Stephan tried not to let his mouth fall open. “Wavena knew Bernoff?”
“She was one of his original patrons,” she said, looking at the canvas with her head cocked to the side. Similar to the mosaic technique used by humans, the were-cat artist Bernoff used small blocks to form a larger image, with each block its own miniature. Stephan swung the magnifying glass that accompanied any Bernoff work and shook his head in silent admiration.
“I’m coming back to spend some time with this,” he said.
“You can speak to the curator if you want. He’s been trying to do a description of it for years. There are over a thousand miniatures in that.”
Another twenty meters down, Estelle stopped and slid open a heavy barnyard-style door made of wood and bronze. He cocked his head. “Can vampires not touch iron?”
“We can. We didn’t use it because it’s ugly.” She pointed him in. “This is your room. I’m right next door. You’ve got Wi-Fi and everything you need. Call Jill at the front desk if you’re hungry.”
The room resembled a boutique hotel with an open-space office. “Is there a place to work out?”
“End of the hall. I’ll come get you after I talk with Wavena. Not sure how long it will take.”
With that she was gone.
Chapter 5
Stephan flopped on the bed. Estelle was being a bit brisk and he wasn’t sure how much of it was personally directed at him. Could be all. Could be some. Could be none.
A ray of sun came through the wide window and he jumped off the bed. Exercise. It was only a three-hour flight but he needed to move; working his body was key to clearing his mind. The gym was small but well-equipped, and Stephan ran through his workout without being disturbed. He twisted to re-rack his weights and then stopped in consternation as he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He looked beaten down. Stephan put the weights back, squared his shoulders and looked at himself for the first time in months. It was his face that he didn’t like; that haunted, sour expression.
Tom would have whacked that right out of him, literally thrown him some boxing gloves or a sword or some weird weapon he’d found online and worked him until he’d felt like himself again.
Except Tom was gone and Stephan hadn’t been able to find him. Six months and nothing. Not a sign. No one on Tom’s team had seen what had happened; the fighting had been too chaotic. He’d tried tracking Tom’s watch and phone but neither gave a signal. He almost wished he’d gone along with Tom last year when he’d wanted to microchip them all as a safety measure.
He’d dredged that area of the lake in case there was a body; he’d gotten dogs, but the smells had confused even bloodhounds. Isindle and Cormac Redoak had done the best they could to help, using their fey power to communicate with the trees and natural environment for clues. The muddle had beaten them, and they’d eventually had to admit defeat. Putting their pale hands on his shoulders, they’d empathized with his loss before leaving him with his anger and grief. Estelle had been there as well, and wordlessly accompanied him as he did a final round of the island, desperately looking for anything he might have missed. Her silent commiseration had helped steady him.
Still, he couldn’t give up. Tom was gone, but he wouldn’t rest until he’d found out what happened. He couldn’t handle deserting someone he cared about, not again. There had been too many losses, too many unsaid farewells. Tom was a comrade-in-arms, and even in the insanity that had been the Civil War his comrades had one inviolable rule: no one left behind. They’d all heard the stories of the atrocities that happened to the bodies of men left on the battlefield.
No one left behind. An image of a small boy and girl, clinging together, too shocked to cry came into his mind and he pushed it back, hard. He tried to never think of the day the slavers had come.
Those bloodred terrible days.
He avoided reflective surfaces on the way back to his room, but the multitude rang in his ears as though they sensed his discontent. Not helping. Washed and naked, he lay on the bed and stared out the window. There was a lot to deal with and that didn’t even include this new role working with Estelle. He frowned, wondering exactly what the role involved. And why him. Estelle was good friends with Caro, who was in charge of all the communications. They’d make better partners.
The door slid open. “Meeting’s ov—oh…” Estelle’s voice trailed off as she stared at him.
Holy shit. He fumbled for a pillow, thanking Christ he had been too depressed to jack off. “Don’t you knock?” he snapped.
“The door wasn’t locked.” He saw her pupils dilate and his cock snapped to attention. He pressed the pillow down harder. It didn’t help.
Estelle finally tore her gaze away. “Oh my God. I’m sorry.” She darted out, pulling the door shut as she went. Stephan crossed the room in two steps and locked it before leaning his head against the wood.
Then he laughed until he cried.
* * * *
Estelle heard the laughter coming from Stephan’s room, but she was too stunned to do much.
How could she have forgotten how good Stephan looked naked? He’d been lying with his arms tucked behind his head, and she’d seen the curve and indent of every muscle. He had a thin smattering of dark curly hair on his chest and she shut her eyes, remembering the sensation under her palms. Then…lower…
She took a deep breath and straightened up. This was awkward but they were friends. What’s a little nudity between pals? They’d had a fling, yeah, but they were adults—extremely long-lived adults—and perfectly able to deal with each other as collegial professionals. Colleagues.
Right. There had been a reason she’d gone bursting into Stephan’s room without thinking. She picked up the phone by the bed and dialed his room.
“I should have knocked,” she said without preamble.
“I should have locked the door.”
