Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
Nausea roiled Philippe’s stomach, and it had nothing to do with Rafe’s fierce driving. He was vaguely aware of the multiple calls Rafe made as he drove, directing each of his brothers to Arsenault Manor and detailing the situation they could be facing.
The only hint of warmth in his body came from Rafe’s sharp words. His lover was willing to place his family in harm’s way to protect Philippe’s clan. He wanted no harm to come to any of the Variks, but he welcomed the feeling of family that wrapped around him.
Even when he’d had a clan, he’d been alone.
The people he’d been trying to protect didn’t trust him or his intentions.
The trust he did have was hard-won and brittle.
He cared for them, but it had been a hard life.
He would give everything, his own life, to keep them safe. Could any of them say the same for him?
Jullien.
He and Jullien had been friends well before others were brought into what would become the Arsenault clan.
Jullien had believed in him, trusted him.
They had been friends. Jullien had struggled with Philippe’s association with Rafe, but Jullien admitted his anger had stemmed from worry over Philippe’s heart.
Philippe had thought the same with Ezra, but he’d been so damn wrong.
Rubbing his eyes, Philippe tried to shove aside the choking betrayal so he could focus on the task ahead of them. He had to be the leader he claimed to be, if only to keep from putting the Variks in more danger than necessary.
Tires squealed and gravel pinged against the undercarriage of the BMW as it roared up the driveway. Rafe had barely slammed the thing into park when Philippe was jumping out. His foot touched the first step when a strong hand wrapped around his arm, pulling him to a sharp stop.
“Wait,” Rafe said in a harsh whisper. “We need to be cautious. Our support won’t be here for a few more minutes.”
Philippe clenched his teeth against the urge to snap at Rafe. His blood was bubbling in his veins and his heart was beating in his throat, but he couldn’t allow his judgment to become more clouded more than it already was.
“There’s no one here,” Rafe whispered. His hand relaxed on his arm and Philippe jerked free. But there was something in those haunted words that kept him from charging into the house.
Taking a deep breath, Philippe concentrated on feeling for the power of other vampires in the area.
It shouldn’t have been hard. While Rafe’s would be easiest to spot since he was standing right next to Philippe, he was well acquainted with his own home and clan.
He would have been able to identify each of his clan members from a distance.
But there was nothing.
Rafe was right. It felt as if the house was empty.
“What’s Ezra’s power?”
It took Philippe an extra second to register and even understand what Rafe was saying.
“What? Why?”
“Can he cloak the power of other vampires? Can he easily hide an entire hoard of MacPhersons in there and we not sense it?”
Philippe shook his head, finally getting his brain online. “No. No, his power has to do with memories. He’s good at wiping minds. He wouldn’t be able to hide a vampire’s power signature.”
Rafe nodded. “We should still be cautious. We don’t know if the house is truly empty.”
There was no argument coming from Philippe regarding that point. He accepted a knife from Rafe and led the way up the stairs. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for the door and pushed it open.
The thick scent of blood rolled out of the opening, slamming into his face and knocking him back a step. Such a smell had been associated with relief, joy, and satisfaction. But this time, it carried with it only horror.
Philippe’s feet felt as if they were suddenly made of lead. His body didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to face what was waiting for them inside.
But he forced himself. One foot in front of the other. He locked his eyes on the floor, seeing only the old hardwood and the worn runner carpet that stretched from the door. Rafe’s hand landed on his shoulder, and Philippe drew the strength he needed from it to lift his eyes.
The house was in disarray. What little furniture that had been in the main hall was destroyed and left in broken pieces across the floor. Blood had poured along the stairs to form a black pool at the base.
Slowly, he walked toward the stairs until he could see the body lying half off the landing. Kim’s throat had been cut, and the blood had gushed from her slender frame to cascade down the stairs. She was gone. Dead.
“We-we should split. See if anyone is still alive. I—”
“I’m not leaving you alone. Ezra or even a MacPherson could be lurking here.” Rafe’s voice was little more than a growl, and Philippe didn’t want to argue. Didn’t want to be parted from Rafe. Didn’t want to wander through this tomb alone.
They moved slowly from room to room. Some were empty and completely untouched, but too often they came across broken furniture and bright splashes of blood. And a body.
Five dead bodies in all.
