Dark Rapture (25 page)

“Ah man, another goddamned coffin.”

He walked closer, holding his hands to his chest as if to keep from absentmindedly reaching for it. He’d seen too many coffins lately. And what a strange place to keep it, in one’s own basement.

He strode back and forth from one end of the shiny ebony coffin to the other. He teetered back and forth on his feet and reached out to finger the shiny surface. He tapped the box lightly and slid his fingers across the curved top. It was smooth and cold as if polished marble.

Again he scanned the room and looked up to the door, cracked open to reveal a thin stream of light across the wooden steps. He knew that he shouldn’t be here, but. . .

Yes, he had to. He couldn’t leave until he did.

Placing both hands along the front of the coffin, he pushed up and heard it crack open with little pressure. Slowly, he pulled it up and then pushed back until the lid was standing straight up, held open by the hinges on the other side.

Gary barely had time to register the rush of cold air before a frigid hand lashed out and grabbed him by the neck.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The veins in his face bulged and his eyes burned. He tried to scream but could only choke and gasp. The hand clamped over his windpipe crushed the muscles in his neck, and sent his gum spewing to the floor. He couldn’t move or look down to see who or what it was attached to.

“Gary!”

The vise-like grip on his neck slackened and Gary fell to the ground, his hands going to his throat.

Sebastian sprang from the coffin, landing with the grace of a cat. “Gary, I didn’t know it was you. What are you doing here?”

The soreness in his throat only allowed him to whisper hoarsely. “Shit, man, I gotta get out of here.” He stood but stumbled forward into Sebastian’s arms, still dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

“I’m sorry, Gary, if I’d known it was you—”

“Yeah, well it is me, so get your hands off me.” He pushed him away and stood back near the light from the window. “What the hell are you doing in that thing?”

“It affords a lot of peace and quiet.”

Gary rubbed his fingers across his throat. “A coffin! You’re kidding, right?”

Sebastian shrugged and walked to the foot of the stairs. “Gary, there are some things I have to tell you about myself . . . and about Scarlet.”

“Oh yeah? I’m not gonna like this, am I?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Cause if it involves you
and
Scarlet then I know I don’t want to hear about it.”

“Come on, let’s go upstairs. I think you'll want to sit down for this one.”

***

Scarlet stood before the mirror, summing up her figure. Annalise had dressed her in a pink and white silk dress, with petticoats of dark and light pink stripes that plunged out from under her open skirts. She had dismissed the use of a hoop; during the party, she had felt like a huge ship navigating between closely spaced icebergs. Without the rigid wire hoop she was able to move more freely, even though her breath was still pinched by the tightly cinched corset.

Annalise put her hair up for her, topping it with a bejeweled pink bow. When Scarlet wished she had a hat to shade her eyes from the wretched sun, Annalise produced a wide-brimmed straw hat.

Having written a letter to ‘Uncle Vincent’ and sealed it for the mail coach, she now waited for Sebastian to return. He appeared almost immediately after the servant’s exit.

“Ready to go?”

“Sebastian.” Scarlet felt the heat rush to her chest at the sight of him. The frock coat and breeches dressed him so elegantly it seemed he would be out of place wearing jeans and cowboy boots.

If he only knew what he was to become in the future, she thought. If given a choice, would he choose to live forever? No, she couldn’t think like that. It wasn’t his choice. If she was to return to the future she had to make that decision for him.

"Oui,
let’s go.” It was becoming obvious now that she would never wish to be away from Sebastian. Ever.

She looped her arm through his as he led her down the parquet hallway and out to the empty ballroom where last night hordes of painted people had danced the evening away. The wide black- and white-marble floor was barren of furniture and the crystal chandeliers tinkled gaily in the wind that blew through the opened doors.

“My mother is in the garden. She spends a lot of time with her roses. She breeds them, and she’s created a new one, the one I brought you this morning. Wasn’t it the most exotic flower you’ve smelled?”

Sebastian’s enthusiasm about his mother was a breath of fresh air. He had a family and a mortal life. “It did smell divine. Maybe someday a perfume can be made from them.”

“She’s going to love you, I know it. She loves everything that I care about.”

