“And who are you?” Regent asked the blond, blue-eyed stranger. He was extremely tall when he stood and helped Sampson to his feet.
“You are guests in my home. I’m sorry you ended up here,” he said. “I’m afraid it was a miscommunication.”
“Does that mean you keep others in these cells?” Blue light or not, this man kept people locked up in his home.
When he vehemently shook his head, not a hair moved. “Hardly ever.”
Regent wanted to quiz him more about that, but right now, all he cared about was the fact that he’d cured Sampson and they weren’t going to be kept in a cell any longer. His stomach rumbled. They hadn’t been fed, either.
“You didn’t give me your name,” Regent reminded.
“I’m sorry, Father Vandermire. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He held out a large hand. “My name is Calmet. Joseph Calmet.”
Regent’s mouth dropped open at the same time as Sampson’s. So, Boyer had been telling them the truth. “Joseph Emanuel Calmet, the famous artist from the seventeenth century?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard that time is relative,” he said, grinning. “You must both be starving. I have a meal prepared upstairs.”
Sampson acted as if he’d never been injured, let alone near death, a moment ago.
Calmet led them both into an elevator, and they ascended quickly.
The scent of a hot meal overtook any other questions Regent had at the moment. He hadn’t eaten since they’d been taken. The dining room table hosted a turkey dinner with all the fixings.
Sampson sat next to Regent while Calmet took the head of the table and Boyer served everyone but Calmet, then seated himself as well. Boyer and Calmet chatted about mundane things, including even the weather, while the two men ate.
Regent kept checking Sampson to make sure he was okay. He’d been sure his friend would die. But it seemed Sampson no longer remembered any of that.
Maybe it was for the best.
Joseph Emanuel Calmet was a Fallen angel with a very long lifespan. Regent frowned. But if he was a Fallen one, why couldn’t he eat his meal?
Did that mean he was one of the originals and not the progeny of the Fallen?
He’d like to ask a million questions, but for some reason, those questions wouldn’t leap from his brain to his tongue.
Maybe Calmet had a hand in that, too.
Chapter Twenty-One
BRITT WAITED FOR Morana to come around. It took longer than he’d thought it would, but as soon as her glazed eyes regained normalcy, he offered her his hand to help her get up, but she slapped it away.
“Don’t bother helping me now. You didn’t lift a finger when that vampire was forcing himself into my mind.”
“He wouldn’t have done it if you’d just told them where you saw Regent disappear.”
She pushed off the ground and brushed off her white, skintight slacks and blouse. “I couldn’t do that.”
“Why not?” He didn’t like her, but for some reason, he felt sorry for her right now.
“Because Sinclair is involved. I don’t know how, but I’m not going to put him at risk unless I know what the outcome will be.”
She could’ve knocked him over with a feather. “You really do care for him, then?”
She made a scoffing sound. “Something like that.”
Okay, whatever her reasons, she wanted to protect Sinclair. Maybe she had some redeeming qualities, after all. For Jess’s sake, he hoped so.
“I’ll go now if you’re sure you’re okay,” he said.
“No way! I’m coming with you. They’re going to the place Regent disappeared. I might have been out of it, but I heard the address and I know exactly where that is. I need to be there, too.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea right now, Morana. Jess might never forgive you for not helping us find her brother. She loves him. I know you don’t have any understanding of that word, but Jess does.”
“Big deal! Tell her to suck it up and act like the vampire she is.” Morana started down the street while Britt followed.
He paced along just behind her. She looked back a couple of times, surprised that he’d been able to keep up with her.
“What are you, anyway?” she asked finally. “There’s no way you’re human, because you’d never be able to follow me.”
“If I’m not human, what else could I be?” Britt said. “I’m not a vampire.”
She stopped walking for just a second and stared hard at him. “No, you’re not. But I felt that blue light you flashed from your fingertips in the street that night. What happened to you? Did you get bitten by a spider, or irradiated in some weird lab experiment?”
“Apparently, you’ve watched a movie or two,” he said.
“I didn’t watch them,” she said. “Sinclair did. I was just stuck there with him when I was a teen. He wouldn’t let me out.”
“He didn’t trust the vampire inside you? Is that what you’re saying? If so, he might have done you a favor.”
“Think so?” She laughed cynically and started walking again.
She’d just told him a little bit about her life. Sinclair had kept her inside when she was raw and unbridled. He hadn’t let her loose on the city.
“Shh,” she said. “We’re almost there.”
They rounded a corner, and Britt scanned the area for Jess. She was nowhere to be seen. “Where are they?”
“We took a shortcut. They’ll probably be here in a few minutes,” Morana said with her hands on her hips. She scanned one of the buildings.
“Father? Are you there?”
Sinclair? She expected him to be hiding in that old building? Why would he do that?
A weird mechanical noise filled Britt’s head. He covered his ears, though Morana seemed unaffected.
“Get out of here,” a reedy voice called from the shadows. “You’re going to give me away.”
“There are others coming, Sinclair,” she said in a stronger voice, and this time, she didn’t call him father.
