Stealing Magic (Vampire Primes)

by Susan Sizemore

  “I am sure it will be,” Julien said. He was relieved to be beneath the thin shelter of the house’s arched entryway. The pain started to ebb instantly.

  Julien took off his dark glasses just as the door was opened by the copper-haired beauty whose image hadn’t left his thoughts since the first moment he’d seen her.

  Grace flushed bright pink. Her eyes widened at the sight of him, and he saw the disappointment there. It caused him to blurt out, “This isn’t what you think! I can explain everything!”

  “What are you talking about, man?” Dowd asked. He stepped past the maid and into the impromptu brothel. Dowd took off his hat and coat and handed them to Grace. He rubbed his hands together as he looked her up and down. “Aren’t you a pretty chit?”

  Julien stepped inside, and between Dowd and Grace. “She’s not on offer.”

  Dowd laughed and chucked Grace under the chin. “Saving this one for yourself, are you?”

  Grace’s hand landed on Julien’s arm before he could rip Dowd’s throat out. Her fingers squeezed hard, helping to bring his fury under control.

  “May I take your coat, my lord?” she asked.

  For all her politeness, there was iron and sternness in her attitude. He liked this. Julien smiled at Grace and let her take his things. She wouldn’t look him in the eye.

  “Come along, man,” Dowd said. “I want that black-haired beauty standing in the sitting room doorway, even if she is staring at you.”

  “You are welcome to her.”

  Julien knew how useful the mortal’s impatience could be to his purposes. Still, he needed to speak to Grace. He sent an image to her mind, and the thought, Meet me after sunset.

  “I am at your service, Lord Dowd,” Julien said, and followed his mortal prey into the sitting room.

  * * *

  It wasn’t quite sunset, and she wasn’t the only person walking through the garden, but at least the rain had stopped. It would be night very soon, or so her pocket watch told her, but with the dark clouds overhead and a fog rolling in it might as well officially be night. She gave only a cursory glance at the woman walking on a path across a small pond from her. The woman walked with a cane. Grace thought she might be one of the women from the dower house. The woman didn’t notice her and soon took a side path around the wooded hill where Grace was headed.

  The structure Grace walked toward was known as a folly. She could see the place in her mind’s eye, a faked ruin of a miniature Greek temple, including the statue of a naked goddess. There was a lot of naked statuary around the McHeath property.

  “Very instructive,” Grace murmured.

  The folly was located at the very top of the hill at the end of a path. She paused for a moment at the entrance, wanting to be here, wanting to run away. Her thoughts might be confused, but she lifted her skirts and walked up the stairs and into the dark folly.

  A moment later a breath brushed her ear. Julien whispered, “Hello, my dearest dear.”

  “You don’t know if I’m a dear at all, let alone yours,” she answered, but instead of the sharp reply she intended the words were a breathless rush. Because he kissed the back of her neck as she spoke.

  His arms came around her waist. Her bones very nearly melted when he pulled her closer, her back to his chest, her thighs against his.

  “Oh, dear….”

  “Does that mean I am your dear, too?” He kissed the back of her neck again, then turned her to press his lips against hers. Her mouth opened beneath his. She was amazed at how well their bodies fit together.

  And this was with their clothes on!

  She wanted this, and more, to go on forever, but Julien broke the kiss and held her at arms length. “We need to talk.”

  No, they didn’t.

  He led her to a bench and they sat. He kept his arm around her waist, holding her close to his body.

  “I am sorry you saw me in the brothel today,” he said. He kissed her temple.

  His touch was light, but dizzying to her senses. Her heart raced while she fought to keep her wits about her.

  “I’m sorry you had to be in that house,” he went on.

  She was sure many of the women there didn’t particularly want to be prostitutes, but this wasn’t the time to discuss morals. She was a hypocrite enough as it was, considering what she was here to do.

  “I was only doing my assigned duty,” she said. She couldn’t stop the jealous barb, “While you, my lord—”

  “Was performing my assigned duty, my dear.”

