a corner and then headed for the basement of the building.
Later that evening, Luc returned to find Darby conscious, her bodily wounds mostly healed, with a new set of fangs.
“Well, well, well,” Luc held her head up and made her look at him, “now look what you’ve gone and done. I’m going to have to do all of this all over again.”
This go round, Luc didn’t bother asking Darby questions. He simply tortured her, finishing everything off with the removal of her fangs. Then putting his rubber gloves back on, Luc unlocked the silver chain around Darby and unwound it, allowing her limp, bloody body to fall to the ground. Packing up his gear, Luc grabbed his bag in one hand and a clump of Darby’s hair in the other and left the building, dragging her lifeless body behind him. Well-glamoured to any stray passersby, Luc headed straight for The Academy, dragging Darby through the city streets like a rag doll and dropping her on the front step, a bloody mess of a warning.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Carter and Max Breslin walked down the London street, side by side, in complete silence. Luc returned from his “fact-gathering” trip to New York and wanted to meet with them, but refused to do so within The Academy, so they agreed to a place of his choice.
“Carter,” Max began, “I think you should let me go to New York.”
Carter laughed.
“So she can finish you off for good this time?”
Max ignored his father’s comment and continued explaining his plan.
“Wyatt and I are good friends. He stayed with me the last time he was in London, so now it’s his turn to return the favor. I can go over there without raising any suspicions and see exactly what is going on with the Clayworths.
“They hate you and Ava. Either of you head to New York and it will be all out war within the Circle of Ten. So let me go. Sam and Josiah like me and Jools loves me. It will be so easy.”
Carter stopped in front of the bar and held the door open for his son.
“Trust me, Max. Luc is a specialist in matters of this kind. There will be no need for your assistance. I already gave you your shot and your failed spectacularly. Now go inside and see how a true professional handles his business.”
Max glared at his father as he entered the bar. The vampire was in a back booth, waiting for them, looking as beautiful as ever. Of all Magicals, Max secretly had a weakness for vampires; he found their beauty intoxicating, their power magnificent.
“Luc,” Max greeted the vampire as he slid into the booth.
“Max,” Luc smiled, “beautiful Max. So unlike your father.”
“Shut up, Luc,” Carter instructed as he joined them and slid a drink to his son.
“Definitely unlike your father,” Luc winked at the younger Breslin.
Carter sipped his drink and glared at the vampire, eager to learn what happened in New York but determined not to expose his desperation. If there was one thing Breslin believed in, it was the need to appear, at all times, superior to any and all Magicals.
“Breslin, your girl is in New York,” Luc offered, “the entire city reeks of her.”
Carter waited, expecting more but getting nothing.
“Luc,” Breslin hissed, “I know she is in New York. That is why I sent you there, you idiot. I sent you there to find that bitch of a vampire you detest so much and use her to catch the girl. I gave you all the information you needed to complete the task.”
“Your information was worthless,” Luc replied with a laugh. “Miss Winthrop couldn't care less that you know Maya enabled her to walk in the sun. Miss Winthrop despises you more than me, which is utterly amazing. You are quite the charmer, monsieur.”
“So what exactly are you saying to me?”
Luc le
aned across the table, appearing suddenly very menacing.
“I am saying that she told me nothing about anything involving your girl,. Rien. I was very persuasive, using some new techniques, and she still refused to speak. According to Miss Winthrop, she has no idea where that girl is hiding. Which is a lie because nothing happens in that city to a Magical without her knowing about it.”
Max leaned back in the booth, secretly satisfied hearing the news of Luc’s failure.
“You failed is what you’re telling me?” Breslin asked quietly.
“Your words, monsieur, not mine.”
Carter brought his fists down on the table in frustration.
“Do not be coy with me, Luc, and remember who you are dealing with right now,” Carter threatened the vampire.
“I know very well who I am dealing with, but perhaps you need a reminder who you are dealing with, non?” Luc asked as he exposed his fangs.
Carter leaned away from the table and Luc. Angering the ages-old vampire was not the best tactic and he knew it, but he could not help himself. They had a love-hate relationship which more often favored hate. Carter detested vampires but understood their worth and especially Luc’s, as his alignment to the Breslin family over the centuries had proven priceless on many an occasion.
“Very well,” Carter relented, “what now?”
Luc leaned back, pleased he won the latest war of wills with Breslin, thoroughly enjoying the fact Max witnessed the entire episode.
“I left a present for your bien-aimé Clayworths.”
That statement piqued both Breslins’ interest, as both Carter and Max looked up from their drinks, waiting to hear more about Luc’s surprise.
“Ah, you like the sound of that, non?” Luc observed, “I’ve even got my pretty Max’s attention.”
Max smiled, always amused by Luc’s attention, especially since it drove his father mad. He suspected Carter’s rage was exactly why Luc did it. Anything to get under the elder Breslin’s skin.
“Luc!” Carter growled at the vampire.
“Detendez-vous, Carter. Relax. Max knows I’m just teasing him.”
The conversation was rapidly devolving into a pissing match between The Sanctum leader and the vampire with Max stuck in the middle.
“Can you both stop it?” Max interrupted their love fest, sick of sitting in the bar, getting nowhere fast.
“I would like to get out of here sometime tonight, so Luc,” Max shot him a smile, knowing it would infuriate his father, “please be kind enough to tell me what you left the Clayworths. The suspense is killing me.”
Luc smiled seductively at the younger Breslin, thinking to himself that Max would make a much abler leader of The Sanctum than his petty, violent father.
“Happily, cher,” Luc nodded deferentially to Max, knowing the respectful gesture would irk Carter.
“On the esteemed doorstep of one New York Academy lies, as we speak, the dying, de-fanged vampire we all know to be a Miss Darby Winthrop, thorn in my side, friend to the Clayworths. She bears a note passing along my friendly tidings, letting them know I was in town for a bit.”
