From Fear to Eternity: An Immortality Bites Mystery

by Michelle Rowen

  “I wasn’t sure.”

  “Had I not wanted to return to the fold, I would have denied your request and not cared about the consequences. As it was, it amused me to make you believe you had that sort of power over me.”

  “I must say, it’s an excellent charade.”

  “Thank you.”

  I didn’t think I’d taken a breath in three whole minutes. My face had to be blue by now.

  An entertaining, starry-eyed charade?

  I moved closer to the corner and peeked around. Thierry’s back was to me, with Atticus facing him, his expression impassive. No one else was in the hallway.

  Thierry finally spoke again just as I began relearning how to breathe. “Are you enjoying your reign as head elder, Atticus?”

  “Very much so.” Atticus absently brushed his left sleeve, as if he’d noticed a microscopic piece of lint on it.

  “You’ve heard what happened to the others.”

  Atticus looked up and narrowed his eyes. “Of course. However, I am surprised that news of this has reached you.”

  “I have my sources.”

  “As do we all.”

  “Are you concerned?” Thierry asked.

  “For myself? Not particularly. You?”

  “I have weathered many difficulties over the centuries. This threat—if that is what this is—is meaningless. Anyone with ill intentions would be wise to stay far away from me if they value their life.”

  Atticus smiled at this, a strangely cold expression. “Incredible, de Bennicoeur. If I hadn’t seen you, I would have believed the rumors that you’ve softened. But you’re every bit as ruthless as you ever were.” There was admiration in his voice. “I think you shouldn’t remain a consultant for long. Perhaps I want you back as an official elder, especially now that two positions have become available. How do you feel about that?”

  Thierry was silent for a moment. “It’s certainly worth further discussion.”

  “We’ll speak again very soon.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  Atticus left Thierry and moved back toward the parlor. I retreated into the shadows and flattened myself against the wall. He didn’t even notice me as he walked by. Atticus was a man who was so self-assured that it dripped from him like a waterfall of confidence.

  I didn’t like him in the slightest. For all his good looks, nice clothes, polished shoes, and shiny words, the man was a serious creep.

  I turned to my right to check on Thierry, only to find him now leaning against the wall directly next to me.

  I let out an involuntary yelp.

  “Eavesdropping?” he asked.

  “Maybe.”

  “Hear anything interesting?” He still held his highball glass loosely in his right hand.

  My stomach was tied up in knots. I studied him for a moment, all the horrible things he’d said churning through my brain. “The benefit of the doubt we discussed earlier? The meter has officially expired.”

  “Yes, I’m sure that it has.” He took my elbow and guided me farther down the hallway to put more distance between us and the parlor. We didn’t pass any more servants; in fact the only ones I’d seen so far had been the butler and the blond woman serving drinks.

  Thierry ushered me into a large room with a high ceiling, a long oak table in the center, and walls lined with bookshelves. The library. I eyed the books, not ready to give my full attention to Thierry quite yet.

  “I already got my next reading material from Veronique,” I said, my chest tight. “Although I think I’m going to wait for the movie.”

  “Sarah . . . look at me.”

  I turned to face him, my fists clenched at my sides so my nails bit into my palms. “What the hell is going on, Thierry?”

  “You heard what I said to Atticus.”

  “About me being an amusement, one you fully anticipate will become less amusing in the near future. Kind of like a juggling monkey in a cute little red dress and high heels.”

  He regarded me with a familiar blank expression, so I continued. “That Atticus was the one responsible for threatening my life, making you agree to work for the Ring again. But that it wouldn’t really matter, since fledglings like me are a dime a dozen and you’re a coldhearted snake, which is totally cool with Atticus, and he’s glad you aren’t really taken by someone as naive and ridiculous as me.”

  “I don’t believe I used the word ‘naive’ or ‘ridiculous.’ Nor did I compare you to a juggling monkey in any form of attire.”

  “It was implied.”

  Thierry glanced out the door as if checking for additional eavesdroppers, then closed it with a click. He turned to me, his expression completely unreadable.

  “What I said to Atticus about you—” he began.

  “Was a lie,” I finished.

  He regarded me with surprise. “You believe I was lying?”

  “Of course I do.”

  His gray eyes, before so blank, now held deep relief. “Considering how dismayed you looked a moment ago, you sound so certain of this.”

  “It wasn’t fun to hear, no matter why you said it. I’m assuming you were playing him for some reason, but please let me know if I’m wrong about that. I’d really like a heads-up.”

  A smile had grown on his face during my little speech. “Do you have any idea how much I adore you?”

  I just glared at him. “Prove it.”

  He gently grasped my chin and bent forward to brush his lips against mine. When I didn’t kiss him in return, he leaned back and raised an eyebrow.

  “Prove it,” I repeated, “by telling me the truth. Right here, and right now. Benefit of the doubt, Thierry. Tick-tock.”