  Grace turned in his embrace to face him. Dark as the folly was, she could make out his smiling features. She touched his cheek, traced his jaw and moved on to touch his lips. He kissed her fingertips and drew them into his mouth. She instinctively wanted to find the sharp point of fang, but he took her hand away.

  Julien kissed her palm. “Not yet,” he said.

  Yet.

  Grace fought to get her sanity back. She shouldn’t long for him to taste her blood at all. She needed to make physical love to him. Not only because she wanted to conceive a child but because it was a deep physical and spiritual necessity.

  “There is something you need to know about me, copper girl.”

  It pleased her so much that he called her copper girl. “I’ve never had a nickname.” And she shouldn’t have one from him. She didn’t deserve any endearment. “My lord, you shouldn’t—”

  “Care for you because you’re a servant? I know I will be gone in a few days, but that doesn’t mean I take our meeting lightly.”

  She certainly couldn’t take her assignment lightly, but she had not thought she would care for him.

  “How can I care for you?” she blurted. “We only met yesterday.”

  “Because we are alike, as you told me, and I agree. I am drawn to be with you.”

  “And I you,” she said. Baring her heart was stupid, but Grace couldn’t stop the words.

  “When thoughts meet, souls can become entangled.”

  “Bodies entangled is what is on your mind, my lord. And on mine,” she said.

  He laughed, and pulled her into a long, deep kiss. She was sitting on his lap with her hands on his bare chest when he broke the kiss. She was vaguely aware of unbuttoning his vest and shirt. She was burning alive with need.

  “I need more.” She rested her head over his heart. She felt its beat, slower than a mortal’s, but still strong and steady. She couldn’t recall why she’d been frightened that Julien was a vampire earlier in the day.

  “I want you in my bed. I want to make love to you over and over and over,” he said. His hands ran up her back, fingers trailing fire.

  “This bench will do nicely,” she said. “The floor is perfectly nice.”

  He laughed, when she wasn’t joking. His fingers stroked her cheek. “Have you ever made love to a man? I can tell from your kisses that you haven’t.”

  “Don’t I kiss well?”

  “You kiss beautifully, but you kiss as a woman who has just discovered the possibilities of life. You are a virgin.”

  He sounded proud of her, and Grace was glad she’d saved herself. For him.

  “When we make love, we will do it properly,” Julien said.

  “Is passion supposed to be proper?” she countered. “You aren’t going to ask me to marry you. Nor do I expect you to,” she added quickly. “Leave me with my memories of you, my lord, and I will be happy.”

  Julien sighed. “You deserve so much more than a life of drudgery.”

  “Who doesn’t?” she asked. “It doesn’t bother me that we have separate lives. We have now.”

  “Actually, not now,” he said.

  Grace slid off his lap to stand before him with her hands on her hips. “What?”

  He threw back his head and laughed, giving Grace the oddest urge to bite his throat. Her self was tangled up with his somehow.

  “There is a ball being held tonight,” Julien said.

  “I know. I should be in the manor house laundry ro
om ironing ladies’ ball gowns right now.”

  “And I need to be working as well.” He stood, taking her into his warm, safe embrace again. “I asked you here in the first place so I could explain to you. The psychic slap of jealousy you aimed at me when I entered the brothel was most invigorating, by the way.”

  She stiffened in his arms. “I have no right to be jealous.”

  “Which does not change the fact that you were, and are, and that I like it. The truth is that I was in the brothel and must attend the ball tonight because it is my duty to do so. My name is Julien Weaver, yes, but I am no idle nobleman. I—”

  “You don’t have to tell me what you are,” Grace told him. She looked around anxiously. “Someone might hear.”

  “I am a secret agent for Her Majesty’s government,” Julien said. “I am a spy, working undercover to find a traitor.”

  Grace held her breath while he spoke, then let it out in a relieved sigh. She’d thought he was going to admit to being a vampire.

  “Do you believe me?” he asked.

