by Sophia North
"The cylinder you've insisted I keep with me at all times, and also my Marker, were taken from my suite. I can't understand how it happened, but it did. What am I now? A lost soul again."
Alarmed by the turn in events, the old man hissed, "No, it cannot be. The Chalice of Karma is in play."
Not sure what Tiberius was getting at, Gabe focused on his comment about the artefact. What was this Chalice he spoke of? He’d never heard Tiberius tell of it before. "You have knowledge of the cylinder's history, why have you kept it from me?"
Tiberius waved his question away. "Gabriel, you must find what has been taken from you. It may be the key to yours and Hannah's salvation. I've kept my counsel on the matter because I did not want to give you false hope, should this have happened."
Suddenly the memory of Hannah discussing a bowl for sale at an upcoming Christie's auction whisked through his mind.
'Yes, here it is. It is not quite as elaborate, nor does it have the rich varied detail of your cylinder, but in my opinion there is a connection between the two pieces...'
"Damn it, man. There may still be hope. Hannah may have found the bowl."
Tiberius looked sceptical. "Yes, but without the other two pieces it would be useless."
"Leave finding them to me. I will not rest until they are recovered."
Gabe stood to go, but Tiberius stayed him. "You must still leave Hannah - her transformation into your Master has started and with her Sibyl powers, it will accelerate."
"My Master?"
"Oh, my dear boy, you are truly a marvel. How you've survived this long is an utter mystery. Must be the devil's own luck that sustains you," Tiberius sighed. "Praetor blood to a human is like the ambrosia enjoyed by the Gods. She will grow stronger with every passing day and you will become her slave...until, as her Creator, you must take her from this world. This is why I tried to warn you against ever giving your blood to another. The combination of your karma and the Praetor blood bond between you and Hannah has only ensured a speedier destruction for both of you."
"You have my word,” Gabe solemnly replied. “I shall stay away from Hannah. Now I must go. There is a chalice I need to recover before it's too late."
Chapter Thirty-Two
HANNAH SAT ON SIMONE's couch fuming. It was day two of her incarceration and with every hour that passed she was that much closer to reaching her breaking point. Furious at Gabe for a myriad of reasons, her poor friends were on the receiving end of her anger.
Hannah had waited hours on Sunday for Gabriel to return. He never did. Instead, he sent her an emissary bearing gifts. A letter, basically ending it between them, along with curt instructions for her to be escorted by his man to Simone's. He'd stressed the danger to her was real and that the only place where she'd be safe was there.
But his final words to her had really taken the cake. He'd warned her, in no uncertain terms, not to disobey his orders or there would be consequences. The cheek of the manpyre knew no bounds!
The kind old soul tasked with ensuring Hannah compiled with Gabe's orders was sadly the one who'd received an earful from her. And he was a perfect stranger...called himself Tiberius, if she cared to know it. She didn't.
To her, he represented Gabe's utter betrayal of her faith in him. But she'd been taught better than to be rude to her elders and after her initial tirade had fallen silent.
Thankfully the older gentleman had an excellent sense of humour, and by the time she'd been delivered to Vlad for transferring to Simone's, she'd actually warmed to him. It wasn't his fault his employer was a bastard.
"Are you sure you want to disobey him, Hannah?" Penny asked, nervously. "Vlad says the Consul is not a vamp to mess with...and at the moment is being more dictatorial than usual." Penny had joined her back at Simone's after Vlad had caught wind of the Warlocks targeting loved ones. She'd barely unpacked at their apartment before she was carted back to her friend's place once again.
"Who's side are you on?" Hannah snapped.
"Well, yours of course. It's not like I don't understand the concept of vamps on the run. Vlad tried the same stunt...by text no less, so count your blessings Gabriel took the time to explain himself," Penny snapped back, before softening. "In the end, I had to take rather drastic measures to make my point. But unfortunately for you, Lowerton is on lockdown so you can't get to him."
"He can run but he cannot hide from me forever," Hannah declared. "His Praetor blood runs through my veins, and with it, my ability to sense when he surfaces. And I am not through with his High Holiness...yet."
