Under the Blood Moon

by Tracie Provost

  “Are you alright?” I gasped, pulling him into the room. “Please sit.”

  Josh grunted in pain as he sat heavily on the settee. Twisting the cap off, he brought the bottle to his lips and took a long pull. After he swallowed, Josh grimaced and shifted position. “I think the bastards broke a coupla ribs.”

  “I am afraid that I do not have the power to heal you tonight, but I can at least clean you up a bit,” I said as I went into the bathroom. Searching, I found a small basin under the sink and filled it with warm water. I took that, a washcloth, and a towel back to the sitting area.

  “I came to check on how you were, not to have you tend to me,” Josh said as I set the basin down on the coffee table and sat beside him.

  Dipping the washcloth in the water, I said, “I am alright. Tired and magically spent, but not physically harmed. Unlike you.”

  “There were four of ‘em,” he grumbled.

  “I was not casting dispersions, simply commenting on the raw-meat state of your face.” As carefully as I could, I began to clean the blood from him. Josh winced as I dabbed the cloth near his blackened right eye. The left was swollen shut.

  “How about the blood loss from saving Jaime?” he asked.

  “Perhaps a little less than optimal. It took more than I expected to bring her back.”

  When I touched his split lip, Josh pulled away, exclaiming, “Damn it woman, that hurts!”

  I took his chin firmly in my hand and turned his face back to me. I continued to carefully dab at the wounds. “Stop being such a baby. I know it hurts, but it must be cleaned. And I am being gentle. It is not my fault that someone used your face as a punching bag.” There really was not a spot on his face that was not swollen, bloody, or otherwise bruised. No matter how gentle I was, this would hurt. Luckily, when he rose at sunset the damage would all be healed.

  “Your bedside manner sucks, Juliette,” Josh groused.

  I laughed and dropped the cloth in the now pink water. “All done.” Standing, I crossed to the small bar and pulled a glass off the shelf. “Would you like a glass with some ice for your whiskey?”

  “Nah, but I’ll take some ice wrapped in a towel for my eye.”

  Chiding myself for not thinking of that on my own, I opened the small refrigerator and pulled the ice cube tray from the freezer compartment. Dumping the cubes onto a bar rag, I wrapped it securely and took it back to Josh.

  As I put the glass down on the coffee table, Josh took another long pull of whiskey and said, “I don’t need a glass.”

  “It is for me, not you,” I said, trading him the ice for the bottle. I poured a healthy two fingers—really four if I were honest—in the rocks glass.

  Josh laughed and took the bottle back from me. He sobered as he saw how much I had poured and the tremor in my hand as I raised the glass to my lips. When did my hand start shaking?

  “How are you doing mentally, darlin’?” he asked.

  I held the liquor in my mouth a long moment before I swallowed and let the whiskey burn down my throat. “Not so well,” I admitted.

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  “What is there to say? I betrayed my coven by warning the Grandmaster that I thought they were planning a coup and then they tried to kill me.”

  “It ain’t quite that simple though, Juliette. I mean, most times your first loyalty is to coven. It should be. But if the coven is doing something wrong? Well, then your loyalty needs to be with the Grandmaster. You did the right thing by warning Marc.”

  I sighed. “I know I did, but I worry what will happen now. I stripped Honore of the Aether ring and told her she did not deserve to be Mistress.”

  “You ain’t wearing the ring now,” Josh said.

  I shook my head. “I gave it to Marc. He can appoint a new coven leader.”

  “Don’t know about that. You bested her in a fair fight. By force of arms, leadership is yours.”

  “But I don’t want it.”

  “Well, there’ll be plenty of time to debate that later. For now, it’s time to seek our beds. I can feel the sun rising, and I’m about ready to fall out, so I’d best be finding that room Sophie assigned me,” Josh said as he gingerly stood up.

  “Stay,” I said. The word was out of my mouth before I had a chance to think about it.

  Josh half-turned to look at me.

  I reached and took his hand in mine. The knuckles were bloody and raw. He had obviously given as good as he’d got. “Please,” I said.

