From Fear to Eternity: An Immortality Bites Mystery

by Michelle Rowen

  Tasha—she was probably very well fed with the best blood that money could buy. Besides, she’d had her talk with Jacob about her own memoir. That was incentive for him to keep breathing, in my opinion.

  And Thomas the butler—maybe. Those old mysteries always claimed that the butler did it. Maybe he did.

  Too many suspects and not nearly enough time to figure this out.

  Especially not at this exact moment.

  In the tavern, the patrons cowered in the corners, leaving a large space clear in the middle of the wooden floor.

  “I do hate to do this to you, my beautiful Veronique.” Stefan swept her dark hair back off her shoulder affectionately.

  “Really?” I couldn’t help but say it out loud. “You’re the first hunter I’ve ever met who has a problem pushing vampires around.”

  “Veronique is an exception,” he said. “I am entirely enamored with her. Last night I begged her to run away with me, but she declined. It broke my heart to think she may never be mine.”

  “Maybe she’s changed her mind,” I said hopefully.

  “Absolutely not.” Veronique straightened her shoulders. “I could never give myself to one who takes pleasure in destroying those of my kind.”

  I glared at her. Couldn’t she just play along? This fictional hunter guy—who in any other book would likely be the hot hero type—was putty in her hands if she’d be willing to go with it. She needed to take a page from Tasha’s book—so to speak—and do a little acting to help get us out of here without more problems smacking us in the face.

  Stefan drew a shaky breath. “If I can’t have you, no one can.”

  There couldn’t be anything worse than a vampire hunter with a broken heart, especially when his heart had been broken by a vampire.

  This could get messy. And magical manifestation or not, I could get dead.

  It was all the fault of that amulet and whoever tampered with it to release its magic and its djinn. I swore that if I managed to find it, I’d have no trouble stuffing that genie back inside the amulet, no matter what it took.

  “Let’s talk about this,” I said to Stefan. “Like, really discuss the details. I’m sure she might change her mind. You’re very good-looking. From what I know about Veronique’s past relationships, that’s more than enough for a real love connection.”

  “I know there is only one man for her,” Stefan said sadly. “The same man we wished to lure here with the threat of his true love’s life in jeopardy. It is he whom we wish to slay tonight, but alas, Veronique—and you, whoever you are, strangely dressed woman—must also die.”

  More confirmation that there was more than enough reason for me to start panicking.

  The frantic look she gave me confirmed that this turn of events was a surprise even to her.

  The door to the tavern swung open and crashed against the wall. A man stood in the doorway. He was tall, blond, and even more handsome than the ridiculously handsome vampire hunters.

  His gaze swept through the tavern and landed on the group of us. “Did someone call for me?”

  Veronique gasped. The hunters gasped. The rest of the patrons, cowering in the shadows, gasped.

  I just stared at him with disbelief.

  Cue Marcellus’s entrance for a dramatic cliffhanger.

  Chapter 11

  Once the gasping had ceased, Marcellus entered the tavern and assessed the scene before him.

  “Well, well,” he said slowly, “we meet again, Stefan.”

  “I was wondering when you’d arrive,” the hunter replied.

  “My good fellow, are you under the impression that you will apprehend me tonight?”

  “I am indeed.”

  “That is wrong of you to think.”

  “I don’t believe it is.”

  “You are not man enough to defeat me.”

  “I am indeed man enough to defeat you!”

  I looked at Veronique to get her reaction, but her attention was wholly fixed on the two men. The dialogue between Marcellus and the hunter was amusingly bad. Was this a true representation of the conversation that had taken place—or a reflection of her writing ability?

  Her face had gone very pale at the dramatic entrance of her infamous sire.

  “Didn’t you expect to see him?” I asked. “If he’s in chapter ten . . .”

  She shook her head. “We were in chapter ten. Now we’re in chapter eleven.”

  “How many chapters are in this book?”

  “Fifty-eight.”

  Crap. That was an offensively long book. Which made sense, since she’d lived an offensively long time. So we were only a sixth of the way through her memoir, which did nothing to ease my mind. Would we have to go through every single chapter to get to an exit?

  “We have to get back to the mansion,” I growled under my breath.

  Her attention didn’t leave Marcellus for a moment. “Yes, of course we do, darling. But presently, I can’t quite think clearly, faced as I am with my long-lost love.”

  I swear, there were stars in her eyes. I’d never seen a more dreamy look on her face. “You do realize it’s the fictional version of him, not the real one, right?”

  She finally flicked a look at me, her lips thin. “Of course I do, my dear.”

  Debatable. Definitely debatable.

  “What do you want?” Marcellus asked the hunter. “What will have you release the beautiful Veronique so she can be free to return to her regular life?”

  “Only your death!”

  Marcellus put his hands on his hips, threw back his head, and laughed heartily at this. “This is not to be, hunter. Do you know how long I’ve lived?”

  Stefan’s expression grew thoughtful, as if he was pondering the rhetorical question. “A long time?”

  “A very long time. So long, I don’t remember when I was born. But do you know the day I truly became alive?”

  “When?”

  “When I met Veronique.”

