His eyes met mine and held long enough for me to see that he was definitely worried. “It will be okay once I’ve acquired the amulet.”
“You’ll get it.”
“I hope you’re right.”
My words of encouragement seemed to be working, since he relaxed a fraction.
Like, a fraction of a fraction.
Low conversation moved through the gathered guests before Sebastien spoke again. “The first item up for bid this evening is one I acquired in the early sixteenth century, a painting of a duchess said to be haunted by her spirit to this very day.” He gestured to an easel that held a painting of a stern-looking woman with her chin raised, eyes straight forward. She reminded me of a teacher I had in public school who scolded me for my hilarious one-liners during her classes. Some teachers didn’t appreciate funny students.
“Did he say he acquired the painting in the sixteenth century?” Jacob whispered to Veronique. “How is that possible?”
“You must have heard him wrong, darling,” she replied.
I had no idea how long she thought she could keep this up. Bringing a human to a vampire function didn’t seem like the brightest idea in the universe.
Humans might like the notion of vampires in theory. But faced with an actual vampire with fangs and a thirst for blood, they inevitably freaked out.
“We’ll start the bidding at ten thousand dollars,” Sebastien said.
People raised their hands, and he acknowledged their bids, which escalated until—
“Going . . . going . . . gone!” He struck the gavel against the podium. “Sold to Ms. Peterman for thirty-two thousand dollars.”
Ms. Peterman, who was seated in the back row, seemed very pleased to now own the creepy-haunted-teacher painting.
Thomas moved the easel to the side and brought out the next item, unwrapping it from shimmery blue fabric and holding it up for everyone to see. It was a knife about seven inches in length with a wavy golden blade and sapphires set into the hilt. The blade itself was carved with small swirling symbols.
“The Amaranthian Dagger. There are rumors that to drink the blood from a wound made by this dagger will substantially lengthen a mortal’s life. Legend has it that if the blood is consumed by an vampire, they will never need to fear death, for they will be truly and wholly immortal, without any fear of wooden stakes or other means used to end their existences.”
“More strange talk of vampires,” Jacob mused. “Quite a coincidence, don’t you think, my sweet?”
“Yes, quite,” Veronique agreed.
After a heated battle that drove the price up to nearly two hundred thousand dollars, Frederic Dark was the victor. I couldn’t tell if he or his wife, Anna, was pleased by the win. Their pale, morose expressions didn’t shift for even a moment into anything cheerier.
“I’m not surprised he won,” Thierry said under his breath. “Frederic is said to possess a wide collection of supernatural weaponry.”
“He sounds like a really fun guy.”
“And Anna likely would be interested in such an item, too. She was once a vampire hunter.”
I stared at him. “You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not.”
“How long have they been married?”
“Twenty years, I believe. He is also her sire.”
I glanced toward the Purist couple with much more interest now, and a large helping of caution. A vampire hunter and a vamp who liked things old-school.
Talk about opposites attracting.
The auction continued and I lost track after a full hour passed. My mind began to wander to other subjects beyond that of what creepy object was being highlighted at the podium. I kept a close eye on Atticus, who hadn’t bid on anything yet. However, he did seem every bit as focused on the proceedings as Thierry.
Was he really a murderer? And if so, how far would someone like him be willing to go to achieve a higher level of power? Had it all been to become the sole elder in charge of the Ring?
Yet he’d spoken to me about Thierry as if he was the real danger.
It made no sense. All I knew for sure was that I trusted Thierry and I didn’t trust Atticus.
That made things very simple. If Thierry was at risk from his current vampire boss, then I would do anything I could to protect him.
By the time the auction had nearly reached its end, we were well past eleven and moving closer to midnight.
“Our last item,” Sebastien said, taking a black velvet box the size of his hand from Thomas, “is the most infamous by far. Please, if you have questions, don’t hesitate to ask. I will answer them the best I can.”
He opened the box and walked down the aisle so everyone could get a look at what lay inside.
It appeared to be a small emerald bottle about two inches in height. Thin gold bands wrapped around it, holding it in place like a large pendant. On the gold bands were lines of engraved symbols. A thick gold chain was attached to two golden loops on either side of it.
As he passed my chair, I could have sworn I felt something coming off the object. A hum. A vibration. It felt magical even from a distance.
“This is the Jacquerra Amulet,” Sebastien said as he turned around to walk back to the front. “Created in the sixth century by a coven of witches who possessed a spell to summon and trap a djinn. Djinn—sometimes referred to as genies—are real, but they are not exactly what one might expect. Inside this amulet is a djinn, imprisoned by that original coven’s spell, which is etched into the amulet itself. Once summoned, the djinn will be bound to its master, the current owner of the amulet, and will be at that master’s command.”
A woman in the front row raised her hand. “Will the djinn grant wishes?”
“Yes,” Sebastien replied, his voice grave. “But be cautioned that you must ask very specifically for what you want, and there should be no room for interpretation—just in case the djinn wants to cause trouble. And the legends you may have heard are true. A djinn’s master will be allowed precisely three spoken wishes before the djinn will be able to fight the compulsion to obey.”
