by Lynn Viehl
“If you insist.” She checked her watch. “I have to call Rome before we leave. It should be only a few minutes.”
She returned to the bedroom, crossing quickly to open the back window and climb out onto the fire escape landing. Knowing the ladder would rattle, she swung herself over the edge and dropped.
As soon as her feet touched the ground, Simone ran.
While he waited for Simone, Korvel made use of the bagged blood stored in the refrigerator. With no wine to mask the unpleasant taste of the thick, chilly stuff, he drank only enough to take the edge off his hunger. Having Simone naked in his arms had again aroused the beast inside him, and too much blood would compromise his self-control. She deserved more from him than another mindless, frantic coupling.
She deserved pampering, and Paris, and a hundred silk dresses. Korvel imagined taking Simone to one of the city’s most exclusive hotels, where she would have her own personal maid, and dine on fine cuisine, and bathe in Chanel-scented water. She would love the fashion district, with its chic designers and elegant couture, the magnificence of the Louvre and its endless treasures of the ages, the quiet spots on the banks of the Seine where Renoir and Monet had once painted their masterpieces side by side.
From Paris they could travel to London, where he could show her his side of the channel, and the many jewels of the past hidden within the bustling metropolis: Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre, with its wooden benches and immortal plays; the quiet peace of evensong at St. Paul’s Cathedral; the breathtaking views from the London Eye. They could walk the same path William I had ridden almost a thousand years before, when he had conquered the Saxons and claimed the throne. Korvel had always had a soft spot for the conqueror, who like him had been a bastard.
Once she had sated herself on shopping at Harrods and gorged on the best of the city’s fish and chips, he would take her north to Lancashire. They could spend a week soaking up the sea and sun at Blackpool. He could even take her back to his family’s lands, which now belonged to the crown as part of Bowland Fells, and show her the moors he had so loved as a boy.
As Korvel went to the window to look down at the deserted streets, he realized how long it had been since he had seen the place of his childhood. He had never gone back, not once since Richard had offered him sanctuary, but with Simone at his side it would be different.
His eyes drifted down to the storybook she had said belonged to her, an artifact from her childhood. She had never said why her father had come to Marseilles, or why she had been left alone in such a dreadful place for a child. Korvel had confided to her the most painful and intimate details of his mortal life. Not even Richard knew all of it. Yet Simone had told him almost nothing about herself.
Korvel glanced over at the bedroom, and then the digital clock in the kitchen. Twenty minutes had passed—too long for a single phone call.
“Simone?”
When she didn’t reply he went into the bedroom to find it empty, and followed her scent to the open window. Seeing the fresh boot marks in the soil below made his hand clench on the marble sill until the stone cracked in half.
He vaulted through the window and dropped to the ground. The dampness of the frigid air had preserved the scent of her passage, and when he followed it to the front of the town house he found it veered away from the car still sitting in the lot across the street. Wherever she had arranged to meet her contact, she had gone there on foot.
Few mortals understood how the Kyn had become such effective trackers. Unlike humans, with their limited senses, the Kyn could detect even the faintest trace of scent left behind by a living creature. The more moisture the air contained, the greater the concentration of scent it absorbed from anything that passed through it. Simone may have intended to elude him, but here in this city by the sea she had left behind what amounted to a virtual map to her location.
Korvel sensed the first man following him a mile from the town house, and confirmed the existence of his shadow when he diverted into a small park and doubled back. As he came up behind the mortal man following him, he noted the dark clothing as well as the weapons concealed under it. He took cover as a second man converged on the first, and they spoke briefly in hushed voices.
“Where is he?”
“He made you before you entered the park.” The second man nodded in Korvel’s general direction. “I think he went that way.”
“Monsieur?”
Korvel turned around to see a gendarme standing just behind him. “Officer.” He glanced at the younger man’s utility belt. “May I borrow your nightstick?”
“No, you may not.” As Korvel moved closer, the gendarme’s stern features relaxed, and he hefted the baton, waving it with enthusiasm. “You wish me to bash someone over the head for you, monsieur?”
“I thank you, no.” Korvel gently took the nightstick from him. “You should forget about this and return to your rounds, Officer.”
As soon as the smiling gendarme wandered off, Korvel tucked the baton in his sleeve and emerged from behind the tree, pretending to fasten the front of his trousers before he walked with a casual gait toward the two men.
One began to hurry away, at which point Korvel took out the baton and hurled it. It made a loud thunk as it connected with the back of the other man’s head, and he sank to the ground.
His companion’s eyes went wide before he turned and broke into a flat run for the nearest building. He crossed ten yards before Korvel seized his collar and lifted him off the ground, tossing him to land atop his unconscious friend.
Korvel heard the snap of a bone but not the usual accompanying howl. When he moved to stand over the two men, the one who was still conscious flipped over and tried to crawl away.
“Be still.” When the man didn’t obey him, Korvel grabbed the ankle of his functioning leg and dragged him back, taking hold of his head by the hair and jerking it back. Once he removed the clear pronged nose plug from the man’s nostrils, the resistance ceased. “Why were you following me?”
“You were with her at the house.” The man grinned. “He said to kill you if you came after her.”