  A plump barmaid in a tight corset, crouched at my left, sighed dreamily at this. The remains of a chicken disappeared off a table as a group in the corner grabbed it to have something to nibble on while they watched the entertaining standoff.

  “Oh, Marcellus,” Veronique whispered, loud enough for only me to hear her. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  For someone who’d claimed she didn’t have time for romance, this was a one-eighty. There was such sincerity in her voice that my heart began to ache for her, for what she’d lost. Marcellus was long gone, killed by hunters centuries ago. Since then, she’d had many affairs, with vampires, humans, and hunters alike.

  But none had made her forget her true love.

  I wondered what Thierry would have to say about all of this.

  Very likely, something along the lines of “We must focus on what’s important, Sarah.”

  Focus on what’s important—breaking his spell and finding the amulet. I could totally do that. But first I had to get out of magical Vampireland and back to the mansion with everyone else—including Thierry.

  I’m coming, Thierry, I thought. Just hold on tight and try not to bite anybody.

  However, even though I was currently held in place by a surprisingly gentle hunter, I wasn’t quite sure how far I could push this before somebody actually got hurt.

  For the moment, I would stay silent and wait for the right opportunity.

  Marcellus casually strolled toward the bar, then turned to face Stefan again. Several cowering patrons looked up at him with awe. His reputation preceded him, even in fictional memoir.

  “I have a fortune in gold and jewels,” he said. “I will buy Veronique’s freedom from you.”

  “And Sarah’s freedom,” Veronique added.

  He raised a blond eyebrow. “Sarah who?”

  “Darling,
this is Sarah Dearly. Sarah, please meet Marcellus Rousseau.”

  She said it as if we were making friendly introductions and weren’t at the mercy of a vampire-hunter negotiation that could turn sour at any moment.

  I waved my hand. “Hi there. Great to finally meet you.”

  He nodded at me. “Likewise. Veronique, yet another beautiful friend you’ve brought into the fold.”

  “She’s with Thierry,” she said.

  “Thierry has excellent taste. Then again, he always did since he first chose you, Veronique my love.”

  “Not to split hairs, darling, but I chose him.”

  “Ah, yes. The plague. A pile of burning bodies. You liked his eyes, if I recall.”

  “That’s right.”

  Thierry did have great eyes, but seriously. Ugh. They were chatting as if they were having a coffee date, not negotiating a hostage release.

  It seemed I was the only one able to focus at the moment. I only wished I knew what to say to guarantee that this scene would have a favorable outcome for the main characters.

  Namely me. And Veronique, of course.

  “To answer your question?” Stefan interjected, holding up his finger. “How much fortune are we talking about here?”

  Marcellus inspected his sleeve and casually brushed off some invisible lint. “More than you could fathom in a hundred years, good sir.”

  “Can you put more of a number on it?”

  “Perhaps I shall show you the treasure personally, and you can decide then.”

  Stefan looked skeptical. “Right. Because you’re going to lure us out of here and into some alley, then tear out our throats.”

  “Why would I do something like that? If you treat me like a gentleman, I will do the same in return.”

  Stefan moved to a dirty window and peered out at the dark street beyond. “It’s too late for that. We’re looking for both you and for Thierry de Bennicoeur. Where is he?”

  My breath caught. Would I be seeing the fictional version of Thierry soon?

  “Not here. The last I heard, he’d journeyed to England. Perhaps he’s planning on staying there indefinitely.”

  This was both a disappointment and a strange relief. I wasn’t sure I wanted to experience the Veronique-ized version of him.

  Stefan looked surprised by this news. “He would leave France, abandoning a wife as beautiful as Veronique and a mistress like this other one?”

  It was a step up from “mere fledgling.” But still.

  I chose not to correct him on the wife/mistress thing because I knew it would be a waste of breath. Since their conversation was going on longer than I’d expected, I took a moment to try to get a feel for this place. To try to sense that tingling magic I’d felt by the passageway. I even squeezed my eyes shut for a few moments and really concentrated.

  It was there, very faint now. I wondered how big Vampireland was and how much of the amulet’s magic it had successfully contained.

  And what would happen to this place at dawn?

  I thought I already knew the answer to that, and I definitely didn’t want to be here when it happened.

  “Thierry and I are currently estranged,” Veronique said. “I don’t anticipate he’ll be back anytime soon. At least not until chapter twenty-three.”

  “I’ve never seen him, but he is another vampire on my list,” Stefan said ominously. “A vampire I will personally kill.”

  “Oh yeah?” I said under my breath. “Guess you weren’t all that successful, were you, Stefan?”

  He approached, looming in my face with anger now blazing in his blue—no, wait. Were those violet eyes? “What say you, vampire who is attractive, but not as attractive as Veronique?”

  Call me crazy, but I very nearly took that as a compliment. “What say me? I—I’m just saying that Thierry is nobody who’s going to be easy for you to kill. I have a funny feeling he’s going to live a very, very long time.”

  “With a thirst like his?” He raised an eyebrow at my look of shock. “Of course I know about it. Very few don’t. It’s what makes him unpredictable. It’s what makes him dangerous. It’s what makes him someone who must die.”

