“Afraid your foreign friends wouldn’t be glad to see you?” Molly asked facetiously.
“The authorities in Le Havre remember a face, and no, I don’t think they’ll open their arms to me.”
“What did you do to upset them so?” Molly asked, ready for an unbelievable tale of recklessness, drunkenness, mischief, or all three.
“At the time I was actually part of a small smuggling crew. They didn’t care I was English, because I was a werewolf, and I had more reason to skirt the authorities than they did.” Tom grinned to himself, laughed at a private thought, and went on. “A fellow named Simeo, our unofficial captain, thought it would be amusing to pester the courier who met us in the docks, by giving him instructions to enter the house of our buyer through the wrong entrance, whereupon the buyer’s dogs would attack him.”
Molly raised an eyebrow, knowing that she had been correct about mischief and recklessness, and assumed Tom just skipped over the drinking that had surely inspired the antics.
“What we didn’t realize, was that our buyer lived very close to another man, who was a naval officer and the head of the port authorities. Instead of entering the buyer’s house, the courier went through the window of the bedroom belonging to the other man’s daughter.”
“I can only guess how it ends.” Molly rolled her eyes.
“It ends with a beaten courier and penniless smugglers.”
“You haven’t learned a thing, have you?” Molly laughed at him. He shrugged.
“I did confirm a proverb,” he corrected. “There is no honor among thieves. Those swine sold me in Sicily and left me for dead.”
“Sold you?” Molly gave him a look of confusion.
“Like a sack of flour.” Tom’s humor retreated.
Molly didn’t pry, instead turning to go upstairs. “Let’s get our things.”
On her way to her room, Molly remembered a time when she was younger, when Uncle Samuel had taken her to London and they had been robbed by thieves. In the middle of the day, in plain sight, three men took her uncle’s money and ran off. Though she had been young, she still remembered wondering why people did such things to others, without thinking about who they were doing it to. There were times, after she left South Carolina and spent a brief time with Christopher Barnes, when she wanted to go looking for thieves to put down. Every time she practiced her marksmanship in the company of Christopher, she could see the faces of the men who robbed Uncle Samuel on the blank targets she aimed for, and she punished them.
The night she fled the Black Coats in Barbados, one of the vampires had come to Christopher’s house to talk and drink. The entire evening they swapped personal stories, and the visitor boasted about a woman in town whom he took a great pleasure in swindling. A few times annually, he would visit her to sell her gems which he had long exhausted of magic, promising her that they were of the highest quality and that they could do anything from keeping her crops alive, to curing her husband’s recurring sickness. When he went on to describe every calculated detail of his scheme to Christopher, right down to the way he spent time establishing a false friendship with his victim, Molly took her father’s pistols from their hiding place, entered the room quietly and shot the vampire through the cheek before fear overcame her anger and she ran from the house. The visitor’s furious curses chased her out the door, but Molly felt free and strong as she ran. Little did she know that to atone for impulsively punishing a liar, she’d have to learn to love a thief.
Leon was waiting for Tom and Molly when they came to the docks later that night. A few of his crew were ready to take their things for them and show them onboard. Though two cabins were available, Molly wanted to share one. Tom insisted they didn’t, should his possession turn on him during the night, but Molly argued with him until she couldn’t spare another breath and defeated him.
Leon waited on the docks until the last expected party arrived, Corvessa among them. She smiled sweetly and pulled him aside as his crew accommodated the arriving vampires, one of whom had striking violet eyes. Neither Corvessa nor Leon noticed her as she passed, shading her face under a hood.
“Leon, dear, there’s something I’m not sure you’re aware of,” she began, looking as worried as possible. “The girl that Thomas is with … Isn’t she the one Christopher Barnes was to marry?”
“Lucia? Yes, she was at one time, but as I understand it, she left Mr. Barnes after a quarrel of some sort and the matter was closed.” Leon paid close attention to Corvessa’s eyes, wondering what her meaning was.
“And Mr. Barnes was recently killed, wasn’t he? In Spain?” she asked.
