Chapter 13
Thirteen
Rafe rubbed his burning eyes and dropped his hand back to his side with a weary sigh.
He didn’t think he’d managed to grab more than a couple of hours sleep before the sun was sinking below the horizon again.
The traffic rushing down the street was little more than a blur.
There were only a few people on the sidewalks in the dreary wet weather, but no vampires from what he could sense.
At least, no vampires yet. He was still waiting on Philippe’s arrival.
He’d spent most of the previous night at the Arsenault clan house.
It had been a while since he’d played for so many hours, but he hadn’t wanted to stop.
The lines of worry had eased from Philippe’s face when Rafe played.
A look of peace and tranquility sank over him.
If he could give Philippe that for just a little while, then he’d play until his fingers bled.
When he finally left for his own penthouse, Rafe was on the phone.
He was cajoling and prodding Winter into new action.
He redirected his brother from research about the Arsenaults to who could be potential threats.
Rafe already knew all he needed about Philippe and his people.
It was more important to learn who wanted to dismantle Philippe’s clan.
Was this a personal attack on Philippe? Or did someone see the Arsenaults as an actual threat?
The one persistent thought itching in his brain was that these murders were being orchestrated by someone within the clan itself. Someone had to know the schedules and preferred hunting grounds of the Arsenault clan members, particularly if they’d only recently moved to the Hartford area.
Rafe didn’t know how he was going to suggest this new theory to Philippe. He was afraid the clan leader wouldn’t listen, and that would only put him and the rest of his clan in even more danger.
As it was, Winter was still digging around, and Rafe wasn’t done with his own contacts.
It had taken him a bit of searching, but he’d found one in particular now making her home in Boston.
Less than two hours away under good traffic conditions, it was the closest they’d been together in nearly a century, and Rafe was willing to take it as a sign that maybe fate hadn’t given up on him yet.
It was even better when she agreed to meet with him.
Unexpectedly, the hardest part was getting Philippe to agree to travel to Boston for the meeting.
He probably shouldn’t have been surprised.
After the discovery of Piper, Philippe would naturally want to stay close to his people, but it was more important to get information on who might want to see his clan destroyed than to wait around for yet another attack.
Besides, getting a meeting with Zelda was no easy thing.
Rafe straightened from where he was leaning against the wall of the café and started to reach for his cell phone to check if maybe he’d missed a text from Philippe.
But he stopped at the first hint that there was another vampire in the area.
This wasn’t a nondescript feeling of power; it was warmth and strength.
The feeling didn’t prickle along his skin, but it wrapped around his heart as if trying to protect him.
Philippe was close. He’d not noticed that his sense of Philippe had changed recently. It had become as distinct as his sense of his brothers. Rafe didn’t want to look too closely at this change, didn’t want to think of the reasons. There was no time for it.
He allowed himself to relish the feeling for a moment but shut down any thoughts on why Philippe was different to him.
The blond vampire in question stepped into view across the street a couple of minutes later and hurried over to Rafe’s side.
He was dressed all in black, making Rafe frown.
In the short time he’d known Philippe, black had not been a color to dominate the vampire’s wardrobe.
His clothing choices tended to be warm and almost cozy, as if he were subtly inviting Rafe to snuggle with him.
But tonight, his look was cold and distant.
Far too austere for his pale, golden looks.
While still handsome, black made him look tired.
“I apologize for being late,” Philippe said as soon as he was close to Rafe.
“It’s okay. Did you drive?” he asked, knowing how much Philippe seemed to hate being behind the wheel.
Philippe shook his head. “I hired a car.”
It was on the tip of Rafe’s tongue to admonish him for not accepting his offer to ride together, but the hired car likely gave Philippe some valuable time alone to think.
“We can ride back to Hartford together if you’d like,” he offered instead.
“I would like that very much.”
Rafe smiled at him. “I won’t even be hurt if you change your mind after talking to Zelda.” He turned and led the way toward the front door of the coffee house.
“While I doubt that’s possible, I must admit I don’t know who this Zelda is. You just seemed adamant that we had to speak to her tonight.”