“Who said this?”
“The guild master.” The man’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he went limp.
A search of both men’s garments produced only pistols fitted with silencers; neither of the assassins carried any form of identification or any clue as to who had sent them. Attempting to rouse either of them for further interrogation would cost too much precious time.
He had to find Simone, now.
Korvel used the men’s belts to bind them to a street sign before he returned to the block where he had last detected Simone’s scent. It led him out of the residential area and into the narrow streets of an industrial section, where prefabricated buildings sat quietly rusting, their windows boarded up or broken. Here and there he saw the faded and battered signs of cargo handlers, importers, and storage facilities, but from the lack of lighting and activity he guessed it had been years since any of them had been in business.
Simone’s scent ended in front of the unmarked bay of an enormous warehouse. Korvel didn’t detect any light or sound coming from within, but he could smell a large group of mortals—at least twenty. He walked around to the side door of the building, which stood ajar. Through the gap he saw the outlines of crates and shelving filled with plastic-wrapped pallets of goods.
He avoided the door, going to the service ladder at the back of the building to climb to the roof. A clouded skylight afford him a better view of the interior, and when he lifted one of the fiberglass panels out, he spotted a man standing just inside the side door. The mortal held daggers in both hands and appeared poised to attack anyone who came through the door.
Korvel jumped down through the skylight, landing lightly behind the man, whom he knocked out with a blow to the back of the head. As he stepped back, he heard the clink of metal and a rushing sound, and looked up to see a wide net falling atop him. He lunged, but not soon enough to avoid
the heavy net. As he struggled to free himself, his skin began to burn wherever the net touched him.
“Bring him to me,” an amused voice said, the words echoing in the stillness.
Two more men came, one kicking Korvel off his feet before they both gathered up the ends of the net and dragged him across the concrete floor. Overhead lights flickered on, and more mortals came into sight. Only when Korvel saw Simone’s pale, taut features and the gun being held to her head did he stop clawing at the net.
“Have they hurt you?” Korvel demanded. When she shook her head, he scanned the faces around her. “You have me now. Let the girl go.”
An older man approached the net. “Why do you think we want you, vampire?”
Chapter 13
N
ick eyed a bunch of mixed-race kids hanging out in front of one of the countless anonymous concrete apartment buildings they had passed since leaving the motorway. “What do they call this part of Marseilles? Les projects?”
“This is Noailles,” Gabriel said. “The banlieues here were built to accommodate those who fled Algeria after the war.” He glanced at her. “I thought you had seen all of my country.”
“Nothing ever brought me this far south.” She thought for a moment. “Well, not counting that time I did the Riviera.”
He frowned. “What did you do to the Riviera?”
“Nothing. It’s still there.” She avoided talking about the years she had spent stealing back Kyn treasures from France’s wealthiest collectors, many of whom had lived in the disgustingly celebrity-and McMansion-riddled Cap Ferrat and other private gold-pot communities along the Riviera. “Once we reach this safe house and unload, I’d like to hit the street.” She watched a string of soccer flags flutter as the wind swept in from the harbor, and felt a funny pang in her chest. “He’s here.”
“The thief?”
“No, Korvel.” She rolled down the window, breathing in the air, but smelled only car exhaust and fish. “Where is this safe house, anyway?”
“A few miles to the south.” Gabriel gestured ahead toward a white church standing atop a hill.
Nick’s radar told her they were heading in the right direction, but without a scent to track she couldn’t assume the Kyn whose presence she felt was Korvel. “Are there any other fangsters living here?”
“Richard ordered all Kyn to leave France months ago,” he said. “There is always the possibility someone has defied him or gone rogue, but it is unlikely.”
“Okay.” She settled against the seat, forcing back the anxiety that always accompanied the triggering of her talent. “We should split up. I’ll go after Korvel, and you can chase down the vampire king’s priceless scroll.”
“We track together, Nicola.”
He sounded hurt, and he probably was, but for once she didn’t feel like catering to their bond. “I know you have to follow Richard’s orders and go after the scroll. Fortunately, I don’t. We can cover more ground this way.”
Gabriel didn’t say anything else until they reached the safe house. “Nicola, please wait,” he said as she reached for the door handle. “You have not been yourself since we searched the château.”
She closed her eyes. “Can we not talk about that and just say we did?”
“Helada is not the cruel, conniving wife of a completely clueless king,” he said, deliberately using one of her many sarcastic references for Elizabeth Tremayne. “That girl in the video is not you.”
He knew her better than anyone, and for a moment she hated him for it. “Baby, everything is not about me and that sadistic fucking evil bitch. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m still here; she’s not, end of story.”
He inclined his head. “While I am no longer blind or helpless.”
“Yep.” She pretended to shake a pair of pom-poms. “Yay for both of us.”
“Is it the end of our story?” Gabriel asked softly.
Nick got out of the car and stalked up to the front door of the safe house. She could smell Korvel all around her, and while she knew he wasn’t inside she could track him from here. She needed to get started, to find him, but her legs wouldn’t move and her arms wouldn’t work. She was going to spend the rest of eternity waiting at this fucking door like a stubborn Girl Scout with a wagonload of cookies to sell.
