The Eyes of the Sun: The Complete Trilogy

by Christina McMullen

  “It would have been a different metric,” Andre replied. “And if someone forced entry, it would have registered. Look.” He placed his hand on the wall, just as Oscar had. Nothing happened. “There is now a failed entry logged. Prior to me trying to get in, there were none.”

  I placed my hand on the wall as well. Nothing happened.

  “Failed entry number two.”

  “It was worth a shot,” I said with a shrug.

  “I’m going to override it now, so stand back.”

  Andre typed something else into his phone and the wall slid away. Less than a second later, the corridor was illuminated as the lights inside came on automatically.

  “That’s definitely it,” I said with a shudder, seeing the familiar décor that I never expected to see again.

  “Let’s go. There’s no one here, but apparently, that could change,” Andre said.

  The first thing I noticed was a discolored rectangle above the mantel in the main room that was roughly the same size as the painting that was found at the Kimbell. I turned to see if there were any other signs of disturbance and froze.

  “Oh my god!” I gasped. Above the sofa was another painting that had been left untouched. It was another of Arthur’s “Lucy” series. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize these before.”

  “I’m guessing art history wasn’t on your mind at the time,” Andre said with a grim smile.

  “Fair point,” I said and moved further into the apartment. “There’s got to be others.”

  “Are the bedrooms down there?” Fausto asked, indicating the hallway.

  “Yeah,” I nodded with a nervous glance at Andre. The door to the room I had stayed in was closed, though I didn’t remember closing it. With a deep breath, I opened the door and immediately knew something was wrong. “Someone’s been in here,” I said.

  “How do you know that?” Andre asked.

  “That chair,” I said, pointing to a straight-backed chair by the wardrobe. “I had wedged it under the door handle to keep Oscar out. I would have left it by the door. And I certainly didn’t leave the closet looking like that.” Half the clothes that Oscar had put in the wardrobe for me were on the floor or strewn across the bed.

  “It looks like someone was looking for something,” Lisette noted.

  “Interesting wardrobe choices,” Andre said with a pained look, picking up an embarrassingly sheer nightgown.

  “You’ll notice, they still have the tags on them,” I snapped, just as my eyes went to the painting above the bed. Yet another one of Arthur’s works hung on the wall. Something seemed off though. This painting had Lucy sitting in a garden taking afternoon tea. It seemed normal until I noticed her hands tied behind her back and a freshly dug grave to the right of her. While I recognized it as one of the earlier paintings in the series, I could have sworn the painting that had been in the room before was of a water scene. The room’s décor was mostly blue and the painting I remembered would have matched.

  “That’s another one?” Lisette asked me.

  “Yeah,” I said, keeping my suspicions to myself for the moment. I had been half starved and tortured at the time, so it wasn’t impossible that I was wrong. “Well, at least it seems as if Oscar’s unhealthy obsession was with the girl in the painting and not actually me. Let’s move on.” The sooner I could get out of that room, the better. Unfortunately, the next wasn’t any better.

  This room was clearly Oscar’s bedroom, but from the looks of it, someone had been in there recently. Clothing and personal items were thrown around. The dresser drawers had been torn out and riffled through. Above the bed was an ornate frame with the ragged remains of what had to have been the painting we had found. Written on the wall were the words, “BLOOD TRAITOR.”

  “Oh yes, I think someone’s been here,” Fausto said with a whistle.

  “But why?” I asked. “Why do this and ruin one painting, but take the other one intact? And what does blood traitor mean? Oscar might have had a change of heart at the end, but he was a high-ranking ES. I feel like once again, we have more questions than answers.”

  “Hopefully this will help us find out,” Andre said, scraping a bit of the words from the wall into a small envelope. “I’m pretty sure that’s blood.”

  “Well if that’s all we got, let’s get out of here. I don’t like this,” I said with a shudder.

  “Hang on, what’s this?” Lisette said, picking up a scrap of paper from the floor. “It’s hard to read, something about family.”

