by S J Williams
“You didn’t have to get up.” She told him, guilt striking her for both having woken him and for having been so blatantly ogling him.
Sebastian just shrugged and walked past her into the bathroom. “It was time we started moving, anyway.” He paused, then glanced back over his shoulder, his eyebrow lifting suggestively.
“Care to join me?”
Speechless, Effie gaped at him like a fish. She hadn’t realised that was on the cards.
Before she could recover her scrambled thoughts, Sebastian leaned back and grabbed her arm, dragging her into the bathroom with him.
“Come on, little innocent. Time for an education.”
In the bathroom with Sebastian, there was nothing to distract her from the strong, lean lines of muscle running down his broad back and long legs.
Sebastian is in good shape, she thought, as he slipped out of his underwear. He turned to face her, smirking when he caught her looking again.
“You can’t shower like that.” He gestured to her nightshirt.
Suddenly, Effie felt incredibly self-conscious. Sebastian was built along the lines of an Adonis. And she felt very much human. A sad, skinny little human at that.
Sebastian must have sensed her hesitation, because his smile broadened.
“It seems the education must start here.”
He walked towards her, confidence radiating from him like rays from the sun. What she wouldn’t give for just one small sliver of that confidence, she thought with an internal sigh. Still, there was something electrifying about being desired by a man who was clearly so sure of what he wanted.
Sebastian didn’t stop his advance until they were almost chest to chest. Then, with a seductive slowness, he raised up the hem of her nightshirt.
“Raise your arms.” He whispered.
She did so, struggling with embarrassment. This wouldn’t work if she didn’t trust him completely.
But when he pulled the shirt off completely and flung it to one side, she had to resist her urge to try to cover herself. It took everything she had to just let him look as she’d been looking.
And look he did, his eyes travelling the length of her body with that same, languid ease. Leisurely, he reached out and wrapped his arms around her back, drawing her flush up against him.
“Beautiful.” He whispered, as he reached up her back to undo the plait she’d tied her hair in to tame it while she slept. Bit by bit, she felt the cool, silky strands cover her upper back. Then he fisted his hand in it, using his hold to ease her head back.
Their eyes met.
“Beautiful.” He said again, with a crooked smile. Then he brought his lips down on hers. This wasn’t a ravening, consuming kiss like they’d had before, when it had felt like they were starving for each other. This was slow, tasting, nibbling. An indulgent exploration.
As she lost herself in his mouth, she was dimly aware of him guiding them backwards, into the walk-in shower.
Warm water fell like soft rain on their heads as he continued to kiss her, worshiping her mouth with deep, tender strokes of his tongue.
The smell of shampoo perfumed the mist around them when she finally came back to the present. With that same slow tenderness, Sebastian gently washed first her hair, then her whole body, paying special attention to the curls between her thighs. He knelt in front of her, pushing her until her back was against the wall. Then he grinned up at her with a devilish smile.
“Hold on.” Was all he said.
“What—?” Effie didn’t have time to finish her question. Sebastian’s lips were on her and she found herself holding on for dear life, her fingers spearing through his hair.
“Sebastian!” Her voice was a hoarse squeak.
He chuckled against her and, God, that only intensified the sensations rippling through her body. She was shuddering against the wall, rising, rising…
Faster than she could blink, Sebastian was standing. Then, with a single thrust, he was in her and her world contained nothing but that feeling of absolute fullness. Marvellous, wonderful fullness.
If she’d been rising before, now she was rocketing up into the stratosphere, leaving all reason behind her.
She wrapped her arms around Sebastian and willed him to go faster, harder. She might have said something too. She didn’t know. She didn’t care. All she heard was Sebastian’s hoarse shout in her ear as fireworks cascaded through her body.
Panting, Sebastian leaned against the wall, drawing her to him to prevent her from being squashed. She met his eyes, wild and as dazed. Finally, she found her voice.
“Oh dear. It seems we’ve got dirty again.”
It took Sebastian and Effie perhaps a little longer than it should have for them to come downstairs. The others, if they’d heard what she and Sebastian had been up to, made no mention of it. Catarina was sitting in a stupor over her coffee cup while Henry was humming to himself as he cooked up some delicious smells over by the stove. Of Lucien, there was no sign.
When Effie asked about him, Henry just shrugged, not looking up from what he was cooking.
“Still in the study I think.”
“Still in the study? You mean he’s been there all night?”
Henry glanced over his shoulder at that. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Well, has he found anything, do you know?”
Henry shrugged again. “I doubt it. We’d have heard about it if he had.”
Lucien chose that moment to make his appearance. He did look as if he’d spent the whole night staring at a computer screen. His eyes were reddened and looked unwilling to stay open.
“Coffee?” He grunted.
Henry gestured to the table and the cafetière waiting there.
Lucien slumped down on one of the chairs and poured himself a generous cupful. He drank it black.
Only when he’d finished did he meet Effie’s eyes. He winced at the hope he found there.
