Graves of Retribution

by Lina Gardiner

  When he pulled his T-shirt out to look at it, he saw it had been ripped to shreds.

  “Don’t worry. You won’t even stand out. If your jeans had been ripped, you’d be even more hip.”

  “I liked this T-shirt, though. It was the one you bought me for Christmas last year.”

  She felt his comment deep inside her heart. As a vampire, should she feel so deeply for this man? Her love for him grew more each day. She owed so much to him. She’d like nothing better than to grab him and kiss him right now. But not here. They were probably still under surveillance.

  That fact made her a little more edgy. At home in New York, she’d sense the other vampires in her vicinity. Why couldn’t she sense them here? Strangely, these vampires had been able to sneak up on both sides of the bridge, and she hadn’t known they were there until it was almost too late.

  These vamps had skills the New Yorkers didn’t have.

  “Let’s go home, babe,” Britt said. “I’m feeling a bit of a draft.” He turned and she admired the lovely view of his Gluteus Maximus, where the back of his jeans had a solitary rip. “Those vamps had extra-long fingernails. Like razors.”

  “You weren’t cut though?”

  He shrugged. “Guess not. Just my clothes.”

  “That’s odd,” she said, staring at his fine butt again. “You should have at least been scratched, rather than merely tested.”

  He stopped and grabbed her shoulders. “So, you’re thinking the same thing? I was hoping I’d been wrong about that. If I’m being tested, who’s doing it and why?”

  REGENT RIPPED HIS arm away from the hand that grasped him. After the previous demon outbreak in the city, he was surprised anyone could even sneak up on him since he was always on guard these days.

  “What do you want?” he said quickly, turning his head to see who’d grabbed him.

  Sinclair Longina, a squat man with short bushy hair, had managed to come up behind him. “I want you to stay away from my daughter. I don’t care if she is your sister; she needs me, not you. You’ve caused more trouble than you know by coming here and putting ideas in her head.” He’d squinted at Regent and pursed his lips so hard, they looked puckered.

  “I have every right to spend time with my siblings. I’m sorry if you don’t like it.”

  “No, you’re not sorry,” Sinclair said, wheezing just a little as if he’d been running. “But you will be sorry if you don’t leave her alone.” At that, he turned and walked away.

  Regent watched Sinclair’s progress as he marched away with a slight limp. He considered calling out to ask him to explain what he meant, then, sighing, decided to let the man go.

  Nothing good could come from further bickering tonight. He rubbed his wrist. Plus, the old guy had an impressive grip.

  Chapter Fifteen

  NO FURTHER AHEAD with an understanding of why he’d been attacked last night, Britt showered and got ready for whatever was on their agenda tonight. He wore his leathers just in case they found themselves under attack again.

  Jess came out in her leather outfit, too.

  His eyes were drawn to her impressive shape. He loved everything about her, but her body, in that outfit, always drove him to distraction.

  “I think I’ve said this to you before, sweetie, but my eyes are up here.” She grinned.

  She hadn’t had her sustenance yet, and she wouldn’t want him mauling her until she’d been fed. She’d never take the chance of biting him out of hunger.

  He’d like to have a few emotions in hand right now. He grinned at the thought and imagined her naked and pliant in his bed. Very pliant.

  Damnation! He paced back and forth in the living room. Either he was going to have to take her to bed, or they’d have to get out of here quickly because the only thing he had on his mind right now was how he’d satisfy her.

  He fantasized about the things they could do for another few minutes while she finished and washed up. But when she came toward him, obviously the last thing on her mind was sex. She wore that determined look he knew so well.

  They needed to find out why they’d been targeted last night and why the vampires had only fought him.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  “Always,” he said, fighting the urge to take her into his arms. Or just take her.

  He gritted his teeth. He had it bad tonight.

  “Later,” she said to him. “I promise.”

  His eyes widened. “Can you read minds now, too?”

  She looked solemn, but a twinkle in her eyes gave her away. “It’s the intensity you have when you watch me,” she said. “It’s a dead giveaway.”

  “Ha ha,” he said. “Dead giveaway. Funny.”

  She bit her lip and adjusted her leather bustier, making those luscious mounds jostle just a little. Damn, he had to gain some control over his testosterone tonight. He thought about the time Morana had tricked him into believing she was Jess, how she’d kissed him.

  “Crap!” he said, then suddenly realized he’d vocalized his disgust. That had been the best virtual cold shower he’d ever come up with.

  Jess didn’t question his comment--she was waiting for him near the door when the phone rang. Smiling at him, she walked over and an­swered it.

  “Hello,” she said, mouthing Regent’s name. “Really?” When her expression turned serious and her eyes widened, he managed to tear his gaze off her body and pay attention to her. “What?”

  Britt focused on the Jess’s comments now.

  “Holy hell!” she said. “What does that mean?”

  Regent’s voice sounded like a chipmunk in a constant stream from where Britt stood. He had no idea what Jess’s brother was saying, but the expression on Jess’s face told him it had to be monumental.

  JESS HUNG UP the phone and remained silent for several seconds before she spoke. “You’re not going to believe this.” The conversation had definitely been a shocker, at least for her. “Regent just told me that Sinclair is a Watcher.”

