Sacrifice (The Venus Chronicles #1)

Chapter 21

Twenty-One

Lucien led her along the corridor, every twist and turn in the darkness bringing them closer to the entrance of a club that was situated deep below the ground. The catacombs of Paris had been an unexpected destination and one with more than its fair share of atmosphere.

Amber light played across the artfully stacked bones and skulls lining the walls and threw shadows that felt like movement. The whole installation was a jigsaw of dismantled skeletons moved there from collapsing cemeteries in the 1800s, so Lucien had told her. Artful in a morbid kind of way, Eve thought. And intensely uncomfortable. Her inner historian was fascinated. The rest of her wanted to get the hell out of there.

What kind of club put its entrance at the end of a tomb? As a location, it was covert in the extreme and gave out bad vibes about the likely clientele. Your average happy-go-lucky clubber would not stumble across the Hellfire Club by accident.

She tried not to notice the shadows dancing in the empty staring eye-sockets of skull after skull as they passed.

“Nearly there,” Lucien said, squeezing her hand. “It will be worth it, I promise.”

Eve smiled and tried to shake off her reservations. When Lucien had told her they were going to a private club in the depths of Paris, the like of which she would never have encountered, she'd been excited. But her imagination hadn't come close to this, never would have in a million years.

The vibrations she’d been trying to identify through the soles of her shoes resolved into music as they rounded yet another corner and a large, metallic door came into sight.

It looked like something from a war bunker. Lucien tapped on the small hatch at its center and the metal grille slid back to reveal a pair of golden eyes.

“ Anima mea ad te portavi, ” Lucien said, and the hatch snapped closed. The door opened.

The room on the other side couldn’t have been more of a contrast. Cold monotone corridors of the tomb were replaced by warmth and color and, as the door closed behind them to seal them in, the acoustic changed entirely. Dark, Gothic tapestries lined the walls and brought a softness to the quality of sound Eve only realized had been missing in the tunnels at that moment.

It felt like stepping back in time to a nineteenth-century salon. Lavish, velvet-cushioned furniture adorned this first reception area, and the air was thick with spice and smoke, heady and exotic. It filled Eve's head with a dizzying mix of anticipation and trepidation.

“Monsieur Knight.” A pale woman in a slinky dress with a shock of red hair stepped forward to greet him.

“Persephone,” Lucien said, “This is Eve, my guest this evening.”

The woman's thickly lashed eyes washed over Eve as if she were the entertainment. “ Bien s?r ,” she said, "Madame Laveau is expecting you, I think.”

She peeled Eve's coat from her shoulders without asking and gave her a ticket and a wry smile in exchange. “Have a good evening,” she said, and Eve couldn't help thinking that this woman knew something she didn't.

Lucien re-grasped Eve's hand. “Let's get a drink,” he said.

The club itself was dark and hot. Alcoves carved into the walls were richly lined with heavy fabric and sumptuous cushions where guests luxuriated, dressed in extravagant outfits and wearing masks like something from a Venetian masquerade. Beautiful and mysterious, the women wore cinched in corsets, lace and silk. Men sported tailored suits from another time, some with their shirts open, bare chests glistening in the heat. Eve gripped Lucien’s hand tightly as he moved through the crowd and they made their way toward the bar. She felt woefully underdressed in her simple silk shift and heels.

Madame Laveau perched on a high stool at the counter, her dreadlocks bouncing as she nodded to the music. She was a full head taller than anyone else in the room, and her imperial presence drew all eyes while simultaneously repelling any idea of an uninvited approach. Her robe of black and white tribal print cascaded over her frame, and ivory chains clinked around her neck as she swayed. She took a long drag from a fat cigar and tendrils of smoke snaked around her head to scroll to the ceiling. Almost as if she could feel Eve's stare, her eyes snapped to find her as they approached.

Madame Laveau let the cigar fall from her lips and smiled with tomb-stone teeth. “ Lucien, comment diable vas-tu? ” she said, her eyes widened in greeting.

Lucien bowed his head and replied in English, “I am well, old friend.”

Madame Laveau’s lips twitched in recognition of this change of language for Eve's benefit and ran her gaze over her. “And who is this beautiful creature?”