“Sorry. If there was any way to pin this on Bartholomew, I fear it’s been lost to the passing of time.”
“Oh, for goodness sake.” Catarina thumped her coffee cup down on the table. “You’ve only been looking for one night. There’s still time for us to find it.”
“What time?” Sebastian growled from behind Effie. The fierceness in his tone made even her hairs stand on end. “The longer we wait, the more likely it is that Effie’s hunters will find us.”
Effie spun round to stare at him.
“Have you heard of any here in Paris?”
He gave her a predator’s smile. “Do you think I’d still be here if I had?”
Effie blinked at him. Then swung back round again. Alrighty then.
Then what he’d said struck her. She turned round to face him again.
“You’re not seriously considering fighting them all off, one by one?”
Frustration passed briefly over his face.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, Effie. Going on the run, even if it is for centuries, is a small price to pay.”
Effie shook her head. She couldn’t condemn him to that. Centuries of never feeling settled, never feeling safe. That wasn’t the life anyone would want to live. Not even a vampire.
The answer was so simple, Effie was stunned she hadn’t seen it before.
“I think I know what Bartholomew is up to. At least, I think I know what he ultimately wants to get from this.” She looked around at the others. “He wants to be free. He wants to live without always being on the run.”
“Of course he does.” Catarina frowned with confusion. “How does exposing immortals give him that?”
“If humans find out about immortals, then the council ceases to have power. The human authorities won’t recognise what is essentially an order of assassins. He won’t have to worry about being hunted by immortals any more.”
“There’s a couple of problems with that theory.” Lucien said, squinting at her tiredly. “First, you’ve got a big ‘if’ hidden in what you’ve said. Hum
ans are not going to accept immortals easily, especially not vampires. Which leads to my second objection: why would humans protect vampires from immortals when humans are the principal prey of vampires?”
“Maybe that’s what this potion is for. Bartholomew was drinking it after all. If vampires could argue they could feed on donated blood mixed with the blood infused plants, rather than have to murder their victims, then the immortals would be hard put to argue that vampires are absolutely evil,” she said.
Catarina scoffed. “I don’t think Bartholomew cares about making vampires good.”
“Maybe not.” Effie countered. “But he’s proven he has a strong survival instinct.” She sighed, running her hand through her still damp hair. “Maybe that’s not all there is to it but, you have to admit, it’s a powerful incentive. Especially if he’s got me to take the flack for the letters.”
Lucien opened his mouth as if he wanted to object, but paused, considering what she had said. Slowly, he straightened from his slump, eyes narrowing. “If he presented such an offer to the council, they couldn’t morally turn it down either. It would be the ultimate hypocrisy to deny vampires a way of feeding without killing, not when one of the fundamental purposes of the council is to prevent mortal deaths at the hands of vampires.”
Effie nodded. “See! I know there are a lot of big ‘if’s in all of this but I think Bartholomew might have thought it a good bet.”
Catarina grimaced. “If he’s been working on this for five hundred years, he probably thinks it’s more than that.”
Henry swung round with a large platter of eggs. Catarina only just managed to whisk her coffee cup out of the way before the table was very nearly covered with food.
“There are only five of us.” She protested.
“I’m British.” Henry said with dignity. “I like a big breakfast.”
Effie grimaced at all the food. Talk of Bartholomew’s schemes had set butterflies fluttering in her stomach, effectively banishing her appetite.
A mug of tea appeared at her elbow. She glanced up to see Sebastian smiling down at her.
“I might not be a culinary genius like some people.” He said with a glance towards where Henry was currently slicing bread. “But I can manage a good cup of tea.” Sitting down beside her, he smiled at her over the rim of his own cup.
She accepted the tea and took a small sip. She breathed out with relief. Now this, this was perfect. She met Sebastian’s eyes and smiled at him.
“It seems you can make a good cup of tea.”
He gave her thigh a gentle squeeze then left his hand there. Its warm weight was as good as the tea for filling Effie with an internal peace that not even Catarina’s and Henry’s bickering over how thickly to slice the bread could shatter.
15
Effie had barely settled in front of Lucien’s computer when sharp raps at the front door, hard enough to echo through the house, made her freeze, fingers hovering over the keyboard. She glanced at Sebastian who had settled himself in the chair opposite to leaf through Bartholomew’s book on herb lore. He was tense, ready to spring out of his chair.
“Do you think…?” Effie began, not daring to voice her fears.
Sebastian frowned, head turned to the doorway into the hall, then his shoulders relaxed slightly as the sounds of deep voices resonated through.
“Don’t worry,” he told her, “it’s a friend.”
“We have friends?” Effie asked dubiously, standing to peer into the hall.
A tall, slender man with icy white hair was embracing Lucien just inside the front door. With unnerving precision, he turned the instant Effie saw him to spear her with a sharp, blue-eyed stare.
“And this,” he said softly, “must be the Effie everyone is talking about.”
Effie blushed slightly, but forced herself to walk out into the hall. There was no need to be shy when she had Sebastian close on her heels, her own over-protective guard dog.
