“I can’t imagine he’ll take that news well,” says Nathan.
“He would never believe that,” Byron counters.
“‘Oh, Asher,’ I begin, voice cracking, “‘I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t want you to think any less of me. I just missed you so, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. It … it hurt so much.’” My expression becomes neutral. “And that’s just off the top of my head. He hates your guts already, it wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge. And if I’ve lost everything that matters in my life already, why the hell would I give a damn about yours?” I lean back. “Or you can help me find him before he finds us, and your name never escapes my lips again.”
“Or perhaps I can provide further incentive,” Nathan says. He holds up his hands and bursts of electricity crackle between them, lighting up the darkness. My husband, the human Tesla coil.
“Alright, stop. Both of you,” Byron says. “Your threats grow tedious. Asher is no friend of mine. I shall tell you what I know, which is precious little. Though I personally did not lay eyes on him, I heard he was in London a few days past, but has since fled to destinations unknown. He and his shenanigans are the talk of Europe, though. Rumors swirl like snow in a cold winter’s night. He’s in Africa, Vienna, Berlin, Paris, all of the above. Pick a location. You know the bastard better than I.”
“Well, who would know? Besides Richard, who were his friends? Who would he trust?” I ask. “Tobias?”
“Tobias is in Stockholm, and they were mere acquaintances,” Byron says. “If anyone aided Asher, it would be Richard. They were mercenaries together through two wars. Brothers in arms until the bitter end. But though he would help your lover, I very much doubt he would help you.”
“What about Alain?” Nathan asks. “Any idea where we can find him?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. He owns a theater and several boutiques in Monte Carlo. Has for decades.”
“What’s the name of the theater?” Nathan asks.
“Le Theatre de Rosa. He is even known to act in several productions. He is quite good.”
“And he’s in Monte Carlo now?” I ask.
“I assume so. I am not his keeper.”
“And there’s nothing, no one, anything else you can tell us?”
“Well, I did hear you are not the only comely female in search of Mr. Asher. Dear, psychotic Christine was asking similar questions a few months past, but I, like everyone else, assumed him dead. Still he must be quite the lover to have two such beautiful creatures chasing after him.”
Nathan’s jaw tightens. “Any idea where she is?”
“Most likely a pace behind Asher now. From what I have heard, she has always trailed after him like a lost puppy. Pathetic. But last I heard, she was in Vienna. Of course the majority of our lot are. The Vienna Opera Ball is in a few days. Even I am attending. Now, I have told you all I can. Please leave me be.”
I glance at Nathan, who nods. We’re done here. It isn’t as much as I’d hoped, but it’ll have to do. Nathan and I stand. “Good to see you again, Lord Byron.”
“Yes, may it never happen again,” he says with a smile.
I blow the bastard a kiss before following Nathan toward the door. “Well, that was easier—” The sight of the familiar tall man waiting with the bouncer by the exit cuts my premature statement short. “Merde.”
“What?” Nathan asks.
Lord Richard never takes his eyes off me as he glides toward us, handsome face a mask of polite neutrality. It can’t fool me. Oh, I really hoped to avoid him, at least until we had proof he aided and abetted Asher to use as leverage to get him to talk. We could be in real trouble here. Nathan senses it too as he moves shoulder-to-shoulder against me and cups his hand in case action is required.
“Consort Asher,” Lord Richard says, holding out his hand.
Courtesy dictates I kiss his ring or curtsey to show my respect. Supplication is more accurate. Still, I perform my duty, with a smile even. “Your lordship.”
“I had to see it with mine own eyes,” Richard says. “Little Anna Asher, all grown. And still as beautiful as ever.”
“You are too kind, sir. And may I present my husband, former Special Agent with the F.R.E.A.K.S. of America, Nathan West.”
“Howdy,” Nathan says with a scowl.
Richard barely gives him a glimpse. “Yes, I had heard you took a husband,” he says with a fake smile.
“I’m sure you have,” I say, matching his expression.