“Yes, as were many of the Society in Barbados. I don’t know all the details but I am not surprised about what happened. The locale was bound to become hostile to them. Their hybrid members were not all stable or sane.” He knew where Corvessa was headed with her words, but he was resistant to whatever she was trying to do to win him over.
“You know that Thomas’s brother, Harlan, was their patriarch at the time of his death, don’t you?” she reminded him, keeping her dragon eyes on his, refusing his attempt to escape.
“Corvessa, this is something that many may not know, but I am aware. Thomas may not be of our kind, but it is not safe to assume that he was involved with what happened in Barbados. I hardly believe that he would even have a motive to …”
“To kill Harlan?” she finished for him. “Perhaps you are unaware that Christopher Barnes was in Spain because he was looking for Lucia Vasquez, his runaway bride-to-be. He found her with Thomas in Barcelona.”
Leon shook his head in objection. “Lucia’s father is a well-known magesmith from Barcelona. She could just as easily have been living there with him.”
“And coincidentally, Christopher is reported dead, and soon after, Harlan Crowe. And,” she persisted before Leon could speak, “Lucia Vasquez appears at the Hallows Eve Ball wearing a pendant bearing your family’s crest. Where did she get it?”
Leon did not answer her.
“Maybe it is not as easy for you to wonder,” Corvessa said next, placing a caring hand on Leon’s shoulder, “but when you’ve lived as long as I have, the world runs dry of puzzles and secrets.”
“Even if what you say is the truth, what do you mean by bringing it to my attention? You and I both know I have done enough to weaken my credibility as a patriarch already. What good would it do to bring the murderer of a whole cult to Paris on my own ship and pretend I wasn’t aware? What kind of incredible fool would I look like?” He stopped himself from shouting and regained his cool, regal posture. “If Christopher was foolish enough to confront Thomas, it is his own mistake. If Thomas and his brother had differences to settle, so be it. I prefer they kill one another off so I don’t besmirch my own family’s name with another’s blood feud.”
“Then don’t concern yourself with Thomas, Leon,” Corvessa interjected.
“Then …” Leon paused and looked over one shoulder, turning back and hushing his voice. “Then what, I pray, should be my concern?” The clover on his cheek drew up near his angry eyes.
“If you want to impress your superiors, you ought to consider Miss Vasquez more thoroughly. What an advantage it would be for the daughter of Gabriel Vasquez to be wed to a Beaumonte! After all, isn’t that what Mr. Barnes was after? Too bad he was not half the man you are. He may have been something great.” Her eyes narrowed and her seductive lips spread in a smile, wisps of her fiery hair catching the glow of her emerald eyes. Stepping around Leon, Corvessa said no more, swinging her hips and dragging her nails along the hull of the ship on her way to the boarding ramp.
Paris, at the time, was teetering over the edge of an uprising. The axe wouldn’t fall on the necks of the ruling authorities for two more years, but the painful tension in the city sparked many a fight between historically non-confrontational clans and cults, namely the Black Coat Society and the Paris Clan. Henriette Petit and Arnaud Beaumonte successfully maintained good relations between immortals in Paris for
many decades, following a sordid century of violence. The House of Roses, a strictly all-female cult of vampires headed by Corvessa, had never participated in any inter-societal wars as long as they had held territory in Paris, but it was due to their isolationist tendencies. No one meddled in their affairs, and they didn’t meddle in anyone else’s, at least, not when anyone was paying them attention. On the rare occasion when the Roses caused trouble, the offense was brief and always masterfully covered up. Corvessa’s presence among the Roses granted them unspoken infallibility. No cult has ever shown an interest in reprimanding Corvessa, lest they be retaliated against. Though her cult is comprised of the truest vampires, by heritage, Corvessa’s cult has never been heralded as the paradigm of vampire society. Rather, the Black Coat Society of Paris owns that right. Though it is known abroad for having produced radical and unsuccessful satellite cults, the Society is historically the most docile of modern vampire cults. Their relations with the French have been impressively stable, and it is difficult to find instances of hostility between the Society and mortals, especially while it was under the rule of the Beaumonte family. However, when Molly and Thomas landed in Le Havre, a visiting clan had already arrived in Paris, and the law of the land was changing.
