“Why? What’s left?”
“What do you think,” he retorted.
Good. She needed his help in finding Tristan. She didn’t know what to say when she found him. Perhaps if she convinced him to give her time to…to what, think about this, about their relationship, their future? Could she put the past behind her and share a life with him?
No, she frowned, I doubt it. But if they spoke, and if he admitted he murdered, then maybe...Oh, she didn’t know what to make of her thoughts. Leaving this place was the best thing for them both, and deep down she knew it. But if she must go, then she wanted confirmation from his lips.
And what about closure? A voice prodded in her mind.
Was that even an option? Should she take that road again and confront him? The time in the bathroom, he said he hadn’t killed her sister. He seemed so earnest, but she hadn’t believed him. This couldn’t go on. She must admit what she knew and tell Tristan about that night. No way would he deny it after her confrontation, how could he?
The end of the long hallway led to a grand space. She marched through the arched doorway, and found herself in the open plaza she and Tristan passed two days ago.
Ahead of her stood the long, wide staircase with its massive double doors; the entrance to the cave, she remembered him saying. Even now, some vampires and humans walked in and out. She turned her head at the sound of female laughter and spotted a group of vampire women at an outdoor table, chatting and sipping from small teacups. The wet crimson sheen left on their lips indicated blood.
Beside the small coffee shop sat several stores with large windows; a shoe repair, a dry cleaner, and a boutique displaying dark coloured gowns with Cynthia Coté Couture printed on the glass in a traditional French script font.
On the opposite side was an internet café, other bars and restaurants with several humans inside. They must be the human mates of vampires, because vampires didn’t eat chicken, fritters or salads.
And is that a chocolate soufflé on that lady’s plate? The heated chocolate oozed from the powdered sugar top. Yum, even a dollop of ice-cream sat beside the delicious dessert. She could not leave this place until she tasted one. Yeah, what a great excuse to give him.
You can’t send me away yet, Tristan, I haven’t tried the soufflé. “Gosh, I’m such an idiot.”
“What?”
Oops. She forgot about the annoying vampire beside her. “Nothing. So which way do we head?
“Oh, I don’t know.” Julian smirked, gaze roaming over the vaulted cave ceiling. “We can go left, we could go right. Or, to get straight to the point we can run around in circles.”
“What! Have you been messing with me this whole time? Were you even taking me to see Tristan, or were you just going to send me on a wild goose chase?”
“For a woman who despises him, I can’t fathom why you would want to see him.”
“I’ve had enough of this.” She spun from him.
His tone rose another notch. “Ever consider he is now with someone more deserving?”
She skidded to a stop and turned, heart pounding, ready to burst through her burning ears. “What did you say?”
“Many women cherish the ground he walks on. You cannot be stupid to think sooner or later he wouldn’t leave your cold bed to hop into a warm, welcoming one.”
The lump in her throat was hard to swallow, but she forced the blockage down to release her next words. “You’re lying. He is not like that. Besides, I’m his moitié. Me, no one else.” Even as she said this, the image of Tristan with her sister sprouted in her mind. He’d immediately moved onto another after her that night. What about here in Désuet? All this time, had he been with other lovers?
Slitted eyes zeroed on her. Julian stepped forward, face to face. “Oh, I see how a selfish bitch like you plays. You don’t want him, but no other can have him. Am I right?”
“Shut up. Just shut…” She didn’t finish, too distracted by the commotion coming from the top of the stairs.
The room fell silent, everyone engrossed with the shouting that overcame the plaza. Several people staggered out of the way as two vampires in dark uniforms marched down the wooden staircase with a raving man in their grasp. They each held an arm, but the vampire thrashed as though he were a trapped fly untangling himself from a spider’s web. All eyes watched him struggle in the arms of the…guards, vampire police? Whoever they were, they appeared all business.
“Lâchez-moi! Je suis bien! J'ai fais une erreur! Une simple erreur!”
The man twisted, kicked and shoved to no avail. His wild, dark gaze danced around the place as though he were drunk and unable to see straight.
“What’s he saying?” She asked close to Julian’s ear.
He didn’t remove his stare from the man. “He says he made a mistake, a simple mistake.”
When the guards drew closer, the man shot her a look. Desperation shone through his bloodshot eyes. So helpless, so scared…
His eyes narrowed, features shifting from feeble to intense in seconds. He stared, his tongue ran over his fangs. Okay, he no longer seemed afraid. More like hungry as hell. On instinct she shuffled behind Julian—who sighed with utter despair. Did he know the man being dragged away by the two uniformed vampires?
“What’s going on? What are they doing with him?” she questioned.
Julian shook his head. “I haven’t seen an addict in years. Oh, what a shame.”
“An addict?”
He turned. “Yes, an addict. It happens when unmated vampires overindulge in blood. Blood is nutritious and vital for vampires to live, but when a vampire abuses the use, it becomes addictive.” A scowl shifted his face. “Like you just saw, that’s how they turn out. That man would not be content with just one person. He would take another and another until a pile of bled bodies lay beneath him. It’s not common, but does happen.” The firmness of his lips and the dark set of his eyes confirmed his grief on the matter.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Is he a friend of yours?” He must have been, why else did he seem so upset.
