Chapter Ten
ROUX
We held a quick powwow, then reached a decision. Bene and Marius would stay with one vehicle to await Henrik’s release, while Mina, Gen, and I drove home in the van.
Throughout the long, quiet drive, Gen stared out the passenger-side window, hugging herself.
Should be us doing that, my tiger snarled silently.
I stared out the window from the back seat, while Mina stared straight ahead from behind the steering wheel.
It was the worst possible time to bring up what had happened the previous night, but it seemed pertinent, so I did.
“You went to Paris?” Mina’s shriek pierced my ears.
Gen winced, then admitted to everything. Seeing Gordon in Paris… The car breaking down… Fighting off the shifters who’d attacked us…
Yes, it was pretty clear which sister was the impulsive one. But the strength of their bond was just as obvious, along with something else. Gen meant what she’d said about principles. She certainly stuck to them, at least for the big things, as she’d put it.
A woman after my own heart.
I gulped, because that wasn’t the only way she’d been worming her way into that off-limits space.
When we reached the driveway to the chateau, I had Mina drop me off. Gen obviously needed space, and I would go crazy if I sat around waiting for Bene, Marius, and Henrik. Instead, I checked the area for any trace of the previous night’s intruders, as I had that morning.
God, what a day. A long and perilous one.
An hour of searching in tiger form brought no new insights, and I eventually headed back to the chateau in human form. I didn’t mind cold, dark nights, but something in me yearned for the comfort of a crackling fire and the company of others.
Or rather, the company of one person in particular.
I paused at the pavilions, reliving the previous night’s attack and marveling at what Gen had done. I even reached gingerly through one of the entryways. Nothing happened.
Hoo. Hoo, an owl hooted.
I trudged on, then stopped. The lights were on in the central part of the chateau, but something flickered to my right, and I detoured to the chapel, a separate building a few hundred yards away from the west wing.
Time had turned the beautiful structure into a near-wreck with gaps in the roof and birds nesting in the beams. We’d put in just enough work to tidy and stabilize the structure, so the pews were clean, and you could walk right in. But I paused at the threshold, peering inside.
A dozen candles flickered at the altar, casting a soft glow over a lone figure seated in the front pew. Gen?
I stepped forward, scuffing through leaves carried in by autumn winds. Slate slabs lined the floor, and carved columns rose on both sides of the aisle. The darkness and candlelight heightened the timeless feel of the place, and I imagined my steps carrying me back through the centuries.
But I wasn’t. It was a cold November night in Auberre, less than twenty-four hours after a young woman’s murder.
Hence the candles, I realized.
I walked past Gen, found an unlit candle, and held the wick over one of its neighbors. When it flickered to life, I found a spot for it and watched it quietly for a while.
My throat went all thick, and I rounded one hand into a fist.
Whoever had killed Claudette and whoever had threatened Gen had a very limited time to live. Because I was coming after them, and soon.
Not the most appropriate mind-set for inside a church, maybe, but that’s how I felt.
“Mind if I join you?” I asked Gen, my voice raw and hushed.
She nodded quietly, and I took a seat beside her. Together, we gazed at the candles.
“It’s so sad,” she whispered, her cheeks glistening in the dim light.
I hated seeing her like that, but boy, did the tears illuminate those amazing blue eyes.
“The worst is, people will remember Claudette as the girl who lived dangerously,” she continued. “Like she brought this upon herself or something.”
I focused on a single candle, watching the flames twist and twirl.
“What will you remember?” I asked quietly.
She sniffled a little. “The girl I climbed trees with. The woman with the guts to live life on her own terms.”
I thought it over, then added, “I’ll remember her toughness. Her strength. That batch of toast she burned.”
Gen chuckled. “I remember that.” Then she sobered. “Will it be enough, though?”
“Enough for what?”
Gen knotted her fingers together. “Enough that she won’t be forgotten — or worse, that she’ll only be remembered as a person with a lot of…troubles in her life.”
That was putting it delicately, but a fair point.
I thought it over. “She won’t be forgotten. Not by us. That’s guaranteed. And as for the rest…” I cleared my throat and gave myself a moment to put my thoughts together…and rein in a few emotions.