Another man spoke up. “If the djinn was trapped so long ago, would it even understand English?”
“The djinn will understand the language of its master. And it’s said that it will also naturally have a firm grasp of current customs and knowledge.”
I raised my hand and Thierry eyed me curiously.
“Yes, Sarah?” Sebastien said. “You have a question?”
It was something that had been bothering me ever since I’d found out about the amulet’s existence. “If the djinn is angry about being imprisoned, wouldn’t it try to seek revenge the moment it’s released?”
His jaw tightened. “It doesn’t work that way.”
“How do you know? Have you tried it?”
“No, never.”
“Why not? Because you know how dangerous it is?”
“Since I’ve been detained for quite some time, I haven’t had the chance.”
I wasn’t buying that. He’d been out of the tomb for a while. If he wanted revenge on Thierry so badly, why wouldn’t he have released the djinn and made a trio of malevolent wishes?
What exactly was he up to?
Sebastien turned from me to answer another question and I grabbed hold of Thierry’s hand.
“I really don’t like this,” I told him, worry churning inside of me. “I’m feeling a great need to get out of this place as soon as possible.”
He leaned closer to whisper in my ear. “As soon as I acquire the amulet we can leave, I promise. But I have to do this first.”
I didn’t like this at all, but I nodded. The alternative was to let Atticus have it. And if he was as bad as the other elders thought he was, he couldn’t be allowed that kind of power.
Jacob raised his hand to ask a quest
ion. “When you say there’s a genie inside that object, you’re speaking metaphorically, aren’t you? Genies don’t actually exist.”
Sebastien blinked. “Are there any other questions?”
“I have a question,” Thierry said, loud enough for all to hear. “When and from whom did you acquire this piece? And where have you hidden it all these years?”
The look Sebastien gave him was sharp enough to cut glass.
“A long time ago in a land far away from here,” Sebastien replied, his words clipped. “And I have my hiding spots, Thierry—places I could hide anything and it would not be discovered for, oh, centuries. If I tell you where those hiding places are, they wouldn’t be much good to me, would they? I’m sure you also have hiding places like that, don’t you?” His tone held absolutely no warmth at all now. “So, let’s begin. We’ll be starting the bidding at one million dollars.”
My mouth fell open at that.
The other objects had gone for tons of money, but the most expensive one up until now had been the dagger Frederic Dark acquired for two hundred grand.
One million was the opening bid?
“Be calm, Sarah,” Thierry murmured again, watching me nervously twist my hands on my lap.
“I’m calm. Totally, totally calm. But that is a lot of money.”
“It certainly is.” He actually had the audacity to smile at my financial anxiety attack. “But just wait.”
“Wait? Wait for what?”
He didn’t have to answer. I knew what he meant as the bidding swiftly escalated.
All I could do was watch and listen as, in increments of a quarter million, one million became two. Two became three. I couldn’t see the faces of the participating men in the back row without turning and staring, but I heard the greed in their voices as they called out their bids.
I looked at Thierry, expecting him to join in.
“Not yet,” he said under his breath.
This was stressful.
At the five-million-dollar mark, Atticus finally showed his hand. Literally. He raised his arm to signal his bid.
“Five million from Atticus Kincade,” Sebastien acknowledged. “Do I hear five and a quarter?”
I realized I was holding my breath. This was way more exciting than the auctions I was used to, which admittedly had only been on eBay.
I had to remind myself that Thierry was using Ring money to help acquire the amulet and keep it out of Atticus’s greedy mitts.
The men in the back row helped to raise the bidding to eight million, but Atticus still looked confident. Smug, really.
I glanced over my shoulder to see the other bidders. With an annoyed groan of disdain, one of the men slumped back in his chair.
He was out.
Several bids later, the other man joined him in his defeat.
Atticus practically glowed. He was going to get his prize for the bargain-basement price of ten million dollars.
Was it hot in here, or was it just me?
“Going once,” Sebastien said, “going twice . . .”
“Eleven million.” Thierry finally spoke up, jumping the bid by a full million.
Like it was no big deal. Sure, eleven million. Just let me check my wallet.
The room went completely silent for a few heavy moments.
“We have a bid for eleven million dollars from Thierry de Bennicoeur.” Sebastien said his name like it tasted rotten.
Atticus turned in his seat and fixed Thierry with what I could only describe of as a look of death.
Hadn’t he expected that Thierry would be bidding on this? He knew Thierry’s previous interest in the amulet, so what was up with the nasty glare?
“He’s not happy with you right now,” I said very quietly.
“I’m sure he’s not. Likely, he believed I would step aside for him in order to maintain our working relationship.”
Before I could say another word, Atticus spoke up, his tone dark. “Eleven point five.”
“Do I hear twelve?” Sebastien asked.
“Twelve,” Thierry said.
Veronique turned fully around in her seat to look at Thierry with shock. “Mon dieu! What on earth are you doing?”