“No.” He shook his head. “I do not know that man.”
“Oh, I just thought…um, the way you looked at him…” Just shut up and mind your own business. “Sorry, I shouldn’t assume—”
“That’s all right. Many years ago, someone I cared about became an addict.”
“How terrible.” It must have been someone close, a good friend or a girlfriend perhaps. “So what happens with the addicts?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“They are sent to a facility and locked up in isolation. Every hour the room is flooded with a special gas, a potion made by local witches that prevents the addicts from flashing out of their confinement. Once a month, they’re fed small measurements of blood. It’s the only way to remove the craving and get them back on a steady diet.”
“Does this method work?”
“In a few cases, yes. But, many haven’t recovered, and no doubt ever will.” Again, darkness met his eyes, as though thunderclouds brewed inside.
How horrible to watch a loved one self-destruct. She understood, as she once worried about Rachel, overindulging in alcohol. Rachel had always gone out, drank to the point where she was legless and unable to control her actions.
The memory made her throat tighten and she struggled to swallow past the lump inside. She turned from Julian, blinked back the threat of waterworks, and inhaled through the burn in her nose.
In the distance, Cynthia stalked toward them, hands twisting together, and biting down on her lower lip. Was that tears in her eyes?
Brianna frowned, striding to meet her halfway. “What’s wrong?” Did she have news on Tristan? Was he hurt?
Cynthia stared, eyes big, round and shadowed with…contrition? “I’m sorry. I am a terrible friend.”
Brianna glanced back at Julian who stood behind her. “Please give us a minute?”
He crossed his arms over his chest, raising a brow.
“Julian, I won’t ru
n off. I need a sec with Cynthia.”
With a final look of warning, he walked off to the side, but at the same time making sure he was within reachable distance.
She turned back to Cynthia with a shake of her head. “What do you mean?”
Cynthia stepped forward and took hold of her hands. “I believed by keeping quiet I could defend both sides, but I can’t let this go on.”
Defend both? Who? Tristan? Me? Cynthia might as well have spoken in French because she had no clue what the vampire carried on about.
“I ran into Tristan this morning. He was on his way to meet with Lord Sylvestre,” she continued. “He looked terrible. He told me of his plan to send you home. I thought you’d come around, but you haven’t, and I can no longer stand in a corner and let you make the biggest mistake of your life.” Her perfect feminine hands clutched Brianna’s arms and gave a little shake. “You must think back to the night of your sister’s death.”
She shook her head. “I can’t do that. I hate thinking about it.”
“No, Brianna. You must, think very hard about this. You say you saw Tristan, but you must have missed something.” Tears fell down her cheeks like a leaking faucet. Cynthia’s gaze followed the now empty space of where the uniformed men had dragged away that rampant vampire. “I hoped he would get better, I believed it so much because I love him with all my heart.”
Who did she love, the frantic vampire that passed them minutes ago? Tristan…? Her blood fizzed with jealousy.
“You’re confusing me. What’s going on? If you know something, then tell me.”
“I can’t.” Cynthia sobbed. “My instincts tell me to defend and honour, and by speaking to you now about this, I feel as if I’ve already betrayed him. I must go. I have to do something that will with any luck set things right. Just promise me you’ll think about that night. Really try and look back, Brianna. And again…” Cynthia swallowed, as though forcing the words out. “I’m sorry.”
She spun on her heels and took off before Brianna questioned her further.
Julian stood beside her. “Are you all right?”
What was with Cynthia? Why the secrecy, and the urgency to think of the past? She knew something and refused to tell, wanted her to figure it out. What was the big secret? Fear shot through her bones, shaking her knees. She felt so close to collapsing on the floor.
The memory of that night played out in her mind; Rachel in her gorgeous purple dress, sitting at the bar moments before running off with the bottle of Champagne. Meeting Tristan, and making love in the dark office. Searching for her sister, continuous searching.
A fireball lanced through her chest, knowing what happened next, knowing the man she loved would take her sister’s life.
“Brianna, I asked if you’re all right.” Julian’s voice interrupted her thoughts, but she kept her focus on the memory. Cynthia wanted her to revisit this for a reason and she needed to know why.
“Give me a minute, Julian.”
In her memory, she walked out into the night, to the dark alley next to the building. Tremors raked her body. She knew what awaited her down the alley, and bile rose in her throat at the thought of entering.
Female laughter resounded down the dark backstreet. Rachel, her beautiful Rachel. Brianna recalled stepping closer, hiding behind the large dumpster while her sister continued to make out with the tall man in a white shirt and black pants.
Tristan. Her heart clenched with sharp pain. The man she shouldn’t love, and yet had no control over her emotions, the man who…wait! Tristan had worn a grey shirt that night. Hadn’t he? Yes, yes he had. She remembered fisting the charcoal material when they made love. Why would he change his clothing?
His head tilted back, Rachel ran kisses along his neck. Light hit his face. Tristan’s face.
