Chapter Eight
GENEVIèVE
The first thing I did was call my sister.
The second thing I did was chase the police car into town — on foot, because my car had broken down.
A kilometer or so down the road, a van beeped, passed me, and stopped. Roux jumped out and jogged to me, but I didn’t stop. I just swiped away the half-frozen tears stuck to my face and hurried on.
“Gen, wait. Stop.” Roux jogged alongside me, his breaths crystallizing in the crisp morning air.
I shook my head. “I have to get to Claudette. I have to help.”
That made no sense, and I knew it. But my mind wasn’t too clear, and all I could think of was reaching Claudette.
Roux put a hand on my arm, but I shook it off.
“There was some mistake. She can’t be dead,” I voiced the mantra that kept circling through my head.
Roux hurried a few steps ahead and opened both arms, blocking me.
“Gen. Stop. We’ll give you a ride.”
I jogged right into him. A smaller man might have been bowled over, but Roux braced himself and locked his arms around me. That shielded me from the chilly air and the slanting fall sun, but not the cold, hard truth. I sagged against him, sobbing.
“It’s a mistake. It has to be…”
He held me, not saying a word.
“Claudette has left suddenly before. She always comes back. Always…” I tried, but I wasn’t fooling anyone. Not even myself.
Roux helped me into the back of the van, slid in beside me, and motioned to Bene, who drove on.
Good. They were taking me to Claudette’s house. Soon, we would get this all cleared up.
But Bene, I realized, was going the wrong way.
I pointed over the front seat. “Claudette doesn’t live in town. It’s that way. That way!”
Roux quietly took my hand and held it in his. Using his free hand, he started wiping my cheek. Then he cupped it instead, warming my skin.
“You’re freezing,” he muttered.
So? What was a little frostbite? I was alive.
Claudette was dead. Murdered. Forever gone.
“That way,” I tried again, but Bene continued into town.
Roux caught me in a bear hug, closing out the light. “Breathe, Gen.”
I was. It was Claudette who wasn’t. Or so Clement claimed. But he was wrong. Terribly wrong. He had to be.
The vehicle stopped at some point, but Roux didn’t release me. I heard Bene exit, then return a minute later, reporting, “He’s not here.”
He, who? Henrik? Clement? Those agents?
Popping my head up, I recognized the compact headquarters of the local gendarme.
Bene twisted around in the driver’s seat, facing Roux and me. His trademark smile was gone, his mouth hard, his eyes full of pity.
“They took Henrik to the nearest DGSI office, just outside Dijon,” he reported.
I pointed down the road. “Henrik doesn’t matter. We have to get to Claudette.”
Bene bit his lip, looking at Roux.
A painfully long silence stretched before Roux nodded. Even then, Bene took a long time getting the van back on the road.
“Faster,” I urged, pointing the way.
His eyes flicked to Roux’s in the rearview mirror, then back to the road.
Five minutes later, he pulled over. I leaped out of the car and ran for the police tape around Claudette’s house.
Roux caught me before I broke through the barrier.
“Claudette…” I called miserably.
The neighbors were out, looking ashen — among them, Madame Fontaine, the retired schoolmistress. She walked straight over and hugged me. And hugged me and hugged me…
“It’s too late,” she whispered. “No one can help.”
It ought to have sounded harsh, but Madame Fontaine was a teacher, and she knew how to hit exactly the right tone. Soft. Sad. Clear. Above all, steady, promising me as bad as this was, we would find a way through.
Slowly, I pulled myself together, asked a few questions, and returned to Bene and Roux.
I hung my head. “Sorry.”
Bene shook his head gently. “No reason to be.”
Easy for him to say. His shirt wasn’t stained with my tears — or worse, snot, like Roux’s.
I curled my hands inside my sleeves and wiped the front of Roux’s shirt. “I’m really sorry.”
He caught my hands and waited until I met his eyes. I didn’t want to, but I was glad when I did, because they were as soothing as Madame Fontaine’s gentle tone.
“All good, Geneviève,” he murmured.
I closed my eyes, savoring that tiny moment of calm in a truly terrible world.
Then I swallowed hard, straightened, and looked at the car. “Next stop, Dijon?”
* * *
An hour of driving brought us to the outskirts of Dijon, but it took another three-quarters of an hour to find the DGSI office.
Which, I supposed, was the point. Feds didn’t exactly set up shop between the local hairdresser and boulangerie with a large, bright sign that spelled F-B-I — or, in this case, D-G-S-I.
The supernatural branch was even more secretive, though we eventually hunted them down in a narrow alley in an industrial part of town.
“What about the Guardians of Paris?” I whispered on the way. “Don’t they take charge of supernatural crimes?”
I didn’t know much about them, but I knew such a group existed, headed up by a few old-timers along with a dedicated young couple.
“They do their best to keep the peace between supernatural groups — vampires, shifters, gargoyles, and so on,” Roux explained. “But they have their hands full in Paris.”
“We try to operate under their radar as much as possible,” Bene chimed in.
“Why?” I asked.
He snorted. “Because we work for Gordon.”
Which said a lot about the kind of business my godfather really ran.
Roux nodded grimly. “We’re dealing with a secret, nationwide layer of law enforcement — the supernatural unit of the DGSI.”
Letters that only appeared in size twelve font on the door, they were that secretive.
We stormed in, only to be stopped by the bear-shifter agent.
“We’re here to see Henrik,” I said. “And Officer Dulaire.”
I couldn’t think of him as Clement any more. I doubted I ever would again. Not after the way he’d cold-shouldered me.