  “That’s odd,” I said. She held it out, but the handwriting was indeed hard to read and in French as well, so it was no use to me. “There’s a pen down here,” I said, bending down to look under the bed. “But nothing else. Hey, wait a minute. Take a look at that.” I pointed to the shelf beneath the nightstand. There was clearly a mark in the dust layer where something small and vaguely rectangular had been removed. “Maybe it came out of a notebook.” We searched the room, but found nothing.

  “Whatever it was, it’s not here now,” Andre noted with a sigh. “Why do I feel as if that means something?”

  As we left, I noticed that all of the maps and plans that Oscar and I had left on the dining room table were still there, along with the coffee cup that I had left. Nothing looked like it had been disturbed at all and I mentioned how odd that was.

  “Well, those are the plans to a now destroyed lab. They are probably useless now, right?” Fausto suggested.

  “It’s still weird, given the destruction everywhere else.”

  “Lucy’s right,” Andre said. “Whoever was here knew exactly what they were looking for. I just wish we knew what that was.”

  “Or who they are,” I added, “because I’m not ready to believe in ghosts.”

  By the time we got back outside, my ankle was throbbing. For something as simple as a sprain, it should have healed hours before. Remembering what Abe had said about stress taking a toll on my immune system, I worried that I was doing more damage than I thought.

  “Guys, hang on,” I said, leaning against an available bike rack. “I need to check on my-”

  The end of my sentence left me, along with my breath as I was grabbed from behind and lifted high into the air. Seconds later, I nearly blacked out from the pain in my ankle as I was dumped onto an asphalt roof, staring up at a dark figure that loomed in the shadows above me. Fighting through the pain in my ankle, and my scraped palms, I rolled to my feet, drawing two CPAs as I did. I started to assume a defensive posture, but gasped and took an involuntary step back as two large black wings compacted themselves against the figure’s back, blending seamlessly into the folds of the leather duster he wore.

  “The weapons are unnecessary. I mean you no harm, Lucy.” As he spoke, in a voice that was all too familiar, he removed his wide brimmed hat. Silvery white hair spilled over his shoulders and he turned slowly, revealing eyes of the same color and a knowing smile at the shock that must have shown plainly on my face. “I must say, my dear, you are predictably unpredictable.”

  Chapter 12

  It took quite a bit longer than it should have for me to realize that I was not staring at a ghost created from my own insanity, and to register that my phone was going crazy with emergency messages. Without breaking eye contact, I lifted the phone from my pocket and hit the button to answer the call from Andre.

  “I’m fine,” I said before he had a chance to question me. “But stand by in case the situation changes.” I put the phone back into my pocket and covertly tapped the button to open a line of communication to the team. Secure in the knowledge that Andre would hear everything that I did, I turned back to the vampire, who smiled wider.

  “The family resemblance is striking, is it not?”

  His use of the word family caught me off guard. The longer I stared, the more the differences stood out. Though he looked almost identical to Oscar, this was no ghost. Where Oscar had been a solid mass of bulky muscle, this vampire was leaner. Still muscular, but rangy, li
ke a feral cat. The gaunt hollows of his face gave him a more sinister, hungry appearance that I found disturbing. As if to punctuate the bizarre, a jagged scar ran down the side of his face, like the classic mark of an evil doppelganger.

  “Who are you?” I asked sharply.

  “Forgive me,” he said and fell into an exaggerated bow. “My name is Damien. Damien Pierre Blanc, brother of Oscar Pierre Blanc, and former prince of the royal class of The Eyes of The Sun.”

  “Funny, Oscar never mentioned a brother,” I remarked dryly.

  “I can’t imagine why he would have had reason to. Yes, it is a phenomenon that is not nearly as rare as you have been led to believe,” he answered with a low chuckle. “Certainly not as rare as the Elders’ prized prince breaking his programming and sacrificing his life for a half-breed.”

  I bristled at the subtle accusation in his tone. “Oscar’s choices were his own.”