As far as what happened to Molly and Thomas in Paris, all I can say is that they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that Gabriel Vasquez should have known better.
Geoffrey Mylus,
June 25, 1833
****
When Le Fils Courageux landed in Le Havre, no one asked questions. Leon was the first to meet the authorities, and after gilding their palms he accompanied Tom to the lead coach at Tom’s request, whereupon Corvessa quickly joined him. Molly, stewing, chose to ride in the next coach with Leon, wanting nothing to do with the red-haired woman. She also intended to ask Leon about his candidacy for patriarch of the Society, and more important, about Christopher Barnes.
Leon, as if he were anticipating her questions, directed Molly to his coach and made certain they were comfortably alone. Molly didn’t mind. Leon smiled politely and she answered with her own, sitting across from him and folding her hands in her lap, Thomas’s ring glowing in the dark.
“That’s interesting,” Leon remarked, nodding at the little ring.
“This? Yes, an unusual piece of jewelry. My father made it,” she said, turning over her hand and changing the subject. “I wonder, Mr. Beaumonte, when is it that your title becomes official?”
“What do you mean?” he asked as the coach began to move, and the docks of Le Havre melted away from the windows as storefronts took their place.
“I mean, when is it that you become patriarch? Perhaps you said before, but I am not certain if you meant that the ceremonies preceded or followed the inauguration,” Molly clarified, keeping her eyes on his, wondering why he would not easily disclose the details of the matter.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I mustn’t have been clear before,” he began, warming up the strings of his cello voice. “I and three others are candidates for patriarch. Well, two others. One of the former candidates passed away not long ago. While the opening ceremonies take place, the Society will consider each of us and decide who will succeed the previous patriarch, based upon heritage and current standing with the Society.” His words formed perfectly when he spoke, and even though Molly felt something was missing, she couldn’t detect what it was because of the richness that distracted her from it.
“Oh, I must have just assumed that you would inherit the position, because …” Molly wove her words around and around her point, but was delicate about mentioning Arnaud.
“Because of my father? Yes, normally you would be correct. But”—his voice struck a weak chord—“because my family’s lineage is nearly run out and I haven’t chosen a wife, the Society’s laws dictate that alternative candidates must be considered if they are of proper age and of equitable standing as I.” For the first time since meeting her, Leon’s eyes broke contact with Molly’s, if only for a fraction of a second, before his voice warmed up again and the clover mark on his face perked up as he smiled, cheeks pushing the chocolate waves of hair from his face.
“I can only assume you haven’t found a suitable woman. It would surprise me if you were unable to persuade one to share your governing duties with you, all things considered,” Molly said smoothly, evoking another one of Leon’s smiles.
“You’re too kind, Miss Bishop. No, I’m afraid I’ve been away too often to have been at leisure to do more than browse the many eligible women whom I’ve considered from time to time.” His hands moved about slowly and gently when he spoke, accenting the subtle change in tone from syllable to syllable, conducting his phrasing.
“So, Thomas,” Corvessa began, situating herself opposite him in the lead coach, “How does it feel? Fame, I mean.” She sighed and the air in the cab cooled, smelling of dried flowers.
“Fame? Who’s been talking about me?” he replied, raising an eyebrow and relaxing in his seat, wondering if the cold sensation on the back of his neck was the seat or the dreigher.
“Well, the Crowe family now has something of a place in Black Coat history, in case you thought no one had heard of your escapades in Barbados.” When she smiled her pointed little teeth pressed into her bottom lip at the corners.
“Oh, so you mean how does it feel to be infamous?” Thomas corrected her, noticing the electricity that popped in her eyes when he spoke. It was the kind that livened up her eyes and made her sway in her seat like an infatuated cobra.
“To be quite forward, Thomas, you were invited along on this trip because the Society is not pleased with you. I’m sure you are aware. We both know you haven’t lived this long because of your belief in others’ altruism and honor.” When she said ‘honor,’ she flipped her hand as if to throw the word out the window.
