Follow The Night (Bewitch The Dark) (17 page)
Read Follow The Night (Bewitch The Dark) Online
Authors: Michele Hauf
“He obviously knows one of his victims still walks this earth. That is apparent from the large stain on Gabriel’s bedroom floor.”
Toussaint swallowed a gulp. “Vex me, but I cannot figure how to remove blood stains. But if the minion is dead—”
“The master yet lives. I am sure he will continue to stalk Gabriel.”
“What of your brother?”
Roxane gasped in a breath. “I’m sure Anjou feels no fear from a madman—er, Damian.”
“Do you think…” He set down the net and caught his chin in a thoughtful pose. “My soul, I should not ask, but I do wonder.”
“Yes?”
“Your brother. You say he resisted the call to drink blood? But do you ever wonder if he drank blood now, if he might…”
Become a vampire? Achieve sanity? One of the two. Preferably the latter.
Roxane clasped her arms across her chest. “I think about it every day, Toussaint.”
“You’ve been through much. And now to have volunteered to keep watch over Gabriel, well, you are quite the woman.”
“Perhaps a bit lunatic myself.”
“Gabriel does appreciate having you here, I know. He may not show it—”
“Oh, he’s shown it.” All night long. Backwards, forwards, and a few contortions that now brought a blush to her cheeks. That she had not the mind to realize the ceremonial mark had been exposed! “He is a charmer, that man.”
What sort of vampire would Gabriel become? Charming his victims into his arms with a flash of those whiskey brown eyes and a purse of his lips. Bedecked in lace and mystery, he would make an exquisite creature.
And such an inelegant mad man.
“He cares for you.”
“I care for him.”
“Really?” Toussaint seated himself next to her on the carpet and toed aside the net with a smartly polished leather shoe.
“I…well, there is more beneath the lace and frippery.”
“Didn’t I tell you?”
“You did.”
“He’s quite the philanthropist as well.”
This information was new. “Philanthropy?”
“Oh yes, your friend Ninon, oh—”
Why that wily rogue! Roxane guessed what Toussaint would not finish. “He’s sent money to Ninon, yes? I had thought she looked more cheerful. And she wore a fine dress the last time I saw her.”
“I have said too much.”
“Why doesn’t Gabriel want me to know about his charity?”
“He’s very protective of his private matters. A bit to do with his parents’ indiscretions.”
“He’s told me little about them. Has it to do with the opium?”
“Er, yes. Well. He has told you more than usual. The vicomte really does trust you.”
“Not enough to reveal more than bits and pieces. Charity is a noble calling. He should not be so humble.”
“It’s to do with the Leo costume. If those he wished to contribute to knew he was the vicomte Renan, they would reject his money.”
“Why?”
“His parents. And don’t ask me more. That is for Renan to tell you. He is good, Roxane. But Gabriel has never had anyone tell him he is good.”
She rubbed her arms, feeling the shiver bumps rise. Abandoned by parents addicted to a powerful substance. Certainly he must crave attention. And not the vapid, false attention he received through fashion and socializing. How cruel that the vicomte had lost hold of the inner goodness. And now he was trying to be charitable under a guise? Truly, his parents must have been despicable.
“He is a good man,” she agreed.
“Then tell him,” Toussaint pleaded.
If only she could be completely honest with him. She had initially held back information about herself because she hadn’t foreseen a relationship between the two of them. No need to tell one’s life story to a man she’d pinned as bait.
The vicomte had become so much more.
“I want this to be over.” She toed the iron cross lying on the floor. Small, the size of her palm, a fleur de lys was impressed upon the center of it. Pretty, in an industrial sort of way. “As soon as I’ve the vampire Anjou in hand, and can—”
“Stake him?”
“—er…yes.” First, make him do her bidding. “After.”
“After?”
She squeezed her eyelids tightly. She so needed to tell someone. To feel less alone in this mission.
Words spilled from her more quickly than her thoughts. “I need him, Toussaint.”
“Gabriel?”
“No, the vampire Anjou.”
FIFTEEN
“I intend to stake the bastard through the heart and put an end to his bloody murdering rampage. But first, I need him to help me.”
“What?” Toussaint’s mouth gaped. “You don’t mean to say you’re going to
befriend
the fiend?”
“I must if I am to convince him to do what I require.”
A grotesque artist could not have carved his stunned look. “And what is it you require?”
“You won’t tell Gabriel?”
“Why must it be so secret?”
“I don’t want to cause Gabriel any more pain. He’s this horrible…condition.”
“It’s not a condition, it’s—”
“Why add another worry to that list?”
Toussaint looked around the room. His eyes widened as he focused on the door behind her, then he looked her directly. “Very well. Tell me, what is it?”
Roxane fingered the braid of garlic. “As you have intimated, I have a suspicion my brother’s madness may be reversed if the vampire again bites him and this time Damian accepts the change.”
“Is that so?”
She nodded. “It is a horrible thing to put Damian through. Again. But if it will lure him back from madness I must try it. I will trade his insanity for the blood thirst.”
Toussaint worried his lower lip. He flashed a look up at Roxane. “Should that not be your brother’s choice?”
“Of course it
should
be. But he’s not rational enough to make that choice now. I don’t want him to suffer in that asylum any longer. It was my fault, Toussaint. If only I had not encouraged him to wait for the full moon.”
“But you’ve done the same with Gabriel—”
“Damian is not the same as Gabriel. My brother had three weeks to wait. As the final days approached he had not the mental strength to endure the trial.”