  There was a lot of hot air coming out of this guy. He needed to be taken down a notch. “Even fictional, your breath is pretty lousy. You might want to fix that with some historically accurate mouthwash.”

  He reared back from me, his hand at his mouth. “My breath is divine! Why do you say such outrageous things?”

  His breath was fine, of course. Better than fine. He smelled like cinnamon and peaches, as all sexy hunters with violet eyes in a fictional romantic memoir should.

  I stared past his shoulder at the exit, which would be my target if this was any other situation. The passageway had been in the tavern, so there was no reason to believe we’d find one anywhere else.

  But we would find one. If there was a way in, there had to be a way out.

  “Can we move this along?” I asked. “If Thierry isn’t here, I’d really like to get back to the real one who actually needs my help right now.”

  “The last thing Thierry needs, my darling,” Veronique said, “is your help right now.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your very presence would be torture for him in his current bespelled state.”

  I shot her an unpleasant look. “Gee, thanks. Don’t try to sugarcoat it or anything.”

  Despite being loosely held in place by one of Stefan’s henchmen, she looked very calm as she tried to reason with me. “I’m sure it’s not usually torture for him, of course. He’s been taken with you from the beginning. I can’t claim to entirely understand it, but I accept it as truth. This spell Sebastien has had cast upon him, unfortunately, may be an insurmountable obstacle.”

  The calmer she was about this, the more anxious I became. “It’s definitely surmountable, Veronique, but thank you for your opinion—which I didn’t actually ask for. This is all the more reason for us to—”

  Something caught my eye. Like a zipper had appeared in the wall to my left and unzipped to reveal another dark passageway. Nobody else seemed to notice it, but I felt the familiar tingling sensation moving over my bare arms.

  It was our exit back to the mansion.

  Thank you, faulty, leaking, hidden amulet and malevolent missing djinn.

  “Veronique . . .” I’d been worried that we might have had to endure the rest of Veronique’s book before we could escape this strange place. “Time to vamoose.”

  Marcellus regarded me with bemusement. “What strange words this one uses. Wherever does she hail from?”

  I tore my gaze away from the passageway. “Canada, originally. But I’m international now.”

  He frowned. “I don’t know of this place. Ka-na-dah.”

  Veronique waved her hand dismissively. “It’s a long way away, darling. She’s a foreigner.”

  “Clearly.”

  Passageway? Veronique? Hello?

  “Let the innocent people in this tavern be on their way,” Marcellus said to Stefan, waving his hand at the audience now lining the walls and watching us curiously while munching on chicken bones and draining their tankards of ale. “No one needs to get hurt here.”

  Stefan shook his head. “You continue to delay. I want no treasure from you, Marcellus. Only your head separated from your body and details on where I can find de Bennicoeur. Preferably, the details first.”

  “My head in exchange for Veronique’s life?” He spared a quick glance at me. “Oh, and the other woman, as well.”

  “Sounds fair to me, doesn’t it?” Stefan puffed out his chest, as if he’d already won. “Unless you’d like to show us your cowardly side and run away.”

  Marcellus’s expression darkened. “I don’t run from my battles, good sir.”

  “He didn’t,” Veronique said
to me under her breath. “He really didn’t.”

  “Was he really that good-looking?” I asked her. I mean, we were talking Brad Pitt from Legends of the Fall hotness here.

  She nodded gravely. “Even more so. My memory of him is as crystal clear today as it was back then. He was the perfect man in every way.”

  I chose not to remind her that he probably wasn’t the perfect man, since I knew Marcellus had left her high and dry to go chase some medieval skirts, which was when she’d met Thierry.

  Her memory wasn’t nearly as good as she thought it was. Or perhaps it was merely selective.

  “Then”—Stefan spread his hands—“we seem to be at a standstill.”

  “I am no coward, sir,” Marcellus said. “But I cannot do as you ask and sacrifice my life for Veronique’s.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Stefan turned to Veronique and grasped her chin so she’d look right in his eyes. “You see, my beauty? This man you place upon a pedestal, forsaking the promises and declarations of love from others, does not deserve your devotion. He would not give his life for yours.”

  “And would you?” She didn’t flinch from him. “You are a hunter, trained to kill anyone with fangs. Am I supposed to leave everything behind for someone like you?”

  She was really getting into this. It was like dinner theater with sharper butter knives.

  Despite myself, I found it utterly fascinating to watch.

  Maybe Veronique was a better writer than I’d thought she was.

  “Remember”—the henchman holding on to Veronique spoke up—“she is our enemy. Choose wisely, Stefan.”

  “Would I choose you, Veronique?” Stefan asked. “To leave behind my entire life, choosing to spend eternity by your side? If any other vampire asked me this very same question, the answer, of course, would be no. But you—you are different. You have always been different. I love you, Veronique.”

  “Really? You love her?” Even Marcellus seemed mystified by this outpouring of over-the-top devotion.

  “Yes!” The hunter fell to his knees and grasped Veronique’s perfectly manicured hands in his. “Even in this unusual frock you’ve chosen to wear this evening, I find that I am completely bewitched by you. I want no one else.”