She pulled her car to the gate and waved. The guard on duty tonight, Julius, waved at her smiled. “Evening Dr. Kent,” he shouted from his booth as the immense wrought iron gates monogrammed with a giant calligraphy K swung inward. She drove onto the gravel driveway, passing an empty helicopter landing pad, before pulling to the semi-circle before the veranda steps. Jonas hadn’t arrived from the airport yet, she assumed. Climbing out, she didn’t bother taking her keys from the car. Who would possibly steal it way out here? Besides, Jonas’ guards were armed and all had itchy trigger fingers. She sprinted up the stone steps to the blood red double doors of the home. From the decorative fan-shaped window above the doors, she spotted the large crystal chandelier that hung in the foyer; it was lit throwing a pale golden light across the driveway, but the outside lights weren’t on yet. Thinking this was odd, she turned and looked at the collection of cars in the drive-way.
Her white-on-white Range Rover was parked directly in front of the steps to the front door. There was a road that ran along the side of the house that led to the 10 car garage in back, but it was dark and blocked off by Jonas’ black town car. The chauffeur, Philip, was sitting the driver’s seat, waiting patiently with a book in hand. Off to the side in a guest parking area there was a black on black BMW-that would be her brother Gaston’s- and a shiny red sport car with the very obvious Mercedes emblem gleaming silver in the fading light. That would be her sister Lisette’s. It was the Ducati wedged between the two, with the serpent green paint and the snake skin painted helmet on the seat that was the bone of contention. Remy was here. She stared at it for a while, nearly missing the ringing of her cell phone in her pocket.
Briar.
“He knows,” he was saying as soon as she opened the line. “Jonas knows about Nicky. So does the Collective. I’ve been told to – I’ve been told to remove the problem.” Her stomach dropped and she felt her legs get weak.
“Briar...”
“Sorry, Sarge. He’s been marked as a problem and you know how the Collective feels about problems. I really am sorry, love. If it makes you feel any better, his maker is also marked.”
“The Collective needs to know that I do not approve of this decision,” she snapped.
“I will make sure they are made aware of that, but I’m pretty sure you know how this goes.” She did and she hated it.
“Thanks for the call, Briar.” She disconnected and paced the veranda for a moment, chewing her thumb nail. Who, she wondered, had informed the Collective? Who would do such a thing? Her eyes landed on the gleaming green of the motorcycle ensconced in the driveway.
“Son of a bitch!” She mumbled before storming into the house. Whenever there was trouble, there was Remy. She marched across the marble foyer into the sitting room. Most of the house had recently been redecorated in muted tones of gold, bronze and beige. The sitting room was one of the few rooms with the original cedar walls and hardwood floors. Gaston sat on the oxblood red leather sofa reading the newspaper when she stormed in. His long legs stretched out before him. He was relaxed and calm, even with Remy lurking around the house. He wore his usual preppy attire: khakis, white oxford shirt, and powder blue cashmere sweater over it. Gaston and Lisette were Jonas’ biological children with his first wife. They had accepted her coming to live with them, had even welcomed her. Remy, his only child with his second wife, was a different circumstance altogether.
When she entered, Gaston folded his paper and looked at her, immediately rising to his feet at her agitated state. Gaston, like Jonas, was tall and dark with wavy jet black hair that he brushed back away from his face. Jonas, who had started life on the northern coast of Africa before migrating north to Italy then France, had a distinct look. He had dark eyes and olive skin, and a strong Romanesque profile. He was definitely handsome, and even though he was of slim build, it was all muscle. Gaston was a thicker, darker more muscular version of his father. He clucked and shook his head the way he did whenever she was in a state.
“CeCe, calm down,” he purred, taking her into his arms. She rested her head on Gaston’s solid shoulder and exhaled. He smelled of soap and gentle cologne and his light sweater felt soft and warm against her cool cheek. He tilted her face up so that he could look into her eyes and held her gaze for a long time before lowering his mouth to hers. The kiss was light and gentle at first, and then deepened as his arms tightened around her, pinning her arms to her side. She struggled and pushed away, but he was too strong. He lifted her off of the floor, her feet kicking out, arms pinned to her sides as she struggled. He slipped his tongue past her teeth into her mouth as she struggled harder, tears streaming down her cheeks. Finally she drew up her knee, catching him in the crotch. He released her, doubling over in agony, then he began to laugh a maniacal laugh and if she had not been sure before she was now.
