Silenced by the Grave

by Lina Gardiner

  “Someone should buy you a dart board,” Jess said.

  Veronique straightened in her chair and motioned for them to take a seat. “Bonsoir,” she said. “I haven’t seen you in a while, Jess.”

  “But we’ve seen you, Veronique,” Jess said, almost regretting her blunt choice of words when Veronique’s expression turned instantly angry.

  “What are you saying?” she asked, a deep furrow forming between her brows.

  Britt took the chair next to Jess, keeping his expression blank. She didn’t blame him after what she’d just blurted out. That wasn’t like her.

  “We saw you with Morana last night, and Britt saw you go into the soap factory the other night.”

  At the mention of the soap factory, Veronique paled. “Quoi? What?”

  “I saw you go in and come back out a half hour later,” he said.

  “I was shopping for a gift,” she said vaguely, not even lying well.

  “Yet you didn’t have a bag when you came out,” he said softly.

  She looked cornered for a second. “So, you’re onto me.” She got up, walked past them, and shut the door, then returned to her seat. “I should have expected this. You two are too smart not to have figured it out.”

  “We haven’t exactly figured it out, but we want you to tell us what you’ve been doing with the vampires. Are you breaking the Pact?”

  “Mon Dieu!” she said. “Keep your voice down. I am not breaking the Pact. I am trying to keep it from imploding. There are things at work that you know nothing about. You can’t just come to France and think you can fix all of our problems. There are complex issues that need micro- handling. But often, our hands are tied by government bureaucracy. Someone needs to be on the inside in order to solve the issues before they get out of control.”

  “So you’re a spy?” Jess asked. “Is that what you’re telling us? A double agent?”

  A slow mottled flush crept up Veronique’s neck. “Of course, I’m not a spy,” she said, but the conviction in her words were lacking. “Well, not exactly.”

  “Does any of this have to do with the killings in the tunnels?” Britt asked.

  “Non. Not a thing,” she said, and unless she’d recently become a better actress than Jess suspected, she meant it.

  A pencil fell from its loose housing in the ceiling tile and landed on the desk in front of Veronique. She quietly moved it into place for the next volley, then pushed back her typically tousled hair. “I don’t know how much I should tell you. I’m out on a limb on this one, and I’ve been waging an internal war over who to share the information with.”

  “You share with Vlad, don’t you?” Jess said softly.

  Veronique’s mouth thinned, and she sighed. “You already know too much. Do you realize how dangerous that information could be to you? It could be a death sentence.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m already dead, and Britt’s able to take care of himself.” Jess hoped her words were clear enough.

  Veronique looked around her office. “We can’t talk here. Come with me,” she said, jumping out of her seat and leading them out of the police station.

  They followed her to a nearby common area. Veronique paced to a picnic table and seated herself. Britt and Jess sat on the seat opposite her.

  “What is it that’s so secret you couldn’t tell us in the station?” Jess asked.

  “There’s something going on in the vampire underground. A movement of sorts. We’re not quite sure what the agenda is, but we believe this group initiated the demon uprising last month. They’re also recruiting vampires who’ve been law-abiding citizens for generations and turning them onto live-feeding from humans. They want to go back to their roots, so to speak. That can only mean bad things for France.”

  “And Vlad and Morana are helping you with this?” Jess asked. “You’re sure Vlad’s not involved?”

  “Of course I am,” Veronique said, frowning. “What makes you think otherwise?”

  Jess bit her lip and held back the words that sprang to mind. Could it be the round table in his basement? The chanting, the vampires wearing masks? No. For now, she’d keep quiet.

  “Are you getting your information from Vlad, then?” Jess asked.

  “Partially. He is helping me. He’s actually volunteered to get information. To help put down the attempted uprising.”

  Jess knew the frown lines would be there before she even looked at Britt. His hands were fisted at his sides.

