They crossed Dauphine Street, just two blocks from the hotel. Alexander’s pace slowed. Drahomira released his arm.
Alexi affected a sigh and offered the saddest smile. “My dear princess.” He bowed to her again but this time, formally. “My queen, your millionième approaches and time to marry. I’ve come to escort you home.”
“No.”
And before you could say “by the Beng,” Drahomira disappeared and left Alexander alone on the sidewalk.
AMOR-EL MADE ONE final stop before he headed back to the manse. In the French Quarter, he was merely one of the drifting shadows and felt blissfully invisible. He could haunt the bars, and no one paid any attention. Of all the places in the Quarter, he enjoyed Pirates Alley and the old Pirates Alley Café. Unlike Drahomira, Am could drink wine with his blood or, as Dra had not yet discovered, absinthe. Something in the drink’s composition suited the vampire’s biology more than any other alcohol because he could drink it sans blood. And right now, Am wanted a drink to muffle his thoughts.
Unfortunately, the café closed hours ago. Disappointed, Am leaned against a plantation shutter covering the door and lit another clove cigarette. Rhea didn’t like their heady incense, and he rarely smoked, but tonight his unease called for the fuzzy mouthfeel. As he drew in a deep breath, a man approached, weaving and unsteady on his feet.
“’Scuse me, parner, but can you tell me where I can find Cinnabar?”
“I’m sorry, monsieur, I don’t know her.” Though it was rare, occasionally Am did run into one of the girls from downtown looking for a good time, but none walked the alley tonight.
The guy laughed, stumbled and steadied himself against the brick wall across from Amor-el. “No, no, very funny. I don mean a girl, I mean the club. You know, c’mon.” The guy leaned over and squinted at Am. “You’re one ‘a them, right? Them drinkers? Me too. Got a metal straw and everything.” He patted his coat pocket.
Amor-el stared at the guy and smoothly moved over to his side, putting an arm around his shoulders. A sober man would have been afraid of what studied him.
“Ah, you mean the new private club?” Amor-el leaned in and adopted a conspiratorial tone as he pulled him closer.
“Oh, right.” He giggled. “Ssh, sorry. I understan’,” he whispered then leaned his face into Am’s chest. “I haven’t seen my girl yet. I need t’sign in, but I got all turned ‘round like. Damned streets look the same. Where’s the water? Where the hell am I, anyway?”
Amor-el finished his cigarette and smiled. A lucky break but he didn’t have all night, and the man was useless while drunk. With lightning speed, his fangs found the stranger’s neck and gathered the man to him in a lover’s embrace. The man struggled, moaned and then, nothing. Am let him slide to the ground and licked his lips. The blood memories told him all he needed to know. Carefully, he located the man’s wallet and removed a plain red business card. No electronic chip. Just a small mark in one of the corners, a black bar. Of course.
A couple hours remained until sunrise. Amor-el headed home. The man would wake at dawn with a nasty hangover, a hickey, and no memory of the incident, his card, or meeting Am.
Now they had some answers, anyway. And he owed Drahomira the news too.
FURIOUS AT NOTHING and everything, Drahomira returned to Victoria’s store and sat on the roof, angry at the surprise, angry with Alexi, angry at her approaching birthday, and angry with herself. Reaper prowled below, sometimes whining because his mistress excluded him. Dra fumed over Alexi’s sudden appearance and then her conscience poked her. She had no one to blame but her oblivious attitude. The letter.
She yanked it out of her boot and scanned it. But this was not a note from Alexi or anyone else from home. The thin sheet of notepaper included a simple, hastily scrawled line.
“As promised. ~S”
“That’s it?” Dra growled, and then a small newspaper clipping fluttered from inside the envelope. It read, “After eight years in prison, Needles Puzzoli will be released from maximum security next week following his final parole review. In a statement to the paper, the new warden extolled Puzzoli’s model behavior and praised his willingness to mentor others. The changed man is expected to open a shoe repair business…”
She stopped reading and crumbled the paper. It flew away as she came to her feet.
