Blood Wicked (20 page)

The blue eyes went wide and panic flared on the gnomelike face. “Dare. Succubus.” Guidon scurried to a stack of books with a sideways gait like a crab. Books tumbled from the shelves. He sent one spinning to the desk, where it landed and flew open.

Heath looked onto the page. It was a list of women’s names. And dates. The last on the list was Vivien Rose Crumley. “It is there, isn’t it?” Guidon crowed. “Dare … That’s not her name. Not her name at all. Took her mother’s name, Crumley.” Guidon raced back to the desk, and drew a gnarled finger over the entry. “Father’s name … It is not here. I do not understand. It should be here.”

“You don’t remember it?”

The old librarian groaned in pure agony and paced in a circle, his hands clamped to his temples. “I cannot. But this is impossible! I committed every word in the vampire books to memory. But this—this I do not remember.”

“I can find out, I can give you that name, if you let me ask more than one question.”

Longing warred with Guidon’s natural churlishness. “All right, Blackmoor. It is agreed. Ask your questions.”

“My brother, Raine Winthrope. He vanished two weeks ago. Do you know where he is?”

“Yes.”

That stunned him. He hadn’t expected this—such a simple solution. “Where?”

“With Nikolai, of course. With the vampire who turned you, Lord Blackmoor.”

Heath couldn’t hunt his sire now. He emerged from the shop to a sky that glowed with the soft pink of dawn. Pulling his beaver hat low, Heath hunched over. His black cloak surrounded him, covering his skin. It absorbed the sun’s warmth. But he would feel the impact of dawn.

His fingers were going numb, as were his feet. He clumsily stumbled against the store’s front wall like a drunken man. His body felt it was collapsing; it was growing heavy, as though his bones could no longer support him.

He wasn’t going to make it.

He could transform and try to fly, which would take him to Dimitri’s faster. But he ran the risk of being caught in direct sunlight.

He had to stay as he was. In human form. He couldn’t reach Dimitri’s. If he tried, he risked death. Risked not making it back to Vivienne.

He had to find a dark place in which to hide until nightfall. Sinking farther into the gloom cast by the tall, narrow buildings, he scanned the street. He had traveled several blocks from the bookstore. Across from him stood a dilapidated structure. The sheer size of the building suggested it was a warehouse, and grime-covered, broken windows held special appeal. It looked deserted. Also dirty, stinking, and uncomfortable, but it would be the perfect place for a vampire looking for sleep.

Something snorted to the right of him.

A dog? Dogs normally retreated and ran from a vampire.

A whiff of sulfur rolled down the sidewalk to him. Hades, he knew the smell. He hadn’t noticed it until now, which meant daylight was weakening him faster than he expected.

His every muscle tensed, but his head was dizzy and searing pain was moving over his skin like patches of daylight.

A large black shape launched out of the narrow alley in front of him. Heath jumped back, and the enormous wing, tipped with sharp, bonelike claws, scraped the sidewalk where he’d stood. The body emerged from the narrow, dark opening between two brick walls. The creature looked like a gargoyle—a man’s basic form, an ugly face with a long muzzle, claws at fingers and toes, wings with a twenty-foot span.

It was a demon, one of the most simplistic types. It understood only its mission to kill, and it craved a vampire’s blood.

The gargoyle roared, and Heath jumped back again. Teeth snapped together in front of his face.

Weak as he was, the last thing he needed was a battle. The teeth surged forward again and he slammed his fist into the side of the demon’s face. The blow should have knocked the creature unconscious but only glanced off its face.

Dawn had drained him too much.

The demon made a huffing noise. The bloody beast was laughing at him. Heath scanned the sidewalk surrounding him for a weapon. A pile of wooden crates stood by a boarded-up door. He spotted a metal post for holding horses’ reins.

The winged demon lunged again. Its claws reflected daylight. The streaming light didn’t bother the creature, but Heath collapsed against the wall. His legs no longer wanted to stay upright.

Claws swooped for him, and Heath threw his body to the side, grabbed a crate, and jammed it upward as the beast’s hand came down. Wood splintered. The hand lifted with the crate
hanging off it. Enraged, the creature slammed the box against the brick wall. It exploded into shards.