  “We believe this group is worming its way into every nook and cranny. They have sympathizers everywhere. We have a larger vampire contingent in France than you realize, and if they decide to go back to their old ways, we’ll be in very deep trouble,” Veronique said.

  Sometimes bad news threatened to lure Jess deeper into her inner darkness. “You’re talking about the Order of the Revenant, I assume? They’re planning on taking over,” Jess said.

  Veronique looked stunned. “How did you know about the Order?”

  “Believe it or not, we stumbled onto some information recently that has led us to the same conclusion.”

  “I don’t understand how this is possible,” she said. “Who told you? Surely not Morana?”

  “Definitely not Morana,” Britt said caustically.

  Jess frowned at him, and he leaned back in his chair and stopped talking.

  “We have our sources, Vee. After seeing you with Vlad and Morana, we weren’t sure we could trust you,” Jess admitted.

  “Well, thanks.”

  “But,” Jess said, “we wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, because deep down we knew you weren’t dirty. That’s why we’re here.”

  “That’s something to be grateful for, I guess,” she said, shaking her head wearily. “From now on, if you see me in a compromising situation, please know that I am working on keeping this country from imploding. Vlad is helping me, though he wouldn’t want that information to get out. It could be very bad for him if anyone knew.”

  “What about his room in the basement and his meetings with vampires?” Jess asked.

  Veronique sucked in a quick breath. “You are the vampire who broke into his office the night of the party!”

  Jess had the good graces to look slightly repentant. “I wasn’t sure what he was up to.”

  “Well, you can stop spying on him. He’s working with us. He has the ear of the olde ones, and he’s also been accepted into the Neo Order of the Revenant. The olde ones have their own version, and the two groups are competing against each other. The olde ones wouldn’t be very pleased to know Vlad was inside the Neo group. But he’s doing it to garner information. We think it’s the Neo Order that’s been involved in some pretty serious crimes in Paris, although we don’t have the proof to back that up yet. With their new and growing holdings, they might garner more power than they should have. We still don’t know what their agenda really is. That’s what he’s finding out now.”

  “I see,” Jess said, trying not to look at Britt and share a skeptical exchange. “And Morana?”

  “She’s been keeping an eye on the vampires in her club, albeit reluctantly.”

  “And what does she want in return?” Britt asked.

  Veronique sighed. “She wants to be involved in the new Hierarchy of vampires when the takeover happens. She believes that I have connections with Vlad and that I can help make it happen for her, if she helps me.”

  “That sounds like Morana,” Jess said.

  “We should work together on this, Jess,” Veronique said. “If you have information, you should share it.”

  Jess squirmed. “Can you give me more proof? Tell me who is involved.”

  “I’ll have to get back to you on that,” Veronique said. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to give you the evidence you need, but I will try to do so, if at all possible.”

  “Do it soon. I have the feeling you’re going to need all the help you can get.”

  JESS AND BRITT left shortly after that. On the
ir way to Regent’s apartment neither of them talked, both of them digesting Veronique’s news. Jess wanted to believe in her friend, but she had learned the hard way that trust is for saps.

  Regent looked tired when he opened the door but gave Jess a warm hug.

  She bit her lip but didn’t jump right into saying how worn he looked.

  “Hey, Reej,” Britt said, shaking the priest’s hand.

  “Come in, you two,” he said, shutting the door behind them and locking it.

  Jess quirked an eyebrow. It was an unusual thing for her brother to do. He never locked his place until he went to bed. Maybe he’d finally listened to her advice to be more careful.

  She missed their old digs in New York. She’d like nothing better than to sit in his old study, put her slippered feet on the corner of his desk, and talk—just the three of them.

  “Mind if I help myself to a beer?” Britt asked.

  “Please do,” Regent said, holding his hand up when Britt made for the fridge. “None for me, thanks. What have you two been up to tonight?”

  She told Regent about their latest findings, leaving out the part that Morana was in it up to her eyeballs.