Both our pleasant masks drop in unison until only scowls remain. “You are either mad or idiotic for setting foot in my city, let alone my club, madam.”
“No, just desperate.”
“Quite a bit of that in the air,” Richard says. “Shall we continue this little reunion in my office?” He glances at Nathan. “Alone.”
“No way,” says my husband.
“It’s fine, Nathan,” I say. We’re really not in a position to negotiate. Since we’re not here in an official law enforcement capacity, and I am forever bound by vampiric law, any act of aggression against a lord gives him the right to kill us here and now. “We’re old friends, right?”
“Among other labels. Shall we?” he asks, gesturing toward the back.
“I’ll be fine,” I whisper as I squeeze Nathan’s arm. I hope. Richard leads me past more copulating couples to his office. “Nice place you got here,” I say with a grimace.
“Asher never took you to a club such as this?”
“No, he did,” I say with displeasure. “I just choose to repress those memories, thank you very much.”
Richard opens the office door to let me pass. “Ashamed?”
“More than words can express.”
The office is a simple affair, just chairs, desk and window into one of the private rooms where a naked woman is pressed against the glass while a man rests on his knees, pleasuring her. Another reason Asher and Richard got along so well, they’re both voyeurs. I learned this firsthand when we were invited on Richard’s yacht during those last months. I was quite the showgirl that week.
Reading the distaste on my face, Richard shuts the blinds. “The years have made you prudish, Miss Asher.”
“The years have made me learn the value of self-worth, Lord Richard,” I say as I sit.
He lowers himself into the chair behind the desk. “He never forced you.”
“No. Not until that last time. Or did your best friend neglect to tell you about that?”
“Is that why you burnt him alive?”
“He’s lucky I didn’t castrate him too.”
“But you did,” he counters, “in all but body. And now you have come to finish the job?”
“I didn’t start this, Richard. He sent an assassin into my house. He tried to kill my husband. He attempted to harm my children. My children.”
“And now the goddess Nemesis has come to claim her vengeance,” he says with a sneer.
“This isn’t vengeance. It never was. I just want him to leave me alone. Nothing more, nothing less. What I did ten years ago was an act of self-preservation. He wouldn’t listen to reason then, maybe he will now. I promise I will at least try to reach that reasonable part of him again, unlike the others searching for him. I owe him that. But as his friend, you should know he has been marked for execution. He attacked two former Federal agents and their family, not to mention nobody has forgotten the events in Goodnight. There is not a single law enforcement officer in this world who does not know his face or what he is capable of. I might be the only person searching for him who would hesitate to cut off his head. And anything you tell me will not leave these four walls. My husband and I are here alone. No official law enforcement affiliation. Your name will never leave my lips, I swear on my children. And if I reneg, well, I have no doubt you can kill my whole family with one phone call. But it won’t come to that. So I’m asking, no … I’m begging. I just … need to find him. Please.”
Richard leans back in his chair,
studying me with his cold brown eyes. “Still as determined as you are beautiful.” He shakes his head. “I did warn you both about this, if you recall. He, especially, should have known better, taking a lover so young. There are so few happy endings in our world, why compound the odds by being with one who has not settled into their own skin yet? But he always was a fool for love.” He pauses. “Of course I am the bigger fool for enabling him for so long. It has caused me naught but misery. I warned that man to leave well enough alone. To stay dead. That the world would forget about him and move on but …”
He shakes his head again. “He came to me still raw and frail from your assault, seeking asylum. A quiet place to recover, to heal, to hide. Against my better judgment, I granted the request on the condition he retire from society until I deemed it safe. I even gave him use of my manor house on the isle of Jersey. A few trusted friends could visit whilst I did, but regardless it was exile. And as we both know, Asher does not manage peace and solitude well. You left a hole in him, Anna,” says Richard with a hard edge. “He came to me a shell and as the years wore on, what grew in that vacuum, no storybook monster was ever so frightening. Anger, depression, moodiness, nothing else remained inside him. He starved himself, refused to leave his coffin for a fortnight, even began having whole conversations with himself. Finally, a few months past, he began talking of seeking out the sun. Ending his life.
