Chapter Seven
GENEVIèVE
Needless to say, I didn’t sleep well. In fact, I didn’t sleep at all. I just stared at the ceiling, thinking about Roux.
Was he all right? Had I missed a venom-filled wound? And did all tigers have such beautiful eyes or just him?
At some point, I glanced at the clock. Two a.m.
I stared at the ceiling, then threw back the blankets. A minute later, I was padding down the long hallway in my robe and my grandmother’s fluffy pink house shoes. I went all the way through the central section of the house then to the west wing, where Roux and Bene lived.
I quietly thanked the shifter ancestors I inherited my night vision from — and cursed them for not passing down much else. Fur would be nice. Wings, even.
Stripes, the back of my mind threw in. Claws. Impressive teeth.
But, no. I was just plain old me.
The door to Roux’s room was open, and I paused, listening.
And, whew. I heard soft, steady, peaceful breathing.
I glanced around, identifying the main points of the room — the bed, a chair, and a pile of blankets on the bed. A human-shaped pile, thank goodness.
My heart rate settled, but a sense of sorrow replaced my concern. No curtains on the windows. No family photos, no mementos. Nothing to make the space feel homey.
Not much time remaining in his contract with Gordon, I realized.
What are their plans? Gordon had asked.
I wondered too. I even worried about it. And not just because of the convenient, in-house workforce.
The floor creaked as I crept forward, telling myself it was perfectly legitimate to check on my patient.
A patient who’d fought for me — ferociously. A man who’d followed me all the way to Paris and back out of a sense of duty.
Philip, one of my many regrettable mistakes, would have followed me too — but only to ensure I wasn’t seeing anyone he didn’t approve of.
Brandon would have as well, on the grounds that he couldn’t live a minute without me.
So would Nate, in hopes of scoring a few freebies on my tab — a meal here, a drink there, all while dropping hints at leather jackets or shoes he would look good in. The man had been sure I had secretly inherited millions.
Yes, my track record was pretty dismal when it came to men. Still, I was resilient, and I was damn proud of that.
Roux probably had much better judgment, and thus had zero interest in me.
The notion cut deeper than a naga wound.
Roux lay on his side with one arm over the blanket. That favored his injured side, though the gash was already healing. I pulled the blanket gently over his shoulders, then stood there, wondering why my heart felt a size or two bigger than yesterday.
Then I padded out and made the long trek over to my room in the east wing.
A single light glowed in the drawing room, and I nearly went in to flip the switch. Then I spied Henrik in a chair by the windows, reading so intently, he didn’t hear me.
Instinctively, I made a clutching motion, and darkness closed in, forming a cloak around me.
I backed away, quiet as a mouse. I had no idea why Henrik was there, but I knew better than to disturb a vampire.
“Someone there?” he called, looking right at me.
I froze, but somehow, he didn’t see me.
Holding my breath, I retreated quietly. Then, a few steps down the hallway, I stopped and looked around.
Everything was different. I saw the world as if through a bottle — a little blurred, colorless, and even dimmer than a moment before.
When I drew my fingers together, darkness tightened around me like a cape. When I opened my palms, the darkness inched away.
I grew a little bolder, stirring the air with one hand. Shadows rippled, mirroring the motion.
Shadow-weaving. My grandmother’s voice echoed in my mind. A handy trick, making you impossible to see.
She’d attempted to give Mina, Dora, and me lessons in various types of magic, but none of us had shown much talent. Mina could shadow-walk, which involved erasing your image from one spot and casting it to another. A trick way, way out of my league.
But shadow-weaving was easier. You “just” collected darkness that was already there and melted in with the shadows.
I’d never pulled it off before, but now…
I stared down at my body — perfectly clear — then my surroundings, which were dark and blurred. Then, poof! I flicked my fingers out, and the shadows flew back from whence they came.
Wow. I’d done it — shadow-weaving. For real!
“Hello?” Henrik called suspiciously.
My breath caught, and I inched away. Slowly at first, then faster. When I made it to my room, I turned the lock and stood, listening. Slowly, I backed away, thinking back over the past few hours. The intruders. The chase. The magic that had saved me at the pavilion.
Something was definitely afoot at Chateau Nocturne. Magic was stirring. Evil forces too.
And forces for good, the back of my mind whispered.
Like a certain tiger who’d fought fiercely — not to save his own skin, but to protect me. For the tenth time, I thanked my lucky stars he was all right.
I shivered, then slipped into bed, pulling the blankets over my head. I’d never spent a night in the chateau without a family member around before this weekend. Now, I was on my own with three strangers. A laid-back lion, a snippy vampire, and a testy tiger.