  “You sure?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You want me to sleep on the sofa?”

  “You did not make me sleep on the sofa when you tended me, and I have no intention of doing so to you.” I stood and led him to bed. As he carefully removed his shirt, I turned off the overhead light. A pale pool left by the bedside lamp revealed Josh trying to slide between the sheets with his jeans still on. “Do not dare get into my bed wearing those blood-soaked jeans. Take them off,” I commanded.

  Josh looked uncomfortable. “Um, I ain’t wearing anything underneath,” he admitted.

  I regarded him for a moment and decided that my modesty could be set aside for the day. It was not as if I had never seen a nude man before. I had been married. I had even taken a lover. Besides, I had slept next to Josh before, and he had proven to be a perfect gentleman. He was hardly in any shape to act on any amorous impulses anyway.

  “Off,” I said. Josh swayed slightly as he fought the dawn, but made no attempt to remove his pants.

  Desperate measures. I untied the silk sash of my robe and let it slide to the floor, revealing my own nudity. Clicking off the light, I slid into bed, amazed at my own brazenness. A moment later I heard the denim fall to the floor and felt the mattress sag under Josh’s weight as he joined me beneath the covers.

  “You got some powerful persuasion techniques, Juliette,” I heard him say in my ear as he pulled me close a moment before dawn claimed me.

  I WAS ALONE IN bed when I awoke that evening, but I could hear the shower running. Retrieving my robe from the floor, I padded into the sitting area, tying the sash firmly around my waist. I had just set the coffee to brew when I heard a knock at the door.

  Sophie thrust a pile of clothes at me when I opened the door and then bent to pick up two carafes of vitae at her feet. I stepped back to allow the steward to enter the room and then closed the door behind her.

  “How are you feeling, Juliette?” Sophie inquired.

  “I believe after some blood I will be fully recovered,” I said, putting the clothes on a nearby chair.

  Sophie deposited the carafes on the bar and turned to me. “I brought plenty, but . . .” She stopped abruptly as the shower in the next room shut off and Josh’s singing could be heard clearly. Cocking her head she finished, “Perhaps I should call down and have more brought up.”

  If I were still human, I would have blushed furiously. “I believe two carafes should be sufficient even with Josh’s wounds.”

  I heard the bathroom door open, and Sophie’s eyebrows shot up. My back was to the door, but I knew instantly what had happened. I closed my eyes for a moment and said, “He just walked out of the bathroom naked, didn’t he?”

  I opened my eyes to see Sophie grinning from ear to ear and casting admiring glances behind me. “Oh, yes,” was all she said.

  “Oh, hey, Soph. Didn’t know you were here. How’s Marc?”

  “Marc is fine and would like to see both of you downstairs in forty-five minutes. I’ll have some clothes sent up for you. I think Gabe’s clothes should be about the right size.”

  “That’d be great. Thanks.”

  “I’ll send up more blood as well. You two probably need it,” Sophie said before leaning close to my ear. “You are a lucky woman, Juliette. Very lucky indeed,” she w
hispered. In a louder voice she admonished, “Remember, forty-five minutes in Marc’s office.”

  Mortified, I picked up the clothes from the chair and fled to the safety of the bathroom.

  I EMERGED THIRTY-FIVE minutes later, showered and wearing Sophie’s clothes. Josh was, thankfully, also dressed, but fighting with his tie. His face and knuckles had healed, leaving no evidence of this morning’s brawl.

  “Juliette, can you help me with this tie? I can’t seem to get it right,” he asked.

  “I can try,” I said, walking to stand in front of him. I puzzled at the cloth for a minute, chewing my lip. I tried a few different configurations, but I could not make the tie look like the ones I had seen Gabe and Marc wear. I was used to cravats. While this was quite obviously that garment’s heir, I had no idea how to properly tie it. I stepped back and shook my head. “I am sorry. This is beyond me. Perhaps if we go downstairs early, Sophie can help you.”

