Chapter 11 Francois
Francois
“Mon Ange, allow me to feed you.” Usually, I’d only spoken those words in misguided seduction, but now my ghost wouldn’t leave me alone.
She was like a fly I needed to swat, but even I could see that Maeve was both hungry and exhausted. What if this didn’t work? What if her memory wasn’t all that she claimed?
“Okay.” She nodded, and I was glad she hadn’t protested. We had a lot to get through, and she kind of looked like she might expire with immediate intent.
I slipped from the library and to the kitchens, keeping my eyes open for wandering Ancients and their guards.
There was no doubt in my mind that they expected me to simply obey their orders and remain in the library, but I had a mate to take care of.
I couldn’t yet risk trying to leave the grounds yet, though, as I had no doubt they’d altered the wards and would know the moment we departed.
The Ancients had hosted so many humans lately that the cupboards were well stocked, and I loaded my arms with fruit and snacks. I didn’t know what to offer her, so I wanted to offer her everything, show her that I could provide anything she needed.
Besides, this was a welcome distraction, in a way. We’d found the book too quickly. It meant our time together would be shorter than I wanted, and at least feeding her would extend that. Even Clémence couldn’t argue with me keeping my blood slave alive.
I hurried back to the library, and Maeve’s eyes widened when she saw me. “Wow. Is all of that for me?”
“Anything for you,” I replied, the words tripping off my tongue, my casualness betraying how much I meant them.
She ripped open a bag of chips. “Okay. I’m ready.” She nodded at the book, and I opened it to the first page.
“How many can your memory hold?”
She grimaced. “More than I want to think about. But how much time do we have? Do you just want to find the relevant ones, or don’t you know which those are? Do we need all of them?”
I shrugged, unsure of which Kayla would find useful.
“All of them it is, then.” She drew a chair closer to the desk and sat down. As I turned each page, I murmured the words aloud. By spell four, I chuckled.
“What?” She turned her head and looked up at me.
“It’s a good thing I have no magic. I would have already broken your bones, made you waste away, and turned you into a cockroach.”
She laughed too. “At least I’d survive a nuclear war. Come on, we have a lot more to go.” She bit into a cookie.
It seemed to take hours to read through the book, Maeve studying each page as my voice rose and fell quietly with the lyrical words. We were nearly at the end of the book when she spoke again.
“Have you read one that sounds right yet?”
I shook my head, caught between being frustrated by and glad about that. If this was the wrong book, we’d need to restart our search, but if this time was the only chance I had to court Maeve, then any extra moments I could glean were important.
“No,” I said. “There has been nothing about resurrection just yet.”
“Maybe that’s not their plan?” Her voice was quiet.
I shook my head again. “I don’t know what else it would be. I think, originally, their plan was for me to step into my father’s footsteps. I’m the right bloodline. But I’m…” I stopped. Broken. I was fucking broken, but I didn’t want Maeve to know that just yet. Not before she’d accepted me.
“You’re what?”
“Not suitable.” I looked away from her. If I continued to gaze into her eyes, I’d spill all of my secrets.
I wanted to share everything with her, and that was an instinct more dangerous than I’d realized.
“Let’s continue.” I turned the page, and she readjusted her position, ready to concentrate once more.
“Rise of the dead,” I read out loud in French, and my stomach clenched. “I think this is it.” I hadn’t meant to tell her. Not right away. But there was that instinct to overshare again.
“Really?” She grinned and leaned even closer to the page.
“Yes.” I scanned the lines, reading the words. “It talks about how to bring back a vampire—even one turned to dust.” There seemed to be no limits to the spell. It was the most powerful one I’d read so far.
“Dust?” Maeve wrinkled her nose. “Okay. Let’s get this thing in.” She tapped the side of her head, and I recited each of the evil words.
They left a bitter taste in my mouth, and when Maeve moved in her seat, I took the opportunity to breathe in her scent.
This whole process was moving too swiftly. If we found everything the Ancients wanted, what then? Could I still guarantee Maeve’s safety?
I hadn’t understood Nicolas’s protectiveness of Leia before, and I’d underestimated the reactions of a vampire whose mate had been abducted.
Those days I’d held Leia, I’d believed her to be mine. I’d believed in my madness. But I’d been wrong.