“Roxane, you are playing with evil. That bastard Anjou kills. And to even think to—you are beautiful, yes—but you cannot beguile evil.”
“I don’t intend to beguile. I will simply befriend it for a day or so.”
“How do you think to convince this vampire to travel with you to Bicêtre so he can once again attack your brother?”
“Toussaint.”
“I only wish you to face the cold facts. Mademoiselle, this is an immense challenge.”
“I’m always up for a challenge.”
“Gabriel will not like this.”
“He will never know. Toussaint, you promised.”
“You don’t believe having Gabriel on your side would increase your chances for success?”
“That would be placing the mouse before the lion, Toussaint. I cannot risk Gabriel’s life—” She caught herself, her words working faster than her thoughts.
Her original plan had been to use Gabriel to lure Anjou to her. Yet now she could not comprehend using the man as bait. She did not want Anjou to harm her lover. She must continue to protect him from her own stupid plans!
“I have made a bungle of things, Toussaint. Trust that the only way to end it is by myself. I started this. I must finish it.”
Gabriel tiptoed carefully from the doorway where he had stood listening to the conversation between the valet and Mademoiselle Desrues. Difficult to believe she had such clandestine plans.
On the other hand, it should not surprise him that Roxane had all this time been using him as a lure to draw Monsieur Anjou closer. So she could befriend him?
Truly, madness had touched not only the brother, but the sister as well.
He pressed at the ache in his temple. He wasn’t sure if he was upset because Roxane had been using him, or because a woman he had come to care for had plans to put herself in great danger.
She thought to save her brother by reintroducing the vampire’s bite? It seemed a possibility. But Roxane had made no mention of the reasoning behind her plan. What was to guarantee sanity would also be restored with vampirism?
The shuffle of skirts clued him that they had risen. Toussaint’s footsteps were comically loud.
Gabriel rushed toward his bed chamber and closed the door behind him as he heard Roxane’s voice enter the mirrored hallway.
It was certain the woman would not be detoured from attempting to save her brother’s sanity. She would place herself in danger by seeking the vampire Anjou. He could not allow that to happen.
There must be someone else who could help Damian.
He tilted his head and closed his eyes to the shimmer of color beaming in from above. Immediately, the answer came to him. He knew who could help Damian.
Another vampire.
“You cannot go out, Renan!”
Gabriel dodged Toussaint’s efforts to tug the frockcoat from his shoulders with a deft bend of knee and a skip to the door. “Give it up, Toussaint. I’m leaving. Now stop that. I need to get out. To be alone.”
“To put the vampire Anjou on your scent?”
“Come, man! What are the chances of me running into one vampire in a city the size of Paris?”
He slid on smooth kidskin gloves and tugged down the lace rimming his shirt sleeves.
“He knows your haunts. You did hear my conversation with Mademoiselle Desrues earlier, yes?”
“Indeed, I am bait.”
“It is not like that.”
“Oh? I believe it is very much like that, Toussaint. You heard the woman. She wants to use me to lure the vampire to her, so she can—of all things—
befriend
him.”
“So she can then kill him!”
“But not before she risks her neck attempting a foolish rescue of her brother. The vampire will kill her faster than she can blink.”
“I believe Mademoiselle Desrues knows what she is doing.”
“Do you now? Hell, my own valet has turned against me. That woman, she—No, I won’t speak of her anymore. I might wander to the Greve—”
“That is too far!”
“Don’t worry, I have protection.” He slid aside his coat to reveal the stake, then spread his fingers over the waistcoat he’d chosen, stitched around the hem with crimson and silver threading. “The design is wild roses. Yet another vampire deterrent.”
“Yes, but those are merely stitches, not the actual thorn. I don’t know…”
“Doesn’t matter what you do or do not know, Toussaint, I am off.”
“Wait!”
Gabriel strode down the hall and the valet skipped ahead into the kitchen. He reappeared with a bundle of something in his hands and tossed it at him. “At least, take this. It’s all I can think of to keep you safe.”
He held the knotted ropes up before him. The entirety dropped to his knees in length and stretched as wide as his body. “Fishing net? You plan to net a few fish?” He studied the fine mesh, his interest growing. “Fascinating craftsmanship. How many knots do you suppose are in here?” He began to count.
“Exactly.” Toussaint tugged the net from him, balled it up, and stuffed it inside Gabriel’s inner coat pocket. “Legend tells vampires are notorious counters.”
“This information from Mesmer, as well?”
“Yes. Give them something to tally and they’ll forget everything else until all has been counted. Like stones, or beans, or…knots.”
“You are brilliant, Toussaint.” He tugged a chunk of the net out and ran his fingers over the knots. “One, two…”
“Just go for your walk. And don’t get sidetracked by the damned netting. You are
not
a vampire, Renan.”
Gabriel tilted a wink at the valet. “Not yet.”
Good evening, mademoiselle. Pardon me while I make an adjustment to the lace about your neck. Ah, there. Just a little nip now…
Gabriel shook his head, obliterating the idiotic thought.
How did a vampire go about attracting victims?
Certainly tact was required. As well, a taste for blood. He didn’t think it possible to consider such a palate. On the other hand, of late the strangest things attracted him, such as the rush of blood through a person’s veins, or the scent of their fear.
Mon Dieu
, he had gotten hard holding Roxane amongst the pitiful moans and stench of Bicêtre. And he’d taken her last night initially as a means to counteract the insistent cravings.
Did the vampire go about with such heightened perception? Could he instinctively pick out those who would taste the best? Why must the vampire be so cruel? To kill? Was death necessary?