“I’m Antonia’s guardian, Bastian,” he said before Ophelia answered. “Master and Madame Gaston are…” What? One was dead, and the other’s fate was unknown.
“Heinous individuals who don’t really care about their child?” Madame Segal said. “But why should I believe you? Do you know anything about Quentin?”
He exchanged another look with Ophelia. She inclined her head.
Madame Segal wrapped her arms around herself. “Why do I feel like you’re going to tell me something dreadful?”
“Shall we have a seat first?” Bastian waved to the antique padded chairs lining the room.
The master led his mate to a chair and seated her. He chose the one next to her. Ophelia took a seat on the edge of the settee.
Bastian started at the beginning, and with the truth. “I’m the—I was the butler for the Gastons.” I was everything for the Gastons.
The madam blinked, her hand going to her heart. The master watched him shrewdly. Good. They didn’t run him off; they were reserving judgment.
“I’ve raised Antonia since she was a child, and two nights ago, I caught them tricking her into an arcane act. Of the occult.”
Madame Segal’s hands flew to her mouth.
“Impossible,” Master Segal said.
“Why?” Ophelia asked. The couple peered at her. She still hadn’t introduced herself.
“We’ve heard the rumors,” Master Segal replied. “The bribes, the deals. The Gastons care about themselves and their money. I don’t see them risking either to gain a few bucks.”
“What’s the going rate for dealing with demons?” Ophelia asked.
“Who are you again?” Madame Segal asked. “And what does this have to with Quentin?” Her face drained of color. “Oh, hellfire. Please don’t—”
Ophelia held her hand up. “You can’t panic without knowing what’s going on. I work for the Synod.”
Master Segal’s eyes narrowed. “So they do know what’s going on. That was part of the promise. That they were clueless and when there were enough of us who agreed to be hosts for the underworld, then we would be powerful enough to destroy the Synod.”
“You can see why it’s in the Synod’s best interests to keep this information limited to certain individuals,” Ophelia said.
Bastian held his gaze steady, but ire roiled through his veins. Perhaps it was in the Synod’s best interests. Meanwhile, families didn’t know any better and feared for their lives and those of their children. Their household staff didn’t believe any differently. The young and ignorant paid for their lack of knowledge.
“I don’t know about that,” Master Segal mused. “But I really don’t care. Old government, new government. Life doesn’t change for me. I care about my son.” He switched his attention to Bastian. “And Antonia?”
“I rescued her. Her mother didn’t make it. I don’t know where her father is, but he’s not allowed around Antonia.”
“Are you here because you think we’d do the same thing?” Quentin’s mother trembled but held herself together.
“It was a thought.” Ophelia went for brutal honesty. “There was another male there that night. A nonprime. Who were you talking to last night at Sharpe’s Point?”
Master Segal lifted his chin, his gaze landing on Bastian. “The man at the bar. I thought you were familiar. Yes, I was meeting with a business prospect. I invest money for several families. Their birth is of no consequence to me.” He frowned. “But I hadn’t met this guy before. He claimed to be a prime from the area, but his scent was…”
“Like a campfire?” Ophelia offered.
“Yes, quite strong.” Master Segal clasped his mate’s hand. “We’ve been approached before, told about the fantastic opportunity to host a powerful being inside of us, herald change for our people, and reclaim our authority over this realm. But we didn’t buy it. I’ve made easy money. And I’ve lost it even faster. I assume the same goes for power. We’re happy where we’re at.”
Bastian believed them. They’d worked from the bottom up. Their motivation to keep everything they had sprang from a different place than for those who were born with it.
“What was his name?” Ophelia’s eyes had softened, and her tone had lost its edge. The Segals had proven themselves to be genuinely concerned about their son, not about lost opportunities to work with the underworld. Now they needed to concentrate on the danger to Quentin and Antonia. “And what did he want?”
Master Segal answered. “He said his name was Dieter, and he was interested in investing with me.”
“But he asked a lot of personal questions,” Madame Segal said. “We’re used to that in the getting-to-know-you stage, but this was…disconcerting.”
“How so?” Ophelia asked.
“His focus was intense. His stench was off-putting. And it was hard to look him in the eyes. I swear they swirled.” The madam’s slim shoulders shook.
Bastian had no idea what that meant. “Did he ask about Quentin a lot?”
Master Segal shook his head. “Not really. He asked after him, but I got the sense his interest was in us. At the time I thought he was determining whether or not he could trust me with his money.”
The maid tapped lightly on the door and entered with a tray of delicate cups and a steaming ceramic pot of water.
“Oh, Lora. You always know what I need.” Madame Segal’s color had returned. She waved for Lora to pour.
The maid smiled at him again, but when her gaze hit Ophelia’s, it dropped. The cup clattered against its plate as she set them on the table between him and Ophelia.
He waited for Ophelia to ask more questions, but she was tracking Lora.
Right. Ophelia distrusted universally.
“My thanks,” he said and held the cup without taking a drink. He’d been able to adapt to many things, but tea wasn’t one of them. Ophelia did the same with her cup. Did she not trust what was in the cup, or did she just not have a taste for tea?
