Chapter 41
Forty-One
Antoine awoke.
His blinds were fully down, blocking out the sun, but the clock confirmed it was mid-afternoon, in keeping with his usual waking hours since bonding Cally.
She wasn’t beside him, but he hadn’t expected her to be.
He knew where she would be: in her room, likely with Eve, poring over the Order’s spell books, committing herself with single-minded determination in search of anything that might help.
As she had since he’d returned from Roberto’s, three days before.
But after three centuries on this world with nothing to suggest witch magic had survived, Antoine didn’t put much faith in that hope.
He linked his mind to Noah. “Any news from Gabe?”
“Yes. He’s expecting you this evening. Some concern over Anastasia attending, but he’s on board.”
This wasn’t much of a plan either, but it was the best he had.
Antoine rose and showered, standing under the water only as long as was necessary to get clean. It was one more reason to hate Roberto; Antoine used to like taking showers. It wasn’t as though the water scared him, more that it served as a reminder of an experience he’d rather forget.
If vampires dreamed, I’d have constant nightmares.
Antoine dressed in black tie, as befitting the venue for his meeting with Gabe, then went to find Cally. She was cross-legged on her bed, barefoot but dressed in chinos and an indigo blouse, three books spread open around her. Eve curled up in her usual chair, legs tucked beneath her.
He wanted to ask how the search went, but he knew the answer would risk demoralizing them. “I’m off to see Gabe,” he said instead.
“Sharp tux. You look good enough to eat.” Cally jumped up to come and give him a kiss. “I’ll wait for you.”
“I’ll be back late. You’ll be asleep by then.”
She hooked her arms around his neck. “A woman has to get used to odd hours when her bonded is a vampire. Especially one that looks as delectable as you.”
“I am a fortunate vampire indeed.” He returned her kiss at length.
Eve cleared her throat noisily.
“Ignore her.” Cally pressed her body close. “She’s just jealous.”
“The whole house is jealous with how loud you are when you come,” Eve muttered.
Antoine grinned as Cally flushed red. “Stay inside, please. Noah will remain close.”
“Poor Noah. I feel bad for him. Give Gabe my best?”
“Of course.” He nodded to the books. “Bonne chance, mon amour.”
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Good luck.” Eve rolled her eyes. “Get Duolingo or something.”
Antoine gave her a parting kiss. “Plenty of time to learn a little French,” he said as he walked out, passing Noah in the hallway with a nod.
Marcel waited downstairs, looking more frail with each passing day. How would he take to leaving this house, in only four more nights? He was too old for such a change. And if Antoine took Cally and left Boston, who would keep him company?
“I went ahead and had the tank filled, sir.” The old retainer handed him the keys to the Audi.
“Thank you,” Antoine said as he accepted them, yet it wasn’t enough. He wanted to say so much more, but the words wouldn’t come.
Marcel seemed to know. “Don’t spare me a thought, sir.
You have enough on your plate, and I am not without my means; you have paid me well for many years, and I’ve never had need to spend any of it.
I will buy a house somewhere quiet and live out my years happily drinking through the remainder of your wine cellar. ”
Antoine laid a hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, then turned for the door. It was yet another reason to make Roberto pay, and it gave purpose to his steps.
He followed Route 9 into the city, heading not to Gabe’s apartment but to The Berkshire, the exclusive members-only club where only a few weeks before, he and Gabe had played some poker.
With all that had happened, it felt like a lifetime ago.
It seemed more had occurred in the past six weeks than in the previous sixty years.
Gabriel had thralls on the staff, ensuring privacy, and one of them showed Antoine into a private room with thick carpets, dark wood paneling, and luxurious chairs. The scent of leather mingled with old cigar smoke.
“There you are,” Gabe said with an easy smile, coming over to clasp his arm, then showing him to one of the deep-seated chairs. “We have a few minutes before Anastasia will arrive. Is that time enough?”
“Should be.” Antoine sank into the soft chair, resting an elbow on one thick, padded arm. A brandy and cigar would suit, but he had no need of either.
“So why the cloak-and-dagger? What’s the news?” Gabe took to his seat like he belonged.
Antoine smiled thinly. “You are sitting opposite an outcast, my friend.”
“What?” Gabe’s surprise was laced with outrage, and he leaned forward. “Noah’s message suggested it was important, but…” He shook his head. “How has this happened?”