“Fucking asshole!” She screamed, wiping her hand angrily across her mouth. “You fucking-” She charged at him, and was lifted into the air again this time from behind. “Whoa, CeCe.” Gaston’s voice came from behind her. The real Gaston.
“What in the world- CeCe, what-” Lisette came racing into the room, apparently from her office. She was still wearing her reading glasses. She only wore those for vanity reasons, they all knew, Lisette had the vision of a hawk. Where Gaston was dark, Lisette was light. She was tall as were all of Jonas’ children, biological or otherwise, but that was where the similarities ended. She was slender, but not skinny. Her hair was a beautiful shade of honey blond that hung in loose curls to her shoulders. Her skin the color of toast and her eyes deep and soulful brown, her features distinctly Creole. She wore a black sleeveless leather dress that exposed just the right amount of leg. She was the second born, most ambitious and newly engaged. Gaston was the oldest, the heir apparent.
When Gaston finally released her, the Gaston impostor stopped laughing. He held still for a moment, the bones in his face shifting visibly beneath his skin. Even his clothes, changed from the pale blue cashmere sweater and khakis the real Gaston wore, to his own uniform of black t-shirt and skinny jeans.
It only took a moment before he was back to his true self, he was the same height and basic build of his brother Gaston, so it had been easy to fool her. She stared daggers at him as his face spread into a wide grin. Remy Kent was even lovelier than Gaston. He had the classic Moorish features of the Kent men, dark hair, olive skin, but his eyes were big and deep, tobacco brown. Where Gaston was chiseled, Remy had a rather delicate prettiness to him. He was tall and lithe, not skinny, but slim. Remy was also cocky and brash, and being the youngest of the Kent children, he was the most adventurous. He also harbored deep feelings for her that ran beyond the familial and his reaction to those feelings was to be a major pain in her ass.
“You slimy little-” She couldn’t finish her thoughts, so she rained curses on him in Mandarin Chinese.
“Remy, cut that shit out,” Lisette said in her no nonsense manner. “Don’t we have enough to worry about with Nicky running around the city like a fucking tourist?” She mumbled. He stood staring at her, a satisfied smirk on his lips.
“Wait, what? So it’s true?” He asked, suddenly serious.
“Like you didn’t know. Did you tell the Collective?” CeCe blasted. “They marked him, Remy.”
“Someone spotted him hanging around in the Quarter, getting a tattoo on Rampart Street as a matter of fact. Waste of money.” Lisette turned to leave the room, but paused and came back to stand before CeCe. She took her glasses off to study CeCe’s face.
“What do you know, baby sister?” She asked.
“The cops came to talk to me today. They asked a few questions about Nicky. I answered and they left. That’s it.” She said this matter of factly, and met Lisette’s gaze evenly.
“No, that’s not it,” Remy said, the smile finally falling from his lips completely. He moved closer and sniffed her, his eyes searching hers. “She sent Briar out,” he declared.
“As for the detective- she has a thing
for the detective?” He gripped her chin, his fingers digging to her cheeks. “Does whittle sister have a crush?” His tone was light, but his eyes had shifted, his pupil elongating into something animal, and his teeth, those damned teeth. “That’s enough Remy,” Gaston just about growled from behind her.
“Jealous, big brother? Someone else is making her cream her panties other than big strong Gaston?”
“Stop it, Remy.” Lisette put a hand on his shoulder. Ignoring her, he moved closer to CeCe.
“Just the thought of him makes you go all wet-” He reached down with his free hand to cup her crotch, and she‘d had enough. She pushed him away with such force that he slid backwards across the room. He dug in with his heels so hard that he stripped a layer of varnish from the hardwood floor, finally coming to a stop twenty feet away, at the opposite end of the room.
