Life Sentence (Paranormal Detectives Series Book 3)

by Lily Luchesi

  “Your bravery is admirable. Few would dare to do what you have just done. Tell me, are you willing to die just to protect the honor of a creature who has lied to you from the day she met you?” he asked.

  “Angie and I went over this. Our lives are not your business, so why don’t you leave, or finish telling me your tale since you’re so intent on giving me information,” Danny said. In truth, he was quite curious about the start of Vincent and Veronica’s courtship. He had only known the evil side of Vincent. He wanted to see the side that had made Veronica fall in love with him.

  “Fine. If you’re so curious on how your precious Angie came to be, here. Come and see for yourself.”

  Guess I’m going down the rabbit hole again, Danny thought as his vision went black.

  ***

  Cumberland Manor was imposing.

  As Vincent stood outside it’s intricately designed iron gates, making sure the horses were reined in, he stared up at the place. It was not essentially eerie, as many houses back in the Victorian times were what people in the twenty-first century consider “creepy”, he simply found its size intimidating.

  He had been born in a poor, working-class family in North London, and his small home had had only one bedroom, a constantly leaking roof, and the occasional rat family nesting in their crawl space. His parents had given him what education he could, and what they could not afford he earned by doing carpentry and factory jobs around London. He had worked himself from being a pupil who was often beat up at Turner’s School for the poor to managing a major cotton factory in London.

  This kind of wealth that Veronica possessed made him feel both small and angry. She was a murderer, and yet she lived in perfect comfort! It was simply not fair.

  Well, Veronica, I hope you find the grave as comfortable as this monstrosity you call a home, he thought, taking her Casablanca lilies in his hand and making sure he had the invoice for the past month’s services in his jacket pocket.

  The gates were open. Of course she was not overly concerned with robbers at this time of the evening: she would simply make them her evening meal. He walked up the paved driveway, noticing that Devon’s company really did wonderful landscaping work. There were a lovely mix of lilies, moon flowers, red roses, white roses, and shrubbery. It reminded him of a home he had seen in the country once. Rarely did you see such botany near Leicester Square!

  The house was three levels, plus an attic if he was correct on the top window’s purpose. It was dark grey stone with purple trim; done in a small castle fashion with turrets and what looked like faux battlements.

  Taking the dragon’s head knocker in his hand, he banged it against the large doors.

  In a few moments the door swung open and Vincent Cross was struck dumb at the stunningly beautiful sight before him.

  Smaller than he by a great deal, but not appearing at all weak, was a woman with long, elaborately curled raven hair, skin the color of the lilies in his hand, eyes as dark as onyx, and with a bright red smile that could only be described as sinful.

  “May I help you?” she asked, her voice holding a very slight French accent beneath the posh British clip. She looked up at him quizzically, and he then realized that he was staring at her, holding a pot of flowers.

  He cleared his throat and hoped that he was not blushing too severely. “I’m Vincent. Um, I’m here on behalf of your florist. These are, ah, your flowers and they gave me an invoice…”

  She smiled wider, looking no more dangerous than a kitten. “Come in, please. I was having a small gathering of friends when you knocked. I don’t have my purse on me.”

  She opened the door further, leading him into her lair. When Vincent had pictured a vampire’s lair, he had thought of cemeteries, caves, anywhere that was sheltered from the sun and private. He had never pictured such a beautiful home would house a thing of evil.

  His shoes clicked on the tiles as she led him deep into the home. He made notes on the layout, figuring that it would be of use to the hunters at a later date. She led him into the parlor, where four other women who appeared to also be vampires sat, giggling. Each of them was holding a book in their laps and drinking from teacups. Vincent loathed to know what was actually in them.

  “Veronica, who is he?” one of them asked.

  “A new member of the book club? He is positively delicious,” another commented. Vincent felt faint. He had had no idea that he was walking into the den of not one, but five lionesses.