  “Nah, I can’t believe she brought me one in the first place. She knows I don’t wear ‘em,” he said, wadding the cloth and shoving it in his pocket. Leaning in, Josh brushed his lips lightly over mine. “You look real pretty tonight. Color suits you.”

  Sophie had chosen well. The deep-burgundy silk dress had a plunging neckline in both the front and back but fell past my knees. “Thank you. You look very nice as well,” I said. Gabe’s clothes did not fit Josh as well as Sophie’s fit me. The navy suit jacket, completely out of character on him, was tight through the shoulders, and the pants were baggy and just a bit short.

  Josh grinned at me. “No, I don’t. Ain’t my style, but I appreciate you being nice. You need to eat before we see Marc. If tonight is anything like last night, you’re going to need all your power,” he said, walking to the bar and pulling a decanter out of the small refrigerator.

  “How are your ribs? Were you able to heal them?” I asked as I crossed to him.

  “They’re good. Day’s rest is all I needed. You want this warmed?” he asked, indicating the vitae.

  “Chilled is fine, thank you,” I said, taking the glass from him.

  “How ‘bout you? Your magic back?” he asked as I drank the blood.

  “Most of it seems to be back, although I would rather not be in a magical confrontation anytime soon.”

  He took the glass and refilled it without me asking. “You want to come back to my place after we meet with Marc? It is safe and you can stay as long as you want.”

  “I would love to, but I need to be seen in my own home—not seeking refuge. Thank you, though. I really wish I could and not look weak in the process,” I said.

  Kissing my forehead, he murmured, “Maybe we can work something out.”

  Chapter 20

  SOPHIE STOPPED US outside the double doors to Marc’s office. “The Grandmaster would like to see you alone, Madame Grammont,” Sophie informed me with a grim formality strikingly at odds with her earlier playful mood. A cold shiver of trepidation ran down my spine.

  “Um, what’s up, Soph,” Josh asked, his normal jocular manner also gone.

  “If you would like, you may wait in the formal parlor,” Sophie said as she indicated the room across the hall. I was well and truly worried now. Sophie never acted like this. Even her normal business formal had a friendliness to it. There was no trace of that now. An icy manner had settled over the New Orleans steward, and I feared what that might portend.

  Putting on my best smile, I looked up at Josh and said, “It will be fine. I will see you soon.” I stretched to give him a quick kiss on the lips and then turned to meet my fate.

  Sophie rapped a quick staccato knock on the door before opening it for me. I stepped inside, and the heavy wooden door shut firmly behind me. I felt as if I had just stepped into the lion’s den. The atmosphere in the room was oppressive, and I was growing more confused by the moment.

  Certainly the coup attempt the previous night would mean changes in the city, but I suddenly felt as if I was being included with the conspirators.

  Marc was not at his desk. Instead he stood staring pensively at the cold fireplace grate. “Thank you for coming, Madame Grammont,” Marc said without turning to me. Again, the use of formal address made me pause. ‘Madame,’ not ‘Juliette’ or even ‘Regent,’ made me worry.

  “I am always at your service, Your Grace,” I said as I automatically sank into a curtsy.

  “As you might imagine, this morning’s events have caused me to reassess the political situation here in New Orleans. When I awoke this evening, I was of a mind to proscribe the entire Aether coven,” Marc said, still not looking at me.

  Proscribe the entire coven? I have heard of certain members being exiled from cities, but never the entire group. If I was forced to leave, where could I possibly go? I know no one outside of New Orleans anymore. My legs began to shake.

  “Luckily, cooler heads convinced me that banning all Aether from New Orleans was a foolish and shortsighted response.”

  “I believe I used the term ‘poor choice,’ not foolish.” Gabe’s rich voice came from across the room, startling me. I had not realized he was here. “Marc, give the poor woman leave to rise. Even a vampire can’t hold a curtsy indefinitely.”

  Marc finally turned to regard me. “Of course. Please, sit.” He gestured to one of the leather chairs in front of his desk.