He had to put his hand down to keep himself from falling backward onto his butt. He looked at her, a glint of something like pride in his eyes and bared his teeth, those sharp silver tipped fangs, his eyes a serpentine yellow, and he made a sound that was no more than a hiss.
“That’sss it sssissster,” he taunted as she crouched in a practiced fighting stance.
“Remy, that is enough!” Jonas Kent’s voice boomed from the foyer, and the entire house vibrated. The chandeliers throughout the first floor quivered, as his foot falls echoed in the suddenly silent house. They remained still as he entered the room. Jonas Kent was a monster of a man. He stood a solid six foot two and weighed just under two hundred pounds, all of it muscle. His stance was that of a Roman general, and his demeanor of an emperor, and when he entered a room, his presence was felt.
Jonas still had hair the color of coal, save the silver starting at his temples. He was flanked on either side by armed bodyguards, both in dark tailored suits. Jonas himself wore a dark suit with a vibrant blood red tie, his signature color. He entered the room, and took them all in. Remy and Gaston with their teeth bared, Lisette looking exasperated and CeCe, with fire in her eyes. Remy had calmed himself, but still stood ready for another verbal assault on his precious sister.
“Retract those teeth. We are not animals.” Jonas spoke clearly and crisply, with a slight French accent. Remy looked away from him, unable to control his anger. “Why do you constantly antagonize your sister?”
“She is not my blood,” Remy spat.
“The problem is that you are all too aware of that fact. Come,” he exhaled sharply, motioning for them to follow. “Let’s eat. I am starved.”
As they exited the room, Jonas stopped Remy and gave him a warning stare. “She may not be your blood, Remy, but she trusts you. You of all people know what she has been through. You were there, Remy. You know better than anyone else. Be careful with her. Don’t do anything to break that trust again. She forgave you once, I’m not sure she would be able to do it again.” Remy looked at her as she passed and nodded. He was ashamed and angry. He did know, he’d seen with his own eyes what they were doing to her.
“You can’t make her love you again, son. Don’t push, let her come to you. If she comes at all,” Jonas said and gave him a pat on the shoulder.
***
The Kent dining room was sprawling and just as elegant as the rest of the house. There was a rather large Victorian era cherry wood table that was polished to within an inch of its life. The walls were covered with red wallpaper threaded through with gold vines. The chairs were high back and delicate with red silk padding. CeCe took her seat next to Lisette and Remy slid in across from her, his usual seat beside Gaston. Jonas, of course sat at the head of the table.
As the butler, Frederick, served dinner they chatted of the banalities of their everyday work. Gaston, a lawyer, had just made partner. He was renovating a house on St. Charles Avenue and the wiring had finally after some many months, been completed. Remy was in town only for a few days. He was photographer, and in-between his bedding of models, he worked as a photojournalist and traveled to war zones all over the world.
Lisette was the editor of her own magazine, ‘Haute’, which was based in New York. She spent three weeks a month in a Manhattan apartment with her soon to-be-husband Giovanni. As they chatted about wedding plans and guests, flowers and decorating tips, Jonas remained mostly quiet, savoring the flavor of his dinner, Kobe beef, extremely rare, and his favorite, special brand of red wine. Often, he glanced at CeCe, worry creasing his lineless face as he studied her profile. As the wedding chatter faded, Jonas cleared his throat and wiped his mouth with a crisp white linen napkin.
“I know you know about Nicky.” He spoke to CeCe and the entire room went still.
“I also know that Briar has been asked to contain the problem.” She lowered her eyes to her plate and stared at the half eaten steak. “And his maker. Is there something you need to tell me?” She looked up at him and shook her head.
“You already know that I sent Briar to look for him.” She stared at him in confusion.
“And his Maker?”
Again she shook her head. “I don’t know who his maker is. I thought the Collective kept a tight rein on that. I’ve also let it be known that I don’t approve of the Collective’s decision,” she mumbled.
Jonas nodded and continued to eat. “What did the police say? They have spoken to you?”
“Yes, but...” She looked at him in confusion. “I had a strange reaction, to one of the detectives. Det. Cain and I have some sort of connection.”