“He told me about the same urge twenty years past, and that you saved him. How it was driving him mad not knowing your fate. Your not knowing how much he still loved you. How simply hearing your voice and the happiness within it could alleviate some of his torment. I took my friend at his word.” Richard pauses. “So I gave him your telephone number.”
“How did you know where I was?” I ask, my pulse quickening.
“You are not the only one with powerful friends in this world, Mrs. Anna West of Garland, Texas, former agent of the F.R.E.A.K.S,” he says with an edge. “I kept informed for this very contingency. But I only gave him the telephone number and warned him it could go no further. He could hear your voice and nothing more. He must remain dead. I thought that would be enough for him. I assumed it was because the next time I saw him, he was up and about, even inquiring if he could renovate the manor. Brighten it up. Modernize it. He was more alive than I had seen him in a decade. I had no inkling of what he was planning, that he would have so little respect for me and all I have done for him that he would stir up the maelstrom I now find myself pulled into. Ungrateful bastard.”
“What happened?”
“Four nights ago he arrived at this very club, no warning given, once again in need of my assistance. He revealed the entire debacle: hiring Fourtnier to assassinate your husband, to abduct you and the children so you could reside with him in my Jersey home, but that the plane had never left Texas. That something had gone wrong.”
“So what did you do?”
“The only thing I could: I told him to run far and run fast from my territory. That he was no longer welcome, and that I would aid him no further. He failed in the one thing I had asked, to not draw attention to himself. He could clean up his own bloody mess.”
“So, where did he go?”
“There I cannot help you. Plausible deniability, Mrs. West. I remained ignorant, so I could answer with all honesty I have no inkling where he has gone to ground. Nor do I care to know.”
“Could he be back in Jersey?” I ask.
“No. He was not even allowed to return for his clothing. I made it clear, under no uncertain terms, if he failed to comply with my edict, I would take his head myself. And that, Mrs. West, is the extent of what I know of our mutual acquaintance. If I had to venture a guess, he is still in Europe, or he will return to the continent as soon as word reaches him you are here.”
“Well, I’m not waiting around for that to happen. As they say in football, the best defense is a good offense.”
“How quaint.”
“Well, if you don’t know where he went, do you know anyone who might? Others who may be in a charitable mood?”
“No. With INTERPOL and every supernatural police squad on high alert, no one would be so foolish to involve themselves in this quagmire. He is well and truly on his own now.”
Merde.
I rise from the chair. “Well, please contact the Rogue’s Gallery if you hear of anything else. You may earn some Brownie points with them. Can’t hurt, right? I’ll back you with whatever you tell them, on that you have my word.” I nod. “Thanks for all your help.”
“I did not do it for you.” Richard pauses to scowl at me. “You destroyed him, you know. You took a strong, powerful, fierce warrior and ground him into dust.”
“I didn’t destroy him, Richard. I meant what I said when I signed that contract. I trusted him. I wanted nothing more than to be by his side until the sun burnt out. I loved him with everything I had. It just wasn’t enough for him. I wasn’t enough. So I didn’t destroy him, I simply refused to let him destroy me. If that makes me selfish then … we both know who I learned that from, huh?” I manage a smile. “We’ll be gone by tomorrow and you will never see me again. That I promise as well. Goodnight, your Lordship.” I turn and walk away. “As always, it was an education.”
Nathan waits right beside the door. We both let out long sighs as I shut the door. When I stepped in there, I really did put my chances at leaving without bloodshed at 70/30. Nathan did as well, as his bony shoulders finally relaxed in time to our sighs.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’ll be better when we get out of here.”
“Amen to that.” My husband takes my hand and leads me down the hall. The scowling bouncer removes the rope to let us pass, and Nathan helps me with my coat. I blow a kiss to the glaring Byron before stepping out into the cold night. It is still far chillier in there than out here.