“Eve, may I introduce Madame Marie Laveau, Princess of Burkina Faso and master spiritualist.’

“Mmm,” Laveau sighed, took Eve's hand, turned it over and ran a fingertip across her palm. “ Enchanté , daughter of Venus,” she said.

Laveau’s hands were warm and soft and the manner in which she held Eve’s made her feel like she was being studied in a way that she never had before. It was as if Madame Laveau could read her soul. The thought was not a comforting one.

“Come,” Laveau said and rose from her stool.

They followed her through the crowd. Laveau's broad, lolloping gate clearing a path through the partygoers who were otherwise lost in the pleasure of the moment. Couples entwined in dark corners and the smell of liquor and sweat rode the air. The beat of the music buzzed in Eve's chest, and she wondered if she might be in just a tad over her head.

“We shall take our business,” Laveau shouted over her shoulder, “somewhere a little more private.” She motioned toward a small archway whose unsmiling guardian moved aside for just long enough to let them through. A spiral staircase on the other side climbed to a room overflowing with exotic artefacts, textiles, and trinkets. An illicit Aladdin’s cave.

It was another chamber honed from Paris’ bedrock, this one in the round, the circular wall almost entirely shelved from top to bottom. Every shelf groaned with items, but the haphazard manner of display marked it out, not so much as a collection, but more as the storehouse of a black marketeer.

In the center of the room four leather armchairs faced inward to a low circular table which was already laden with food: bite-sized pasties, crudites and thick, brightly colored dips.

Lucien wandered along the shelves, his fingers lingering on various objects. “You’ve been busy,” he said, picking up an ancient-looking statuette Eve recognized to be Osiris.

Laveau laughed. “Papa Legba has been kind.” She stroked the face of a wooden effigy that stood in a tidier section of the shelves, surrounded by candles, and extracted a bottle of rum from its vicinity to pour four golden measures into crystal cut glasses. She rested one beside the effigy and pinched the remaining three in a triangular grip to bring them to the table.

Eve knew that name. She'd read about Papa Legba in her research for the exhibition. He was a loa in Louisiana Voodoo, the intermediary between the human and spirit worlds with immense power over life and death.

Laveau dropped into a chair, knees spread wide. “Sit, share a rum with me. Spiced Bayou.” She held a glass out across the table and when Eve took hers, Laveau brushed over her fingers and smiled that toothy smile.

Unnerving.

Eve took a sip of the rum as a reason to look away. It was rich and sweet and sent a warm wave through her body. “This is good,” she said, surprised.

Laveau leaned back in her chair and took a long draw on her cigar. “The best in all of New Orleans,” she said. Smoke poured from her nostrils.

Lucien cleared his throat. “We didn't come here for the rum, Marie.”

Laveau chuckled. “Of course, of course.” She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. “I have found what you need, at great personal expense and enormous inconvenience.” She levered herself up to her feet and headed for the only section of the shelving obscured by Gothic dark wooden doors. A twist of the key, seemingly magicked from thin air, and the cabinet opened to reveal row upon row of glass flasks containing the preserved bodies of pale creatures, as unidentifiable from Eve’s seat across the room, as they were bizarre.

She opened and closed various drawers before pulling free something wrapped in a leather cloth.

“It was not easy to find,” she began, her voice deep and her fingers rubbing together. “Cost me a pretty penny.”

“You’ll be compensated,” Lucien replied. He leaned forward to grasp the package from her outstretched hand.

Slowly, reverentially, he unwrapped the cloth to reveal a blade. It was another of the Akkadian daggers, this one with a blood red crystal set into the tip of its hilt.

Eve goggled at it. “The last one,” she whispered, “However did you find it?”

“Venus,” Laveau breathed, “Lost for more than three hundred years.”

Lucien’s face split into a grin. He ran his thumb along the inscription on the blade. “Where did you find it?”

Laveau tutted and waved one heavily ringed hand at him. “You know better than to ask. The spirits don’t like such talk.”

“I don't suppose they do,’ Lucien murmured.

Eve held out her hand, and Lucien laid it gently on her palm. The metal was warm, and her hand automatically spun it to grip the hilt, blade pointing down. A blood red crystal sparkled in its tip. The hairs went up on the back of her neck.