  “Were they?” His question was punctuated with a provocative expression. “My brother was a perfect machine, Lucy. A puppet who never questioned his purpose. Even when faced with the proof of who he really was, he remained incapable of choice.”

  “Yet he chose to sacrifice his life for a half-breed, as you just pointed out.”

  “No, what I said was that the concept of family wasn’t as rare as the possibility of a prince breaking programming,” he corrected. “I’m afraid you didn’t know my brother half as well as you think you did, my dear. Allow me to enlighten you.”

  “How exactly do you plan on doing that?” I asked. I was wary, but curious nonetheless.

  “I’m offering my assistance. I know where you were this evening and I know what you did not find,” he said with an infuriating wink.

  “So, you were the one who sent the paintings,” I stated. “Why?”

  “Correction, I was the one who sent the painting to your mentor. The damaged painting had been missing for much longer.”

  “No one else has been in Oscar’s apartment,” I informed him. “Assuming that you are Oscar’s brother, you could have fooled the security system, but I have proof that no one else had been there. What is the point in lying to me now?”

  “True, my genetics are more than similar enough to fool a simple security program. Did you know twins share fingerprints?” he asked, holding up his hand for emphasis. “But I am not lying about the painting, or the words on the wall. I believe both were done by my brother and I believe you drove him to that madness.”

  “Why did you send the painting then?” I asked. I had no reason to believe he was lying, but I also had no reason to trust him. “Your goons failed to abduct me, but they must have known something, considering someone killed them soon after they were caught.”

  He regarded me critically. “I sent no one after you. The painting was delivered by a close personal associate along with a note of explanation.”

  “There was no note,” I said calmly. “Besides, it’s not as if you don’t know where to find me. If you did indeed have information, why send it to a public museum?”

  “This news is distressing,” he said, but his actions seemed to indicate that it wasn’t that distressing. “New Orleans is not safe for you, Lucy. Evan Conroy’s informants are correct. Not all of the Elders perished in the explosion that took my brother’s life. One survived. However, I suspect you might have already met her.”

  If he was talking about the mysterious vamp from Halloween, then I was curious, but I was still wary of the whole situation.

  “You’re speaking in riddles and acting like we are part of an elaborate murder mystery. If you truly had information for me, then why didn’t you come to me directly like a normal, trustworthy person?”

  He had the audacity to laugh at that.

  “Do you honestly think that would have worked? My methods were merely for my safety. While it is true that you might have at least heard me out before attacking me, I cannot say the same for the rest of your colleagues, especially certain individuals, given my resemblance to my brother.”

  “You got that right, asshole,” I heard Andre mutter in my ear. I cringed slightly. It was bad enough that the visit to Oscar’s apartment set off Andre’s jealousy. Damien’s sudden appearance didn’t help.

  “Well, you have my undivided attention,” I said sarcastically. “What is this amazing information that you have for me?”

  “The Elder you seek is indeed Delphine LaLaurie. She was not present at the time of the destruction of the compound because unlike the other Elders, she still maintained her ambitions of world domination. As the last remaining Elder, she has determined that our entire species is defective and she points to you as the cause.”

  “Me? What does that even mean?”

  “You’re a dhampir, Lucy, a half-breed anomaly that defies logic.”

  Actually, I was more of a mutt than a half-breed. After my father was found, Abe realized that he was a human-vampire chimera, which was how my mother was able to become pregnant. Of course, I didn’t mention any of this to Damien.

  “Yet, despite the impurity of your blood, you are superior even to those of us bred to rule the world. Surely, you must realize how embarrassing this is to the woman who singlehandedly made The Eyes of The Sun what they are today.”

  That was an interesting bit of trivia that I filed away to look into later. Even though we had assumed for quite some time that Delphine LaLaurie had been a vampire, I don’t think anyone suspected that the torturous experiments she performed on her slaves served a higher purpose than to gratify her sadistic nature. Of course, it was just as likely that Damien was blowing smoke for his own purposes.