Hannah knew it was ridiculous to feel the way she did, any self respecting woman would take the hint and back off. But she also knew Gabe cared for her, no matter what he'd said in his letter about duty and their worlds being too far apart. She'd sensed him opening up to her the night after they'd made love, and that it was not something he did easily.
Penny sighed wistfully. She completely understood where Hannah was, and if not for her chance encounter with a kind old man named Bertie in a jazz club, she might have done something stupid and lost Vlad forever.
As it was, Vlad was back on thin ice for taking the Consul's side regarding his treatment of Hannah, claiming he'd do exactly the same thing if he was in Gabe's shoes. The arrogance of these manpyres was truly astounding. Should she tell Hannah about her Bertie experience or would doing so simply stir an already boiling pot?
"Are you sure you want to prod the lion's paw?" Penny asked. "Because you'll need fortitude to withstand the inevitable explosion that will follow."
"I'm not going to sit in this bunker and let him run my life. Lawrence is close to ringing Scotland Yard over my elusiveness. If I don't see him soon, I cannot be held responsible for what he might do next. You know how dramatic he can be."
Hannah's out of contact status due to Simone's home not having mobile reception made dealing with her assistant particularly difficult. Yesterday she had to feign being overcome by a terrible stomach, and today her excuse of needing to pick out some final touches for the house had been met with a snort of disbelief from Lawrence.
A tingling sensation overcame her. Finally, Gabe had surfaced again. Her new powers picked up his signature immediately. "He's on the move," she exclaimed, drawing surprised looks from the two women.
"That’s some power Praetor blood packs," Penny commented.
Hannah lurched to her feet. "Ladies, I am going out. You can try to stop me, but I swear I'll find a way with or without you."
Simone smiled knowingly. "Don't be ridiculous. We would never force you to stay."
Penny brightened, thinking she and Simone were about to form part of Hannah's gang to track down Gabe. Simone quickly dispelled them. "No old friend, Vlad will never speak to me again, if I allow you outside these walls."
Disgruntled to be shot down, Penny crossed her arms. "We cannot let her go out unprotected," Penny countered. "Her powers may be great for tracking and lifting people’s thoughts but will be no match for invisible forces that can choke the life from her."
"That is why I am sending Alfred along to keep her safe."
The Raven in question appeared at his Mistress's side. "My lady, I sensed you needed me."
It was a lie. Alfred had been eavesdropping, once again.
"Your senses, as always, Alfred are impeccable," Simone replied dryly. "I have an assignment for you. You will be escorting Hannah this evening to..." she looked at Hannah to see if she had a clear destination yet.
Hannah closed her eyes and concentrated. Gabe was being driven somewhere. Then the destination became clear. He'd been looking through a Christie's catalogue. The bowl from the day at the British Museum flashed through her mind.
"Christie's Auction House," she provided.
Alfred looked horrified. He loathed antiques. They were so stuffy...and imbued with all sorts of strange energy.
Penny was on her feet, "Let's get you dressed. What is the attire for an auction? I'm thinking sexy summer collector."
Alfred was about to protest in taking part with their schemes. The odds were it wouldn't end well for him. Especially if Vlad found out about it.
"Perhaps I can bring the Consul a message from Lady Hannah, Mistress Penny," Alfred countered with, hoping the good old days when he'd ran messages for her to Vlad might make a comeback.
Penny snapped. "Why am I not a lady?" she accused the raven. "I don't think I care for this class snobbery you have Alfred. You do realise my bloodline is ancient and incredibly powerful. And no, this is not a letter matter, bird man."
Alfred inadvertently rubbed his backside. "I am intimately acquainted with your abilities, Mistre...er Lady Penny," he replied, disgruntled his plan had been shot down. Vlad was going to pluck him one feather at a time for his part in this scheme. Especially as Alfred's side assignment from the Viking was also planned for tonight.
Dear lord in heaven, Alfred silently prayed. Let my master return soon. The house has turned into Bedlam.
