From Fear to Eternity: An Immortality Bites Mystery (16 page)

“Murder is an act of passion,” Marcellus said. “Often, it doesn’t make sense. All we can do is try to unravel the facts and ensure it will not happen to anyone else.”

Tasha stared at him. “Are you for real?”

“As real as any Frenchman who lives and breathes the fine air of France.” He held his hand over his heart. “Our beloved homeland.”

She frowned. “First of all, this isn’t France. This is America.”

Marcellus cocked his head. “America? What is America? What are these unfamiliar words you all continue to use to confound me?”

“I will explain everything later, my darling,” Veronique assured him. “But first we must search for both the amulet and Anna Dark.”

His tension seemed to ease as he met her eyes. “Very well, my love. Where you lead, I shall follow.”

Veronique flicked a glance at me as she and Marcellus departed down the hallway, her eyes filled with equal parts happiness and dread.

I knew it very well as the look of true love.

Veronique had it bad for him. Which was appropriate, since I couldn’t see much good in this situation. If we succeeded in finding the amulet and fixing it—which we had to do by dawn or else—what would become of Marcellus, who was here
only
because
of that magic?

“I’ll keep looking, too,” Sebastien said sullenly, turning toward the parlor door after Melanie bade us good luck and followed after the ancient lovebirds.

I grabbed his arm before he could get away. “First I need to talk to you, Junior.”

He gave me a sour look. “Can’t it wait?”

“No. No, it really can’t.” Even though we’d broken Thierry’s spell, I still needed Sebastien to see reason when it came to his sire. And if he wandered off, I might not get this chance again.

Tasha sighed. “I only wish the phones worked so I could call someone and tell them I’m going to be late for my arrival time on set—”

As if on cue, the phone on the end table near Thomas’s unconscious body began to ring.

I stared at it with shock.

After a few rings, Sebastien tentatively picked it up and held it to his ear.

“Hello? Yes, just a moment.” With a frown, he looked at me. “It’s for you, Sarah.”

I
gave Thierry a wary glance before I moved toward the phone, taking it gingerly away from Sebastien, and held it to my left ear.

“Hello?” I said as calmly as possible.

“There you are! Excellent. Have you found my body yet?”

It was the head.

“How are you calling me right now?” I asked.

“If I could answer complicated questions like that I’d be in a much better place. I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on. All I know is I need to be reunited with my body or I—I don’t know! Do you think I want to be dealing with this?”

I covered the receiver and spoke to Thierry. “It’s the ghost.”

He regarded me with a lowered brow, then nodded once. “I’ve heard of ghosts using telephones to communicate. It’s unusual, but not an unheard-of method to speak with the living.”

“Sarah’s talking to ghosts?” Sebastien said.

“There are ghosts in this house?” Tasha took a step back from me. “I don’t like ghosts. I even refuse to do ghost movies.”

“He’s harmless—he’s just a little confused.” At
least, that was the hypothesis I was going with. I hoped I was right.

I returned to the conversation. “I said I’d help you and I meant it. Can you tell me anything else that might be useful? Where can I find your body?”

“It’s around.”

“In the mansion or outside? Buried? Hidden? What?”

“If I knew, I’d tell you. If I knew, I’d try to find it myself.”

I wasn’t sure how he would conduct this search, being that he was only a head, but okay. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere dark and cold.”

Thierry drew closer to me. Sebastien didn’t take the opportunity to slip out of the room; he remained by the entrance, where he’d been. Tasha sat down in an upholstered chair and began to wring her hands.

“Can you remember anything at all?” I asked.

“I feel like there was a blade, like a sword or . . . or a scimitar. I don’t even know what a scimitar is, but that word pops into my mind. I think that’s what killed me.”

I grimaced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just help me find my body.”

“And then what?”

“Then—then I know I’ll be able to put myself back together.”

“You don’t know anything else, but you suddenly know that you’re Humpty Dumpty?”

He sighed again, a defeated sound. “All I know for sure is that someone—”

The line went dead.

“Are you still there? Hello?” I waited several
moments, my heart pounding, before I hung up the phone. “He’s gone.”

Tasha grabbed for the phone and held it to her ear, already dialing a number before her shoulders hunched and she stared at the receiver with frustration. “It’s still not working.”

I think I was in a little shock at talking to the head again in such an unexpected way. “Only for ghosts, apparently.”

She hung up. “This is so incredibly frustrating. Why can’t it just be over already?”

“Let’s not wish our time away.” I blinked and turned to Thierry. “Wait. . . .
Wishing
. There’s a genie loose and nobody’s wishing us out of this mess?”

He shook his head. “The amulet’s magic is not working as it should. Making large, arbitrary wishes could backfire.”

He was right, of course.