“My unit lost a few guys over the years, and not all of them were angels,” I finally said.
“That was part of who they were, so no, that doesn’t disappear.
But mostly, you remember the little things.
What food they liked and hated. Their best — and worst — jokes.
The times you spent together, making a mission that much more bearable or more successful. That’s what creates a memory.”
Gen nodded, keeping her eyes on the candles. A fact I was glad for, because talking wasn’t a tiger’s strong suit. Especially when it came to the tough stuff.
“Do you think Clement will find the vampire who did it?” she asked softly.
“I know he’ll put everything into it. His heart is in the right place, at least when it comes to getting justice for Claudette.”
“That’s the only time his heart is in the right place,” she muttered bitterly.
I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I knew better than to push it.
“What will happen if they do catch that vampire? It’s not like they can put him through a public trial.”
“No, they’ll keep this hushed up. And the vampire — if they catch him — will be turned over to his home coven for punishment.”
Gen snorted. “Severe enough to make up for murder?”
I nodded solemnly. “More severe than any human court would, I guarantee.”
“As in…?” Gen asked.
I shrugged. “Death. A very slow, painful one. Vampires don’t tolerate their kind attracting attention.”
Gen shivered, and I resisted the urge to wrap an arm around her shoulders.
Then she sighed. “I’m glad Henrik isn’t falsely accused, but I’m not exactly looking forward to his return.”
Tires crunched over gravel as a vehicle came down the drive. Neither of us looked, but then, we didn’t have to.
“Speak of the devil,” I murmured.
Gen let out a dry chuckle. “Well put.”
It was time to check in with the others, but neither of us budged. We just sat there, giving Claudette her due.
I was about to suggest joining the others when cold air sliced into the chapel. The candles flickered, struggling to stay lit, and we both whirled.
“Henrik,” Gen whispered, not too cheerfully.
He stood, barely a shadow in the doorway, for a few seconds before speaking. “May I join you?”
No, I nearly barked, for a number of different reasons. But Gen beat me to it.
“Sure.” Her voice wobbled nervously.
He walked down the aisle and gazed at the candles for a while.
“A fitting tribute to Claudette,” he finally murmured.
Gen nodded quietly.
“I will find the guilty vampire and ensure he is brought to justice,” he said.
I sensed Gen pale, but she nodded. “That would be good.”
Sometimes, I wondered if the military had made me too hard. It was reassuring to know that even sunny souls could have a taste for revenge.
“I would like to speak to you,” Henrik said, facing Gen.
She motioned, looking weary as hell. “Go ahead.”
He gave me a pointed look.
As if I was going anywhere.
“Privately,” Henrik growled, more to me than her.
“I’d rather he stayed,” Gen said firmly.
Warmth trickled through my veins.
Henrik frowned and stepped closer, pulling something from inside his jacket. I tensed, keeping my hands at my sides.
But it was only a wooden box, roughly the size of a cigar case. A fancy one, inlaid with ivory and mother-of-pearl. It seemed familiar.
“I wish to express my gratitude.” Henrik’s gritty tone suggested how difficult he found that.
Either Bene and Marius had filled him in on what Gen had done for him, or he’d heard her long, insistent “conversation” with Clement as clearly as we had.
“I only did what’s right,” she insisted.
“Doing the right thing can get you killed, you know,” he murmured.
I stepped closer with a quiet snarl, but Gen shrugged off his comment.
“Maybe I sensed an opportunity.”
He hooted. “You? Not a chance.”
“What does that mean?” she grumbled. Then she caught herself, muttering, “My morals must be slipping if I’m mad at being called out for doing the right thing.”
That didn’t reflect well on the company she’d been keeping. Namely, us.
I swallowed hard. Gen was a positive, cheery soul and innocent when it came to the evils of the world. She would be better off without us. Mina too.
My inner beast growled. She belongs right where she is, and we do too.
“I won’t pretend to speak to morals,” Henrik said. “But I vow to honor my debt to you. Any time, anywhere, anything within my power to do, I will do when you require it.”