With great enthusiasm, Sebastian walked her around the fish ponds, nearly pulling her across the grounds to the gardens in front of the maze. What the darkness hid last night, the sun proudly highlighted today. Blooms of every color stretched toward the sky. Brilliant reds, yellows, and deep lavenders painted an intricate tapestry across the solid green walls of the maze.

From beneath the protective shade of her hat, Scarlet could see his mother seated on a white iron bench tending to a basket of cut flowers. As they neared, she saw the woman looked quite old. She was small, and her shoulders were rounded on her tiny frame. But when she looked up, Scarlet realized that she must be much younger than her graying hair made her out to be.

Sebastian unlaced his arm from Scarlet’s and knelt by his mother in the dew-kissed grass. He took her hand and kissed her fingers and cheek. Leaning close to speak, as if she might have trouble hearing, he said proudly, “Mother, I’d like to introduce you to Elisabeth Montrose, the woman I told you about.”

He held out his hand, which Scarlet took, smiling at the elegant woman who stared gently up at her. Her face was framed by a delicate lace collar and on her head sat a matching white lace cap. Her rich burgundy dress cast a rosy glow upon her sallow cheeks.

“Elisabeth, this is my mother, Duchess Angelique de la Courte LeReaux, truly the most beautiful woman in all of France, including the queen.”

“Bastian, you mustn’t speak of the queen that way.” His mother spoke so quietly that Scarlet had to lean forward to catch every word.

“But it’s the truth,
mere
!" He stood and put his arm around Scarlet’s shoulders. “I am in the presence of the two most beautiful women in the world.”

“He’s a dear, isn’t he?” Angelique set her basket on the ground and gestured to the space on the bench near her side. “Sit down, Elisabeth, let me talk with you. Bastian, would you be a love and get us something to drink? It’s terribly hot today.”

“Certainly, I’ll be right back, mother.”

He left in a sprint toward the house, leaving Scarlet impressed at his devotion to his mother. Angelique de la Courte LeReaux. So that’s where his last name came from. He must have changed it sometime over the last two centuries.

And her name was Angelique. There was something familiar about that name. Oh yes! Angelique’s Pride, the name of the roses he had sent after their first date. The love he held for his mother had spanned the centuries. He had taken her name and cherished her memory.

Scarlet sighed. Learning these tidbits made Sebastian so much more human.

“It has been treacherous lately, the weather.” Angelique fanned her face from the morning sun, and smiled at Scarlet with cheeks that creased into folds of crepe-thin wrinkles. “But summer does bring out the romance in young hearts, and the old as well. It was a lovely night for a party, wasn’t it?”

"Oui,
it was. And the courtyard looked so beautiful. I’ve never been to such a marvelous party.”

“You haven’t?”

“No, I guess I don’t get out too often. An occasional bar—ah, I mean . . .”

Obviously not paying that much attention, Angelique sighed and laid a thick, veined hand over Scarlet’s. “Well, it certainly was an excellent party for my dear Bastian. My son is quite taken with you, Elisabeth. He’s been going on about you all morning.” Angelique ran a thin finger along her decolletage, tucking the pristine lace handkerchief around her neck into the top of her dress.

“Your son is a kind man, madame . . . Your Grace.”

A kind man, did I actually say that?

“You are sweet, child. Ah, and your eyes.” Angelique stopped fussing with her handkerchief and gazed into Scarlet’s face as if she had just noticed the intensity of color her eyes possessed. “No wonder Bastian was enraptured with you. Men have been known to walk the world and brave fierce tribulations for as much. I wish you and my son a happy future together.”

What? Has she already married us off?

Scarlet couldn’t help but feel as if she’d missed something. “Well, you do understand that I’ll be leaving soon. I’m to spend the summer with my uncle.” At least I hope so, she thought. What the hell am I going to do when the time finally comes to go to Uncle Vincent’s house?

“Leaving.” His mother bent and plucked a purple iris from her basket. “Yes, soon, and you two will be happy together.”

“Mother, I’ve brought you some lemonade, nice and tart, the way you like it.” Sebastian handed them each a glass.

Scarlet took a sip. Oh, he was right, it was sour. She puckered her lips and held her glass to Sebastian.

“Ha, she needs to toughen up a little, eh,
mere.
She cannot handle the infamous de la Corte lemonade.”