The wait was uncomfortable. Did Lora normally take this long to pour tea? Was she worried about Quentin also? Or waiting for gossip to spread to the rest of the house?
Finally, Lora packed up her tray and exited the room. Once again, the door didn’t swing all the way shut. This time he got up and closed it.
“Are we not to trust our staff?” Madame Segal had paled again, as if she couldn’t take another hit to the sanctity of her home.
“You may, but I do not,” Ophelia said. “So after your night out, you came home, and Quentin was gone. Does he usually go out alone? Who does he hang out with?”
“Kids from school.” Master Segal sent him a pointed look. “Like Antonia. They’ll go to each other’s houses. Often, the others come here.”
“Did he say where he was going?” he asked.
The male shook his head. “He said he didn’t have plans for the night. He wasn’t feeling well.”
“We’ll need to look around his room,” Ophelia said.
Madame Segal’s face lit up. “You’re going to help find him?”
“We’ll look into it.” Ophelia’s answer was little more than vague.
“Yes,” he said. Ophelia’s glared seared into him. “I’m not stopping until I find him and return him to you safely.”
Ophelia might not want to commit, but he wasn’t afraid to.
Chapter Eight
Ophelia circled the hormone den that was Quentin’s room. It was different than she’d expected. Her room growing up had been full of Old World artistry and furniture upholstered in fabric better suited for drapery. The gauzy canopy bed she’d been forced to sleep in still gave her nightmares.
The Segals had no problem keeping up with the times for their son. Quentin’s room could rival an electronics store. Xbox. Every iteration of Nintendo from the last forty years. Handheld gamers, consoles, and a screen that took up an entire wall. He didn’t have a room so much as a wing of the house. Half of the lower level
was his, and one of the rooms was a movie theater.
No wonder Quentin rarely went out.
The first thing Ophelia noticed as she entered his bedroom was the tang of sulfur in the air. She’d almost missed it, but the farther in she went, the stronger it became. Especially by the bed.
She didn’t smell sex, but the outpouring of lust in the area suggested something had recently turned the boy on.
The underworld couldn’t get to him through his parents, so they used his nubile libido.
Ophelia would enjoy ripping the one responsible limb from limb.
But would Quentin’s mind be intact, or would he cross to the dark side and stay because he was too young to know better?
Bastian was searching the rest of the floor. Ophelia had sensed a question he wasn’t asking. His discomfort had started when she’d made the Synod comment. How he felt about that was obvious, but what she’d said was true.
Was it anything else?
And why’d she care?
As if her thoughts summoned him, he entered the room on soundless feet. His stealth was born of duty, a need to blend into the surroundings with the other possessions. She made no noise when she moved for an entirely different reason. Survival. Surveillance. Death.
“I think I have a clue.” Ophelia stared at the rumpled covers. The bed was made, but someone, or someones, had rolled across the top.
Bastian crossed to her and she gave him a few moments to read the area. She was interested to see what he came up with.
“Brimstone,” he said. “We need to find out who’s been in this room.”
“According to Quentin’s parents, all of his friends have. I haven’t noticed any security inside the house. The Segals felt secure here.”
Bastian circled the bed and crouched to look under it. “The Segals kept their work separate from their private life. I got the impression they didn’t want their clients around their kid.”
Her estimation of the Segals flew up several notches. “Quentin left with someone he trusted.” Misplaced trust. “Another kid?”
The magnitude of that idea took root. If the underworld had gotten that much access to kids, then they might actually get ahead. It didn’t matter that the Circle was now stocked with more than just single-minded purebreds. Second-tier demons could be as devious and blackhearted as their brethren.
It was one thing to decapitate or ash an adult vampire, especially one she might’ve despised for years, who had started dabbling in the occult. It was another to kill a kid. If the child was tricked into hosting, removing the demon would irrevocably damage the ability to bond, like when Grace had been possessed.
If the kid instead had outright bonded and they freed him, his ability to bond again would be trashed. Vampires mated for eternity, as much as they hated the concept.
Actually, that might be a selling point for someone so young. At that age, eternity with just one person might sound like perpetual torture.
Bastian straightened. He’d found nothing under the bed. “He could’ve gone with another kid, but from Antonia’s stories, I don’t think the blackness has infiltrated so far.” He lifted the sheets, his nostrils flaring to sense any clues. “They sound like normal young primes: full of themselves, exploring the offerings of life and the occasional rebellion. Antonia thought the way Quentin said his ‘out-of-this-world party’ comment was odd.”
Yeah, the girl was perceptive, and she hadn’t mentioned suspicions with any of her other friends. And she hadn’t attended the party. Had Quentin helped target Antonia?
Bastian scanned the room, then went for the door. He stepped into the hall and looked each direction. Then he shut the door.
Ophelia’s brows lifted.
He did another sweep of the room. “Do you think there’s another entrance in here? A secret door?”
He’d certainly hooked her. They both inspected the walls, checking the shelving and pictures for secret levers and passages that would offer another point of access to the boy.