Not now, Geneviève, he’d said, like I was a child.
“This facility is not open to the public,” Agent Bear replied.
I glared. “We’re not the public, and you know it. Now, get me Officer Dulaire, dammit.”
Beside me, Bene and Roux exchanged surprised glances. Did they think I was a pushover just because I’d soaked Roux’s shirt with tears and snot?
Well, I wasn’t. Unfortunately, I also wasn’t my cousin Dora, who would handle this much more diplomatically than I ever could.
“Wait here,” the agent finally conceded, heading down a narrow hallway to the back. When he returned, he pointed to four folding chairs set against the far wall. “Have a seat. He’ll get to you when he can.”
We waited. For hours. Literally. We huddled together, speculating in low tones. Where was Henrik? Why him? What had happened to Claudette?
I shivered, thinking of the nagas. But why would they go after Claudette?
Finally, Clement appeared and pointed to Roux. “You. Come with me. Now.”
Every word was clipped and angry.
Roux looked at Bene, then tilted his head at me before following Clem into a side office.
Bene shuffled a little closer, giving Agent Bear the evil eye. The guy immediately pretended to be busy with papers on his desk.
“I know Mina put Roux up to watching over me, but you don’t have to do it too,” I complained.
Bene’s eyebrows knitted. “Mina didn’t put Roux up to anything. But if he wants me to look out for you, I will. You don’t cross a tiger when he’s that worked up.”
My mouth fell open. All this time, Roux had been watching out for me of his own volition?
I stared at the door he’d disappeared behind, reexamining all our interactions. That day in Auberre… That long trip to Paris that had robbed him of his day off…
He’d done all that…for me?
Tears slid down my cheeks. A whole different flavor from the ones I’d shed for Claudette.
Whatever Clement was doing to Roux — Interrogation? Torture? — he did it for nearly an hour. When the door finally creaked open, Roux stepped out, looking much calmer and cooler than Clem. Inside, though, he seethed. I could tell.
“You’re next,” Clem barked, pointing to Bene.
“Yes, sir.” Bene forced a wide smile.
Roux gave him a sharp look, and I remembered what he’d said at Gordon’s. No details. No promises. No confidential information.
Yikes. Did that apply here too?
Clem slammed the office door, and Roux sat down beside me. Hard.
I leaned in, whispering. “What’s going on?”
Roux ran a hand through his hair — the calm, composed tiger equivalent to throwing a tantrum.
“Are you sure you’re ready to hear this?”
I gulped. That bad, huh?
“Yes. And sorry about before. I’ve got my armor back on now.” I tapped my chest in a weak joke.
His lips curled slightly, but it faded fast.
“He’s not giving much away, but it sounds like a vampire attack. Sometime last night.”
“Did you tell him about last night? The intruders, I mean?”
Roux nodded. “He listened and took notes, but he didn’t see a connection. Hell, I can’t see a connection between the nagas and Claudette either. Unless…”
The furrow in his brow deepened.
“Unless what?” I whispered.
“Unless Claudette was selling information to someone who is out to get us.”
“Someone who sent three nagas after us and a vampire to kill Claudette?” I shook my head. “Why?”
He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know.”
We chewed that over in silence.
“Well, one thing’s for sure,” I finally muttered. “You don’t deserve to be treated like a criminal.”
And he doesn’t deserve all the grief I’ve given him, I reminded myself, ashamed.
He shook his head. “Claudette deserves a thorough investigation. I can’t fault the guy for that.”
Most folks pulled out their principles when it was convenient. Roux carried his front and center like scripture.
A good man, I decided. Too good for a girl like me.
“Well, Henrik doesn’t deserve it either,” I grumbled.
We both glanced down the back hallway, where the warlock agent stood guard over what I presumed to be Henrik’s cell.
Roux pursed his lips.
“What?” I finally asked.
“Maybe he does deserve it.”
My mouth fell open. “You don’t believe Henrik did it, do you?”
When he didn’t answer, I stared. “Wait. You think Henrik killed her?”
He executed the world’s slowest, most insinuating shrug. “He is a vampire.”
I opened my mouth, ready to bawl him out for even suggesting something so unthinkable. Then again, so was the fact that Claudette was dead.
“I thought you said he was patrolling the grounds last night,” I tried.
He made a face. “He was supposed to be.”
I gaped. Surely he didn’t suspect Henrik.
“Don’t forget, Henrik went after Mina once,” Roux said. “He’s impossible to predict.”
I sat, reeling.
Eventually, the office door opened, and Bene sauntered out, though the spark had gone out of his eyes, replaced by edgy anger more characteristic of Roux.
I stood slowly, bracing myself to be called next.
Clem didn’t so much as look at me, however. He just motioned to the bear shifter at the front desk. “Get me Haddad on the line.”
Then he disappeared back inside the office.
I sat down, not sure whether to be relieved or outraged.
“What did he say?” Roux asked Bene.
The lion shifter dropped into his chair. “More like, what did he demand. Where was I, when. When and where did I last see Claudette…”
His voice hitched, and he studied his hands for a long time. Then he cleared his throat and went on.
“When and where did I last see Henrik…”
“Clem is hell-bent on blaming Henrik, isn’t he?” I complained.
Bene looked at me in surprise. “Wouldn’t you?”
I looked at Roux, but he didn’t relent.
“I can’t believe you two,” I chided as quietly as I could. “You work with Henrik. You know him.”
“Yes. We do,” Roux said with a heavy note.