Luc then slid his phone across the table, with a picture of Darby and his message for the Clayworths.
Max studied the bloody mess of a vampire, lying prone in the photo, her blonde curls turned a shade of red, her fangs missing and her tiny body slashed from end to end then apparently burned. Luc was as bad as his father, he thought to himself, when it came to torture.
Carter, on the other hand, loved the photo.
“Nice work, Luc,” Carter admired.
“Merci,” Luc smiled, proud of his handiwork, “now we wait for a response from the Clayworths.”
“They won’t respond,” Max replied, “they will care for the vampire and continue as if nothing has happened.”
“Nonsense,” Carter disagreed, “they cannot. This is a brutal attack on their doorstep of their beloved Darby, the vampire they saved when I specifically ordered her final death. They will respond.”
“As much as I hate to say it, I agree with your father, Max,” Luc stated, “they will respond, which is precisely why I left her there instead of killing her.”
“Which makes my plan even better,” Max turned to his father, “if I go to New York and spend time with Wyatt, they will never suspect we have anything to do with this attack. The London Academy then takes the stance we are seeking information on the vampire’s attack, and putting the hunt for the hybrid temporarily on the back-burner. I can learn exactly what is going on in New York, find information on that girl and kill her.”
The entire time Max spoke, his father shook his head in disagreement, never listening to a word of his plan. Luc, however, followed every word.
“It could work, Luc considered the possibility, “but you must leave right away. Maintenant.”
“That plan is crap,” Breslin disagreed, “and he’s going nowhere.”
Luc studied the elder Breslin for a moment, then picked up his phone and started dialing a number.
“Let’s call Ava and see what she thinks. Something tells me she’ll agree.”
Carter grabbed the phone out of his hand, not wanting his wife involved, knowing she would agree with Max’s plan.
“There is no need to trouble Ava with this nonsense. Max will leave for New York tonight,” Carter relented with a sneer.
“Good, that’s settled,” Luc slid out of the booth and rose to leave.
“Max, call me upon your return, hopefully with news that the bitch succumbed to my ministrations.”
Luc then slipped away, into the London night, without so much as another word to Breslin. Carter seethed at the table, hating the dismissive attitude of the vampire, again wondering if there would ever come a time he would be free of Luc Arseneault.
“Carter,” Max pushed his dad, “let’s go. I want to get packed and out of here. Come on, let me out.”
Carter slid out of the booth and exited the bar, neither waiting nor wondering if his son was following. He hit the street but instead of heading back to The Academy, turned in the opposite direction.
“Dad!” Max called out to his father’s rapidly departing figure, “where are you going?”
“Go home,” Breslin shouted without turning around.
Max watched his dad disappear into the night, knowing he was headed to find some Magical to take out his anger upon, feeling sorry for the poor soul, certain someone was about to suffer a night of untold misery. He turned and headed home to pack for his trip.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Ryker rose after only a couple of hours of sleep. He sat up in bed and looked around his room, sensing something was off. The early morning light crept in under his curtains as it did every morning, his clothes were in the same pile on the floor, his books still stacked on his desk and his weapons scattered about, just as he had left them a couple of hours ago. Nothing was amiss and yet, Ryker felt ill at ease.
Jools.
He picked up his phone and texted her, knowing his effort was futile as she wouldn’t be awake for hours. Ryker threw off the covers and got out of bed, pulled on some shorts and a T-shirt, laced up his sneakers and headed for the Clayworths’ wing, stopping only to make himself a cup of coffee.
He started to check his watch before knocking on their door, but heard some movement inside and gave it a shot. Sam opened the door mid-yawn.
“Ryker,” she noted with surprise, “is everything okay? It’s so early.”
“I think so,” he hesitated.
“What?” Sam asked.
Ryker shook his head, feeling like a complete fool.
“I’m sorry, Sam,” he stated and turned to walk away.
Sam grabbed his hand and stopped him.
“Ryker Morrison, you are a highly-trained, Class A Warrior, a creature of pure instinct. If you think something is wrong...”
“It’s just a feeling,” he interrupted her, “it’s stupid.”
Sam stepped back
and crossed her arms, casting Ryker a stern glance.
“Tell me. Now. You woke up at this ungodly hour and walked all the way over here to do something. Now tell me what.”
She waited, tapping her foot impatiently.
Ryker towered over her, but right now she was making him feel very small.
“I wanted to check on Jools, make sure she’s okay.”
Sam instantly relaxed, knowing Jools was dead to the world in her bedroom, having just checked on her herself. She stepped aside so Ryker could come into their suite.
“That’s all you have to say, sweetheart. Be my guest.”
Ryker remained in the hallway.
“If you know she’s all right, that’s enough for me.”
“Uh-uh,” Sam shook her head, “go back there and look with your own eyes. Then go back to your own bed and get some sleep.”
Ryker walked down the long hallway, past the master bedroom and towards the back staircase. He turned around to glance at Sam, who gestured for him to keep it moving. He headed up the stairs, walked down another hallway, all the way to the back of the suite. Ryker opened Jools’ bedroom door and peeked inside. She was in bed, deep under the covers. He considered leaving with just that, but the bad feeling remained so he crept into the room, just needing to touch her and make sure. Jools rolled over and opened her eyes as he neared her bedside.
For a minute, her face expressed nothing but shock, but very quickly shock turned to a big, beautiful smile. She reached for him and pulled him close.
“What a welcome surprise,” she said in a deep, sexy, morning voice.
Ryker pushed her hair away from her face and smiled down at her sleepy face, so beautiful in the morning light. He leaned down and softly kissed her.
“I have to go, your mom is waiting.”
Book One: The Girl (The Sanctum) Page 21