  “Ladies, conduct yourselves with some decorum, won’t you?” Veronica said, her smile playful. “He’s here to deliver flowers, not read A Sicilian Romance or be a part of your awful banter.” She looked back up at Vincent, her smile never leaving her face. “Forgive them. They have no class sometimes.”

  Vincent could not think of a single thing to say. He had been handpicked to worm his way into the vampire’s life, but now that he was starting his mission, everything about her had thrown him off kilter. She was no savage beast like the vampires he had killed thus far. She was…normal. She was cultured and beautiful. He wanted to know everything about her.

  “You’re new at the company, are you not?” Veronica asked him.

  He nodded. “This is my first week working for them. They did a magnificent job on your gardens. I can see that you like night-blooming flowers?”

  “Oh, yes. I have quite sensitive skin and cannot be in the sunlight, so I generally try to have flowers that need little attention— the wild roses —or ones like these that bloom in the moonlight when I can tend to them,” she said. “I do enjoy gardening; creating life from dead earth. It’s symbolically beautiful. Do you garden?”

  He had been momentarily lost in her words, and he had to mentally shake himself to respond. “No, Miss. I am just the delicious delivery man.” He silently praised himself for kidding with her. He had heard that women liked men who were humorous.

  She tittered, covering her mouth with her lace-gloved hand. “What is the sum on the invoice?”

  He placed the vase on the top of an ebony black grand piano as he reached into his inner jacket pocket. He gave her the total and she handed him some notes, telling him to keep the change.

  He felt quite ill at ease, and that was not his usual personality type. He was a confident man, not this bumbling fool he was feeling himself to be right then as Veronica showed him back to the door. These emotions were so unknown to him at that time. His heart was racing, and his hands shook as he put the notes away.

  “I will see you in a fortnight, Vincent,” she said, a playful lilt in her voice, as she closed the door.

  He was left standing on the front stoop, his head a muddle and his hands unusually clammy.

  When he got back to the library, the other three were anxiously waiting to hear what he had to say about his nighttime adventure. As he walked in the door, Michael jumped up and went to him.

  “Cross, you look awful. What did she do to you?” As a doctor, he began checking Vincent’s eyes and pulse; his neck was free of any marks.

  Vincent gently pushed him away. He thought that it was delayed fear and shock making him feel as he currently was. He sat down and said, “I am fine, though I appreciate your worrying. She invited me in, and I saw four other female vampires in there with her. I thought for sure that I was going to die tonight. Thanks be to God, nothing happened.”

  “What was she like?” Ben asked, his paper and quill pen poised to write down as many facts as he could. He was checking facts during their adventures to be added to the Price family’s extensive logs. Michael was of a literary bent, and would write them down in detail when all was completed. He said it was a hobby.

  “She was…beautiful. How old is she, anyway?” he asked.

  Leander pondered. “No one really knows for sure, but I would say she is at least eight hundred by now. Possibly older. She was definitely alive in the early 1200s, but that is as far back as any exact and reputable records go. She is believed to have already been alive for at least a h
undred years before then.”

  “She does not appear to be any older than five and thirty. Astounding,” Vincent murmured. “Her home was not what I expected. I gauged a good deal of the front half of the main level, and will draw out a map for you. It was lovely, and a bit imposing. It looks as if a grand family were to live there, a lord and lady perhaps.

  “Even the other vampiresses who were there appeared to be genteel. She said it was a book club, and indeed they were all reading the same novel. She was not like the other vampires we have hunted whatsoever. They all had a hint of ferality to them, yet I detected none of that within her.”

  Leander scoffed. “Nonsense. All vampires are animalistic monsters. The older they are, the better they are at hiding their true nature from mortals.”

  Vincent leaned back in the chair. If she was so monstrous, why did she leave him alive? Why did she employ humans? Why wasn’t she connected to any murders or disappearances? Working with Inspector Linwood, they were always able to track vampires by their kills. None ever led to Veronica Delarue.