“Our esteemed and beloved resident Curia member has banished me for refusing one of his decrees.”
“Oh?” Gabe settled back into his chair. “I should’ve anticipated as much. What did he ask of you?”
“Not much. Only the rights to my marked chattel.”
Gabe stilled, his face hardening as seconds ticked by. “He can’t do that,” he said at last, his tone dangerously soft.
“Apparently, he can. An old custom, still valid. Jus dominii, if my memory serves.” Antoine waved a hand. “Equivalent to the feudal kingly privilege of ‘first night’ rights, only more permanent.”
“He knows, then?” Gabe cut to the heart of the matter.
“I am… unsure. It would suggest he does, but he may not; he might just have reasoned—correctly—that Cally’s value to me is greater than that of any mere marked chattel.”
Gabe pushed himself out of his chair, pacing across the room as if too agitated to sit still. “If he does this to you, what will stop him claiming other such rights on the rest of us?”
Antoine kept his silence, letting Gabe reach his own conclusions. But it was exactly the direction he’d hoped his friend would take.
“This is untenable,” Gabe muttered. “When has any Curia member been so heavy-handed?”
Antoine could think of a few occasions, but he kept his thoughts to himself.
Gabe spun to face him. “How powerful is he? Can you take him?”
That was always going to be the question.
“No. I do not believe I can.”
And that, regretfully, was the answer.
“Then we need assistance,” Gabe said, committing himself with that one simple phrase, and any lingering doubts Antoine had about their friendship disappeared. “Anastasia won’t—”
He broke off just before a knock on the door, and the attendant opened it again. “Anastasia, Valeria, and Lena.”
Antoine rose as the three vampires entered.
Anastasia led the way in a scarlet evening gown that barely clung to her shoulders.
Valeria flanked her on one side in a black cocktail dress, the plunging neckline calculated for effect, with Lena on the other, sheathed in silver satin, the high collar offset by a slit that reached her hip, flashing pale thigh with every step.
“Enter, uphold our traditions, and keep my domain tranquil.” Gabriel’s deep voice carried a note of curiosity as he took in Anastasia and her two escorts.
“Your trust is met with solemn commitment,” Anastasia replied in her soft voice, and it was echoed a moment later by the others.
Gabe’s gaze settled on Anastasia. “The invitation was for you alone.”
“It’s fine.” Antoine stepped forward. “I can hardly blame her. With the Curia’s mandate and Boston at war with itself, who would walk unaccompanied into a meeting with the two of us?”
Anastasia inclined her head gracefully toward him in silent acknowledgment of his point. “And you did not inform me you were bringing an ally, Gabriel.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “No matter. We are all friends here, are we not?”
None of the women answered, but all took more paces into the room, fanning out as they came. Anastasia perched on the edge of one of the leather chairs, while Lena stood behind her. Valeria sat on the arm of the same chair, her dress rising as she did, and she smiled provocatively at Antoine.
“I haven’t seen you since the night you were entombed,” she said, with no attempt at subtlety. “Though this time, you don’t smell of sex.”
“Nice to see you too, Valeria,” he replied dryly. She winked at him slowly, her red eyes gleaming with amusement, and the promise of more.
“What is the purpose of this clandestine gathering?” Anastasia posed her question to Gabe, as host.
He took a pace back, turning toward Antoine. “This is Antoine’s meeting.”
“Is it now?” Anastasia regarded him impassively. “It seems you fared better in your last meeting with Roberto than the one prior.”
“Only a little.” He had already decided that truth was his only route to winning her cooperation, but the presence of her two allies complicated matters.
Anastasia was known for her composure and thinking before she acted, and he hoped to calmly present his case.
But Valeria had a reputation for passion and volatility, while Lena he knew little about.
Still, they were awaiting his address; he may as well be blunt, cast the die and see how they fall.
“Roberto attempted to claim my marked chattel, and stripped me of my territory when I refused.”
Anastasia arched one thin eyebrow. Valeria laughed with seemingly genuine amusement. It was Lena who spoke. “You lost your territory over a chattel?”
“No,” Antoine said steadily. “My territory was taken from me by virtue of a centuries-old decree, invoked by a vampire who wields authority over all of us.”
Lena cocked her head to one side as she regarded him, and Valeria watched hungrily. He felt cast as prey: pinned by Lean’s hawk-like stare; stalked by the feline hunger in Valeria’s.