Heath jumped to the metal post. Tried to rip it out of the ground. But what would have been easy at midnight didn’t happen now. The post resisted him.

He threw another crate at the beast, and this one shattered against the demon’s black, scaly chest. Again it laughed as the splintered box dropped to its feet.

He couldn’t defeat it.

Hating the show of cowardice, he turned on his heel. It was his plan to run for another building, in hopes he could find a weapon, but his legs wobbled and failed.

He heard the sound of a wing rising through air behind him, and he dove. But he was too late. Pain raked down his back as the claws dug in. His cloak tore, his shirt parted. The smell of his blood flooded his senses, and agony screamed from his bleeding back.

The cobbles came up fast, slamming into his knees.

The creature appeared to be amusing itself by watching him try to scramble to his feet.

He was going to be destroyed here. Torn to pieces as he grew too weak to heal.

He would never see Vivienne again. Agonizing loss speared him. He didn’t want to lose her. Weeks ago, he would have welcomed his destruction. He would no longer be a curse that could go off and destroy mankind. Now he was clawing his way along the sidewalk, fighting for his life. All because he couldn’t bear to lose Vivienne.

Vivienne blinked. The room was pitch dark. Heavens, what was the time? There was no sound. No popping of the fire in the grate, no clatter of the maids and their coal buckets or ewers.

She was alone in the bed.

She slid out of bed, groped her way through blackness toward the drapes, and walked right into their enveloping softness. Desperately she tugged at them. She needed light.

The heavy velvet slid aside and sunlight spilled into her room. Her bedchamber overlooked a modest garden. Green leaves shimmered in the sunlight, and here and there she spotted spring flowers in bloom. It was lovely.

But why was the house so still?

Apparently, even the servants were vampires, or they were forced to sleep in the daytime to be available for their master all night. She pulled on her robe and hurried to Sarah’s room.

Sarah was sleeping, a bundle beneath a thick counterpane. Then Vivienne froze. Julian was seated in the corner. He slowly got to his feet and bowed to her. “I was watching over her. To ensure she was safe. The other vampires should be asleep now.”

She bit her lip, then decided to trust him. “Thank you, Julian.”

He yawned and slowly retreated, closing the door. Vivienne kissed Sarah’s curls.

She trusted Heath. But she also knew she could not simply accept that a man would keep them safe. She had to think, and plan, and act.

She must talk to Lord Dimitri. He was obviously a vampire of importance. What could he tell her about succubi? She would have to wait until dusk to find out.

There was no point in trying to leave the house. She had nowhere to go. But just because she was trapped didn’t mean she could not try to answer questions herself.

She left her room and padded down the hallway, then the stairs, as silently as she could. Last night, she had seen a room filled with books; it had to be the library. But when she reached it, the doorknob rattled in her hand and wouldn’t turn. The library was locked? A hairpin slid easily into the lock, but wouldn’t turn it—

“Ah, Miss Dare, you are awake. I thought the daylight would rouse you.”

Vivienne almost jumped out of her skin. Even before she spun around, she recognized the autocratic baritone. “Lord Dimitri. But—but how can you be awake?”

“I do not need sleep, little one. What is it you wanted from my library? I have the keys. It would be much quicker than you attempting to thwart my locks.”

Did danger lurk behind his silky smooth voice? Some men stoked their rage with their very calm. She wished Heath was with her; she would feel safe with him. Wishing for a man at her side was something she had never done.

The door swung open. “Now, Miss Dare, what do you want?”

His library was even larger than Heath’s. And as Heath had done, Dimitri lit candles so she could see. The walls soared two stories tall, and each shelf was crammed with books. “I want to know what I am. I want to know why someone is hurting Sarah to force me to seduce men.”

“You won’t find answers to those questions in books, love. But I could help you. For a price.” White teeth flashed confidently, the smile of a gentleman who knew how handsome he was.

“I won’t sleep with you.”

“Most women are not unwilling.”

“I am not most women.” Yet, he hadn’t said “all” women, she noticed.

His black eyes glittered with amusement. “You enjoyed yourself last night. And I could make it very, very good for you. Miss Dare, I could make you climax so hard, you would not stop screaming until dusk.”