“Let him bid on the trinket, my sweet,” Jacob said. “He obviously has the money to spare.”
She ignored him. “After all this time, you’re still desperate to acquire that horrible object?”
Thierry’s expression tensed. “It’s none of your business, Veronique. It never was.”
Her gaze flicked to me. “This is not good, my dear. He was obsessed by this piece at one time.”
“A little obsession is good for the soul?” I offered.
She frowned. “You are much less help than I would have expected.”
Veronique turned back around, but there was a tension in her shoulders that indicated that she was angry with the both of us. For what it was worth, I thought her little outburst showed that she cared for Thierry’s well-being.
For now, and for her own good, she couldn’t know the truth.
Look at me—I was getting to be just as secretive as Thierry.
“Twelve and a half!” Atticus, who now favored fractions, practically shouted.
“Thirteen,” Thierry countered.
Another glare that could crush diamonds hurtled from the lead elder in our direction. His gaze fixed on me, and I tried to look shocked by anything Thierry said. Shocked and slightly embarrassed, as if I was sorry Thierry was making Atticus’s life difficult.
I wondered if Tasha might be impressed by my acting skills.
“Hello?” someone said, loud and clear in my ear.
I turned around to look, but saw only the bland expressions of the people sitting behind me.
Thierry and Atticus continued to battle back and forth. The bidding reached fifteen million, which only helped the big knot in my stomach get bigger and knottier.
“Helloooo?” the voice said again, a bit more urgently. “Can anyone hear me?”
“Who’s saying that?” I whispered.
“You can hear me!” There was a note of triumph in the voice now, as well as a large helping of desperation. “Oh, please, you have to help me. I don’t know what’s going on. This has been a very bad night! I think. But I don’t really remember! I don’t even know where I am. Where am I? What is this place?”
Again, I turned in my seat, trying to pinpoint the owner of the voice. He sounded vaguely familiar. “Who is that?”
Thierry eyed me with concern. “What’s wrong?”
Good question. What was wrong? I didn’t know for sure, but something was.
“I’m hearing something,” I said. “Something . . . strange. Somebody’s talking to me.”
“You seem so familiar to me,” the voice said.
“Who are you?” I said louder, feeling breathless and tense. I’d gained the attention of many people, who now looked at me with growing alarm.
“Wait. I know you! You’re the one I spoke to earlier! I recognize your voice!”
I’d spoken to him earlier? Wouldn’t I remember something like that?
Just then the realization hit me like a bucket of cold water right in my face.
I shot straight up from my chair, which clattered backward, hitting the gentleman behind me in his knees. Everyone in the room stared at me with shock.
“Holy crap!” I exclaimed, making a jabby gesture in the general direction of the kitchen. “The head! There was a talking head!”
The gavel slammed down, its crack echoing through the room.
Sebastien pointed at me. “Sold to Sarah Dearly for seventeen million dollars.”
Chapter 6
“Wait! That’s not fair!” Atticus leapt to his feet, his face red with outrage. “You didn’t even give me a chance to
counterbid!”
“Sorry. My auction, my rules.” Sebastien turned to the rest of the audience. “Thank you all for coming. For those of you with the winning bids, please see Thomas to arrange payment and claim your item.”
I couldn’t process what he was saying. I was too busy trying to scoot out of my row, blocked by all of the other guests who now wanted to leave the salon.
“Sarah, what is going on?” Thierry asked, his hands firmly on my shoulders. “What do you mean by a talking head?”
My thoughts were a jumble, but at least my memories were working properly again. “I saw it, and then . . . then what? I just forgot? Why did I forget?” I felt ill. The voice I’d heard had disappeared, but the memory was now scorched into my brain. “I need to get to the kitchen.”
“Sarah, are you all right?” Tasha asked as I slipped past her toward the exit.
“Nope! Not really!”
Thierry kept pace with me, turning his back on the amulet to follow me out of the room. I made a beeline to the kitchen, where I’d gone earlier to get ice.
I’d seen him, and then I’d forgotten him—like, it had just vanished from my head. Even still, all evening it was as if there was something on the tip of my tongue. Something just out of reach.
He’d asked for my help and I’d forgotten he even existed. Now I could hear him without seeing him.
What in the world was going on here tonight?
“I know it sounds hard to believe, Thierry,” I said, not taking my eyes off my target. “But there’s a severed head in the freezer. One that spoke to me, told me he’d been murdered. I don’t know why I forgot about him, but something very strange is going on here. Stranger than . . . well, the strangeness this evening already had.”
He raised his eyebrows. “A talking severed head.”
“You must think I’m nuts, but just wait.” My heels clicked as I pushed open the door to the kitchen. Melanie the server trailed after us.
“Can I help you find something?” she asked.
“I can’t believe you didn’t notice anything strange.” I looked at her with accusation. “You’re the only server on duty tonight other than Thomas.”
From Fear to Eternity: An Immortality Bites Mystery Page 6