“Who?”
“Vlad, Veronique LaFontaine, and my sister.”
The air rippled with blue and purple light, almost as if the Northern Lights had lit up Paris. Britt felt them as palpably as he’d just seen them.
“I can’t believe you’d lead them to me. If you knew how important this is . . .” he said, stepping out of nothing and becoming visible.
That surprised Britt. Suddenly, Sinclair was standing practically in front of them.
“I didn’t lead them here,” Morana said. “They were coming to find Regent with or without me. They had a vampire force himself on me, and they got the information from my mind. I just managed to take a shortcut here before Vlad’s vampires tracked him to this location—the very place I saw Regent disappear.”
“It won’t do them any good. They’ll never find him,” Sinclair said. “If he disappeared here, he’s being held by an omnipotent Ancient.”
“Who might that be?” Jess asked, arriving on the scene and striding up the street with Vlad and Veronique close behind.
“None of your business,” Sinclair said.
Jess approached Britt with her hands on her hips—the fact that he and Morana had managed to get here first hadn’t impressed her. Her anger permeated even his tough hide. He suddenly felt as if he’d let her down by getting here first with her sister. But he’d been helping Morana, for Jess’s sake. She’d realize that eventually.
Vlad eyed Sinclair with curiosity. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.”
Sinclair glared at him, then said, “Not long enough, if you ask me. Traitors like you should be taken out and burned alive.”
Britt’s muscles tightened. “In a steel drum, for instance?”
&nbs
p; Sinclair sneered at him but didn’t respond.
“Not a surprise, since he’s one of the olde ones,” Vlad said. “Some olde ones like him want to eradicate any of us with ideas of our own.”
Everyone gasped, including Morana.
“Surely you knew that?” Vlad turned on her.
“No. I damn well didn’t know that. Besides, he’s not a vampire,” she said in a choked voice.
“Unfortunately, not all of the olde ones are vampires. This one is a Watcher. They’re wicked, and they’re powerful. They like to lord over vampires whenever possible. That’s why he doesn’t like me. He knows I have little use for anyone who tries to force my kind to bend to his ways.”
Morana turned on Sinclair. “You’ve been mixed up with the olde ones all along? You pretended to want to place me as their leader when all along, you were already in a position of power over them?”
He shrugged, but showed no shame. “I do my part.”
“You do your part? Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you.”
He laughed. “You only want to usurp the power of others for your own benefit. You can’t help it—you come by it naturally. It’s a family trait.”
“ARE YOU SAYING you know about our family?” Jess said.
“More than you’d ever want to know,” Sinclair spat. “Now go away, all of you. You’re interfering in matters that don’t concern you. There are much worse things than losing a brother.”
Jess turned and looked at the building. It seemed all roads were leading here.
Why was Sinclair monitoring Calmet’s home? Calmet had stayed hidden for generations to protect himself, yet somehow Sinclair Longina had found him.
But, finding him and getting inside had to be two different things, or Sinclair wouldn’t be spending his time on this street.
If Regent had been taken inside, surely he’d be safe? If only Morana had told her where Regent had disappeared, she wouldn’t have spent the last tortured forty-eight hours trying to find her brother. She glared at Morana again.
It seemed the vampires wanted Regent for their own purposes. Maybe the prophesy wasn’t correct about vampire twins? Maybe it was more about the brother of the twins? With any luck, Calmet had offered her brother sanctuary from the vampires hunting him.
Sinclair had been watching her closely. Suspiciously. Maybe because she suddenly didn’t appear so anxious about her brother’s safety. She might have given too much away.
She glared at him, letting him know she was a vampire, not a weak human wearing her heart on her sleeve.
He turned his attention on Vlad. “I’ll be reporting you to the council,” he said. “You’ll be in trouble for interfering in council business.”
“How is this council business?” Vlad said, stepping up and shoving Sinclair with one hand.
He suddenly looked old and easily hurt. He stumbled a bit, and everyone gasped at the sight of a big strong vampire picking on an old man.
“Vlad, don’t,” Veronique said.
“No, don’t hurt my father,” Morana added quickly, then made a face when everyone stared at her.
They all backed off and let the old man alone. Sinclair had become hunched and feeble before their eyes . . . until he laughed and stood straight, his aura of weakness suddenly dissipating. He looked younger and stronger than Jess had ever seen him.
Morana gaped at him. “All those times I hurt you?” she said.
“I didn’t want to ruin your fun. You have no idea of my strengths, but I’ve put up with your rants and evil ways because I had to. You were my task, and I’ve fulfilled it to the Nth degree. I will never be faulted for failing to give you exactly what you needed to become the vampire you are today. If you’d been left with your siblings, you’d be some kind of simpering half-human with too many feelings. Your father didn’t want that for you. You are the special one, not Jess.”
“What are you saying? You knew my father?” Morana rushed at him, acting as if she might hurt him herself.
Jess started forward too, but halted when she realized Sinclair wasn’t going to hurt Morana. After all, he’d just admitted to having plans for her. He probably really did care for her in his own demented way. Then again, who knew if what he was saying was even true?