Rafe grabbed the old brass handle on the door and pulled it open, smiling at Philippe over his shoulder. “There isn’t much I can say that would explain anything useful other than she’s very old and sees a lot.”
A low chuckle shook Philippe’s shoulders. “That really doesn’t help.”
“No, but I think she can.”
Philippe stepped past him and into the warmth of the old coffee house that smelled absolutely delicious. Swirling hints of roasted coffee beans mixed with sugar and cinnamon.
Since Philippe had come into his life, Rafe’s consumption had largely been limited to blood and alcohol, but there was a decadence that came with eating food as a vampire.
Since it was utterly unnecessary, he could limit himself to just those things that gave him the most pleasure.
Chocolate. An excellent steak. A nice, rich coffee.
Maybe he would treat himself while they met with Zelda.
A hostess walked up with a couple of menus in hand. She was dressed simply in a pair of black slacks and a chunky cream knit sweater. Her light-brown hair was twisted up on her head in a messy bun.
“We’re meeting someone,” Rafe said as she greeted him. With a little nod, she stepped out of their way, allowing Rafe and Philippe to continue into the coffee house.
They carefully wove their way between the nicely spaced tables.
Shelves overflowing with books lined the walls along with locally made art.
The entire place looked as if it had been lifted out of Old-World Europe and dropped on a quiet, unassuming street within downtown Boston.
Nothing could have felt more out of place and hidden than the café.
Rafe had a feeling that Philippe had no clue how lucky they were to find it in the first place. Only by the grace of Zelda.
At the back of the coffee shop, Rafe found a small woman with rich black hair threaded lightly with white.
It was gathered together in a thick braid and tossed carelessly over one shoulder.
Her face was turned down as she concentrated on a square board neatly lined with hundreds of little squares.
Black and white stones about the size and shape of M&M’s dotted the board.
She was playing Go, an ancient two-person Chinese strategy game, but there was no one sitting opposite her.
Rafe and Philippe waited silently beside the table for Zelda to acknowledge them.
“Just a sec,” Zelda murmured as she picked up a white stone from the table and placed it on the board where the horizontal and vertical lines met.
A second later, a black stone magically appeared on the board at a point adjacent to the stone she’d just placed.
“Bastard,” she muttered under her breath before looking up at Rafe and Philippe.
“Come along, then. Take a seat. He can wait for my next move until after we’re done chatting. ”
Rafe motioned for Philippe to take the interior seat across from the strange woman while Rafe sat next to him. Philippe sat slowly, seeming to stare at her.
“You’re not a vampire,” Philippe said softly.
Zelda directed her gaze over to Rafe and smirked. “You found yourself a smart one.”
“Play nice, please. We need your help,” Rafe pleaded. Now was not the time for Zelda to upset Philippe, and he definitely couldn’t afford to have Philippe on Zelda’s bad side.
“He knows I’m only teasing, don’t you, kid?”
Philippe’s eyes widened until Rafe was sure they were going to fall from his skull. Yeah, Philippe had lived for more than two centuries. There were very few people in the world who could comfortably refer to him as a kid, and Zelda was one of them.
“Yes, teasing,” Philippe murmured. His voice still carried a distracted, almost disbelieving quality, as if he couldn’t quite understand everything he was seeing.
“Who are you playing?” Rafe inquired, trying to redirect the conversation.
Zelda’s smile turned to Rafe. “I’m sure you can guess. He’s the only one who can give me a run for my money.”
“Aiden?” Rafe asked, stunned by the wobble in his voice. “Is he back?”
“Soon.”
A thousand questions rushed to the front of his mind, but he swallowed them.
If Zelda had more to tell him about Aiden and his plan, she’d tell him.
Rafe closed his eyes to regain control of himself.
He wanted Aiden to return from his self-imposed exile.
It had only been a couple of months, but they needed him.
A strong hand closed on his forearm and squeezed, bringing a small smile to Rafe’s lips. Philippe was there with him, and the world felt a little easier.