Lucien reached out his hand to take it back. For a moment, the urge to keep it overwhelmed her. The urge to wield it swelled in the muscles of her arm.

Laveau let out a single excited chuckle, like a child, and it snapped Eve back into the room and to the outstretched waiting hand of Lucien. She let him take the dagger, shaking her head and blinking away the feeling, but the loss felt odd. It dried her throat, and she reached for the rum to swallow it down, bemused.

Lucien re-wrapped the knife and slid it into his jacket’s inner pocket. From the other side, he pulled a glass vial, five inches in length, the blown glass - twisted and bulging. It was slim and encased in an ornate mesh of gold. Whatever it was inside glowed faintly blue and swirled of its own accord.

Laveau reached out to take it, hungry eyed, and cradled it in her palm. “A dybbuk? You got me one?”

Lucien waved one hand in a mimic of her own gesture. “Don't ask me where I got it,” he said, amused with himself, but it seemed to Eve that Laveau didn’t care and couldn't lock the little vial away in her cabinet fast enough.

When she sat back down, the smile on her face was the toothiest Eve had seen yet. “The price is paid, in abundance,” she said, "But I do not like to be indebted. Perhaps there is a little more I can offer you?”

“Actually, I do have something in mind,” Lucien said. He rubbed thoughtfully at his jaw. “How about you ask your cards their opinion of my companion here?”

Laveau clapped her hands together. “Yes! Yes!” Her eyes popped with excitement, and she pulled a fat silken pouch from the hidden depths of her chair, released its drawstring, and extracted a pack of battered cards. Her eyes moved to Eve as she manipulated the deck in her hands, fanning them out with a twist and winding them back; cutting and switching; and riffling them together in a crackling rasp mid-air.

“And what question shall we pose?” she asked but continued to speak before anyone had had the chance to answer. “The transit of Venus approaches, child. I can only assume you have not known my old friend for long.”

Lucien cleared his throat.

“We would have met, would we not?” Laveau added quickly, and Lucien nodded.

“Where will this chance meeting take you, Eve?” Laveau grinned broadly and pressed the cards into Eve’s hands. In Laveau’s hands holding the pack had seemed quite natural, but in Eve’s the pack was thick and just a little too much for her to hold comfortably in a one-handed grip. She wrapped the other around it too, to stop the cards from slithering away.

“Get a feel for them, child. Shuffle and put a little of yourself into them. A little of your quintessence .”

Eve cut the cards and did her best to change their order. “Are you going to tell me my future, Madame?” The dagger had made her feel wild and the rum more confident. Tarot was humbug as far as she was concerned.

Laveau’s eyebrow twitched. “Cut the pack into three and place them on the table.”

Eve fiddled with the cards a little more and then made three separate piles as she’d been instructed.

Lucien leaned in to lay a hand on Eve’s thigh and watched as Laveau flipped over the top card of the first pile.

“The basis of the matter. The Empress.” Laveau sucked in a long breath and closed her eyes. A sigh rumbled deep in her throat. “The card of feminine power. The card of Venus herself and yet something is missing. Something is lacking in your life. There is no fulfilment.” Laveau slapped at the table and Eve nearly jumped out of her skin. “The significant connection comes. Gears are clicking into place.”

Her eyes flickered to Lucien, then she reached forward to flip the card on the second pile.

“Ha ha! The Magician.” She wagged a finger in Lucien’s direction. “New beginnings. The manifesting of desires and love’s urgings.” She ran a flat palm down over her own breast to then squeezed at her thigh. “There is a new order in the making.” She added with a lick of her lips.

Eve blinked at her. How could the cards possibly know about her and Lucien’s connection? “And the future?” Eve asked, despite herself.

Laveau turned over the last card. Its picture showed a woman holding the jaws of a lion. “Strength.” She tipped her head to one side. “Lust. Your connection is the key. Restraints will come to an end and a situation will arise with one who will exert a great deal of power or influence over you.”

Laveau leaned back in her chair, looking quite obviously back and forth between Eve and Lucien. Some kind of inner amusement pulled at the corner of her mouth. “Nothing will defeat you,” she said.