  Grace nodded. She wanted to laugh and tell him that he had managed to surprise her with this revelation, but she dared not say she knew that he kept even more secrets than his being a spy. She’d already known he wasn’t who he seemed, but now it was even more complicated. He had an agenda, and it was affecting her agenda, wasn’t it?

  “Why must you go to this ball?” she asked. “Why can’t we go to your room and—”

  “I told you, I am looking for a traitor.” He tapped a finger against his forehead. “I’m mentally looking into the minds of the other guests. I prefer to be near, even touching, the ones I am questioning. When I accompanied Lord Dowd earlier today he was my prime suspect. I hoped to extract information from him, turn him over to—”

  “Your valet,” she guessed. Because, of course, perhaps no one at Lord McHeath’s house party was who they seemed.

  “Clever girl. Unfortunately, it turned out that Dowd’s evil secret is a mistress and bastard child he’s keeping in Amsterdam. So now I must spend the evening mingling with people until I find a Russian agent, when I would much rather be in bed with you.”

  He caressed her body, his movements so swift and intimate she was left breathless, with desire and laughter.

  “My copper girl is ticklish. Adorable.” He held her face between his palms, his thumbs stroked her temples. “I should not have told you about my being a government agent. I should not trust anyone the way I do you, especially not with secrets that are not completely my own.” His thumbs pressed against her skin. “I should make you forget.”

  “You should.”

  She didn’t deserve his trust. It added to her burden of guilt. She was using him, and was forbidden to tell him by the rules of the spell and the needs of her family.

  She backed away from him and put her hands behind her back. “If you are going to tinker with my memories, could we do it later? I really must go now.”

  “You aren’t afraid of what I might take from you?”

  Oh, yes she was, but not in the way he meant. “I don’t fear you.” Myself, yes, but not you. “But I do fear the housekeeper if I don’t get my work done.”

  He nodded. “I must go to my work as well. Mr. Beverly will insist I look my best.” He came to her and touched her lips in a gentle kiss. “Come to me tonight,” he said. “Come secretly to me and we will make love. I promise you all the pleasure in the world.”

  * * *

  Grace felt more like she was floating than walking as she went down the hill. Clouds scuttled over the moon, throwing alternating shadows and light.

  All the pleasure in the world.

  She had no doubt Julien could and would deliver on that promise.

  If one night was all she was able to have with him, she wanted to remember it her whole life long.

  “Oh, don’t be maudlin,” she murmured.

  Then she chuckled at the thought of all the people at the house party who were not what they seemed. A chuckle that died as memories roared up out of the darkness with a force that could only be magic.

  “I’ll know it when I see it,” the black-haired woman said. She was so full of hate. It. Monster. But he’s not. Not at all. They’re afraid and repulsed and envious. Black-haired beauty glaring at Julien. Vampire hunters. She was walking with a cane. She doesn’t need a cane.

  “It’s not a cane!”

  Grace lifted her heavy black skirts and ran back the way she’d come.

  * * *

  Chapter Eight

  Julien watched Grace walk into the darkness, which was as bright for him as daylight was for her. He was happier than he had ever been in his life, though he could not understand how a mortal female could make him feel this way. Happier, and full of a lightning sizzle of passionate longing which was totally new, totally delightful. He’d thought himself jaded.

  A turn in the path took Grace from his sight. It was time he presented himself to Beverly for a good polishing and primping.

  He took only one step before his skull exploded in fiery pain.

  Julien fell to his knees. The next blow struck the base of his spine. He sprawled face first onto the floor.

  Silver. The fiery pain could only be from silver.

  Julien rolled over in time to throw his arms up to ward off another strike. He stifled a scream when the heavy wooden staff brushed his bare wrist. His skin blistered from the touch of hawthorn wood.

  Despite the agony he made it to his feet. He saw that it was a female wielding the staff. On one end was a knob of silver. She whirled the staff and slashed the blade at the other end across his face.