I’d been wrong so many times, and now I’d give anything to keep Maeve safe.
I didn’t know how yet, but I’d do anything in my power to protect her or reach my final death trying.
When I breathed closer to Maeve’s hair, the desire to claim her thundered in my veins. I existed for her, and she for me. I wanted her blood in my body. The impulse was almost too great to resist, but I drew away. I had to resist. Our mission here was important.
We couldn’t let the Ancients resurrect Father and complete their goal. Nicolas was a good king, no matter what they believed, no matter their own ambitions to rule.
“Do you have that one?”
She looked away from the page, deliberately meeting my eyes and began to speak. Her voice was like music. She repeated the spell to me, word and accent perfect.
I nodded. “Bon.” Good, yes, it was good. She was amazing. Not that I’d ever doubted my mate would be anything but amazing. “Let me look through the rest of the book.” She was amazing but she was also tiring. Food hadn’t been enough. She also required rest.
All of this concentration had to be taxing for her.
If I could find something in here that would take the Ancients down… That would be the best prize of all. They could have as many spell books as they wanted if the key to their downfall was secured in my mate’s head.
I closed the cover. “There’s nothing else,” I said.
“You sound disappointed?” She concealed a yawn behind her hand.
I shrugged. “A little. But…” I looked toward the window and the darkening sky.
This had been too quick. But what if it was also too easy?
“What if this is only a book? They told me that my father had stolen a book. Would you leave a stolen book in full view, on a shelf in your library? Where anyone could find it?”
She frowned. “Probably not.”
“Exactement!” Yes, something was definitely wrong here. I narrowed my eyes at the book like it could reveal its secrets.
“So, now what?” Maeve was still watching me.
It had been a while since anyone had looked to me for answers rather than simply expecting me to obey their orders or instructions, and a small measure of pride filled me. “Je pense que…” I started, but Maeve laughed.
“Maybe in English, Frankie?”
I smiled at the name she called me, although my cheeks heated.
When I was distracted, which was more and more these days (although for a different reason now that I was trying to think of a way to protect Maeve) my thoughts often came in a mixture of French and English.
Like they couldn’t make their minds up what to be.
“Okay. I think that we should keep this book a secret for just now. We clearly haven’t found the one my father hid. ”
“Are you sure?” She wrinkled her nose. “If that one has the spell they want in it, maybe it’s the right book?”
I shook my head and slid the book into a drawer then clapped my hands together.
“Non. You didn’t know émile Ricard. He was dangerous and cunning and vicious and diabolical.
He wouldn’t leave something so precious lying out in plain sight.
And if he risked everything to steal something from the Ancients as he absconded from their group, it was definitely precious.
” I looked upward like I could suddenly see through the floors above us.
“I think we need to search the whole place.”
“What do you think it has inside it?” Her eyes were wide, her voice a whisper.
“I don’t know.” I knew what I hoped, though. “Maybe a spell to end all of this?”
She nodded. “Then we need to search. When do we start?”
I chuckled and touched her hand fleetingly. I craved the feel of her skin. So soft and warm. I wanted her pressed against me, to feel the softness of her lips under my own while I buried my hands in her hair. I wanted her to surrender to me, to want me.
I wanted to claim her.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” A moment ago, she’d thought only of escape.
“I think it’s my only chance to get away,” she said. Then she rubbed the bridge of her nose. “And this is all fantastic information and evidence for my blog. Like I knew you existed, but now I have proof. People have to listen now, right?”
I started to shake my head. My poor, sweet mate. No one could know about the supernatural world…but perhaps now wasn’t the time to discuss that with her. She was happy and she wanted to help, and that was perfect. I’d get to spend more time with her.
Instead of answering her question directly, I changed the subject. “The last thing that can happen is bringing my father back.” I grimaced. “And not just for the power they would create.”
I couldn’t imagine a world with Father back in it.
We’d never been what people would call a happy family.
Then Lo?c had met his final death and Mother had become a shell of herself and Father had become increasingly callous and cruel.
His bouts of stasis had been more regular and longer, and after each one he woke up a little bit crazier, taking greater risks, caring less about who he hurt.
He had become entirely selfish and self-absorbed.