  “Vampires are quite crafty creatures,” Ben said. “Last year, Michael and I were hunting a vampire by the name of Peter Mabuz. His surname is his history, ‘ruler of death castle’. He is older than Delarue and craftier, but much less powerful. He got away. He is the only one I have ever let get away. I sadly underestimated him. You must not, ever, underestimate Delarue. If Mabuz could escape Michael and me, despite our prowess and his lack of vampiric power, she can easily evade you.”

  “Trust me, I have no plans on letting Veronica Delarue get away.”

  ***

  “How good are you with plants?” Devon asked Vincent the next week as the night was falling.

  “You mean aside from delivering them? I suppose I can keep them alive for an acceptable amount of time. Why?” he asked.

  Devon gave him a wire. “Dogs trampled my moonflowers. Please send someone over this evening to try and salvage them. VD.”

  Veronica.

  “I’d go meself, but you aren’t qualified to man the register yet,” Devon explained. “I’d say she could wait like the rest, but Lady Delarue is our best customer.”

  ‘Lady’? Was he calling her by the wrong title? Was she really a ‘lady’?

  “Sure. I will go and see what I can do.” Vincent smiled, putting on his hat and straightening his cravat. “After all, a lady can’t have a shoddy garden, can she?”

  When he arrived at Cumberland Manor, he could already see Veronica in her ivory gown, bent over her precious flowers. The expensive garment was speckled with dirt as she worried over the blooms. As much as he tried to deny it, Vincent felt a little tug at his heart. Most women of her standing worried about things like couture or art gallery openings, not plants. True, she was not a woman, per se, but the act still inspired emotion in him.

  “Lady Delarue?” he called.

  She turned, not at all surprised at his arrival. She had either heard him or smelled him.

  “Vincent.” She smiled. “I am glad someone could come. Foolish neighbors; they need to learn that their dogs should be confined to their own yard. I’d put up a bigger fence, or at least one with closer posts, but this is the original fence that came with the manor, and I loathe to part with it.”

  He bent down next to her, seeing that some of the blooms were beyond salvaging. The dog’s paws and claws had snapped them by the root. Some were fully dislodged, which meant they could be replanted. “I think I can save quite a few of these. By the by, please accept my apology for not using your title when last we met.”

  She waved a hand, and he noticed she had dirt under her nails. “If it had mattered, I would have corrected you. What matters now is saving my poor flowers.”

  He smiled, taking the small bag of gardening tools and searching for gloves and a trowel. “Shall we begin? Saving the living is kind of my usual occupation.”

  She gave him a confused look, but let him get to work replanting as many of the flowers as he could find, and he could feel her intense eyes on him as he worked. His mind became acutely aware of her eyes on his neck, and he began to sweat nervously. Would she attack him in public? Would he be able to fight her off? The tools he was using were unfortunately made of iron: great for ghosts and demons, but unfortunately did absolutely nothing to a vampire.

  “Why do you look so frightened?” she asked him, her voice soft.

  He gave a nervous laugh, glad that he could lie so easily. “Oh, my superior threatened my job were I to not fix your garden.”

  She scoffed. “I never! He ought to be ashamed. It is not as if this is your fault.”

  Vincent pooh-poohed the whole thing. “He’s just concerned you’ll take your business elsewhere, that’s all.”

  She smiled. “As if I would ever leave a company that does such wonderful work…and has such handsome employees.” She lowered her eyelashes, a light blush darkening those pale cheeks. Vincent felt his heart racing, and he wondered if she could hear it as well.

  “That’s quite a bold statement from a lady,” he commented, trying to keep his voice level.

  She gave an eloquent shrug. “I believe a woman should feel free to be honest about her feelings, don’t you agree?”

  He nodded. “I do agree. And I am quite flattered.”

  They continued to work in silence, until he wiped his brow with his sleeve and said, “I do believe I have saved every possible flower. With these here, shall I go inside and make up a bouquet you can display in your parlor?” He wanted to see more of the layout of the manor if he could.