"Yes, that's much better." Penny rose to join Hannah in her raid of Simone's closet. The tall leggy options on offer made her slightly envious. But the knot of worry on Simone's brow gave her pause. With only the two of them in library, she asked, "Simone, what's wrong?"
Simone shook her head. "I'm not sure, something feels strange...not necessarily in the dark foreboding way...but that doesn't mean it's not without shadow."
Penny knew her friend's Faeness had a way of making itself known more and more since her ascension last year. "Should I put an end to Hannah's outing?"
"No, what I feel doesn't concern her. She will be fine with Alfred. I just know it."
"If you say so," Penny said cautiously. "How about me? Vlad’s going to blow a gasket when he finds out I aided and abetted our friend to break his High Holiness's decree that she stay here under lock and key until further notice."
"Too bad we both know the power of fate has little regard for the omnipotent male belief that they always know best."
Penny grinned. "Too true, my friend. Look what fate brought us?"
"Our greatest loves ever."
Chapter Thirty-Three
HANNAH WASN'T SURE how it had happened. Perhaps it was her mobile exploding with messages from Lawrence demanding her immediate attention or his threats of police intervention? But either way she was currently jammed between two men in the back of a limo. And neither seemed to be getting along with the other.
It had all started when Lawrence made the mistake of expressing his disappointment on the return of 'chaste' Hannah, when compared to her daring dress from the house warming party.
Alfred had immediately snapped that Countess Mowbray's choice of attire epitomised the elegance of Grace Kelly - and as such was classy. The sneer in Alfred's voice set Lawrence off. He did not like his territory messed with by an uppity 'manservant' on loan for the night as an escort for his boss. Nor his insinuation about what was classy.
Immensely grateful when the car pulled up outside the chic St. James premises of Christie's, Hannah feared her lax in judgement over allowing Lawrence to tag along may come back and bite her in the proverbial. But when she'd mentioned her intention to attend the auction, her assistant refused to take no for an answer. And rather than run the risk of him showing up at an inopportune time, she'd agreed to pick him up on the way.
Not wanting to be outdone by the curious man calling himself Alfred, Lawrence was out of the limo to assist Hannah alight before he had even attempted to move.
"I daren't admit it in front of him, but you do look lovely, Hannah," Lawrence confessed in a low whisper. as he held the door for her.
And she did. The full-skirted sleeveless dress fit her curves snugly, but boasted a much more respectable hemline. She looked like a starlet from the old black and white films, and Hannah had loved the white chiffon dress from the moment she saw it hanging in Simone's closet.
"Thank you, Lawrence. I'd hate to think I've disappointed you after all your hard work in making me over these past few years."
"I won't lie, you are not the most open when it comes to fashion, but I have also learned to love the classics because of you. I suppose at some point the student became the Master."
Collecting her auction number and catalogue, Hannah started to make the rounds, but with a singular intent. To find Gabriel and set the record straight about them.
She knew he was there. She could feel his presence.
"Hannah, check this out! It's an Etruscan funeral mask, and its condition is incredible, the best I've ever laid eyes upon," Lawrence exclaimed excitedly. Alfred, on the other hand, rolled his eyes in boredom. Again, he would never understand the fascination with a bunch of old stuff from civilisations long gone. What really was to be gained from the minute dissection of such things?
Lawrence saw his reaction and bristled at his blasé attitude. "Mr. Stuck-up Snob, if you are so bothered about being here, might I suggest you go. I will ensure Hannah gets home safely."
Alfred gave him the most insulting once over Lawrence had ever endured in his short twenty-five years. "I think not. Lady Hannah is under my protection. Pray don't forget it again." Turning to Hannah without taking a breath he asked, "Drinks?"
Hannah, like Lawrence, was rather stunned by his performance. Talk about exerting one's authority. Hannah noted how it was done for future reference, but could only squeak out a 'yes' to his question and watch wide-eyed as Simone's servant stalked away.