“How?”
“He’s a telepath. And something else. Something I haven’t been exposed to before. We have the same eyes and he has had dreams of me. For some time I think. We seem to have a link. We- when we’re together- it’s like you can feel the electricity in the air.”
“Is it a familial link?” Jonas folded his hands on the table and leaned back in his chair contemplating this.
“No.” She looked down at her hands. “Not familial.” She couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at the corners of her mouth; Just the thought of his hard muscled body covering her caused goose flesh to rise on her skin.
“And you reacted physically? To a touch?” Jonas leaned closer, staring at her so intently that she flushed under his scrutiny. She looked up at Jonas, then the others at the table. They all seemed to be leaning forward in anticipation.
“I reacted physically to his thoughts. He was across the room, but the reaction was so strong, father. If he touched me- I don’t know what would have happened. I have never been around someone-” She shook her head at a loss for words, but couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her lips.
“What kind of physical reaction?” Lisette asked under her breath. CeCe looked at her with a smirk and lifted her brow. Realization dawned on Lisette in an instant and her eyes widened. “Really? How- much- did you react?” She mumbled.
“Too much to discuss here,” CeCe mumbled back and Lisette stifled a smirk.
“Well, I guess I need to meet this detective,” Jonas proclaimed after an extended silence. The men in the room squirmed uncomfortably. This was not the kind of discussion a girl wanted to have with her father in the room. No matter how low she and Lisette had spoken, she knew that they had caught every word, every nuance of the private conversation. They all averted their gazes as she looked at them, all except Remy, who stared daggers at her.
“Does the Collective know who made Nicky?” CeCe asked, changing the subject
“No. That is why Briar is on the case. As you know, he’s the best tracker we have,” Jonas said and she nodded her agreement and sat back in her chair, distractedly chewing her bottom lip.
“This was done by a rogue. Whoever it was did a sloppy job. It was not neat or refined. It was dirty.” She shivered at the thought of his prone body in that bathroom.
“Dirty?” Remy leaned forward. His interest had been piqued, but he was way off.
“Not sexy dirty, messy dirty,” she corrected and Remy sat back in his seat pretending to be disinterested. “Like they were
not exactly sure what to do. He had bites everywhere and his skull was fractured. He had a broken ankle and there was a blood trail from the living room all the way to the bathroom. I mean, that was done by something else. It wasn’t one of us.”
“Sounds like a Lycan attack.” Gaston spoke but never looked up from his meal.
“No, there were no missing pieces.” CeCe cut into her own steak, relishing the pinkness and taste of nearly raw meat filling her senses. A single drop of blood dripped from her fork to stain the antique linen table cloth. Frederick made a soft clucking noise at the stain but never moved from his station.
“He was bitten, not fed upon,” she corrected. “And too much blood for one of us or even the Originals.” She shook her head. “This was really- something quite different. If I didn’t know better, I would say this was done by a fledgling, but a fledgling wouldn’t have left that much blood. ”
“Then what else could it be?” Gaston looked at Jonas for an answer. Their father sat at the head of the table pondering this, his brow furrowed in concern. Slowly and deliberately, Jonas rose, dropping his napkin on the remains of his dinner as he did. “I need to make a phone call. CeCe, can you get me pictures of the scene?”
“Of course, father. I have copies at my apartment. I can have them here in the morning.” She also rose. She could have easily emailed them to him, but she’d learned a long time ago that those who knew where to look and what to look for could find them and the last thing they needed was more attention. They all rose, preparing to go into the sitting room for coffee and dessert while Jonas made his calls.
“I also want to meet your Det. Cain,” Jonas called to her as he left the room.
“He’s not MY detective,” CeCe corrected.
“He is now.” Lisette gave her a knowing smile as she left the room.
***
She was still sitting behind the wheel of her car when Remy emerged from the house some time later. As she watched him, she felt her cheeks flushed. They had flirted and teased each other for the better part of three years, but tonight when he kissed her, she had wanted him, if only as a substitute.
The First to Fall: A Fallen Novel (The Fallen Series) Page 7