“Why don’t I test the theory by wishing for something specific and not threatening?” I suggested.

Thierry’s jaw was tight, but finally he nodded. “It’s worth a try. You officially won the auction. You are the current owner of the amulet, even though it’s missing, so you would have the best chance of getting a response. If your wish is granted it’s possible we can try to manipulate this magic to help us.”

“Wish for something small,” Tasha said eagerly.

“Okay.” I cleared my throat and tried to center myself. What should I wish for? Something minor, but something I legitimately wanted. “I wish I had a refreshing glass of water right now.”

I held out my hand and waited.

No glass of water magically appeared to quench my thirst.

“Try again,” Tasha urged.

Okay. How about: “I wish my dress was green instead of red.”

I looked down. Still red.

No magic tingles. No nothing.

“It’s not working.” Which was disappointing, since I’d really thought I might have figured out how to help us. But apparently it wouldn’t be that easy.

“And now we’re wasting time.” Tasha shook her head, twisting a long piece of red hair around her index finger as if considering her next move. “I’ll head upstairs and keep checking rooms. I hope one of them contains something useful.”

“You and me both. Good luck,” I said.

She nodded, then turned and started up the staircase, leaving me, Thierry, and Sebastien alone.

I turned my attention back to Sebastien. “I haven’t forgotten you, Junior.”

His lips were thin as he regarded me. “There’s nothing to discuss, Sarah.”

“I disagree.”

Thierry didn’t budge from where he stood near me, and Sebastien noticed.

“He still protects you, even when you have no one to fear but him.”

“Arguable. There are plenty of shady people here tonight I don’t feel comfortable spending much time alone with. You’re on that list.”

“Got something to say?” he asked Thierry.

“For now I’ll let Sarah do the talking. She’s excellent at summing up difficult subjects in a highly concise manner.”

Such compliments made me feel all tingly, and magic didn’t have anything to do with it.

“This isn’t my fault,” Sebastien griped.

“Wrong.” I poked him in his chest. “This is one hundred percent your fault. You’re the one who threw the party, held the auction, had Melanie put the blood in Thierry’s drink. You were trying to hurt him because you think he hurt you.”

“I don’t regret what I’ve done.”

Big surprise. But I knew it was important for him to see reason. If he was the one hiding the amulet, that might make him come clean. “You should, because you’re wrong. Everything you did was to get back at Thierry for what he did to you. The only problem with that plan is Thierry didn’t do anything to you. He’s innocent.”

Sebastien rolled his eyes and sat down heavily in a chair next to the sofa the unconscious Thomas currently occupied. “I think we’ve covered this already, Sarah. You defend him because you’re in love with him. I understand love, I understand what one is willing to do—what lengths one will go to—for love. But you’re wrong. He destroyed my life.”

It was like a dog chasing its own tail. All we were doing was talking in circles. “He didn’t do it. Read my lips—
he did not do that
. Do you remember Thierry personally shoving you into that tomb?”

“He hired men to do it for him.”

“But you didn’t see him with your own eyes, did you?” I countered.

“What I saw doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, but it does matter. He’s innocent. Someone else put you in that tomb. And I’m sorry. I really am.
That seriously sucks beyond anything I can possibly understand. But you’re blaming the wrong person—and that single-minded hatred is going to get everyone in this mansion killed when dawn breaks.”

I’d basically accused him point-blank of hiding the amulet. So be it. I believed it was true. Who else could have done it?

He just stared at me.

“As I said,” Thierry said, “Sarah has an excellent way with words.”

Sebastien gave him a tense look. “You couldn’t say the same thing to me?”

“You wouldn’t believe me. I know you, Sebastien. It’s been a long time since I last saw you, but I know you. You hated me then as you hate me now, only now you feel you have reason for this hatred. I don’t know who conspired against you, but it wasn’t me. I swear it.”

For the first time that night, the slightest edge of doubt crept into Sebastien’s eyes.

“You hated me, too,” he whispered.

Thierry shook his head. “I never hated you.”

“I had your thirst, and it reminded you of what you had to deal with every day.”

“Yes. Perhaps I was disappointed in that, but only because I knew it would cause you difficulties I wasn’t sure you could handle.”

“I didn’t handle them well.”

“You handled them as well as anyone could in the same situation.”

Sebastien went silent. “Who else would have done that to me? It had to have been you. She told me it was you.”

A breath caught in my chest. “Who told you that?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, yes, it certainly does matter. Whoever told you specifically that Thierry was the one to lock you away has some secrets of their own—or a vendetta against Thierry, too.” I let out a frustrated sigh. “Seriously, Thierry. Does anyone have a really solid and friendly history with you without any violent and backstabbing hiccups?”

“Many,” he replied. “Unfortunately, none are present with us this evening.”