“Bastian,” Angelique scolded him. “It is a bit tart.” She turned and spoke to Scarlet. “He’s always watching over my shoulder while I’m cooking. Thinks he can create my recipes as well as I.” She sipped the hazy yellow liquid, the corners of her mouth tightening at its tartness. “Someday, my love. Keep it up.”

Giving them both a shy nod Sebastian gestured to Scarlet. “I’m sorry. Here, I’ll drink yours.” He took her glass and downed the sour liquid. “So, did you two have a nice talk?”

“A lovely young girl, Bastian.” Angelique stood, dangling her basket near the folds of her skirt. “You have my blessing.”

With a kiss to both his cheeks, and a whispered 'such lovely eyes,’ she walked back toward the garden, turning once to wave at the two of them.

Waving back, Scarlet then asked, “What did she mean, Sebastian, that you have her blessing?”

“She thinks that her precious Bastian has finally found a wife, that’s what she means,” a strangely languid voice said.

Scarlet turned to see two young men walk up behind them. One was tall and gangly, dressed in blue brocade with silver stitching, and the other, the one with the lush voice, was equally tall with wavy blond hair and thick white lace ruffles around his wrists and neck.

“Control your foolish tongue, Gregoire. Mother misunderstands things,” Sebastian admonished, looking back to Scarlet with a smile. “Often.”

“Right.” The two men laughed and Gregoire patted Sebastian on the back. “Aren’t you going to introduce us, brother? Or are you going to keep such a divine flower all to yourself?”

“Not that it would matter in your case,” Sebastian said under his breath. “This is Elisabeth Montrose. Elisabeth, my brother Gregoire. And this gentleman,” he motioned toward the other man as if he felt it a duty to introduce him, “is Francois Boucher, a schoolmate of his.”

Gregoire bowed, as did Francois. “A pleasure, mademoiselle. Please forgive my teasing. It is only because you are such a beautiful woman, and seeing you here with Sebastian causes my own heart to flutter.” He tapped at his heart and rolled his eyes toward the sky. Francois laughed appreciatively at his antics.

“And where are the two of you headed this fine morning?” Sebastian asked, plucking Scarlet’s hand from the striped material in her lap and holding it possessively to his chest.

“The maze,” Gregoire spirited out. Each time he spoke his whole body moved and he gestured as if a marionette on a string. A good match to Vince, Scarlet thought. “We’ve some botanical studying to do.”

Gregoire turned to Francois with a wink, then bowed again, and took his leave. The two men headed toward the maze. They paused for a few moments to talk to Angelique.

“He’s quite a character,” Scarlet said as the two disappeared behind the rose-laced walls of the maze. “How much older is he?”

“Gregoire is a year older than me. But don’t make assumptions about him.” Sebastian. “Well, perhaps you may. He’s a good man, but I don’t expect that he’ll ever marry.”

Scarlet frowned. “Marriage certainly seems to be the hot topic of conversation around here.”

The corner of Sebastian's mouth turned up to a smile while the rest of his face lost expression, a shy puppy pleading to be accepted. He seemed at a loss for words, so she decided not to press him further on the topic, though it burned her blood to discover more.

“Will you show me around the house? It’s so beautiful and I was only able to see a little of it last night. I’d love to see the rest of it.” '

“Of course, come along.”

***

“I can’t believe this.”

Gary toyed with the glass of water Sebastian had offered, tottering it back and forth on its thick base.

“You’re standing here, completely sober, trying to convince me that you are a
vampire.
And that you transformed my sister, my sweet Scarlet, into a bloodsucker, too? Damn, you’re crazy, man. When Scarlet gets back I’m going to do all I can to see to it that she stays away from you. Ha! A fucking vampire!”

Sebastian tapped the corner of the mantel, losing his patience with Gary. The man’s laughter tensed the muscles in the back of his neck and crawled slowly over his scalp, tightening his temples. There was only one thing he could do to convince him, and to stop his incessant laughter.

“
Oh, fuck!"

At once, Gary became one with the couch, as he struggled to move as far away from the man who hovered over him with vampire fangs extended and blood dripping from the fresh cuts in his lower lip.

“Do you believe me now, Gary?”