Gabriel reached past her, using the key Benetta had given them to unlock the door before he ushered her inside. He breathed in deeply, frowning as he sorted out the scents. “Korvel was here. So was one of the mortal females from the convent.”
Nick took in the empty rooms. “No blood or bodies.” She started up the stairs, and on the second-floor landing input the code to open the door.
What Korvel and his female companion had left behind in the apartment told Nick little about why they had been there, or where they had gone. At least until she found the pile of clothes the woman had left in the bath.
“Uh-oh. He’s using the nun for sex.” She handed the pullover to Gabriel. “Good thing he’s immortal. I’m pretty sure you go straight to hell for that.”
“Korvel would not…” He paused as he breathed in the mingled scents from the garment. “Perhaps she is not a nun.”
Nick sorted through a traveling case and pulled out a gray head veil and habit to show him. “Think again, pal.” She dropped the clothes and followed Korvel’s and the nun’s scents to the window left open in the bedroom. “They both went out this way.” She leaned out to study the footprints left on the ground below, where a wider man’s tread overlay the smaller, narrow impressions. “Looks like she left first.” Gabriel came to stand beside her, but he seemed more interested in her face. “Problem?”
“You’re thinking of leaving me,” he said, stunning her. “You have been for months.”
Nick prided herself on being a practiced, accomplished liar. She had conned the world into believing she was still human for ten years. Not even Gabriel had known the truth, at least not until Elizabeth’s pet serial killer had attacked her. She could deal with this. “I’m not going to leave you.”
“Not now,” he agreed. “You’re waiting until Richard gives me Ireland and I assemble my household. Once I’m settled, once I’m safe, then you’ll go.”
So he knew. Maybe it was for the best. “I’m not doing the jardin thing. I love you, and I know how important this is to you, but…no.”
He nodded. “I will tell Richard that he must choose someone else.”
“Don’t do that.” Nick lifted her hands to her head and then dropped them. “Don’t placate me. My issues are not yours, and they never were.”
“I cannot agree,” he said gravely. “You are my sygkenis.”
“Yeah, the bond thing, I know. I’m going to talk to Alex.” She started to pace around the room. “She’s a doctor, and she’s already been through it herself. She’ll know what to do for you. I mean, she figured out how to tranquilize the Kyn. I’m sure she can come up with another miracle drug to treat you for bond withdrawal. Like some kind of antipsychotic. It’s not that different from a human having a nervous breakdown, is it?”
“I do not believe that when mortals have a breakdown they lose control of their abilities, descend into insanity, or try to kill anything that moves. But the doctor was able to help the high lord from succumbing to changeling madness; perhaps she can save me as well.” He sat down on the bed. “While Alexandra attends to me, what happens to you, Nicola?”
“Nothing. Nothing happens to me. I go back to my old life, stealing and hoarding medieval shit, and messing with the holy freaks, and rescuing the occasional crucified vamp, and you’re not buying this at all, are you?” When he shook his head, she sighed and dropped down beside him. “Okay. When it gets bad for me, I’ll come and visit. We’ll spend the weekend in bed.”
“I fear the occasional booty call will not be adequate.” He regarded her solemnly. “The only reason Alexandra survived being separated from Michael during her captivity in Ireland is because Korvel bonded her to him.”
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Nick almost fell off the bed. “He what?”
“It was not intentional,” Gabriel said. “For a time after her reunion with Michael, Alex was torn between the two bonds. Eventually she freed herself of Korvel’s influence, but the captain has never been the same.” He picked up the nun’s pullover. “That is why I find this so odd. Richard has said that Korvel has not touched a woman since Alexandra left Ireland.”
Nick chuffed out some air. “The vampire king keeps tabs on who his captain is boinking?”
“Korvel’s ability makes any mortal female desire him,” Gabriel told her. “His prowess with women is the stuff of legends. Believe me, everyone has noticed.”
“But that means two Kyn breaking up isn’t automatically instant madness and destruction and death.” She felt a little better. “Good to know.”
“Korvel and Alex never consummated their bond.” He picked up her hand. “You and I, however, have been lovers from the first time we met.” He traced the spaces between her fingers. “Perhaps that was when we bonded as well.”
“You didn’t know I had fangs, and by the time you did it was already a done deal.” A surge of shame made her add, “Back then I knew what was happening between us. I mean, I didn’t get a Kyn instruction manual with my fangs, so I didn’t know how serious it was, but I could feel it. It’s why I tried to dump you in London.”
“You came back for me,” he reminded her. “Do you know, you are the only soul in the world who has never abandoned me?” He brought her fist to his lips. “That is why you are first in my life. I love you. Richard can go hang himself.”
He was going to turn her into a big puddle of goo. “Gabriel.”
“Now come.” He kissed her lips. “We will track Korvel together.”
Simone tried not to look at Korvel, but even in the murky light she could see the contact burns on his face, and the bloody lacerations he’d received from trying to tear his way out of the net. “You agreed to meet with me, Lechance, and on your word I came here unarmed. Is this how you intend to repay your debt to my father?”
