Chapter Twenty-Four #2
I sank into a chair, staring past my trembling hands.
Roux paced in front of me, rubbing one side of his body against my legs, then the other, showing Grepper his teeth.
The warlock raised his hands in a gesture of innocence. “I merely speak the truth. Gordon, on the other hand…”
…is a crook and a liar, I pictured Mina filling in when Grepper trailed off.
Several cars pulled up outside, and Roux growled.
Fucking vampires…
I rocked a little, telling myself I would not succumb to another all-out meltdown as I had over Claudette. There wasn’t time for that.
“Are you saying Gordon killed my father?” I gritted out.
Grepper shrugged. “At the very least, he profited from the circumstances. You must ask Gordon if you wish to learn more.”
I shook my head, totally drained. Did I want to learn more? And who was I to believe?
“Why are you telling me this?” I demanded.
Grepper stared into the fire for a long time. “Perhaps because you remind me of your father. He was a good man. Too good, perhaps.” He shot me a significant look.
A veiled warning that I should stop while I was ahead. Well, duh. I knew that full well, but that didn’t stop me.
“So, you have the Monet now. Will you do as you originally intended and make it available to the public?”
My hopes rose on tiny, frail wings. Wouldn’t it be nice if a little bit of good came of all this?
Roux’s tail tapped me, and I thought of a second good thing. Him and me.
If we make it out of this alive, the back of my mind warned.
“Mr. Grepper. Will you exhibit it?” I demanded.
He flashed a wry smile. “Unfortunately, time has a way of eroding one’s principles.”
“But you have to! What good is it for one person to admire a masterpiece they keep locked away?”
“One might ask, what good is it to share?”
I was hardly in a position to shame a powerful warlock in his own home, but I didn’t care any more.
“Shame on you, Mr. Grepper. Shame on you.”
Car doors slammed, and voices sounded outside.
Grepper stared into the fire, unfazed by my words or the vampires.
I sank my fingers into Roux’s thick fur, wishing we could teleport ourselves to another time and place.
A place like Monet’s garden, where Roux could rest his head on my lap and snooze while I listened to the birds, the bees, and the trickling stream.
Footsteps sounded outside, along with muttered curses. Only then did Grepper move. He stood, annoyed, then paused to look at me.
“In my line of work, I don’t often encounter people of principle. Your father was one. You are another.” He leaned in, magic shimmering around his shoulders. “But principles can be dangerous, my dear. They can even kill you.”
I gulped but refused to look away.
Remember what you told me about picking your battles? Roux warned.
“I have no designs on the Monet. I have no interest in selling you Gordon’s secrets,” I insisted. “All I want is my father’s painting. Please. It’s nothing to you, but very important to me.”
Yes, I was pleading. But I didn’t have it in me to uphold my principles and my pride at the same time.
He studied me long enough to make my hopes rise, only to dash them again.
“I am a businessman, not a philanthropist.”
Ding-dong. The doorbell chimed.
So much for being the one with an original approach.
Roux crouched and gnashed his teeth.
“Strange, isn’t it, that such an inhospitable night brings so many uninvited guests,” Grepper observed dryly.
I, on the other hand, was ready to wet my pants. Grepper could defend himself against a gang of vampires, but what about me? What about Roux?
The bell chimed again, and Hot Young Thing appeared, looking miffed that whatever series she’d been binge-watching had been interrupted for a second time. Apparently, greeting people at the door was part of her job, along with spreading her legs on demand.
What a miserable skill set.
She stood by the door, waiting for Grepper’s signal.
Roux pressed against my legs, nudging me toward the study, while Grepper called casually to the vampires.
“Just a moment, please.” He walked across the room and picked up my father’s rolled painting.
“Suppose I offered you a choice,” he asked me.
My gut sank. Now what?
“Suppose I was gripped by a misguided sense of honor and allowed you to leave here with one thing — and only one. Would you choose the painting or Danielle here?”
Hot Young Thing stared, shocked and betrayed. “Kurt!”