“Forget it. You can try to fool me,” Sebastien growled, “but I don’t accept it. I won’t accept it. Now leave me alone, both of you. And I swear I’ll never break the spell.”

“Who’s your witch, Sebastien?” I asked. “Is she here tonight with us?”

Namely, a drink server named Melanie currently posing as an innocent werewolf?

He shot me a look of surprise. “Why would she be here?”

“That felt like a yes to me.”

“Leave it alone, Sarah. And stay away from Thierry if you value your life. I don’t care how restrained he might appear. He can’t be far from losing control completely by now.”

If only he knew the truth. “I’ll take my chances.”

“Then you’re a fool for love.” His expression grew wistful. “I lost my love when I was trapped like that. Three centuries without her by my side. Do you remember her, Thierry?”

Thierry shook his head. “Not particularly.”

His expression soured again. “No, you wouldn’t.
You were far too focused on your own life to worry about mine. This conversation is over.”

When he left the parlor I shut the door behind him, then turned to face Thierry.

“Honestly, I was willing to give that guy the benefit of the doubt, but he’s seriously a self-obsessed, evil idiot, isn’t he?”

“Sebastien is not evil or an idiot. He’s hurt, emotionally, physically . . . and mentally, I’m sure, from all that time locked away. It takes years to recover from such an ordeal and he’s been out mere months.”

“Now you’re defending him?”

“If I believed heart and soul that someone I trusted had betrayed me so completely, my vengeance would also be single-minded.”

“He messes with you, he’s messing with me. And I don’t like to be messed with.” When I leaned my head against his chest, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. I looked up at him with surprise. “This is okay? The spell is really gone?”

“I believe so.”

“Still a six?”

“A five point five.”

“Marginally better.” At least one thing had gone right tonight. I glanced over toward Thomas. “He said something to me before he collapsed. ‘Seven oh five attack.’ I didn’t want to tell the others just in case it’s dangerous information.”

“What does it mean?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Not a single thing had occurred to me that made any sense of it at all. “So what now? Should I join the others in the search for the amulet or look for the ghost head’s body? I
wonder if he pesters whoever normally lives here about this?”

“The problems of a ghost can wait, no matter how intensely they wish to find help. The amulet and the djinn are our priority.”

Thierry led me out of the parlor and down the hallway to the library we’d been in before. Once there, he retrieved the book he’d been reading off the shelf.

“Did you find anything in there?” I asked. “How to slay a djinn, perhaps?”

He flipped through the pages, his index finger skimming over the strange words. “I found some information that could be useful if we had the right weaponry. A djinn is not like a normal supernatural being, such as a vampire or a werewolf. They can take both corporeal and incorporeal form. They are flesh or they are smoke. It makes them difficult to kill. But I feel we may need to do just that before dawn.” He looked up from the book and said, “I believe the djinn is free from the amulet and has taken on a familiar face, one we are likely to trust.”

Of course. I wasn’t sure why this hadn’t occurred to me. There had to be a reason our paths hadn’t crossed with the djinn’s yet. “Who?”

He drew me closer and lowered his voice as if someone might be eavesdropping. “Marcellus.”

My eyes widened. “What?”

“A man Veronique knew who’s been dead for centuries suddenly lives again because she wrote him back into existence? It’s too much of a miracle for me to believe.”

Marcellus was the djinn. Could it be possible?

“Wow.” I raked my hands through my hair and
paced back and forth to the bookcase. “So, if it’s true, what do we do?”

He flipped forward a few pages in the book. “I don’t think we can slay him, not while being trapped here. The translation from the original Andalusian is difficult, but from what I understand here, there is a sword that holds an ancient magic that must be acquired. When the djinn is summoned from the amulet . . .” He scanned the page. “. . . for a short time, his magic is apart from him. As he takes form from smoke to flesh, he is momentarily vulnerable. There is a window of opportunity during which he can be slain. When a djinn is slain, his magic will transfer to the slayer.”

I cringed at the thought. “Slain? Like, stabbed through the heart?”

Thierry flipped back a page before he replied. “No, it specifically says that the djinn must be decapitated. The magic is then freed from him and this wild djinn magic will be fully claimed . . .” He frowned deeply. “. . . the following morning as the sun breaches the horizon.”

I couldn’t find words. “Decapitated.”

“Yes.”

“Uh, Thierry . . . I have a question.”

“Yes, Sarah?”

“When you said ‘sword,’ could that word be translated to . . .
scimitar
instead?”

He closed the book. “Yes, I suppose it could be.”

“Oh boy.”

“What is it? What are you thinking?”

What was I thinking? Could it be?

“Marcellus isn’t the djinn. I think I’ve already met
the djinn.” I took hold of Thierry’s arm and looked up into his eyes. “It’s the
head!”