“Certainly not,” he agreed, suddenly antsy, but coolly maintaining the illusion that he was aware of the conspiracy.
“I wonder what it is you have devised for your sojourn in Paris, and if Miss Bishop is part of that scheme,” she thought aloud. The coach hit a bump and Tom felt a light pulse against the backs of his eyes.
“Why wouldn’t she be?” he countered, keeping his calm.
“Oh, you mean … So you weren’t aware after all?” Corvessa laughed, holding a hand to her mouth and leaning back in her seat, folding one leg over the other. Tom feigned a grin, terribly confused. “Come now, Thomas, we aren’t that naive are we? How well do you know Miss Bishop? I wager I know more than you!”
“Is that right?” Tom hoped Corvessa would just let it go. His discomfort was escalating and worse, the dreigher was enjoying it.
“What about that name? Bishop. Where did it come from?” She folded her arms and waited for his reply.
“Her uncle, Samuel. It was his last name.”
“Her uncle! Ha! Oh, Thomas, it is no wonder, then.” Corvessa sighed and looked out the window, shaking her head, emptying her lungs of laughter before turning back to him. “Samuel Bishop may have looked after her, but he was no relative of hers. Gabriel Vasquez knew the man and passed her off to him when he stopped doing business with the Society in London. He was afraid of retaliation, so he left her in the care of someone who was still in good standing. It was a stupid thing to do, considering the London Society had every intention of keeping her close. Samuel left for the country and kept quiet about her, not wanting the Society to marry her to some centuries-old, batty patriarch. When the underworld found out, Samuel made a point to marry her off to a violin-maker from London, and off she went to the colonies. He knew she would be safe in a place where the Society did not exist, and because of the laws that forbade immortals from breaking mortal marriage rights.”
“That’s absurd. Molly would have been aware of anything like that, and I would have known all of this long ago,” Tom argued, arms crossed. His eyes gleamed yellow.
“Absurd? Special efforts were made to keep Lucia in the dark. It was conven
ient that the daughter of Gabriel Vasquez had no knowledge of her identity. And that is not half the story! Christopher Barnes was directed to watch Samuel and to make sure Lucia’s whereabouts were known at all times. Luckily for him, a young werewolf tramp gave him the chance to claim her for himself. Lucia Vasquez made it to Charleston, but Eli Wilks didn’t, did he, Thomas?” The dragon eyes bore down on Tom, watching as her venomous words did their work. “When Lucia ran away from Charleston, Mr. Barnes happened to be waiting in port, and he was very happy to help a poor girl in need of a home.” She couldn’t help but smile, watching as Thomas came apart from the inside out. Again she struck. “Why did Christopher come looking for her in Spain? Why did Leon Beaumonte, so close to seizing the right to his father’s title, come for the two of you on the eve of his destiny?”
“Why are you telling me all this? What have you to gain by upsetting the Society’s glorious conspiracy? Tell me that.” It was Tom’s last chance to catch her in a bluff. Little whispers filled his ears, and he ignored them.
“I don’t care one way or another if Leon takes his father’s place. My cult will thrive no matter what happens to the Beaumonte family or the Black Coat Society. I just think it would be a shame for Thomas Crowe to be put down by Leon Beaumonte. You are as strong as they come, Thomas. Other cults say the werewolf is a breed doomed to extinction, but I disagree. I, the first of my kind, have survived for ages so long past that other immortals’ legacies pale into moments. You are a survivor. That is what you and I have in common. I can only imagine what we could accomplish if you could stomach it to set down your pride …” She leaned toward him, softening her voice and touching his face, “… and learn to feel more compassion for someone who is like you—alone, powerful …”
Tom’s vision dulled, and the whispers grew louder. He didn’t hear what Corvessa was saying, forgetting where he was for a moment. A pulse rocked the backs of his eyes. As if she felt it, Corvessa backed away, but said nothing of it. The two were silent for a moment—Tom, consumed in feelings of betrayal; she, awaiting the sweet onset of his anger and trust.
The Lore Series (Box Set): All 3 Books In One Volume Page 39