  “Very well.” His expression finally sobered as he placed his empty glass on a nearby shelf. “We are here tonight because I received an invitation to this auction from an anonymous sender, but also because Atticus Kincade received an identical invitation. I wasn’t absolutely certain he would be in attendance, which is why I hesitated in sharing this information with you.”

  “Go on.”

  “If you were listening closely, you would have heard me mention a recent development within the council. Two elders who held positions just below Atticus were murdered in the past two months. They were part of the original group who founded the Ring.”

  “They were murdered?” I blinked, alarmed by his words. “You’re the one who founded the Ring in the first place—you must have chosen them.”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Does that mean you might be at risk, too?”

  “It’s possible,” he allowed. His gaze scanned the shelves nearby before returning to me. “I was contacted by lower-ranking elders yesterday who wanted me to come here, to reacquaint myself with Atticus so I could acquire more information which could help in their investigation.”

  Something horrible occurred to me. “They think Atticus is the murderer, don’t they?”

  He hesitated for only a second. “Yes.”

  My heart started pounding harder. “So it’s possible that you’re currently under the same roof as somebody who wants to kill you next.”

  “I’m not convinced I’m on his list of potential victims. I no longer hold any true power within the council. As consultant, I’m not a threat to him.”

  “But you founded the Ring and you left it of your own free will. If you really wanted to, you could challenge him for his position as leader, couldn’t you?”

  His lips thinned, which was enough of a confirmation for me.

  I’d known since we arrived that this was a bad place to be. Call it vampire intuition—paranoia now with evidence to back it up. “We need to leave.”

  “We can’t do that. Not yet.”

  “Why?”

  “The others believe Atticus wants the amulet. If it is he
re tonight they want me to acquire it using council funds to do so, to keep it out of his possession.”

  We didn’t even know for sure if it this specific amulet was up for grabs tonight. We’d been guessing until now. But I could understand why keeping something that contained a powerful genie away from an accused murderer might be an excellent idea. Here I’d thought Thierry had been jonesing for it himself.

  And he’d never given me any clue there was another reason for us being here.

  “You could have told me that much, you know.”

  “I’m telling you now.” Again, that smile played at his lips. “Better late than never?”

  Thierry didn’t want this dangerous amulet after all. He wanted to prevent someone nasty from getting their hands on it. The tight knot that had formed in my gut last night when he’d first told me about this auction finally eased.

  A little, anyway.

  One question continued to nag at me. “I’m still not sure why you told Atticus what you did about us.”

  His expression shadowed. “To gain his trust, he must believe I’m the same man I was in the past. He might confide in me then and confess his crimes and what his ultimate agenda is. If he knew you were more to me than I let on, it would give him more leverage than I want him to have, especially given the threats he’s made in the recent past.”

  “Honor among thieves, as the saying goes.”

  “Essentially.”

  Thierry knew this guy and how to deal with him. I had to put my faith in that. “But, in truth, you’re madly and passionately in love with me and I helped change your life completely for the better.”

  The smile returned to his lips. “A feat I never thought possible.”

  “I juggle really well.”

  “You do.”

  When he kissed me this time, I returned it with great enthusiasm, sliding my hands up his chest and over his shoulders. His hands tightened at my waist as the kiss grew more passionate and he pressed me against the shelf of hardcover books behind me.

  Once, I would have doubted his words, but I didn’t anymore. We might be opposites in so many ways, and he was so vastly older than me that his life experience eclipsed mine like a cruise ship next to a rubber dinghy, but there was something about us. We worked.

  He drove me crazy a lot of the time with his secrets, but I was crazy about him. That definitely helped to balance the scales.

  And, I’d admit it, he was an amazing kisser.

  “When’s the auction supposed to start?” I breathed. While I didn’t really want to interrupt, this I had to know. “It’s already well after nine.”

  “I’ve been told it’s been delayed an hour. We have time.”

  Even though I didn’t want to be stuck here longer than necessary, at the moment I was fine with this news.

  His breath was hot on my skin as he traced his mouth down and over my throat. Nobody would notice a hickey back at the cocktail party, would they? And, really, who cared if they did?

  This room was nice and private. Since the auction had been pushed back, nobody would miss us for quite some time, so maybe—

  I froze as his sharp fangs sank into my neck.

  Panic seized me. “Thierry, what are you doing?”

  Yes, vampires drank blood—even one another’s—but this particular situation was not a good thing. At all. No, his drinking my blood after an incredibly hot kiss was a very bad thing.

  As Atticus had alluded to in their conversation, Thierry de Bennicoeur suffered from an addiction—a blood addiction. Vampires, as a whole, did not have this. Sure, they were driven by their need for blood, but it didn’t control them unless they were dying of thirst.

  As a master vampire—in simpler terms, an old vampire—Thierry did not need to drink blood very often. He could go for long stretches—I didn’t even know how long. Months, years, decades, maybe, without a drop. Which was a very good thing, because in the past if Thierry had even a taste of blood, he could lose his mind. And when a master vampire with Superman-level strength lost his mind he might kill someone.