  Blood splashed into his eyes. He still managed to grab the staff. The wood burned his palms, but he had to get the woman’s weapon from her. She whirled away, still holding the staff. He wiped blood out of his eyes in time to see her lunging toward him. The tip of the silver blade gave off an icy blue glow in the darkness. He couldn’t move with his usual swiftness, but he managed to dodge enough to keep the silver knife from penetrating his heart. The pain was still hideous as silver cut across his ribs. The damned silver and hawthorn sapped his strength.

  The female came at him again.

  Julien stumbled toward her. He would not let this vampire hunter take him down, not after he’d found—

  Grace threw herself at his attacker, dragging them both to the floor. “Get away from my vampire!” Grace shouted.

  “I’m saving you from the monster!” the woman shouted back.

  Julien heard the sound of a fist hitting flesh as Grace’s answer.

  Pain ripped through his back as he made his way to the struggling females. Skirts and petticoats and limbs flew as the women fought back and forth across the small space of the folly. It was Grace who finally pinned the other mortal female against the wall, holding her there with the staff pressed across her chest.

  “Julien!” Grace shouted over her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  “I have been better,” he replied.

  The woman against the wall glared hatred at him.

  Grace moved the staff so that it pressed against his attacker’s throat. “Don’t move.”

  Julien would not have been surprised at vampire females battling, but mortal females weren’t supposed to behave this way. At least not among the upper classes.

  “We aren’t ladies, this one and I,” Grace picked up on his thought. She glanced over her shoulder at him. “What are we going to do with her? And don’t say kill her because that’s not in the cards.”

  Julien rubbed his aching back. His skull pounded. His blistered palms throbbed. Blood still ran down his face. “Of course I’m not going to kill her. Disposing of corpses is far too complicated.”

  The woman’s face was a mask of hate, ignoring Grace as her gaze bored into him. “Stay away from me, monster. I’ll scream if you come near me. Help will come.”

  “Possibly,” Julien said. “But let’s not complicate this any more, shall we? St
ep away from her, Grace.” He wanted the weapon out of the woman’s reach.

  Grace did as he said and he took her place in front of the prisoner. He tried not to show how difficult it was to move. He placed his fingers on the woman’s temples.

  “You will forget.”

  * * *

  “What hit me?”

  “Don’t move.”

  “I don’t want to move. What hit—? Who? Where?” Darkness. He’d fallen into a trap of fiery darkness. He remembered.

  Hands helped him to sit up. He hadn’t known he was lying down. He opened his eyes.

  “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  “Four. You are Grace. I am Julien.” His gaze focused on the lovely face leaning close to his. “How did you know I am a vampire?”

  Grace leaned back. She looked across the folly. “She’s sleeping. I put her on the bench. She’ll be all right, won’t she?”

  The vampire hunter had been well trained in mental shielding, and attack. She’d used her mind as her last weapon. It had been a near thing for him to keep his natural savagery in check. A battle should be fought to the death, but he’d managed to pull back. Just.

  “When she wakes she will leave here. She won’t remember us.”

  Grace gave a relieved sigh. “Will you be all right, Julien?”

  “Eventually.” Every spot where the silver and hawthorn wood touched still hurt. His head ached. No, ache was far too mild a word.

  She held his hands. “Let me help you up.”

  His fingers tightened around Grace’s wrists. “How did you know I’m a vampire?”

  Her skin heated and she wouldn’t look him in the eye. “I—” Grace cleared her throat. “I saw you bite Lady Emmaline last night.”

  “That is no true clue. You might have thought I had odd proclivities.”

  “What’s an odd proclivity, my lord?”

  “You would rather believe in vampires than in perversion?”

  She looked at the unconscious woman. “Let us continue this somewhere else. How did I guess your nature? I’ve never seen you in sunlight, and you are a far stronger psychic than any mortal could be,” she added when he didn’t release her. “And you were hunted by a psychic with special weapons. How could you not be a vampire?” she demanded.