Back downstairs in the club, the music was pounding. In the space of time they’d been in Laveau’s den, the DJ had increased the heat on the dance floor by a good few degrees. The air was thick with sweat and booze and pounding music. Couples draped around each other unselfconsciously and moved together to the beat. Men who earlier had worn their shirts open, now had taken them off entirely. Some danced together, while others paired with women who gyrated in exposed corsets and scant underwear. The only part of their bodies covered to any actual effect: their faces - hidden behind ornate masks.

Eve was feeling the effect of the drink now. After the first delicious sip, she’d found Laveau’s rum incredibly easy to consume, and now a warm buzz of vibrant contentment ran through her veins. They’d found the last dagger. Lucien was incredibly happy, and his delight was infectious. She had to admit, she’d got a buzz out of it too. The dagger was special. It had an energy that excited her.

Lucien led her across the dance floor, toward the bar, and couples moved around them, sliding their hands over each other’s glistening skin and kneading flesh. Eve’s eyes ran to the darkened alcove where bodies entwined, kissing and moving. A woman on her knees sucked the cock of a man standing watching the dancers. The club had been pretty hot the first time they’d passed through. Now it was practically on fire. Eve had never seen so many people lost in sexual desire at one time. The shock of it left her blinking to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. She laughed. It was outrageous and incredibly hot. The thrill of it pulsed in her veins and brought to the surface a desire she’d been fighting to control all day. Her own body craved attention.

Lucien, it seemed, felt inspired by the scene, too. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard on the mouth. Every nerve ending fizzed. Her body tautened, breasts puckering beneath the slippery silk of her dress. Lucien ran a hand down her back, over her curves and then up, under her dress, to stroke at her skin. Goosebumps rippled out from the places he touched her. Waves of desire ran over her flesh to lap between her legs. They were in the middle of a club, but still she wanted his intimate touch, to feel his fingers on her skin. The rush of desire consumed her. She pressed her body against his and pulled him close.

Lucien put his mouth to her ear and ran his tongue around the lobe. “God, I want to fuck you,” he whispered, and adrenaline rushed through Eve’s veins. This man was sexual dynamite. Around them, bodies pulsated to the beat, utterly lost in each other and the music. Their place in the middle of the dance floor felt both public and yet disguised by the activities of those around them. Lucien skimmed a hand over Eve’s breast and sighed at how eager she clearly was for his touch. He ran his hand further down her body, over her stomach and down to cup between her legs.

Eve swayed in time to the music, making space for him to touch her. Lucien looked down into her with eyes that burned with need. He walked the fabric of her dress up with his fingers until he’d found the soft fabric of her panties and ran a fingertip along the line where lace met skin. Eve laughed at the brazenness of it. It was crazy and so public, yet everyone around them was utterly immersed in their own desires. They were lost in a fog of sound and desire. One hand on the small of her back, Lucien slid the other beneath the lace and dove to caress her. She wanted him so badly now it didn’t matter where they were. The pounding beat of the music took hold, and she moved in time, pressing her body against his. He moaned his approval and found the taut bud of nerve endings that so desperately craved him. His fingertips swiped around and around and Eve felt all self-control leaving her.

There was nothing but him and her need to be touched. Her hips ground involuntarily against his and his cock pressed hard against her hip.

“I want you naked,” he growled in her ear, “But I don’t want to share you with them.”

He glared down into her upturned face, dark eyes full of fire, took her hand and pulled her away, through the buffeting crowd, the sea of shining bodies parting to let them pass. They had their coats and were running through the catacombs to Lucien’s car and speeding away before Eve had time to catch her breath.

The drive was frenetic. Rain lashed at the windscreen as Lucien sped them across Paris, taking chances to cut through traffic and shave precious moments from their journey. A storm had gathered in the time they’d spent closeted in the depths of the catacombs, and now Eve felt a building of electrical power in the air that fought for supremacy against the power of attraction she felt for Lucien. In a blur of tight corners and honking horns, he took them from central Paris to spraying gravel on the chateau’s driveway.

He sped around the west side of the chateau to a garage Eve had not seen before. The press of a button opened an electric door, and they rolled inside to a safe haven from the hammering rain.

A rumble of thunder ushered them into a parking spot, and a flash of lightning illuminated the garage’s other occupants. The Porsche they’d been riding in, it transpired, was not Lucien’s only car. Many others stood side by side in perfect alignment, their paintwork shining.