  “LaLaurie wants you dead, Lucy, but not before she unlocks all of your secrets. Until then, she has made it her quest to track down and destroy the defectives, starting with the abominations in New Orleans, knowing that this would draw you out.”

  That last part wasn’t anything we hadn’t suspected ourselves. Whoever was responsible, they hadn’t been subtle in trying to get our attention. “I appreciate the information, Damien, and I’ll be sure to relay everything that you’ve told me to our team back home. But you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t put all of my faith in your words alone. Even if you are who you say you are, you’ve given me no reason to believe that you are on our side.”

  “You would be a fool to trust me on words alone, Lucy,” he said sharply. “Indeed, the only side I am taking is one of self-preservation. I may be a bit more enlightened to the truth of our origins than my brother ever was, but I am still programmed to believe only in my own immortality, and my willingness to assist you is driven solely by this belief. I will not pretend at benevolence, as my brother did, but this may convince you that despite my self-serving intentions, I do speak the truth.” He pulled a small, leather bound book from his pocket and handed it to me.

  “What is this?” I asked, though I was almost certain I knew the answer. The book was so old and worn that the letters imprinted on the cover were completely unreadable, even with my night vision.

  “Oscar’s memories, including the history that neither of us have a true remembrance of. This diary contains the true history of The Eyes of The Sun, as preserved by our father, and kept hidden from those of us who were programmed to erase it forever. You’ll find as many questions as you will answers, and much that will disturb you, but all will be made clear in time. I shall be leaving Paris shortly, and I suggest you do the same. We will meet again. I am not asking to be looked upon as an ally, but it may be in your best interest to inform those who are quick to judge on appearances that while I am no friend, neither am I the enemy they seek.” His eyes slid momentarily over my shoulder before returning to me. There was a slight rush of air as Damien’s wings unfurled and he held out his hand as if he honestly expected me to take it.

  “Um, if you don’t mind, I’ll take the stairs,” I said, backing away slightly.

  “By all means,” he said with a bow. “The fire escape is over there.” There was a quiet sn
ap and a gust of wind, and he was gone, already invisible in the night sky. There was a quiet thump behind me and I turned to see Andre, who had apparently jumped from the slightly higher rooftop of the next building over.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, pulling me so tightly against him that even through our winter jackets, I could feel his heart hammering faster than normal.

  “I’m fine,” I said, shuddering slightly. From the moment Damien grabbed me, I hadn’t been terribly concerned about my own safety, but I hadn’t taken into consideration the fact that Andre might follow. “I think he might have seen you.”

  “I made damned sure he did see me, and the gun I had trained on him,” Andre said fiercely. “I wasn’t going to take a chance on him grabbing you and flying off to wherever. Not this time.”

  I held Andre tight, but said nothing. Though his concern for my safety was comforting, the underlying guilt, anger, and jealousy bothered me. Whoever he was, Damien was not Oscar, but it was clear that this wasn’t a distinction that mattered to Andre. Rather than dwell on it, I decided to remind him who actually held my interest. “Come on,” I said, tugging his arm lightly and gracing him with a seductive smile. “It’s freezing up here and I have a few ideas on how you can warm me up.”

  “Um, before you expand upon that line of thought, you should probably know that we can still hear you,” Fausto’s voice crackled in my ear.

  “Whoops,” I whispered with a wink, but Andre wasn’t deterred in the slightest, treating the others to a long moment of silence as his lips met mine.

  “Warmer yet?”

  “A little,” I said with a sigh.

  “Will you two please get down here?” Lisette huffed. “Some of us are still cold and we’d prefer electric heat to other methods.”

  “We’re on our way,” I said sheepishly.

  As soon as we were in the car, everyone wanted to have a look at the diary Damien had given me. It was written entirely in French, in the same scrawled handwriting that was on the scrap of paper we had found in Oscar’s room. I couldn’t read it, so I handed it off to Lisette.