  “Veronique already knew about the possibility of an uprising,” Jess said. “She’s still got secrets, but she says they’re things she’s bound by law to keep to herself.”

  “Understandable, I guess,” Regent said. “I’m often bound by my job to keep people’s secrets, and sometimes it’s a hard thing to do.”

  “Let’s hope she knows when she should share those secrets, so we can help her,” Britt said.

  The door opened, and Sampson stepped into the apartment with a briefcase in hand.

  He’d bought a Parisian tam, making him look like an artist returning from painting the Seine River. He was an artist in his own way, only in vampire genetics, not oils and acrylics.

  “Evening, folks,” he said, tucking the briefcase into the closet near the door and making for the kitchen to put on the kettle.

  “How are things, Sampson?” Britt asked.

  In other words, have you found anything at the Louvre?

  “Good, good. With Regent’s help, I even managed to check out the room that held you in its power, Jess.” When he finished puttering, he sat near her with his steaming mug in his hands. “The walls are covered with nearly invisible ancient vampire language. It’s hidden in plain sight.”

  “That explains a lot,” she said.

  “Who’s the artist?” Britt asked.

  “You might be surprised to hear this,” he said and tipped his head in thought. “Then again, maybe not. It’s Joseph Emanuel Calmet’s work.”

  “Not him again!” Jess said. “The book from the Palais des Papes was dated in the 17th century. Can it really be the same artist?”

  “Would you believe the twentieth century?”

  “No!” Regent said, leaning forward in shock.

  “Obviously, this guy, who apparently is still alive and living in France, knows how to use the language that we found in the vampire scrolls.”

  “Or maybe he’s a vampire himself?”

  “It’s possible. And if he’s using the language, he must have a key code to decipher our vampire scrolls. It seems as if France is a veritable treasure chest of information. Information I could have searched for my whole life and never found in North America,” he said, unable to hide the gleam of excitement in his eyes.

  “It’s dangerous here, Sampson. Don’t forget that.”

  “I won’t. I’ve actually hired a bodyguard,” he said. “Well, you hired a bodyguard for me, Jess. You gave me autonomy as to how to spend the money, and I figured it was necessary.”

  “Where is this bodyguard?”

  “He’s only on duty when I’m scrounging around the city, finding new information. There are a lot of vampires here,” he said.

  “So I’ve heard. But we’ve yet to see very many of them.” She glanced at Britt, suddenly feeling as if her abilities weren’t quite as good as she thought them to be.

  “They’re even more secretive here than at home,” Sampson said. “But turn over any stone, and there they are.”

  Jess shivered at the thought. She looked at Regent’s haggard face and wondered if he should also have a bodyguard, someone to keep an eye on him.

  “Have you found out where Calmet lives?” Britt asked Sampson.

  “No, but I’m getting closer, I think.”

  “Shouldn’t you be able to find out about him at the Louvre?”

  “I should,” Sampson said. “But honestly, when I ask about him, the staff looks at me like I’m crazy. It’s as if they don’t recognize the name, and they don’t seem to know the room is even there—like they’ve been mesmerized.”

  “That cinches it. Calmet is a vampire for sure,” Jess said.

  “Good chance of it.”

  “Very good chance of it,” Regent said, holding up the ancient book he’d found in the Palais de Papes. On the front cover of the leather- bound book, etched in gold were the initials JEC.

  AT NINE O’CLOCK that evening, Morana pushed her face into Sinclair’s. “Why didn’t you tell me you were involved with the vampires positioning to take power in France?”

  Sinclair was a strong man for his age, but most people couldn’t handle a vampire this close. “Where did you hear that?” he said.

  She’d squeezed it out of Veronique by enthralling her, but she ignored his question. What really ticked her off tonight was the fact that she’d learned he’d been a monk before he had become a Watcher. He should have told her that, too!

  He’d hate it if he knew she’d learned that from Veronique LaFontaine, because for some unknown reason, Sinclair hated the French police. And she hated that he’d never told her about any of this.