Lucien cut the engine and leapt out to open Eve’s door. He pulled her to her feet, but she had only taken a couple of steps when he pressed her against the car. Cold and wet from the rain, water soaked immediately through to her thin dress to her skin.

“That was a very long drive,” he said and dipped to kiss her neck. The heat she’d felt in the club seared within her again. It was like he could just flick a switch to turn her on. It was cold in the garage, but putting on her coat was the last thing on her mind.

“How do you do this to me?” she whispered. “No-one’s ever made me feel like this.”

Lucien grasped her waist and kissed her mouth. Softly at first, but then with an increasing urgency that sent Eve’s pulse racing. This man was a god—a god of sexual power that she could not resist. She dropped her coat to the ground to fumble open the buttons of his shirt and expose the beautiful torso beneath. She ran her hands over his muscular chest and absorbed the heat he radiated. Beside him, the cold air of the garage meant nothing.

His hands roved across her body—her back, her breasts, and the bare skin between her shoulder blades. He peeled away the thin straps of her dress and the silky fabric slithered to her waist. Freezing winter air melted away in the heat that burst between them. They were finally alone, and she wanted him to touch her so much it didn’t matter that they’d not yet made it out of the garage. Lucien kissed the bare skin of her shoulder and ran his tongue over the hollow at her collarbone, and down to tease her aching breasts with a soft flicker.

The comfort of the chateau was just a few paces away, but their desire for each other would not wait that long.

Lucien tore off his shirt. “You have no idea what you do to me. ” He pressed against her. “I need you, now. I want you, now.”

Lucien’s body arched over hers, proprietorial and strong. His hands at her back, he pulled the dress down over her hips. Eve grappled with his buttons and his clothes fell open enough for her to take him briefly in her hand. He was hard as iron. Golden fire swirled in Lucien’s eyes.

“Like this,” he breathed and turned her around. “I need to be inside you. I want you here.” The bonnet of the Porsche stretched away in front of her and Eve leaned forward to place her palms on its cold paintwork.

“Yes,” Lucien hissed.

The freezing metal zinged against her thighs. His fingers found her, slick and hot. He pushed the thin fabric of her panties aside.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard,” he growled, and Eve barely had time to register what he’d said before he’d thrust himself inside. Her body reacted instantly. Knees buckling, she cried out. He slid his hands up her body, over her breasts and then to the center of her back. He pushed her forward and down. His hand found the back of her neck and knotted in her hair to hold her there.

“Yes,” he said again to withdraw and thrust back.

Breasts pressed to the cold metal, Eve’s body arched to meet him, slipping on the rain-soaked surface. The sensation of Lucien inside her, gliding through her desperate need, one hand on her hip and the other with its fingers entwined in her hair holding her in place, the cold sting of metal against her skin—all at once it had become both exquisitely pleasurable and deeply disturbing.

Her heart pounded in her chest as adrenaline spiked. She was entirely in Lucien’s power. Her body craved him like a drug and yet in this cold parking garage, fear rose in her like a snake. Suddenly, she knew that the Venus dagger was just feet away. Tucked securely into one of Lucien’s pockets, within easy reach.

Lucien moved inside her in long strokes, rock hard and buzzing with energy. His fingers gripped ever tighter at her flesh. She was his, body and mind, every part of her ringing like a bell at his touch. Her body clenched and spasmed as Lucien ground into her, taken straight to the ultimate pleasure that rolled through her in waves.

Thunder cracked, and the flash of lightning threw its light through the still open door. Sharp shadows spiked across the Porsche bonnet where Eve could see. Lucien’s shadow: so much bigger than she would have expected. His darkness enveloped her and ecstasy tore to the surface like a knife. There was only him and the deep rolling waves of the storm that raged around her.

She flexed and pushed against the freezing car, against his hot pulsating body, against the darkness. The storm rolled around the sky and lightning burst in upon their dark solitude.

“Lucien. My god, Lucien.” She was consumed. He was all around and inside her, too. In every cell. In every heartbeat. There was no choice but to surrender, shuddering to his will and as the lightning faded, so too did the last of her control. Heat and sensation gave way to the freezing cold and darkness came to take her.