Quite the speech, until he ruined it with, “Just once, you understand. One favor.”
Gen stuck up her hands. “I hope never to have to ask, believe me.”
Henrik handed her the small wooden box. “Until that day, I give you this for safekeeping.”
Typical Henrik — making a loan sound like a generous gift.
“Oh. Thank you.” Gen accepted it uncertainly.
Henrik tensed when she touched the lid and asked, “May I open it?”
The time he took to answer spoke volumes.
“Yes,” he finally said.
Only then did I realize where I’d seen it. That was the box Mina had retrieved for him from a burning villa in Mallorca.
Gen opened it slowly, revealing a worn black velvet interior. Clearly, that box had seen a lot of use over the years — and a lot of care, because the outside didn’t show so much as a scratch.
“Oh. It’s beautiful,” she breathed, carefully holding up the necklace within.
An obsidian pendant hung from a silver chain, held in place by intricately worked silver settings.
“It is my most precious possession. A reminder of someone very dear to me,” Henrik murmured.
A woman, obviously. And I had a good bet who that might be.
Katarina. It had to be.
Gen looked at him in surprise, then quickly turned away.
“I entrust it to you as a token of my gratitude,” he said, then fished for words. “And as a…guarantee of my trust. I will never harm you or your sister, and I will do everything in my power to protect you from others of my kind.”
I nearly snarled, because protecting Gen was my job.
Gen carefully put the pendant away, keeping her eyes down. “That’s very…”
Dark, I nearly filled in the blank. And that was just the first of several adjectives that jumped to mind.
Limited was another, because he was offering one lousy favor, not eternal gratitude.
Unsettling was yet another. Would Gen be fair game if she hadn’t saved his ass?
“Generous,” she finally said. “That’s very generous.” Then she paused, carefully formulating her next words. “How long do I have the honor of keeping this for?”
I could hear the snark between the lines, but Henrik was tone-deaf.
“Until you feel the need to invoke a favor,” Henrik said with his usual arrogant air.
“I see.” She shut the box. “Well, I’ll let you know.”
Not anytime soon, I hoped.
Henrik gave a little bow and quietly left. Creepily quietly, to be precise. The dry leaves in the aisles barely stirred under his feet, but the candles shone a little brighter for every step he took.
When I was sure Henrik was a safe distance away, I exhaled and slid closer to Gen.
“What a ray of sunshine that man is.” She blew out her cheeks, then shook her head. “Wait, I take that back. He has every excuse to be grouchy after getting locked up for a crime he didn’t commit.”
Once again, she was more generous than I would have been.
“Anyway, thank you,” she whispered. “For saving me yesterday. Thank you for today. For everything.”
“Not necessary. Really.”
She shook her head. “On the contrary. You went out on a limb for me again and again, and I’m really grateful.” Then she sighed. “Also, thank you for not telling my sister I was going to go to Paris without you.”
I held back a grin. I’d been close to flipping out at the time, but now, I recognized it for what it was: the spontaneity that made this woman so fascinating — and the admirable capacity to admit to her mistakes.
“Thank you for following me around to protect me, too,” she went on, then whispered, “I’m really, truly grateful.”
The shine in her eyes said she knew I’d done it of my own volition, and I searched for plausible excuses. But all I had was, I’ve been following you because I care. Because I hate when we’re apart. Because I lo—
I cut off the thought and ran a hand through my hair. I would come off like a goddamned stalker if I said that. And as for the L-word… That was ridiculous…right?
She blew out a deep breath.
Then she jerked her head up, listening. A moment later, she sighed.
“Mina’s calling a meeting — now, in the drawing room.”
I nodded, having just received the mental message from Bene. Crappy timing in some ways, great timing in others.
When it came to life-and-death situations, I was as courageous as hell. Also when it came to upholding my principles. But when it came to matters of the heart… Denial was a tempting option — or running.
Gen stepped to the candles, hesitated, then blew them out. It took a few puffs, but soon, they were all transformed into fragrant threads of smoke.
Gen transformed, too, from a woman racked by grief to one intent on revenge. Then she strode out with a frighteningly cool, calm demeanor that said, Vampires, watch out.