Evening auctions at Christies were quite an elegant affair. Cocktails and black tie were not uncommon. And tonight's Robert Rudston, Earl of Montcrieff's, private collection was a worthy reason to get dressed up. The Earl, a reclusive eccentric, had died childless and tonight his estate was being auctioned off for Winchester's Hospital of St. Cross. An unusual choice nowadays, but fitting it would benefit from one of the largest private collections in the country to ever go on the block. Especially as much of it had come from the English Crusades in the Holy land. Let's call it penance for past bad behaviour making good.
Recovering from Alfred's assault, Lawrence nodded towards a group gathering around the main item up for auction that night. The Rudston Diamond necklace. "Looks like the Germans are making a move." he said, waving at Heinrich von Wittelsbach the main buyer from the Altes Museum, with a fake smile on his face. "Vultures. What is wrong with this country? We're selling off our heritage to a bunch of foreigners like it means nothing."
"Lawrence," she said through gritted teeth in an equally fake smile of greeting. "Not tonight."
The ritual pleasantries with one's peers out of the way, Hannah turned back around. A Lawrence rant on the state of the nation's cultural decay could last for hours and she was eager to get back to her hunt for Gabe. There was quite a crush tonight, considering what was on offer, and she had yet to spot him.
A vision of him holding a glass of champagne near a large glass case flashed into her mind. Recognising the location, her gaze pivoted in the direction revealed by the vision.
There he stood. And he was not alone.
Draped on his arm was a gorgeous brunette, whom Hannah immediately knew was no woman - she was a vampyre. And she was dressed to kill, literally if she so wanted. Taking in a sharp breath when the she-devil laughed at something witty Gabe whispered in her ear, Hannah started to see red.
At that moment Alfred returned with their drinks, and amazingly included Lawrence in the order. Must have been a peace offering, not that Lawrence was having any of it. He picked up his glass of Chardonnay, his favourite, with his nose in the air, like it was the least the beastly man could do after his outrageous display.
Swiping the glass of champagne from Alfred's outstretched hand, Hannah tipped the contents down her throat. Things were about to get rather heated and she needed fortification. As recommended by Penny.
About to undertake her attack, Hannah was stopped by the appearance of an old woman standing beside her. She was so short, Hannah may have missed her.
"Good evening, my dear,"
she said in greeting. "How delightful to find you've come."
Worried the poor old thing might have a few screws loose and was mistaking Hannah for someone else, Hannah decided to play along, to a degree. "You were expecting me?" she asked gently.
The older lady cackled gleefully. "You could say that, Countess Mowbray."
Hannah started. Somehow the woman knew exactly who she was, but Hannah could not recall having ever met her before. But then, she'd attended so many functions because of her upbringing it could have been years ago when Hannah was young.
"Forgive me, but I cannot recall your name," she prompted.
"Margaret Rowan," the older lady replied with a twinkle in her starkly rimmed emerald eyes.
It was the same surname as Melinda's, and she was the only Rowan Hannah knew. How strange? Hannah could have sworn Melinda had no family, perhaps she'd been mistaken.
"You wouldn't be related to a Melinda Rowan by any chance? she prodded, curious to know.
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
OO, her inner voice whispered. Visions of driving down a winding road, passing a village sign at its side flashed into view, before leading to a gated drive and eventually a large country house. Hannah recognised it immediately, it was the OO Motherhouse.
"I think it's time for you to run along, my dear," the older woman chimed, breaking Hannah from her spell. "Timing is everything, isn't it? And I believe your number is up. We'll speak again soon..." She moved aside to allow Hannah to pass.
Hannah stared at the eccentric lady, her curiosity definitely piqued by their unusual encounter. But she denied herself the luxury of asking more questions. There were more important answers she needed and Margaret wasn't able to provide them. "If you insist Mrs. Rowan. I hope it will be soon. It was very nice to meet you."
"And you, Countess. And you."
A slight tapping on the podium's microphone brought everyone's attention to the front of the room. The auction was about to start.
Hannah's gaze flew to where Gabe had been standing. He was gone.