If Heath had said those words, she would have melted. But, of course, Heath was never going to say them to her now.

Her heart gave a foolish pang.

Dimitri cocked his handsome head. As though he’d heard the sharp little tug in her heart. “But I suspect you don’t want me to fuck you most deliciously because you love Heath.”

“I don’t!” A fierce blush flew at once to her cheeks.

“He cannot love you in return—”

“I know that. I am
not
in love. Love is a fantasy for very foolish women. And I assure you, I have far more sense than that. But I am not willing to trade my body for your answers. I’ve decided if I go to a man’s bed, it’s because I
want
him.”

“I admire you, Miss Dare. There are very few women who would wound me so harshly.”

That worried her, until she saw his lips quirk into a smile again.

“It isn’t just because of his curse that Heath can’t love you, Vivienne.” Dimitri walked to her and his hand cupped her cheek.

She was going to move away, but stopped. “Then why not? Are you saying he can’t because of what
I
am?”

“Hades. If anything, he will love you
more
because of who you are. You are courageous, loyal, strong, devoted, sensual. But Heath cannot love you because a man needs a whole heart to give it to a woman. And Blackmoor’s heart was fractured long ago. Only he can mend it, and he won’t allow himself to do that.”

“But why wouldn’t he?” If he was going to live forever, wouldn’t he want to let his heart heal?

“Because he killed his wife. And his daughter.”

She could not believe it. But she remembered Heath’s words.
The curse was payment for my wife’s death
. “What happened to them?” She pushed Dimitri’s hand away. “How did he kill them?”

“That is something he will have to tell you, but in his heart, he carries the weight of guilt, regret, and loss. Why would you think he didn’t try to break his curse? He didn’t want to. He
wants the punishment. He wants to ensure that if he falls in love again, he can never have the woman he yearns for. You are his hair-shirt, love, and he’s happy with that.”

Dimitri turned away and sauntered toward the shelves.

“That’s madness,” she said to his back. “I do not believe Heath is a murderer.”

“No, he isn’t a murderer. But Heath was a husband and a father. What if he failed to protect his family? You have only known him for how long—three days? But I believe you could tell me exactly how Heath would feel if he caused an accident that stole his family from him.”

She could.

“You want to know what you are.” His voice was so soft and gentle, it wrapped around her like an embrace. “You must be very confused and frightened. I want to ease your fears, Vivienne.”

His voice seemed to draw her closer. Capture her. She crossed her arms over her chest. “All I—I know is what Heath has shown me.” She hadn’t wanted her voice to sound so shaky and afraid. “I do not understand how I could be a demon and not know it. I never meant to … to hurt anyone.”

“Heath is wrong about you.”

“You mean I’m not a succubus?” She felt a swift jolt of relief.

But Dimitri’s eyes seemed to grow larger. He looked like he wanted to devour her whole. She stepped back.

“No, you have nothing to fear. I wouldn’t betray Heath in such a pedestrian way. But you, my dear, are not a normal succubus.”

“A
normal
succubus. What in heaven’s name does that mean?”

“Who was your father, Vivienne?”

“Why should that matter? I don’t know. My mother never told me. I assumed she didn’t know. I should think I am the
child of some rough London stevedore or butcher who forced himself on my mother in the stews. Now tell me what you meant!”

Dimitri retreated, sat on the arm of a leather chair. “If your mother was mortal, you could only be a succubus if your father was a demon. If you want to know exactly what you are, you have to find your father.”

“That’s impossible! I don’t know his name. I have no idea where he lived, or where he came from. How would I find him?”

“There is a vampire who could help you. He is the historian of our kind. Guidon has recorded the parentage, the ancestry, the life history of every demon who walks the earth today.”

“I have no idea who he is. How could he know anything about me?”

“I promise you, Miss Dare, he will know everything about you. Heath went to see him before dawn this morning.”

“Heath? Why did he go to this vampire historian? Was it—about his brother?” That must be it. It was the reason he would take such a risk.

Dimitri studied her with a grim expression. “Heath has not returned. The coachman and carriage did. He took Heath safely to his destination. But Heath has not come back.”