“C’mon Reaper, back to Rhea. Time to take a trip. I’ve got a promise I’ve been dying to keep.” She floated down to the wolfhound, and together they departed for the bayou in a cloud of crimson.
Barely two minutes later, the roof of Thymely Treasures exploded, opening like a flower to the stars. The front windows blew out, and flames engulfed the entire building. Aftershocks rocked the block. The fire department and police answered almost immediately, but the explosion leveled the building, raining debris like snow that included delicate floral blossoms.
Down the street, pictures rattled and fell from Club Malachite’s walls, lights flickered, and a few stray bottles tumbled and shattered on the tile floor.
“What the hell?” Seth reached for the counter, flinching as another picture fell.
“Sounds like a bomb,” Janice said as she joined everyone at the club’s front. The floor to ceiling smoky glass windows completely covered the front and side of the building. One window cracked as sirens filled the air. “That’s close.”
“Like down the street close,” Keta said and huddled close to Janice.
Steel was out the door before anyone could stop him. Even before he left the block, he could see the flames reaching into the sky. He couldn’t get to Victoria’s building because of the police barricade, but he saw enough. Three fire trucks poured water on the inferno that used to be Thymely Treasures. The building was gone.
His hand shook when he pulled out his phone and dialed Victoria’s cell. The call transferred to voicemail, which was odd because she always answered his calls.
Steel stared in horror as the fire raged. Flames blew kisses in the form of ash. When his phone rang, he jerked and stared at the screen message.
“Paid in full.”
He blinked and quickly redialed Victoria. Still no answer. All he could do was watch the inferno.
“Detective Bayone, a minute! Detective!” The fire chief jogged over to the plain-clothes officer waiting by the police tape barrier.
“Find something?” Mace took out his notebook.
“Too soon to be sure, detective. Should have this under control in about an hour. Then we can get in there and look around for specifics. The building’s a total loss.”
“I think there was an apartment on top. Don’t know details yet.”
“Also, we found a body in the back.” The fire chief pointed to the side.
“That’s why I’m here, Stan. Lemme know whatever you find.”
The two broke off. Steel, who couldn’t help hear since they were barely ten feet away, abruptly teared up and gagged. The motion caught Detective Mace Bayone’s attention.
“You okay, son? Fires can be frightening.”
“Yeah, sure, uh, sir? I know who owned the store. Her name is Victoria. The body…it’s not hers, is it?” Steel gagged again.
Mace patted the boy on the back.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t give you any information. Victoria, you say? Got the last name?” Steel frowned and shook his head. “Ok, know the name of the store?”
“Thymely Treasures. It just opened a month ago or so, sir.”
“And what is your name?”
Steel gave him his information including where he worked, and the detective jotted his notes then handed over a business card.
“You call me if you think of anything. Do you know where this Victoria is now?”
Steel shook his head and swallowed hard.
“No, sir. I’ve been trying to call her since the explosion but…but…there’s no answer.”
With that pronouncement, Steel bowed over like a broken stick and vomited on Mace’s leather shoes.
&nbs
p; THE LAST VESTIGES of night clung to the horizon as Drahomira and Reaper exited the crimson mists onto Riviere grounds. Reaper huffed and ran off to chase alligators, or swamp snakes, or whatever caught his fancy. Drahomira strolled the grounds and wondered if anyone was up. How should she tell her friend that she had a date with a killing? The thought tantalized, but she would have to reign it in because of Rhea. She pondered what to say as she rounded the back lawn.
Rhea tightened her robe and stepped onto the patio off the library. Dawn began a glorious emergence, judging from the sky’s gradient shades of blue. Unfortunately, Rhea felt out of sorts and not as inclined to appreciate the display. She never slept well when her love hunted and stayed out the entire night, not since the great battle disrupted their idyllic bliss, a happiness that lasted about five minutes.
As Rhea took a deep breath of the sweet air, three things happened simultaneously.
First, the phone in the hall shattered the silence with a demandingly loud bell.
Second, the sound woke Destin and his cries added a dissonant harmony with the phone.