  “Oh yes, please,” she said, standing up and hurrying to the front door. She let him in and proceeded to take him to the kitchens, where he drew water while cataloguing all of the different utensils. He wondered why she kept a full kitchen, when she herself did not need to eat?

  She came into the room holding what looked like a very ancient vase. “Here. Thank you so very much for your assistance. My garden looks as if nothing had happened at all! I do not know how I can repay you.”

  Vincent felt himself blush. “No, no need for repayment. The company will send me over with an invoice, and that is all the payment you should be obligated to make.”

  She considered that for a moment, and then her expression brightened. Vincent found that he was truly enjoying looking at her childlike smile. In fact, he was enjoying it too much.

  “You know, I regularly host gatherings, almost like small balls here, once a month. I would be delighted if you could attend the next one,” she offered. “And note, it is not simply because I feel obligated. I would truly like to have you there, Vincent. Please say you’ll come.” She reached out and touched his hand; hers were as cold as the grave, but as soft as silk. He found himself wondering if all of her skin was this soft to the touch.

  “I would be absolutely delighted, Lady Delarue. When will it be?” he asked.

  She gave him the date and he left then, bowing to her and kissing her hand. On his walk back to town, he had time to think about the implications of what his heart was doing. His mind was, as always, all business. He had seen and executed many vampires, all of whom were bloodsucking fiends intent on consuming human life. Veronica should be no different, so why was his heart rebelling now? Of all times to be intrigued by a woman, it had to be an ancient monster?

  He was making a mistake, but he still had time to right it. This ball, it could be filled with creatures. Their team could eradicate them all at once, like shooting fish in a barrel. Yes, that was it. That was how he could right his wrongs in feeling an attraction to that abomination.

  As they did every night after he saw the vampiress, the four hunters gathered in the warm and cozy library for an update. When Vincent told them what he had done, the opportunity for them to get rid of a slew of vamps in one go, Leander was so excited he couldn’t speak.

  “This is better than anything any of us could have done,” he complimented. “We need to begin our plan of attack.”

 
“No.”

  All heads swiveled toward Ben, who had thus far been silent.

  “What do you mean ‘no’?” Leander asked, his hazel eyes darkening. “You are not in charge here, Mr. Quinn, whether or not your family sets up the hunting laws in Parliament. This is my hunt, my plan. You don’t get to make the plays.”

  Ben didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. Vincent was in silent awe of that: were he the one under Leander’s dark glare, he would have been unable to stop himself from trembling. Very few things in this world gave him pause, but an angry Price was one of them.

  “We don’t know if these parties are for vampires only. We could possibly endanger many mortals by going in there without proper information. Cross, do you think that you can obtain a guest list?” he asked. “I can get my brother to cross-reference everyone to be sure none are mortal.”

  Vincent nodded, talking quickly so as to diffuse the tension between the two men. “I can try. I am not sure how. Perhaps we could wait till the ball was over. I can offer to stay and assist her in the cleanup, unless she has maids to do that. In any case, we can get her as alone as possible then.”

  Leander paused. “It would be awfully hard for her not to sense that we’re coming when the manor is empty. Vincent, if you think that plan is best, you will have to execute it alone. It’s too risky for us all to break into a mostly unoccupied home.”

  “Do you honestly think I can handle her alone?” he asked.

  Leander nodded sagely. “Indeed I do.”

  Ben and Michael also nodded. “You’re the best of us when it comes to execution,” Ben commented.

  “What if I cannot get her alone?” Vincent wondered.

  Leander smirked. “Then we simply try again.”

  ***

  Vincent was not fond of fancy dress. His waistcoat was cutting into his abdomen, his cravat was choking him, and the boots pinched his heels. However, when he saw his reflection in the glass, he knew that he could easily pass as one of the gentry at this ball.

  “Here.” Leander handed him a tall black hat and he put it on, completing his look for the evening.