Nothing.
Just in case they missed something, she kept her voice low. “The Segals are probably gone enough that Quentin could entertain without them knowing. I’m sure he has authority over the staff. It’s not like they’re gonna say he can’t have friends over, or verify the friends aren’t predators in disguise.”
“Or it was one of the staff.”
She stared at him. An answer so obvious she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it. Yet she’d grown up with staff. Her family had paid for obedience and subservience with either money or threats. She hadn’t escaped the attitude that their worlds were separate, though she knew better than most their blood all ran red.
“I guess we need to talk to Lora.” The burn of fury ignited in her veins. An attractive young maid who was seduced by the dark side in turn lures a young boy into giving up his soul.
Oh yes. Ophelia would have a nice long talk with Lora. And it might include fists and fangs.
Bastian was out the door first. Like her, he didn’t plan to ask the Segals for permission to question their staff. Like her, he probably thought the Segals would raze their manor if someone inside had something to do with their son’s disappearance.
They cleared Quentin’s wing of the manor and then entered into an elegant sitting area surrounded by doors. Madame Segal was perched on the settee. Master Segal cradled her in his embrace. Distraught parents.
Also a bad omen. Parents had a natural inclination to expect the worst when their kid was missing and rightfully so. They’d known Quentin wasn’t the type of kid to disappear with no word, and his absence had instantly stirred angst unlike any they’d experienced.
Quentin was in trouble.
Master Segal stayed where he was, but his gaze followed them as they strode by the sitting area. “You’ve found something.”
“Only suspicions,” Ophelia said, “but we need to talk to your staff.”
Master Segal gently extracted himself from his mate and rose. “We’ve already questioned them.”
Ophelia smiled grimly. “But we know what to ask.” And how.
Madame Segal was on her feet. “There are five on staff and they should all be around.”
The couple followed them.
Bastian led the way without needing to be told where to go. He went for the hallway with the well-tread floor that was the farthest away from the sleeping and entertaining spaces.
The Segals didn’t argue, so he must be correct.
“They will be preparing our end of night meal,” Master Segal said. “I have two cooks and the others will be setting up the dining room.”
“And your maid?” Bastian asked.
They hadn’t met any of the others yet, but Bastian sounded like Lora was their priority.
“She might be there, overseeing duties,” Master Segal said.
As the maid, Lora could go everywhere in the house and not be questioned as to how long she was gone. They found two people in the dining room setting china around the table and lining up silverware. One was a female who rivaled Betty in age, and the other was a male who was likely older than the Segals.
Pots and pans clanged from down a passageway. They followed the sounds to a large, modern kitchen. The two banging around were another male and female. The male hovering over a large stockpot was already graying, and the female chopping onions was probably older than Ophelia. A possible suspect, but unlikely. She didn’t move with the sensuous grace that could bespell a teenage boy, and she didn’t put Ophelia on insta-alert just by being in the same room.
All of them looked at Ophelia and Bastian with outright curiosity, but any concern coming from them was directed at the Segals themselves. The staff cared for their employers and in turn were also worried about Quentin Segal.
“Where’s Lora?” Master Segal barked.
The male stopped mid stir. “I haven’t seen her since she retrieved the water for the tea, Master.”
>
Master Segal spun and strode back to the dining room. “Lora?” he asked the other two.
“Haven’t seen her recently, Master,” the male said. “Perhaps she’s on the upper level.”
“What would she be doing up there?” Ophelia asked. The upper levels were more for show and rarely used. They needed little cleaning.
The older female didn’t pause as she folded napkins and placed one by each plate. “Oh, she’s got that new beau. I swear, she can’t go an hour without talking to him.”
Bastian glanced at Ophelia.
Master Segal was already on the move. The four of them flew upstairs.
A new beau. Was that the mysterious male they were looking for? Had they gotten to Lora and coerced her into a bond?
Ophelia’s heart thudded. What if the mysterious male was actually a second-tier demon who could walk the realm freely because of his bond to Lora?
Had Lora gotten to Quentin? Had she played on his emotions, and his lust, until he agreed to do whatever they needed him to?
Wait—they’d have smelled brimstone on her if she’d been in close proximity to a demon, especially if they were intimate.
Unless she doused the rest of the house in another scent to hide her own subterfuge. Lavender vanilla.
Fuck.
They combed the upper levels. Ophelia skidded into one room. Curtains billowed in a cold winter breeze. She clenched her jaw and stalked toward it. She inhaled deeply. The lavender vanilla was overpowering. She sucked in another breath. A barely detectable hint of sulfur. Whoever had been in this room wasn’t from the underworld, but they’d cavorted with a being who was.
Bastian raced in behind her. “She got out the window?”
“Looks that way.”
One thing was sure: Lora had left. She also hadn’t left the doors open accidentally when they’d first talked to the Segals. She’d been eavesdropping.
The female had gone after a young boy and now he was missing.
Ophelia fisted her hands. She spun on a heel and stormed back the way they’d come.
“Ophelia?” Bastian jogged after her.
Bastian GP Page 11