Really try and look back, Cynthia’s words shot through her mind. The memory of Tristan glancing at the streetlight, then grabbing Rachel and pinning her against the wall happened so fast. Brianna fought with her mind, repeating the moment his head fell back and features shone with light. His short hair the same as she remembered, skin still that beautiful pale, and the scar…the scar?
No scar marred his left cheek. No, this vampire had smooth skin, not a dimple or a single mark…
Not Tristan. But how? And if so, then who? “Oh, Gosh!” Her eyes snapped open. What had she done? “Could it have been someone else?” She spun on her heel.
Julian stared, one brow raised, lips scrunched. He must have thought she was crazy, but she didn’t care. She stepped closer, and said again, mostly for her own ears. “I don’t think he did it.”
“Did what?” Julian shook his head.
This wasn’t the time to explain. She shifted from one foot to the other. “Stop playing games with me and take me to him right now.”
He shrugged, apologetic. “Tristan doesn’t want you to know where he is staying. He gave strict instructions to let you out of the room, but he doesn’t want to see you.”
She threw her hands in the air. “Fine. So I can’t go to him, but find him. Tell him I need to speak with him. I’m heading back to his room so he can meet me there.”
“But, I’m not supposed to leave you—”
“Julian!” Her hands smacked over his shoulders. “I’m going back to the room, I swear. Tell Tristan there’s an emergency.”
His hands lifted in the air. “Is there?”
“Yes. Now go!” Lifting her dress, she ran through the open plaza, rushed down the many hallways, at last reaching the one to Tristan’s room. Panting and sweating, she made for the door which was ajar. Hope coursed through her. With his speed, he could already be inside, waiting. She stepped closer, almost touching the handle, she froze.
“Why insist on meeting me here?” A strange male voice shouted. Something about his irreverent tone frightened her. It was strained, anxious; the voice of a soulless man…similar to how that furious vampire had sounded when they dragged him away.
“I assumed he’d be here.”
She did not recognise the first voice, but the second voice she knew all too well. Cynthia.
“Of course he’s not here. Do you think I’d have stepped inside if he were present?” the unfamiliar voice said.
“I want you to confess,” Cynthia rasped, her tone firm and instructive. “I know it was you. I know what you did the night I set you free.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You killed someone at the Annual Armistice Celebration, don’t deny it.”
“I’ve killed far more since that night.” His tone so casual, so matter-of-fact, it caused her stomach to churn.
“How could you trick me like that?”
“I needed out! I was going crazy.”
Someone paced, and from the loud booming steps, Brianna guessed the man.
“Crazy for blood,” Cynthia grated. “You lied to me. You made me believe you were well, sane. But you’re still ill, still an addict. I should have left you where you were.”
“In that padded room?” the man’s shout echoed out into the hall. “Having a small dose of your blood once a month, living like an animal.”
“I am your moitié. My blood is vital to you.”
“No, Cynthia. I became an addict long before we found out about our bond. I’m too far gone. I cannot rely on just your blood, but I do need you. Your blood gives me strength.”
“Like I said, I’m vital to you. That’s why you never try to kill me. You wouldn’t drain me dry like you drain others.”
“Yes, I need you. But I need others, too.”
“Why?” Cynthia cried. “Why can’t you try to get better? You were once an amazing soldier, so reliable and efficient in the Vampire Army.”
“I don’t care about that.”
“Then at least try for me, for us?”
“I don’t love you, Cynthia.” A shuffle sounded, as though someone shrugged the other person off of them.
“How can you say that? The night
I released you, we…we made love.”
A scoff emerged. “That’s what I love about moitié traditions. Share in body and blood…isn’t that what they say? The only reason I fucked you was so I could consume so much of your blood without you being suspicious, which you weren’t because you thought the whole damn thing romantic.”
“You’re lying.” Quivering emotion rang in Cynthia’s voice.
“Am I? Truth be told, I can’t recall your touch, or how you felt beneath me. I don’t remember any smells, tastes, moans….anything. I didn’t savour or cherish you. Don’t shake your head…think about it. I bent you over a table. I wasn’t yearning to make love to you. I felt nothing but the cravings,” the man said. “I used you. The only reason I’m here right now is because I know you need a feeding, and I can’t let you wane away now, can I, oh vital one?”
“Maybe I should refuse your blood.”
“Do so and you die.”
“And then you’ll die not long after me, but at least all this craziness will stop.”
“You will not destroy me,” he gritted through clenched teeth. “I brought you more vials, they are in your chamber, and you will drink them. I’m leaving again and won’t be back for a while, so it should last you until we next see each other.”
“I will not let you go,” Cynthia rushed on, determination, hurt and anger expressed each word. “I won’t let you do this to your twin.”
“What about Tristan.”
Twin? She righted herself before she fell over.
Tristan has a twin!
“He is dying, Maurice.”
Bile ran up her throat. She heard wrong, no way did Cynthia say Tristan was dying.
“The young witch you killed the night I set you free was the sister of Tristan’s moitié. She saw you that night, watched you take her sister’s life. But she thinks your brother did, and has refused him since. Every day he grows weak, last night he fell unconscious in the council meeting…and now he’s even willing to let his moitié return home.”
“And?” Maurice asked with a shaky voice, sounding bemused.
Killer Temptation Page 17