  And that someone might be me.

  “Thierry, stop it!” I shoved him as hard as I could. He reared back from me, his lips peeled away from his fangs, his eyes the pitch-black of a hungry vampire instead of their usual pale gray shade.

  I loved him with all my heart, but sometimes he scared the hell out of me.

  “I need more,” he growled.

  When he lunged for my throat again I slapped him as hard as I could. His eyes widened slightly before his brow furrowed.

  “Sarah, why did I—?” Clarity entered his gaze, swiftly followed by concern. “Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?”

  I pressed my hand against the puncture wounds on my throat, trying very hard to stay calm and not get upset. That would only make matters worse. “I’ll be fine.”

  An expression of complete devastation crossed his face, but before he could turn away from me, I grabbed hold of his arm with my free hand.

  “I’m okay, really. But what’s wrong with you?” I asked him very seriously.

  “I don’t know.” He grimaced. “Please be careful, Sarah. The need hasn’t left me yet.”

  “Okay.” I took him at his word and put some space between us.

  “I can’t remember being this thirsty without it first being triggered by the taste of blood,” he managed. “And it’s not abating.”

  “Did it come on just like that? Like zero to sixty?”

  “The thirst began shortly after we arrived, but I thought I could handle it. I don’t know what triggered it.” His pained gaze met mine. “Wait. My drink.”

  I didn’t understand what he meant for a moment. “What about it?”

  “Someone must have tampered with it.”

  I gasped. “Someone spiked your drink with blood.”

  I grabbed the empty glass off the bookshelf and held it under my nose. One whiff told me that it had contained more than cranberry juice.

  “How many did you have?”

  “That was my second.”

  “You didn’t taste the blood?”

  His jaw tensed. “No, I didn’t.”

  I gave him a look of disbelief. “Really? Because it smells like it was loaded.”

  He hissed out a breath, confusion now sliding through his eyes. “I smelled nothing but what I expected. I don’t know why.”

  It made no sense to me. “So is this a bonus shot of blood for the vampires here tonight, or does somebody know your secret?”

  “An excellent question.”

  “Could it have been Atticus?”

  “If he found evidence that this is still a problem for me after so many years, he could label me a threat to the security of the Ring and order my immediate execution.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face. “So if Atticus is a killer, what better way to get rid of the next person on his hit list, right?”

  Thierry shook his head. “No, I don’t believe Atticus would choose a method like this. He would prefer a much more direct attack.”

  I put the glass down and gave Thierry every ounce of my attention. “Then who was it?”

  When he didn’t answer, I drew close enough to touch his arm. He flinched away from me. “Please, Sarah. You need to keep your distance from me until I fully regain my control. I might not be able to stop next time.”

  Before I could say anything in reply to that chilling warning, he turned and left the library, headed back toward the parlor. I followed after him, trying not to get too close. For now.

  Thomas, the butler, walked past us and Thierry stopped him.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I need to know the identity of the host of this party.”

  “That will be revealed very shortly, sir, I assure you.”

  Thierry scanned the roo
m. “Suddenly I’m not all that patient. I need to know who the host is, and I insist on knowing right now.” He raised his voice enough to catch the attention of the others in the room. Conversation hushed. Atticus Kincade watched us curiously from his position next to Tasha Evans.

  “I suppose it is finally time we get this party started.” A deep voice cut through the silence. A man in a black tuxedo entered the room and moved toward us. He had light brown hair and green eyes. A smile curled the corners of his mouth.

  Thierry stared at him with shock on his normally hard-to-read face.

  “You—” he began.

  “Long time no see,” the man said. “Hi, Dad.”

  Chapter 3

  Maybe it was all in my imagination, but I swear the entire room went deathly silent as that word echoed all around, bouncing off the walls covered in tasteful paintings with gilded frames and threading through the crowd of invited guests.

  Dad?

  Excuse me?

  “Sarah,” Thierry said. All expression had left his face. All tone or emotion had left his voice. He’d suddenly become the Thierry who wore an impenetrable mask of icy composure, rather than the passionate yet dangerous Thierry I’d just been alone with. “This is Sebastien Lavelle.”

  “Sarah Dearly.” Sebastien turned to me and thrust out his hand. I shook it automatically. “I’ve heard all about you.”

  I just stared at him. “Sorry I can’t say the same. Did you call Thierry Dad?”

  “I did. Thierry and I go way back.”

  “He’s your . . . father?”

  “No,” Thierry said. “I’m his sire.”

  Sebastien smiled. “Same difference.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  I tried to rein myself in and appear as calm as Thierry did. I was still busy processing the information about Atticus, as well as the disturbing idea that someone had spiked Thierry’s drink with blood, so I had to shuffle both troublesome subjects off to the side in my mind to make space for this. My brain was getting as crowded as this room.