“So, does he know where Asher is?”
“I don’t think so. He seemed … done. Everyone has their limit, and Asher sure does know how to push people to theirs.”
“Then what’s our next move? Monte Carlo?”
“Yep. By way of Jersey.”
“Jersey?”
“It’s a little island between here and France. It’s where Asher’s been living. If living is the right word.”
“You think he’s there now?”
“Richard says no, but Asher left in a hurry. It’s worth a look.”
“Then Jersey it is. I do love the beach. You want to leave tonight?” Nathan asks.
I wrap my arm around my husband’s waist as he drapes his over my shoulders. “What I want is to call our boys to wish them a good night, then have my sexy husband ruin my hair and make-up. At least twice.”
“You read my mind, Mrs. West.” He pecks my lips and we continue to stroll the streets of London. Out of nowhere, Nathan bursts into giggles.
“What?”
“N-nothing,” he laughs. “It-It-It’s just … I just met Lord Fucking Byron.” He shakes his head. “Oh, Annie. Boring you ain’t.”
THE ISLE OF JERSEY
IT DOESN’T TAKE MUCH investigating to locate Richard’s manor. Everyone on the isle and their mother apparently knows about the strange, agoraphobic tenant at the cliff side Lionheart Manor. Some have even claimed to have seen the thin, pale man creeping about town or strolling the beaches. At night, but no one has the memory of actually meeting or saying a single word to him. And that’s just what we learn from a resident on the ferry ride to the island. The lovely woman even invites us to tea with her and her husband. Close communities, gotta love them.
The same invitation is extended by the couple at the pub where we enjoy lunch. They were full of gossip about the so-called Phantom of Lionheart. He was a former solider wracked with PTSD, he was a burn victim who didn’t want others to see his scars, he was an exiled prince with a price on his head. Strangely, all fairly accurate. Per the bartender not even the cleaning staff who went into the manor once a week had met the phanto
m. They received their orders from the caretaker Philip and his wife Ellen, even during the massive renovation. It was still the talk of the town, the fact the mysterious recluse finally allowed strangers into his house to prepare it for his long-lost wife and children to join him, or that was the most widely spread rumor. How Nathan and I managed to maintain our smiles through that story is beyond me.
We need to catch the five p.m. ferry to reach our train in Normandy, which should then reach Monte Carlo by midnight, so there’s no time for sightseeing on the picturesque island. Though it’s in the high forties and chilly, the sun has deigned to make a rare appearance today. The blue/green water twinkles in the light as it crashes against the clean, sandy beach. After renting a car for the day, and getting directions from the clerk, we drive along the narrow streets lined with interconnected brick shops and over hilly green glens as we venture across the small isle. As far as places to be exiled goes, Jersey would be top of my list.
Our drive ends at the twenty-foot tall wrought-iron fence, chained and padlocked, with only the top of the dark brick manor visible from this far away. “What you think?” Nathan asks from the passenger seat.
“Well, we’re not exactly invited guests. Pop the lock and sneak in?”
“Breaking and entering. Mama would be so proud. Let’s do it, Bonnie.”
I reverse the car back up the driveway to park on the street. “You got it, Clyde.”
Car concealed from anyone inside the compound, we sprint back to the fence and I use a spell on the lock. Easy as pie. Nathan and I hustle along the iron until we can use the tree line for cover to reach the manor. It’s much smaller than I envisioned, only about half the size of the F.R.E.A.K.S. mansion, yet far more imposing. Dark gray brick with ivy snaking up the mortar, and even strangling some of the gargoyles on the corners of the flat roof. The few windows are blacked out either from heavy drapes or shutters. I’d hate to see what this place looked like before he began renovating. Norman Bates wouldn’t even feel at home here. But what really damn near knocks the air from my lungs is the literally shiny, glittery new playset next to the stone veranda. Two swings, monkey bars, see-saw, even a fake castle with a slide. I very much doubt Richard installed that.
Witch Upon a Star (A Midnight Magic Mystery) Page 21