“Silence!” he thundered, and she cowered.
The hair on my arms stood as he turned to me, calm as can be. “Which would it be?”
I shook my head. Was he nuts?
I pointed. “Her, of course.”
Grepper’s eyes glowed with interest. “You would choose her — a stranger — over your father’s painting? Over the memories it captures? Over what it symbolizes?”
I gnashed my teeth. If he went on any longer, I might be tempted, dammit.
“Perhaps it doesn’t mean as much to you as you suggest,” he grunted.
I glared at him. “That painting means the world to me, but it’s just a painting.”
The fire blazed higher as Grepper held the painting over it.
I flinched, then shot Hot Young Thing the evil eye. “Promise me you’ll do something with your life to make this worth it. Something beyond finding a sugar daddy with a nice villa and questionable morals.”
“Last chance,” Grepper warned.
I turned my back, bracing myself for the crackling sounds and acrid smell that signaled the demise of my father’s painting.
I pictured him standing in the garden, dabbing his brush in his paint, then smiling at me.
Just a painting. Just a painting… I told myself. Memories were more precious than the materials that held them, right?
Every nerve in my body tensed.
But there was no crackle, no burning smell. Just Grepper’s low mutter.
“Interesting. Very interesting.”
What’s so fucking interesting? Roux muttered.
Hot Young Thing kept her eyes trained over my shoulder, watching Grepper.
Steps sounded, coming closer, and I forced myself not to shiver. What was the warlock up to?
Grepper stepped around me, still holding my father’s painting. What would his next demand be? My firstborn child?
He tapped the rolled canvas against his palm, thinking.
“Think faster,” I grumbled, pointing to the door. “Vampires, remember?”
His lips curled into a smile. “Gordon underestimates me, but he also underestimates you.”
“Gordon doesn’t know I’m here,” I noted bitterly.
Grepper’s smile stretched. “I won’t be the one to inform him.”
The bell chimed again, and someone hammered on the door. “We know you’re in there!”
Grepper thought for another few seconds, then smacked the painting into my hands.
“Take it, and take her. That way.” He pointed at Hot Young Thing, then down the stairs. “Go to the lowest level, through the garage, and out the rear entrance.”
I stared as Grepper stepped toward the front door.
“Go, I say!” he commanded.
I stumbled backward, propelled by his magic. Roux bristled beside me, protective as ever.
“Wait. My things…” Hot Young Thing made for the stairs leading to the upper story.
I yanked her back and shoved her toward the basement.
“But my things!” she protested.
Boy, had Kurt picked a winner. But I supposed brains weren’t the top criteria for her job.
“You can’t be that stupid,” I muttered, bustling her onward.
“You will go with them, and you will do as you’re told,” Grepper ordered her in a frighteningly dark tone. “If you live to see tomorrow, you will forget everything.”
Her eyes took on a glassy sheen as she succumbed to his magic. “Yes, sir.”
“Take her to the Hotel Seeblick,” Grepper told me. “I’ll make arrangements for her from there.”
How he planned to make arrangements with a coven of vampires knocking on his door, I didn’t know. But I sure wasn’t going to stick around for the details.
“Go, already!” I barked at her.
Finally, Danielle got into gear. She was woefully underdressed for the weather, but I had a feeling she wouldn’t choose anything suitable even with an hour to prepare.
The three of us barely made it around the corner of the first flight of stairs before the front door opened, admitting a burst of frigid air that announced more than winter. It announced vampires.
But the voice that greeted Grepper wasn’t at all what I expected.
“Why hello, Kurt,” a woman crooned, all sweet and sultry.
My step hitched, as did Roux’s.
Celeste, he muttered.
I was tempted to U-turn and give the succubus a piece of my mind. Then I remembered the vampires and changed my mind, real fast.
I took off, and even Hot Young Thing had the sense to hurry along.
Faster. Go! Roux hollered into my mind.
A message I didn’t need to hear twice. I rushed Hot Young Thing along. Whatever happened next, we needed to be as far from it as possible.