Estelle sat down on the bed and let his voice wash over her. A year ago when he’d called JDPR to make an appointment for Eric, it was his voice that had intrigued her, right from his first word. When he’d come back in the masque he used most often—tall with dark brown skin, hazel eyes and bone structure that would make an angel weep—she’d made sure he’d left the office with her number.
“It’s fine,” she managed to say. Better to get to the business part of the conversation. “I wanted to brief you about Wavena.”
The too-short interlude of seeing Stephan lying naked on the bed had driven the particulars of the meeting right out from her head. They came rushing back and she kicked at the floor, troubled.
“Right.” There was a pause. “It’s almost six. Let’s go for a walk before we eat. You can show me more of the compound.”
She brightened. “We can see the butterflies.” It was her favorite spot here.
“Meet you in five minutes.”
Estelle tidied her lipstick and stepped out to see a short, husky white man in Bermuda shorts waiting in the hall.
She wasn’t surprised to see Stephan was masqued, although she had no idea why he thought it necessary. The masquerada appeared to take on masques for specific, and generally obvious reasons. Miaoling, the head of the re-energized Pharos Council, did it to improve her battle technique and strategy. She said it helped her get in the correct mind-set and had recently spent an inordinate amount of time as a slightly built young Chinese man, Yangzei’s primary masque.
Was he testing her?
“Estelle.” Even as this new man, his voice kept the rich tone Estelle loved.
“How many of those can you be?” She indicated his new persona.
He glanced down. “I’m limited to male personas and can take on three, if I’m fully inhabiting them. I can also take on several other masques if the changes are only superficial.”
“Is that typical?”
“I’m considered strong.”
She frowned. “I remember Miaoling telling me the number of masques equals how high your status is.”
“To some. Eric’s fought hard against our predilection to determine status based on strength.”
“Not working?”
“Some people will always need to rank themselves and others.”
She led the way out and sagged as the heavy Florida mugginess fell on her. It was a relief to get under the shade of the canopied walk. Stephan laid his hand on one of the marble pillars that lined the walk and then spread his hand on his face to cool it. “Tell me what the meeting was about.”
Estelle’s heart buried itself in her guts as she thought of Wavena’s very unwelcome pronouncement. “I’m to be invoked.”
Stephan’s brows lowered. “What the hell does that mean?”
“She’s making me seneschal major.” Her mouth was paper-dry and she swallowed hard, seeing any semblance of a normal, stress-free life disappear. “Permanently.”
Chapter 6
“Congratulations.” The moment the words left his mouth, Stephan knew it was exactly the wrong thing to say. Estelle’s face stiffened and her red lips trembled. She inclined her head slightly, a queen accepting a tasteless tribute out of good manners.
“What? What did I say?” Wasn’t this good news? Isn’t this what she had spent her life training for?
“Nothing.”
“Estelle.”
She sighed. “I don’t want to do it.”
Luckily, some guardian being was keeping an eye on the situation, so he didn’t go bungling in with protests about how ridiculous she was being. Instead he said, “Why not?”
“No reason.” She crossed her arms.
Stephan allowed himself the very fleeting and ungenerous thought that the century-old vampire was behaving like a child. “What did Wavena say?”
Estelle stood up and pulled her skirt away from her legs, tightening it around her full hips for a brief and glorious moment. Stephan did the same to his hideous shorts, grimacing at the sweat that dripped down his calves. They walked to the end of the canopied path, the sun burning through gaps in the cover. He should have worn a hat. Estelle headed toward a large mesh cage to the left. Her voice drifted behind her. “I don’t want to be seneschal. Never have.”
Stephan caught up to her. “Is that why you went to JDPR? It’s quite a change to go from Florida to Canada.” People usually did the opposite. Ever since he’d found out Estelle’s real status in the vampire hierarchy, he’d wondered why she’d bothered to work at all, let alone as a receptionist for a class-A asshole. It might be wrong to speak ill of the dead, but Julien D’Aurant had truly been a worm.
“Julien’s place was the only arcana PR agency on the eastern seaboard.” Estelle opened the gate and Stephan followed her into the butterfly cage. Thousands of tiny winged creatures fluttered around, darting in and out of the lush vegetation. “That was part of it.”
“Part?” A golden butterfly passed by and Stephan watched it with delight.
“I wanted to know more of the real world. The seneschal training stifled me.”
“How?”
“Toronto was a good distance away and a big enough city that I could feed safely.”
After her non-answer, she turned away. He got the hint: time to change the subject. “So, this invocation. What is it, exactly?” He found a small bench where he could watch the insects nibble on slices of fruit.
Estelle sat beside him. “It’s a ceremony where Wavena will formally title me and give me the responsibility of the seneschal major. I’ll also be assigned a minor.”
He was caught on the first part of her statement. “Title you?”
She glanced away. “There’s a traditional title. Lands. A house. Rather a showpiece. I hate it.”
“Car?”
“With driver.”
“Chef?”
“Cooks gluten-free.” Now she grinned. “Paleo, vegan, keto, you name it.”
“What’s the title?”
Her lips trembled. “I can’t tell you.”