Third, the house suddenly swelled with activity, which brought both Rhea and Drahomira inside. Chaos welcomed them as Franklin hurried past and into the library to turn on the television. Cooke came from the kitchen with a butcher knife, and Victoria thundered down the stairs with a baseball bat. Reaper chose the moment to let out a blood-curdling howl and Destin screamed louder.
“Brigid’s breastbone, what is going on?” Cooke demanded.
“What’s wrong?” Victoria stopped on the stairs with the bat held high, showing off lacey baby doll jammies.
“Strike one, Vic,” Dra snickered. “Destin’s hungry, but the world will not end.”
“No, but it might blow up,” Franklin said as he returned to the hallway. “Madam, I think you should see the news.” The phone stopped ringing.
Rhea tossed him a curious look as she started up the stairs. “Destin first, Franklin. Coming, darling,” she called.
Dra heard the sharpness in his tone. She stared at Franklin’s furrowed brow. “What’s up, Frankie?”
Victoria moved aside for Rhea and started down the remaining stairs, bat on her shoulder.
“Miss Victoria, I think you should wait for Mistress Rhea,” Franklin said quietly, and he stepped toward the young girl.
“What? Why? What’s wrong?” Victoria thumped down the remaining stairs until she was with everyone else in the hallway.
Drahomira eased around the manservant and into the library as Rhea returned with Destin in her arms. Victoria attempted to follow Dra, but Franklin stopped her with his hand.
“Miss, please.”
“By the Beng,” echoed Dra’s hushed voice. Everyone paused, and all heads turned in her direction.
Victoria suddenly gasped, shivered and her eyes opened wide. She stared into space and then blanched.
“No, no, no! It can’t be.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “I can see it. It’s gone.”
Franklin positioned himself beside the young girl and put a steadying arm around her waist as she swayed.
“What is gone?” Rhea came back down the stairs with a baby that looked more like a toddler, sucking milk from a bottle.
Dra emerged from the library. Behind her, the television played a video from a live feed. Flames overtook remnants of a two-story building, and the local fire chief briefed a mob of reporters. A banner flashed below the video.
Local business mysteriously explodes, one confirmed dead, others might be missing. Investigation is ongoing. No explanation for the explosion. More news at six.
The banner repeated. Explosion. Death. Destruction.
“Vickie,” Dra began and shrugged. She didn’t know what to say. “Everything was okay when I was there.”
Victoria gaped at Drahomira.
In the middle of this mess, Amor-el had arrived home via the kitchen and immediately felt the uncommon tension in the room. He and Cooke started a lively argument about the benefits of a liquid breakfast but stopped when he felt the shock emanating from the group. He took one look at Drahomira, decided absence was valor and disappeared upstairs. Though dawn whispered death dreams, Am chose to linger and speak to his beloved in private.
Cooke approached a decidedly pale Rhea and offered to take Destin. Rhea surrendered the boy and steadied herself on the balustrade.
“Did you do this?” Victoria, hoarse from crying, accused Dra. She pointed to the television, and her hand shook violently.
The question hurt, but Drahomira laughed. “Yes, of course. What else would I do on a Tuesday night but make a kill and then burn down a store, especially since it was yours?” Suddenly she growled. “Dinner by the fire.”
Rhea stepped forward. “Stop right now. Whatever this is, I think we would all like to know the facts before we needlessly and incorrectly accuse someone. Anyone care to explain?”
Drahomira stared at Victoria. The threat grew.
Franklin cleared his throat and faced Rhea. “Madam, Miss Victoria’s store exploded. It’s gone. And it appears someone died in the fire. Miss, you do not believe that Lady Dra—”
“What? Mindlessly killed then burned down my place to cover it up? She was there. Why the hell not? Goddess knows she already admits to loving the kill.”
“By all the gods, you cannot believe that,” Rhea gasped.
Wild laughter followed Victoria’s words. Dra’s green eyes glittered like shattered glass and her mists curled around her legs, writhing like angry snakes.
Franklin backed away.
“I never do anything mindlessly honey. Only willfully and whole-heartedly. And I don’t feel shame.” Dra advanced on Victoria. “I do like to kill. Shall I prove it to you, hon?” She purred and oozed menace.