“I’m Effie,” she said, forcing her voice to be sure and steady.
To her surprise, the tall immortal – and surely this must be an immortal, he even looked the part – swept her a graceful bow.
“I am Nero, ruler of the Western European territory, member of the council of immortals and, I hope, a friend you may count on during this time of troubles.”
Effie blinked, feeling more the gauche child than ever. What did she say? Did she thank him? Did she bow, too? Sebastian solved her dilemma by reaching past her to shake Nero’s hand.
“Well met, old friend,” he said with genuine warmth in his voice. “It is good to see you again.”
Nero smiled briefly, turning an already handsome face into something extraordinary, before becoming serious again.
“I’m afraid our reunion must be cursed by bad news. Have you heard that an audio recording of Mansfeld’s trial is going to be made publicly available?”
Lucien, who had been closing and locking the door, spun around.
“I thought that was illegal in Germany.” He said, aghast.
Nero shook his head grimly. “Not as of three years ago. It’s not being filmed, which is a small mercy, but the trial was deemed of sufficient historical importance that the verdict and sentence will be recorded for posterity.” He quirked an ironic eyebrow. “I can only imagine that some sharp elbows in high places helped that decision along.”
Effie looked from one serious face to the next.
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” Lucien said heavily, “that the world will shortly know of the existence of immortals. What time is the trial?” He asked Nero.
“This morning but I doubt the recording will be released until this afternoon.”
“What will happen then?” Effie asked.
Nero shrugged gracefully.
“That rather depends on the skill of Mansfeld’s lawyers. They may just be able to make a case against the claim that he is immortal. It certainly wouldn’t be hard to claim plausible deniability. But if they fail… We can only hold our breath and wait. There will be disbelief and scepticism, of course, but the German courts have the respect of the international community. The only remaining question then will be how humanity will react to the knowledge that there are immortals living among them.”
Effie, already feeling the first pricks of panic, jumped when something cracked violently behind her. Turning, she gaped at one of the chairs in the hall which seemed to have imploded.
“I’ll thank you not to destroy my house,” Lucien said with an irritated glance at Sebastian.
“My apologies,” Sebastian growled, “I find my control is less than it should be right now.”
Effie repressed a shiver. She doubted anyone had missed the teeth in his voice.
“Is there anything we can do?” She asked in a small voice.
Lucien inhaled deeply, then strode down the hall to his study.
“Yes, we can build the best argument we have to prove to the immortal world that it was Bartholomew, and not you, who brought this upon them.”
It wasn’t until late evening that the trial recording was finally released. They listened in tense silence as a German judge ordered Oscar Mansfeld to provide DNA to his family to settle a charge of fraud and denying his family their inheritance for five hundred years. There was no sign of the judge’s incredulity in his voice – he was too professional for that – but Sebastian knew this must be the strangest sentence the judge had ever read out.
As soon as the recording had finished, Lucien turned on the television to catch the news. The trial was already making the headlines.
Nero frowned as he listened to the newsreader’s report.
“Wait a minute. Mansfeld has confessed to being an immortal?” He looked around to check everyone else had heard what he had. “Why would he do that? Denying the charge of immortality might not have given him back his property, but that was our last chance of getting out of this.”
Henry, sprawled in a well-stuffed armchair, look
ed up from where he was checking social media on his phone. “Maybe he wanted the kudos of being the first known immortal. It’s not like he’s got much left to lose.” Looking down at the phone screen, his eyebrows shot up and he whistled through his teeth. “Phew, if he wanted fame, he’s got it. Twitter has blown up.”
“Do they believe he’s an immortal?” Sebastian asked.
“Some are crying bullshit, but, it’s Germany. They don’t mess around with bogus trials in Germany. Most people believe it.”
Nero shook his head, still looking incredulous. “Mansfeld just isn’t the type to strike out on his own like this. He doesn’t do anything unless he’s told to do it. Someone’s pulling his strings, I’d stake my life on it.”
“But who would do that? And what do they have to gain?” Catarina asked from where she was leaning against the wall.
“The same thing that Bartholomew had to gain when he set this whole thing in motion, no doubt.” Sebastian muttered darkly. He was careful not to let his temper translate into his fingers, though, where he was playing with the tip of Effie’s hair again. She was curled up against him on the sofa, a slightly glazed look in her eyes as she continued to listen to the news report.
“You think Mansfeld is working with a vampire?” Nero gave him a sharp look.
“Somebody is.” Sebastian stressed. “And that somebody has Mansfeld under their thumb.”
Henry groaned and tipped his head back in his chair. “Bloody politics.” He said to the ceiling. Straightening up again, he looked around the room. “I think this calls for some tea.”
Not even Catarina objected to the distraction.
In the lull, there was a quiet knock at the front door. Everyone tensed, staring into the hall.
Sebastian growled, his arms tightening around Effie again, ready to spirit her away the moment things heated up. He trusted the others to hold off the pursuers long enough for him to get Effie to safety.