I closed my eyes and tried to clear my mind, but those strangers kept revisiting me.
One, especially.
* * *
I awoke at sunrise, bleary-eyed and cranky. Then I did a double take at the clock. Eight-twenty already?
Pulling on a robe, I rushed to the drawing room, but all I found was a blanket on the floor and ashes in the fireplace. I glanced out the window as I folded the blanket. When had Henrik left? How were Roux’s wounds? Where was Bene?
The clatter of dishes drew me downstairs, where I pulled up short at the sight of Bene clearing away breakfast.
“Where’s Claudette?” I asked.
“Good morning to you too,” he said cheerily, though the dark lines around his eyes suggested he hadn’t gotten much sleep.
“Good morning. All healed up?” I looked at his arm.
“Pretty much.” He pulled up his sleeve to show off his biceps then went back to clearing platters. “Claudette didn’t show up, so I helped myself. You want some?”
He held out the last of the bacon.
I took a crispy strip and munched, thinking about last night. Roux. Henrik. Shadow-weaving. Had that really been me, or had I dreamed that part?
“I see you slept in,” he observed, moving to the kitchen.
I followed, grumbling, “It doesn’t count as sleeping in if you had a shitty night.”
“Call me next time.” He grinned and put the plates in the sink.
I rolled my eyes. “I’ve sworn off men. Also, you’re not my type.” When he cocked his head, I went on. “You’re too nice. On the other hand, you would make for a disastrous relationship, which I seem to specialize in.”
“Nah. You just haven’t found the right guy yet,” he said, more like a brother than a flirty bachelor for a change.
I sighed. “Maybe I need a new strategy. Using the process of elimination hasn’t proven all too efficient.”
He laughed. “Ever think of going after guys you have no interest in?”
I snorted. “You mean like you — or Henrik?”
He chuckled. “I was thinking Roux.”
I went perfectly still.
“The guy is too principled to break hearts,” Bene continued as he moved around the kitchen. “But you’d have to put up with the world’s most annoying tiger and endure a lifetime of boredom.”
I pursed my lips. Principled, yes. Annoying…sometimes. But boring? Every time I looked into his eyes, I saw a universe of longing and mystery.
“I guess he’s still in bed?” I asked as casually as I could.
Bene snorted. “Are you kidding? He still lives by five a.m. reverie.” He jerked an elbow toward the side of the building. “He’s out in the stables, sneaking in a little work before work.”
He pointed to the clock. Mina had established a strict schedule, with an eight thirty start time every morning.
I grabbed a piece of toast, ready to head to the stables to see for myself. Then I peeked out the window, remembering the intruders.
“No sign of trouble?” I asked.
Bene shook his head. “Nothing. We took turns patrolling last night, but there was no sign of them or anyone else.”
My mouth fell open. “You…what?”
“We took turns patrolling. Standard procedure,” he explained.
I’d never felt more ashamed.
“I’m so sorry. Here I am, complaining about sleep when you guys were up all night.”
“No worries. Happy to help.”
A sweet sentiment, but I still felt terrible. “I owe you. All of you.”
He shook his head. “Not an issue, Gen.”
It was, and I resolved to make up for it as soon as I could.
With a last, inadequate Thank you, I left and did my best to walk, not run, to the stables. I did dash across the lawn, but that was because it was freezing, and because I was still creeped out from last night…and maybe also in a rush to check on someone.
Roux looked up, alarmed, when I burst through the double doors.
“Everything all right?”
“Sorry. Yes. Just checking on my patient.”
A tiny smile formed on his lips, and he nodded. “Much better. Thank you.”
“Even that?” I pointed to one shoulder, then the other one, trying to get my bearings. But heck. The guy had been a tiger last night. I could be excused for being a little confused.
The eyes were the same, though — the richest, most vibrant amber.
He rolled his shoulders slowly. “Just a bit sore.” Then he frowned, looking at me. “You sure everything is all right?”
I looked down at myself. Oops. I was in my pajamas, a robe, and the mud boots I’d yanked on over bare feet. Was my hair a disaster too?
“I guess I’m a little…distracted. Last night was kind of scary.” I swallowed hard. “Thank you. For everything. Bene said you were patrolling all night.”
He shook his head. “He and Henrik patrolled. I took the early morning shift. Everything looks okay.”
“Well, thank you. Again. Truly.” I said, still ashamed. Still, he seemed uncomfortable with praise, so I motioned toward the 1936 Jaguar, changing the subject. “How’s it coming?”