“I see.” Anastasia narrowed her eyes. “I had wondered if it were an alliance you sought, or perhaps a détente. But it is neither, is it? A rebellion, then?”
Valeria laughed again. “An outcast and”—she gestured imperiously at Gabe—“whatever you’re supposed to be, taking on Roberto? No wonder they need our help.”
Anastasia raised one hand, the movement slight, but Valeria quietened at once. “I do find it troubling that our newest Curia member resorts to… petty pursuits. What did you do to anger him, Antoine?”
“I killed Minh,” he said frankly. “Roberto was his sire.”
“Indeed? I heard of this. Minh attacked with controlled spawns, did he not?”
“He did.”
“Controlled what?” Lena interjected. “Preposterous.”
“It’s true,” Gabe rumbled, his arms crossed over his chest and straining the lining of his tux. “I was the target. I would’ve died if Antoine hadn’t arrived in time.”
Valeria leaned forward, brow furrowed. “You mean to say that Minh was able to control vampires—not thralls, mind you, but full vampires?”
“Exactly that,” Antoine said. “He kept them barely more than feral, and used them in numbers to attack.”
“Disgusting.” Lena curled her lip.
“Do you have proof that Roberto sired Minh?” Valeria asked.
Antoine hesitated, but it couldn’t hurt to drop her name. Not now, when he’d laid all his cards out. “Proof? No. Lady Belle d’Aubigny told me.”
“Huh,” Valeria grunted. “Well, it fits.” She arched a brow when Lena glanced at her. “Don’t you remember? Minh was a toady little bastard at the Curia’s gathering, and Roberto was quick to support him.”
“Belle, you say.” Anastasia tapped her lip with one finger. “And why would she impart such critical knowledge to you?”
“She’s his sire,” Valeria said quickly. “That’s it, isn’t it? My gosh, that explains your strength!” Her gaze lingered on him, lips slightly parted, the tip of her tongue teasing the lower one.
Antoine stayed silent, his attention on Anastasia, who watched him with open curiosity.
“He doesn’t outright deny it,” Lena observed. “That’s confirmation.”
“He didn’t deny it,” Anastasia agreed, “but that could simply be a ploy to make us persuade ourselves our error is truth.”
Valeria laughed. “What does it matter? He reeks of power. Can you not feel it?”
Irritation flashed briefly across Anastasia’s face, an involuntary confirmation that she, unlike Valeria, could not in fact sense strength. She wasn’t alone in that; Antoine couldn’t either.
“If he had enough to take on Roberto,” Lena mused, “he wouldn’t be seeking our help.”
Antoine was tired of being referred to like he wasn’t present. “The question at hand is simple enough: do you want the Curia of Boston to be a vampire who acts as a dictator king?”
“The question is far from simple,” Anastasia said, her mild tone belying her disagreement. “We are vampires, not rebels, and strength is all that matters. Roberto has it; you do not.” She sniffed lightly. “Moreover, you have been banished.”
“As you may yet be,” Gabe added sharply, “as soon as you refuse him.”
She held his gaze, impassive and unflinching, as though to suggest it would never happen to her. But Antoine didn’t miss Valeria’s subtle narrowing of her eyes, or the way Lena looked thoughtful.
“It’s moot,” Anastasia said at last. “He is too strong to resist.” She turned her gaze to Antoine. “Until he is weakened, I cannot endorse this.”
He leaped at the offered branch. “Then you will, if he is?”
“If he is,” she emphasized each word, “then you will have an ally, in exchange for a future favor owed.”
Antoine inclined his head. “I accept.”
She gave a small smile, rising from her chair as though the meeting were done, her two escorts flanking her. A crisp nod toward Gabe, and she gracefully walked from the room.
“Disappointingly inconclusive,” Gabe muttered when they’d left.
“I think we sowed the seeds,” Antoine said, contemplative. “They are sharks—put blood in the water, and they will circle.”
“Just make sure it’s not yours, my friend.”
Antoine chuckled in agreement. “But I have your support?”
“You don’t need to ask. Of course you do.” Gabe held out his arm, and Antoine clasped it.
“Why don’t we continue this at my place?”
“Sounds good. I’ve got a couple of matters to handle first, then I’ll be right behind you.” Gabe grinned, flashing fang. “We can figure out how to darken the water with Roberto’s blood.”