Rhea’s raised voice was sharp. “Stop this right now. All of you, into the library. Cooke, let me have my boy, and you fix everyone something, anything. Franklin, coffee, tea, and brandy for Victoria, please. I will be back in a moment.”
To Victoria, she said, “Drink the brandy. I insist. And count to fifty.”
And to Dra, a look of pure fire. She gathered Destin and returned to his rooms.
The baby clawed her for blood. With a sigh, she settled into her rocker and opened her robe. Immediately Destin’s small hands tore her tender flesh and bit her nipple. She winced as her fiery blood left her and she tried to swallow the hurt, anger, and puzzlement from below. She rocked, closed her eyes, and then felt the cool calm in the presence beside her.
“I think I am jealous.”
The owner of the softly compelling voice stepped from the shadows, and suddenly her world softened. Amor-el leaned over the rocker and stared at their miracle child before he drifted a glassy nail across Rhea’s cheek and down her throat. Rhea shivered and lifted flaming eyes to meet his warm mossy-colored depths. Their desires flared, and passion begged for more, even now. How she longed to surrender and let the night consume her in darkness and peace, away from all the discord. They had not lain together for weeks she ached for the feel of his flesh against hers. Still, she smiled.
But Am didn’t smile back. Instead, he stared at Rhea’s scared breast.
“My rose, does he hurt you like this?” His finger feathered an exposed scar where Destin’s sharp vampire fangs left mark over mark. Gently, he pressed his face close to hers.
Rhea shook her head. “Not enough to matter, my love, but soon I will not be enough for him.”
Am said nothing but kissed her slowly, probingly, and waited until Destin slept and was back in bed. Golden day broke over the bayou and filtered through the curtains. Am withdrew further into the room’s shadows.
“Before you go, we need you downstairs. Can you wait?” She took his hand and pulled him back to her. “It is a mess. Victoria, Drahomira. I need your diplomacy.”
“For you, my blue rose, I will never sleep again,” he winked, and she smiled at his lie. They went downstairs together leaving Destin deep in a vampire sle
ep.
“What have I missed?” Am whispered as he guided her down the stairs.
Rhea never managed an answer. They reached the landing and heard the library television as it blared more news. Franklin waited for her in the hallway.
“Madam, I don’t believe the truce will hold.”
Amor-el’s eyebrows shot upwards, and he remained behind with Franklin who briefly provided details. Rhea rejoined the group, took her chair by the fire, and then put her hands in her lap. She steadied herself with a deep breath.
“Now, from the beginning, please. What happened tonight?”
That’s all it took. Victoria blurted every moment in painful detail. Drahomira’s leg rocked lazily back and forth over her chair’s arm in tacit agreement until Victoria decided to blame her again.
Rhea put up a hand and stopped the argument.
“Victoria, we are all distressed for you, and I am profoundly pained and sorry for your loss. Of course, you have a home with us for as long as you wish or permanently if you desire. Whatever you need, is yours. But I must appeal to your reason and insist that Drahomira would not burn down your store. She is family. Just because she was there, does not imply guilt. Fire would be more my style than hers, would you not agree?”
Victoria said nothing and crossed her arms in silent protest, but she couldn’t hide the tears rolling down her face. The more she swiped at them, the more tears fell. Frustrated, she sobbed and dashed upstairs.
The hall telephone rang again and disrupted any further discussion. Franklin disappeared, and Amor-el waited by the fire. Despite the flames, the room felt oddly cold. When Franklin returned, his expression puzzled, Am was by his side in an instant.
“Sir, the police called. They wish to speak with you about the fire. According to building records, it seems you purchased the deed for Miss Victoria’s building a while ago.”
Amor-el blinked, surprised. “I did? I don’t remember arranging for that. I insisted our attorney’s purchase many old properties to prevent them from becoming parking lots. But I have no specific memory of buying or renting that particular one. Strange.”
“I told the officer that you were out of town until this evening. He said someone would be by tonight or tomorrow.”
Love and Blood (Evening Bower Book 2) Page 7