“Come on. It can’t be that bad. Lady of the Dark? Queen of the Fang?” He tapped his finger to his forehead. “I’ve got it. Chief Death, Grandmaster of the Blood.”
She sighed. “Lord of the Crimson Sword.”
He blinked. “Do you go play Dungeons and Dragons after?”
“Very funny.”
“Do you even use a sword? You guys have fangs. What do you need a sword for?”
“I think the whole thing was made up by the first seneschal. He had a twisted sense of humor.”
“I’ll say. Can’t wait to see your business cards.”
She laughed shortly and leaned back. “I can’t believe it,” she said.
“I’m not sure why. You’ve trained for it and you’re good at what you do.” He thought about this. “Fantastic,” he revised.
Her face twisted briefly before she looked away. “I don’t want to do it.”
“You’re already the acting seneschal,” he reminded her. “It’s the same thing.”
“Not really. I’ll have to mentor a deputy now.”
He turned to lean his arm on the back of the chair. “Talk to me, Estelle.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Which means you have a problem. Nothing always means something.”
She stood up. “I like my freedom, that’s all.”
He caught her hand and from the expression on her face knew that was all he was going to get from her today. He could almost hear Selene, his old mentor, whispering in his ear to let it lie. You push too hard. Let it be. Let them come to you.
Seeing Estelle hurting when he could do nothing to fix it was hard but he’d have to deal. He took a deep breath. “I can see that. You’re doing this because of duty, then.”
She looked relieved that he changed the topic. “Exactly.” She sat back down. “Wavena said she’s meeting with potential allies.”
“Who?”
“She wouldn’t say, but I assume some of the eastern vampire clans who we don’t have formal arrangements with. I also confirmed that a few vampires have been reported missing.”
Stephan forced himself to stop looking at the butterflies landing on her head, then realized the sweat was running down his neck in rivulets. The greenhouse environment of the butterflies was not cooling. “Dawning sympathizers?”
“That’s what we thought at first.” She held her arm out and a butterfly settled on her skin, emerald wings trembling. “Now I’m not sure.”
“I’ve heard rumors too,” Stephan said. Mai, who had taken over Tom’s security duties, had heard whispers of masquerada disappearing.
“Minh said one of the security team was gone.”
He frowned. “I didn’t hear that.” That was bad, and he should have been told.
“Not sure if he’s reappeared. Wavena’s concerned, though.” She lowered her arm and the butterfly flew away.
“How many do you have missing?” he asked.
“Unknown. We only have informal reports.”
He stood so suddenly that she jerked back in surprise. “We need to find out.”
“Now?”
“Unless you have something else to do.”
Her gaze darted quickly over his body before she shook her head hard and coughed. “No. Nothing at all.”
* * * *
Estelle opened the door for Stephan, glad to be thinking about a topic other than her invocation. She had too many feelings about Wavena’s orders and now was not the time or place to sort through them. When that would be, she had no idea. Probably never. What was the point? As Stephan pointed out, she had been trained for this job. The headache threatened again. As if she hadn’t been working around the clock already. It was hard to live up to Cressida, who had done everything the role
required effortlessly.
“Is there a library?” Stephan asked as she pulled the door shut.
Estelle sighed as the rush of air conditioning hit her. “Yes. Our central reference library is in the other wing.”
Stephan turned around, his face red with the heat. “Do you have branches?”
“Don’t you?”
“Masquerada aren’t as academically oriented as vampires.” He glanced down at his clothes. “I need to get some things.”
“I’ll wait.”
When he next came out, it was as the usual Stephan. Estelle took a moment to look him over and tried not to lick her lips. The masquerada ability to take on personas fascinated her. She’d asked both Miaoling and Caro to demonstrate one night and had been astounded at how both of the women remained themselves, but also…not. This ability was what made the masquerada an easy target for bigots from other arcane groups, who said you could never trust who was in front of you.
Idiots. It was as if everyone in the world needed someone to hate or distrust.
Like Stephan and vampires.
“Let’s go,” he said. He had a laptop tucked under his arm and Estelle was glad to see some of the bleakness that had marked him for the past few months was missing. They went back through the maze of corridors into what Estelle thought of as the semipublic space. Unlike the bedrooms, which were private, the library was open to all vampires, though hidden from human visitors. The corridor also held an artifact room and several art galleries. Stephan glanced longingly at these as they passed but didn’t pause. “Time for that later,” he murmured.
The library was at the end of the corridor, its climate-controlled environment protected by a triple door. The Florida humidity would have destroyed the ancient books otherwise.
Once in, Estelle took a deep breath then stood aside to let Stephan get the full effect of the space. “This is our research library.”
“Incredible.” He circled around to take it all in. “I had no idea.”
The space was an amalgam of the best aspects of the paramount libraries in the world. The Vatican. The ancient library of Alexandria. Trinity College. Books, scrolls, bamboo rolls, and stone tablets filled the shelves, which filled the middle of the room and all the available wall space. There were no tables in the main section, but small, glass-enclosed rooms dotted the library, preventing noise from interfering with other patrons.
Masked Longing Page 4