  He stared her down without flinching. He had guts for a human.

  She’d never seen him do anything even remotely religious—never a prayer over a meal or crossing himself. And, after all, he was the one who taught her to take the goats’ blood from their last few dying beats and mix it with his special herbs to keep her from becoming too feral. Maybe she needed to take a goat again because she felt particularly wild right now.

  “I’ve told you enough, Morana. There are aspects of my work that I can’t divulge without risking ejection from the society. It’s been that way for hundreds of years.”

  “If you loved me, you’d tell me anyway,” she said, hoping it would work on his parental weakness when it came to her. “For example, what do you really know about my biological parents?”

  “Nothing, of course. I know nothing.”

  Another lie. He always rubbed one eyebrow when he lied. She bit her lip and tried not to rip into him.

  “Why did you raise me? Why would you want a vampire as a daughter? Was it just to experiment on me? A new way for you to try your concoctions?”

  He inhaled sharply. “You’re crossing a line, Morana.”

  To stop from really hurting him, she shoved him, and he fell back onto a chair. At least he’d missed the tile floor.

  He might treat her like a daughter, but she was a damnable vampire, not some girly-girl he could screw around with. He had to watch his step, and lying to her was something she couldn’t abide.

  She’d just as likely rip him a new one if he didn’t give her what she wanted.

  Sinclair’s face twisted in pain, but he held his ground, and after straightening his position on the chair, he planted his hands on the padded arms, as if to stop her from throwing him anywhere else.

  “I’ve been working behind the scenes to get you placed amongst them, darling. It’s what I want for you, too. I wanted it to be a surprise. I wasn’t lying to you.”

  She planted her hands on her hips and stared at him without uttering a word.

  “We shouldn’t get our hopes up, though, because this group has been attempting to take power for centuries. On every occasion, they’ve failed, because they have powerful enemies. And, n
ow that the olde ones have sympathizers within the law system, it’s even trickier. If you really want to be a part of this, you have to understand the risks, and you must be patient.”

  “I’m not afraid of the olde ones. It’s time someone put them in their place—in the moldering ground with their antiquated ideas,” Morana said.

  Sinclair smiled lovingly at her. The idiot. His love for her knew no bounds, and he’d never really understood how dangerous she could be to him. He’d reared her, given her what she needed to sustain herself and to help her grow into womanhood. But she’d never loved him. She could never love him.

  Now, as if one human messing in her life wasn’t enough, she had a brother and a twin sister she felt nothing for, either. Irritating gnats buzzing around and causing trouble.

  “This group of vampires has a very secret society, darling. But I’m getting closer to having you initiated you into the group.”

  She forced a weak attempt at a caring expression. If he had ever given her the formula for the herbs that she’d become addicted to, she might have killed him a long time ago. And how the hell did he maintain his vitality and youthful appearance? Did it all come from his secret society? If so, she needed to find out more about them. She’d have a hard time tricking Sinclair into giving anything away—she’d been trying for years. He should have learned by now that whenever he let her down, she lost her temper with him.

  But he knew that, didn’t he? He knew she was a beast, but he still loved her. Foolish human.

  Suddenly, Morana felt more content than she thought possible for a vampire with a tainted soul. Hell, she wanted to be more than a member of this group. She wanted to rule it. The herbs helped keep her calm when necessary, but they also gave her extreme clarity of mind. If she played her cards right, she might have all the vampires kowtowing to her—and to her alone.

  Leaving him gasping for air, she slammed out of their house and jumped into her car.

  She parked just outside the city and walked the next three blocks. Her teeth grew as she strode along the sidewalk. The thrum of her vampire need built in intensity with every step she took closer to the city.

  She could rule here in France, and that idiot Veronique LaFontaine and her pet vampire Vlad could do little to stop her. It really pissed her off that LaFontaine had dared to call her to her home last night. Imagine attempting to keep her in check? Who did she think she was?