  I straightened and walked slowly to the offered seat. I perched on the edge of the chair, half-turned, so I could still see both men. Gabe remained where he was at the far end of the room, while Marc began to restlessly pace back and forth in front of the fireplace. I nervously clasped and unclasped my hands, unsure if I should speak or wait for the Grandmaster to say more. This was so different from the other audiences I’d had with him. Even our first meeting had been genuinely cordial. Now I was made to feel like a pariah.

  “We are at a crossroads both literally and metaphorically,” Marc said. “As I mentioned before, when I rose this evening, I had intended to ban all Aether from the city, but Sophie very forcefully argued that sending you into exile was hardly justice considering the service you have rendered the family. I don’t think Sophie has ever argued with me before. She certainly took up on your behalf. Even so, I was set to send you to my father in Paris. That is until Gabe convinced me otherwise.”

  Marc was beginning to drive me mad, talking in circles like this. I shifted my gaze from the Grandmaster to his lieutenant and hoped for some clarity. Gabe seemed to sense my agitation and emerged from the shadows he had been shrouded in. My shock at his appearance must have clearly registered on my face because he grimaced and apologized. “What I had to tell Marc was too important to wait,” Gabe said, to explain why his normally pristine suit coat and white shirt were splattered with blood and his tie askew. “Since sunset I have been questioning the prisoners we took during the coup attempt.”

  This was news to me. “I did not realize that prisoners were taken,” I said.

  “Yes. Two were taken alive. Louis Pontbriand and Edward King,” Gabe said.

  If anyone other than the Coven Mistress was privy to Aether plans it would be Louis—if he could be persuaded to tell what he knew. Even under the best of circumstances, Louis was a man of few words. King must be one of the foreign Aether. “That is quite an intelligence coup. Were you able to get Louis to talk?”

  “It took a while. King spilled his guts straight off but he didn’t know much. Louis knew a lot but it took effort to get it outta him.” Gabe smiled ruefully.

  I raised my eyebrow and waited for him to continue. This was beginning to feel like a clichéd detective story where the good cop feeds a suspect just enough information to get him talking and then persuades the suspect to confess his part in the plot. The problem was that I’d had no part in Honore’s plan. Do Marc and Gabe really think I had anything to do with this? Or worse, has Louis lied and implicated me s
omehow?

  “The story that Louis told is pretty convoluted, but it boils down to Honore killing Frederique to become Aether Mistress and then using that position to try to take Marc’s place,” Gabe said.

  “Why didn’t Honore step forward immediately to claim coven leadership?” I asked.

  “It was as we thought. She and the others were injured during the coup. Apparently the fire was supposed to be set after Honore and the others left to hide their crime, but someone jumped the gun and set the fire while they were still in the house. They almost didn’t make it out.”

  “Too bad they did,” I commented.

  “Just that. Woulda solved a lot of our problems if they’d all died that night. Anyway, they’ve been planning this for a long time. The Maneating werewolf pack is their doing as well. They imported a bunch of Strays from all over and set them loose on the city, tellin’ ‘em to do their worst. It was a distraction to keep us focused elsewhere and not looking too close at the Aether.”

  “And it worked,” Marc said. “It was the perfect red herring.”

  “And the demons?” I asked.

  “The Aether, again. The reason that Honore wants to be Grandmaster is so she can open the Gates of Hell on New Year’s Eve. They are summoning all the demons to serve as advanced scouts for the legions that will pour forth when the Gate does open,” Gabe said.

  “But Honore doesn’t have the power to open the Gate,” I said.

  “No, she doesn’t. This is where the story got even more convoluted. It seems that the original plan was to use you to open the Gate, but you disappeared.”

  “That was over two hundred years ago,” I pointed out.

  “Yeah, Louis was a bit fuzzy on this. It seems you were cultivated to become an Aether because you were a thaumaturge and Honore thought you could be manipulated into sacrificing yourself.”

  “They knew I was a thaumaturge?”

  “Apparently.”

  My secret wasn’t such a secret after all. “And when Andre found me in the Meterie crypt, Honore decided she could manipulate me now?”