Chapter 47 Gideon
Gideon
Sinead: I have a letter here from one édouard Manet.
AVOIDING ARABELLA IS LIKE AVOIDING my own dick in the mirror. It’s frustrating how impossible it is to look away from the majesty.
I’m constantly diving into bushes to avoid crossing paths with her around the estate.
I’ve avoided the village completely in case I run into her with one of her friends from the book club.
I refused an invitation to hide out with Alaric and Winnie at Black Crag in case she randomly shows up to borrow a cup of sugar.
(Also, I don’t particularly feel like listening to Winnie’s well-meaning pleading that I should try to declare my love again, while Alaric says nothing and pointedly sharpens his swords.)
Soon I’ll be gone. The pain won’t be less, but at least I won’t turn every corner in fear of seeing that haunted, frozen expression on her face.
I collect a stack of papers from the bottom drawer of my desk and shove them into the shredder – they’re filled with ideas and sketches for the next stage of Sanctus. I could save them for Arabella, but what’s the point? Sanctus is her vision now, not mine.
I’ve destroyed everything in my life that’s good through avarice and hubris. But I’m keeping this promise to her if it kills me. And it very well might.
I’ve mourned her once. I don’t know if I have the strength left to mourn her again.
At least I’m safe in my office, for two more days, and then it officially becomes Arabella’s office and I move into my new temporary London penthouse and await the Conclave’s vengeance.
I slump in my chair, staring out the window at the empire I built.
Vampires move in pairs and groups through the Midnight Garden.
For years, Sanctus has been my dream – high walls for broken souls.
A sanctuary. I didn’t want vampires to have to turn to the criminal underground if they wanted a life outside of the courts.
And I’ve achieved that dream, even if it is somewhat precarious.
Why do I feel so hollow?
“You shouldn’t let her force you to hide away on your own estate.” Sinead appears in front of me, hands on hips. “She’s the one who should leave.”
“I’m fine, Sinead.”
“If she bosses me about, I’ll make her life hell.”
“Good luck with that.”
She tugs on her shirt collar. “Are you sure you don’t want to—”
“Go away, Sinead.”
With a cry of frustration, she tosses a letter down on my desk and flounces away.
I lean back in my chair. I’m about to kick the letter into the pile of correspondence on the floor when I spy édouard Manet’s seal. I crack the seal with trembling hands.
Gideon,
This is your lucky day, my friend. I may have found your jewels.
I’ve been contacted by a lady who seems legitimate.
She described the necklace right down to the ruby eyes on the scarab beetle.
She says that she’ll consider selling it, but she’ll only deal with you.
In person. You must meet her tonight in the parking lot of the Grimdale Graveyard.
That’s only a short drive from the estate, correct?
I’ve enclosed the details. Bring absolute buckets of cash. Best of luck, my friend.
édouard
My heart hammers.
Arabella’s necklace.
I completely forgot that I asked édouard to look for it. I didn’t believe someone could have fished it out of the Seine. But here it is.
Arabella deserves that necklace.
I’ve lost her forever. But that doesn’t mean I can’t right the wrong I did her all those years ago.
It can’t hurt to go over to Grimdale and look at it.
Or can it?
Dora’s vision. What did she see?
A dim parking lot. Tombstones. A phone with a blinking message. A dark presence. A painting made of light. And blood…
Dora also saw me holding the necklace in my hands. It’s worth the risk.
“Sinead!” I call out. “Fuel up the Lambo, bring me my best negotiating-a-deal-with-a-shadowy-figure shirt, and pack ten sacks with Merovingian coins. I’ve got a date with an ancient magical relic.”