He had some weird abilities, but they could be smoke and mirrors for all she knew.
Wait a minute. She thought about Calmet’s abilities. They weren’t just smoke and mirrors. Was Sinclair like Calmet? Could he be the powerful Immortal she’d been told about? The ruler of the vampires?
“How is the council involved in any of this?” Vlad repeated, slowly backing away and taking Veronique with him. Vlad had been very clear in his belief that the council, the olde vampires, were pawns in the Immortal’s plans.
Veronique lurched forward as if she wanted to take matters in hand herself, but Vlad maintained a grip on her. He kept her with him while he continued to back away. The fact that he would actually back off told Jess that someone in the vampire council had enough power to frighten him into protecting the woman he loved.
“I’m not fooled by you, Sinclair. You’re just a bootlicker, aren’t you?” Jess said, suddenly aware that Sinclair might be powerful, but he couldn’t be the mastermind behind whatever was going on.
He was the one sent to watch Calmet, after all. The leader of the vampires wouldn’t lower himself to this task, surely? But who was the most powerful Immortal that Calmet had spoken of?
“Who do you work for?” Jess grated, and everyone turned and stared at her in shock.
“No one,” Sinclair shouted. “I do this of my own volition.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said, turning to Vlad. “Is this man the leader of the olde ones? Does anyone here think he could possibly be the leader?”
Vlad frowned in consideration, then started shaking his head. “You’re right. If he is, I’d be surprised. He has abilities, but I’d swear he’s not the man who terrifies the olde ones in Paris. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be standing here having this conversation. He’d have scattered us to the four winds by now.”
Sinclair narrowed cold eyes on Vlad and thumped his foot on the ground. The earth around them started to rumble and warp. For about two seconds, Jess wondered if they were about to be swallowed whole, but then everything settled again and the little show was over.
“That’s the best you can do?” Britt said with a sneer. “Morana, hold him there. We need to question him.”
Morana looked torn. “I can’t. He’s the only one who can create the medicine I need. It grounds me and allows me to be who I am.”
“Are you sure about that?” Jess asked. “It apparently keeps you tied to him so he can manipulate you for the purposes of the one he works for.”
“How did you know that?” Sinclair snapped.
“Just a good guess. But thanks for the verification,” Jess said. “Maybe we’ve all been manipulated, Morana. Otherwise, Regent, Britt, and I wouldn’t be here in France. Regent wouldn’t have been led to the book. And we wouldn’t have learned of the prophesy about twin vampires.”
“Who told you about the prophesy?” Sinclair shouted, then cringed when Morana actually clamped down on his shoulder. “Ouch!”
“Don’t pretend, old man. You can’t fool me any longer.”
“Jess is wrong about the drugs,” he said, deepening his tone for Morana’s ears, but Jess heard him, anyway. “They were created especially for you. I helped you grow because I love you. I’m your father in every way that matters, but we must keep that from the ruler.”
He actually wasn’t even a good liar. But then, why was he trying so hard to keep everyone talking. Why were they all still standing here?
Jess pulled Britt, Vlad, and Veronique into a scrum. “He’s deliberately keeping us here. He’s
up to something.”
“Should we go, or stay?” Veronique asked. “Merde, I wish I still had my team to back us up.”
“I have a team,” Vlad said. “And I don’t need a cell phone to call them to me.” He closed his eyes for a second. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.”
The ground rumbled just a little again, but this time it continued in a low-grade, bone-vibrating way. Some of the decaying buildings around them looked like they might even fall down.
Fear instantly flooded Sinclair’s irises. Obviously, the rumbling wasn’t from him this time. Someone, or something was coming.
Chapter Twenty-Two
REGENT FELT THE house reverberate and leaned forward in his seat at the dining room table. Calmet had both hands palms down and eyes closed for several seconds.
“It’s beginning, I’m afraid. I’d hoped to give you a little more information before your difficult task ahead,” he said, looking directly at Regent.
“I’m sorry? What can I do?”
“The book speaks to you, Father Vandermire. It called you to it, and it will either help you win this fight, or it will not. It all depends on whether you are worthy of its help.”
“The book?” Regent frowned at Calmet. “I thought you were the powerful one? You and the other Immortal?”
“Where do you think our power comes from? We are Watchers, and we have a code that is written in the book that you found. You thought it was for vampires, but it is not. It is a very ancient, important book with powers beyond human understanding.”
“But I don’t have it with me,” Regent said.
Calmet looked over his shoulder just as Regent and Sampson heard footsteps approaching. Regent knew it couldn’t be Boyer since he was still stoking the fire.
Gaston stepped into the room and bowed his head in Calmet’s direction, then stood straight again.
“Gaston again? I don’t understand,” Regent said.
“I’m sorry to have deceived you, Regent and Sampson,” Gaston said. “I’m more than an art restorer. Actually, I am Monsieur Calmet’s eyes on Paris. I serve as his aid.” Gaston pulled out Regent’s book, that he must have gotten from his apartment, and handed it to Regent.
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