  “A what?”

  She frowned at him. If he had angelic DNA, shouldn’t he know this stuff? “An angel who watches over humans.”

  “He can’t be . . . he just can’t be!” Britt said, obviously having trouble digesting her words.

  “I know, but apparently he is—according to Morana, of all people. And get this—she told Regent she was a vampire from a baby. Sinclair helped her to grow.”

  “How can that be?” Britt asked. “That would mean that you too should have been a—?”

  She nodded vigorously. “No wonder Morana hates me. I didn’t become one until I’d turned twenty-nine. I got to be human before my heart and soul were forever changed.”

  “I’m not even going there,” he said. He disagreed with her comment, but he was in love and a little bit delusional when it came to her. He didn’t see the darkness in her, the huge flaws she thought she had.

  “If we’re twins, how could Morana have been a vampire, while I remained human?”

  “It sounds to me as if someone might’ve been trying to bring the prophesy into being back then, but somehow you escaped. They had to wait a long time for the two of you to find each other again, though.”

  “I’m beginning to believe that wasn’t an accident either,” Jess said. “Whoever sent Regent to Paris must have known I’d follow. It wouldn’t be hard to learn that I’d been with him for years—until you came along.” She winked at him. “They must’ve known we’d meet Morana here in Paris, too. I imagine it had been orchestrated from the beginning and we fell for it. What if someone has been manipulating our lives from the moment we arrived here?”

  “What about Morana?” Britt asked. “Do you think she’s in on it? And does it have anything to do with you both being the same age? Especially since she was a vampire as a baby. How�
�d you both end up the same age? By chance—or by design?”

  Jess gasped. “The prophesy! We are being manipulated. But by whom?”

  Britt rubbed the back of his neck. “There are a few people we could add to a list—Vlad, Sinclair, Calmet, Morana.”

  “I’m not sure about Morana. Regent said she was really shaken by the revelation about Sinclair. She’d had no idea before this.”

  “And don’t forget what this means—he’s the same as Calmet,” Britt breathed. “I surely don’t feel the benevolence in him that I felt from Calmet.”

  “That answers your question, then, doesn’t it? You can feel the difference in them, whether they’re good or bad. Maybe that’s one of your special gifts.”

  “I’m not positive about that, my love, but I definitely know Sinclair isn’t someone I’d put on my friend list,” Britt said.

  That suddenly made her heart pinch. Friends? Since he’d been with her, he’d had no time for friends. It didn’t take much to let that thought inflate the darkness inside and threaten to swamp her. It was her fault he was alone. Most days, he didn’t even talk to a human unless Regent or Sampson came to visit. Or, if he got a call about a dead body from Veronique. Depressing. How did he cope?

  Unaware of her sudden morose thoughts, Britt continued. “This news just creates more questions, doesn’t it?” he said. “We need to find out about your birth parents, and we need to discover how Morana ended up as a vampire while you remained human. Was it just a coinci­dence? Or was it deliberate?”

  “It’s not like there’s any medical data we can extract from,” she said. “There’s no way to find out.”

  “I bet Sinclair knows either what happened or how it happened,” Britt said. “If he took Morana from her cradle, he has to know more than he’s telling.”

  Jess held her breath while she considered that, and the excitement grew inside her like a helium balloon about to burst. “You’re right. He should know.” He must know!

  “Then why is he keeping it a secret?”

  Jess’s chest tightened. “He could have any number of reasons. We’ll probably never know the truth.”

  “And, unfortunately, we know there are depraved vampires out there who will vamp a baby as quick as an adult. Yet somehow, you were protected.”

  That brought back the horrible memory of his ex-wife biting a baby named Sephina and making her a vampire. The sweetest little girl ever. Had Morana been like Sephina?

  Jess leaned against the island in the kitchen, detesting the fact that Britt had ever been exposed to vampires to start with. First his ex-wife turned vampire, and then her. Two women in his life were vampires. She bit the inside of her cheek. It was time to change the subject.

  “I have to say one thing about France,” she said, trying to lighten the topic. “It’s never boring. We thought we’d be homesick, but we’ve barely had time to breathe. At least we’ve made a difference here, Britt. We’ve helped the Parisians escape demons, whether they know it or not. And, we can cope with whatever else is being thrown at us.”

  “I promise we’ll get to the bottom of your birthright, too.”

  “Morana won’t like it,” she said.

  “Tough. As her twin, you have as much right to the information as her,” Britt said.

  Jess’s gaze softened on him. “Have I told you how much you mean to me, lately?”

  “No. I think you should start here,” he said, pointing to his lips.

  REGENT STARED AT the ancient book he’d found at the Palais des Papes in Avignon last month—a book he felt he’d been led to. Along with the raven symbol, it had to mean more than a call to arms for the vampires in the Order of the Revenant. It meant something special, and somehow, he was supposed to find what.

  That made him even more suspicious about Vasilli’s arrival in Paris, especially now that he felt he was getting closer to an answer. Regent would have to be more careful, because he didn’t trust the man, Cardinal or not. Did the Church have any idea how unscrupulous Vasilli could be?