Each had deep slashes. Heads chopped off completely. Dark pools of blood sinking into carpets and the little crevices and joints in the wood floors.
Philippe could clearly see how and when he’d met each of the dead clan members.
He knew their stories. The torture and horrors they’d survived before finding their way to the so-called safety of the Arsenault clan.
Some had found decades of peace and tranquility among the Arsenaults. Others only a few years.
The rest of the Variks arrived as he and Rafe finished their search of the house.
He was vaguely aware of the instructions Rafe was giving them.
Winter was to search the surrounding grounds for signs of others.
Bel was to interrogate the local wildlife to get what they might have seen.
Marcus and Aiden remained close to Philippe, almost forming a protective wall around him with Rafe.
“Who’s missing, Philippe?” Rafe demanded, breaking into his dark thoughts. Rafe’s worried eyes locked with his own. “I counted only five. I thought you told me there were nine or ten members. I’m sorry. I can’t remember.”
“Ten…after Piper’s death,” Philippe whispered.
“Ezra is missing. So is Jullien.”
Philippe blinked. “Yes, Jullien isn’t here. Do you think he’s still alive?” He’d been secretly searching for Jullien among the dead. His old friend. He’d failed him most of all. Jullien who had been with him since the beginning. Who’d stood by him as he built this crazy, ragtag clan.
Rafe’s eyes darted over to Aiden as he hesitated. “He could have followed after Ezra if he was the culprit behind this attack.”
“Slaughter,” Marcus corrected.
But Philippe ignored it. He was focused on Rafe’s hesitation. “You think Ezra took Jullien. He’s being held captive.”
“Possibly,” Aiden said.
“Who else isn’t here?” Rafe pushed.
“Easy, now. Give him a moment.” Aiden’s voice was a gentle but firm caress.
The clan leader reached over and wrapped his hand around the back of Rafe’s neck.
Philippe’s breath caught when he saw some of the tension leave Rafe’s shoulders and they slumped slightly.
He’d never seen anyone settle Rafe so easily.
But then, Aiden was a father to these men.
He’d known them far longer than Philippe had known any of his clan members.
“I’m sorry, Philippe.”
“No, you’re right. I need to focus. It’s not helping anyone to concentrate on the dead.” Closing his eyes, he replayed the faces that he saw in the house like a gruesome movie being rewound. “Ming and Peter.”
“Counting Jullien and Philippe,” Marcus started.
“And assuming Ezra is with the MacPherson clan,” Rafe added, “that makes ten.”
“Do you think Ezra might have taken Ming and Peter with Jullien?” Aiden asked.
Philippe shook his head. “No. If Ezra was determined to weed out more of the clan, Ming and Peter would have been at the top of his list. There is no point in taking them to the MacPherson clan.”
“Then maybe they escaped, and Jullien is with them. He could be protecting them.”
Rafe’s suggestion brought a flare of hope to Philippe’s chest. God, please let that be true! Let Jullien, Ming, and Peter be safe somewhere far from the reach of these fucking bastards.
Quick footsteps echoed up the front stairs and into the hall. They all looked up to see Bel hurry inside. Philippe took a moment to look over this Varik. Their initial meeting had been brief and not exactly friendly, but it was no stretch to guess that Bel was feeling protective of his twin.
Rafe had warned him that he and Bel were not identical twins, but there was even less resemblance than Philippe had expected.
Of course, all the Varik brothers were handsome, and Bel was certainly no exception.
But when compared to Rafe, Bel seemed thinner and paler.
His eyes were wide and quick as they seemed to be taking in every bit of information around him.
He definitely looked more serious than his twin.
Those quick eyes fell on Philippe and narrowed, assessing him. But Philippe could guess that this wasn’t about the disaster that had fallen on his clan. This was about Philippe’s intentions toward his brother and the unintentional pain he’d caused.
“What did you find?” Aiden prodded.
“The locals reported that five vampires not known to this area came to the house and were let inside. Two inhabitants of the house ran out the back and into the woods. They kept running and weren’t followed.”
“Likely Ming and Peter,” Marcus murmured.
“Locals?” Philippe asked.
Bel’s lips split into a crooked grin. “A chipmunk and a couple of starlings.”
“And these animals told you all this? Amazing.”