  Probably not.

  On the other hand, Regent had been a priest and a vampire hunter for decades, so who was he to talk?

  He stared hopelessly at the book. He was just about to close it and walk away when he noticed a curled end on the inside book cover. It was old—the glue might have dried up and the page had curled. He looked closer. The paper on this side of the book cover was thicker than the back cover.

  Dare he pull back the paper to see if there was anything inside? He hated to ruin this priceless antique book. Still . . .

  He got a letter opener and slid it along the seam, and it opened easily. As he’d suspected, there was something inside, a yellowed sheet of paper. He picked up the book and gave it a little shake. The paper fluttered out onto the table. Thankfully, he’d done very little damage to the book itself. In fact, he could apply just a dab or two of glue and no one would ever know it had been opened.

  He picked up the phone and called Sampson. He wanted someone else to witness the opening of the paper.

  He paced back and forth, looking out the living room window every few seconds. It seemed to take forever for Sampson to arrive, while in reality it had only been ten minutes.

  Sampson rapped quickly then opened the door, rubbing his hands together. “Where’s this paper you told me about?”

  “It’s on the coffee table.” Regent pointed at it.

  Sampson carefully picked it up and looked it over. When he tore his gaze from the page, his eyes glistened in excitement. It was written in the ancient vampire dialect, but it was obviously a key code—Sampson would be the only person able to translate it.

  “This might be it, Regent. The honest-to-God key to the book and the scrolls you and Sampson have been trying so long to decipher. Gaston only managed to decipher the graph that listed the Order of the Bourgeoisie, but with this, we might be able to read the whole thing.” He turned the page over and saw the raven drawing on the back.

  “It’s very similar to the old painting in the Louvre, but it also has similarities to the new painting, too. It’s got elements of both. Wonder what that means?”

  “Feel like visiting the Louvre?” Sampson asked checking the time on his watch. “I haven’t had time to critically look at the old painting since Gaston found its location. I’d like to do that right now, if you’re up for it.”

  “Great idea. Let’s go.” Sampson drove while Regent called Gaston on his cell phone with their latest news.

  “I’m still at work, but I can meet you at the main doors and escort you both to the artwork,” Gaston said.

  “Wonderful, see you in five minutes,” Regent said and hung up.

  As promised, Gaston was there to meet them when they arrived. He led them straight to the painting.

  They rounded a corner, and dead ahead, a man dressed in black, wear­ing a balaclava, stood on one of the benches in order to yank a frame off the wall.

  Gaston shouted, “He’s stealing the old painting, too.” Gaston ran to a side exit.

  Regent guessed he was going to pull an alarm.

  Meanwhile, he and Sampson were standing in the hallway con­nected to the exit—the only escape route for the thief to take. When the thief spied them, he widened his gaze. His eyes were black, and he had fangs. Huge fangs.

  The painting came off the wall, and as big as it was, it fit under the vampire’s arm.

  “What should we do?” Sampson said.

  “Get out of his way!” Regent grabbed Sampson’s arm and jerked him next to the wall. The vampire went straight for them. Glowering, he raised one hand above Sampson’s head just as an alarm went off.

  With the loudest alarm Regent had ever heard blaring and a killer vampire looming over them, Regent still had to push his fingers into his ears against the noise. His sto
mach dropped when security gates began closing all around them—trapping them inside with this massive vampire out for blood.

  “Oh God, please don’t let us be stuck with this vampire,” Sampson muttered, his eyes still glued to the fist that had threatened to crush his skull moments earlier.

  Luckily, the beast was just as concerned about the gates closing.

  He raced toward the lowering gate, rolled underneath it and to freedom before it had blocked off his exit. With vampiric strength he wrenched the exit door off its hinges and was gone before either of them could take a calming breath. Leaving them caged inside the security gates.

  “The painting’s gone,” Regent said in a monotone voice, probably in shock after his near-death experience, and embarrassed that he was out of breath from fear.

  “Why did the vamp steal it?”

  “Why, indeed?” Regent said, sliding down until he was sitting on his haunches with his back against the wall. “You might as well get com­fortable, Sampson. We’re going to be stuck in here for a while. And after that, the cops will need to speak to us, I imagine.”

  Sampson obviously had no desire to rest because he paced around the enclosure like a lion in a cage. Regent had just learned something new about his friend. He didn’t like enclosed spaces, even if he could see through the bars.

  “Why would the vampires want the painting?” Sampson repeated, almost to himself.

  Regent considered that question. “Maybe they’re doing the same thing we are? Trying to decipher it?”

  “But to what end?”

  “Whatever it is, it can’t be good.”

  Two men in uniforms approached the gate from the south hall. Gendarmes? “We’re American citizens,” Regent said right away. “Gaston Breau can verify that for you. He works here. In fact, he set off the alarm in order to try to catch the thief who stole a painting.” Regent got to his feet and waited next to Sampson while the gates rose.

  Only, Gaston didn’t come around the corner. Where was he?

  The two men grabbed Sampson and Regent by their arms and whisked them outside into the dark, where a van waited for them with the back door open, ready for them to be tossed inside.