From Fear to Eternity: An Immortality Bites Mystery (5 page)

Wait.
Lose my head.

Why did I feel like I was forgetting something really important?

“You’ve been keeping very busy,” Thierry said as I reached his side. “I couldn’t find you.”

“We need to talk. Stat.”

“Stat?”

“Yes, stat. It’s very important.”

A bell rang and conversation halted. Thomas the
butler was holding a . . . well, a bell. That he’d just rung.

“If I may have your attention, please,” Thomas said. “Your host, Sebastien Lavelle, wishes for you all to enter the main salon, where the auction is about to begin.”

As the guests filed out of the parlor, Thierry slid his hand into mine. “I promise we’ll talk after I have what we came here for. All right?”

An auction wouldn’t take that long. And then Thierry would have the amulet and Atticus wouldn’t. One problem would be crossed off the list and then I could focus on our host’s accusations and his current agenda against Thierry.

It sounded fair enough.

I squeezed his hand. “All
right.”

T
he salon was a large room with a twenty-foot ceiling. Its shiny floor was set in an intricate crisscross pattern of dark and light hardwood. Gigantic oil paintings of landscapes that looked like they were each worth a small fortune adorned the walls. It was a room that felt as if important people like senators, presidents, and kings had spent time in it. I’d never been intimidated by crown molding before, but there was a first time for everything.

There was a podium set up at the far end, right in front of stained-glass windows that took up the entire wall.

Thirty chairs were arranged in several neat rows, and Thierry and I took a seat in the second row from the front. Veronique and Jacob sat in front of us. Atticus sat across the aisle in the first row, Tasha next to him.

Both Melanie and Thomas were present, standing dutifully at the back of the room in case they were needed. I had yet to see any hired help for the evening other than the two of them.

Ten minutes after the announcement by Thomas, Sebastien moved behind the podium.

“Thank you all for coming this evening and for
your patience. I know my invitation was a bit mysterious. Mystery piques the interest of those who enjoy a bit of adventure, and I hope this evening will hold all the adventure you’ve been wishing for.” He didn’t look at me and Thierry, but his gaze swept the rest of the audience and his smile was firmly fixed. If I hadn’t known better, I never would have guessed that he wasn’t nearly as cheery and welcoming as he appeared to be.

There was so much I needed to know about what had happened to him. Had he really been trapped for all that time?

Apparently if vampires went without blood long enough, they would fall into a deep sleep I’d heard described as a “corpselike state.” I assumed that would have happened to Sebastien. And if that was true, how had he woken up enough to manage a prison break?

Also, just how long would a vampire have to go without blood to fall into that deep sleep? A day? No,
I’d
gone longer than a day without blood.

A week? A month?

As a master vampire, Thierry rarely needed any blood at all. If he were trapped, it would take a very long time for him to fall asleep—if ever.

Just the thought of it made me shudder.

“Thomas will be kind enough to handle the financials for me later,” Sebastien said, nodding to the butler at the back of the room, “and I will be your auctioneer this evening.”

Thierry was entirely focused on Sebastien. I put a hand on his arm to feel how tense he was.

“You’ve got this,” I assured him. “Everything’s okay.”

His eyes met mine and held long enough for me to see that he was definitely worried. “It will be okay once I’ve acquired the amulet.”

“You’ll get it.”

“I hope you’re right.”

My words of encouragement seemed to be working, since he relaxed a fraction.

Like, a fraction of a fraction.

Low conversation moved through the gathered guests before Sebastien spoke again. “The first item up for bid this evening is one I acquired in the early sixteenth century, a painting of a duchess said to be haunted by her spirit to this very day.” He gestured to an easel that held a painting of a stern-looking woman with her chin raised, eyes straight forward. She reminded me of a teacher I had in public school who scolded me for my hilarious one-liners during her classes. Some teachers didn’t appreciate funny students.

“Did he say he acquired the painting in the sixteenth century?” Jacob whispered to Veronique. “How is that possible?”

“You must have heard him wrong, darling,” she replied.

I had no idea how long she thought she could keep this up. Bringing a human to a vampire function didn’t seem like the brightest idea in the universe.

Humans might like the notion of vampires in theory. But faced with an actual vampire with fangs and a thirst for blood, they inevitably freaked out.

“We’ll start the bidding at ten thousand dollars,” Sebastien said.

People raised their hands, and he acknowledged their bids, which escalated until—

“Going . . . going . . . gone!” He struck the gavel against the podium. “Sold to Ms. Peterman for thirty-two thousand dollars.”

Ms. Peterman, who was seated in the back row, seemed very pleased to now own the creepy-haunted-teacher painting.

Thomas moved the easel to the side and brought out the next item, unwrapping it from shimmery blue fabric and holding it up for everyone to see. It was a knife about seven inches in length with a wavy golden blade and sapphires set into the hilt. The blade itself was carved with small swirling symbols.

“The Amaranthian Dagger. There are rumors that to drink the blood from a wound made by this dagger will substantially lengthen a mortal’s life. Legend has it that if the blood is consumed by an vampire, they will never need to fear death, for they will be truly and wholly immortal, without any fear of wooden stakes or other means used to end their existences.”

“More strange talk of vampires,” Jacob mused. “Quite a coincidence, don’t you think, my sweet?”

“Yes, quite,” Veronique agreed.

After a heated battle that drove the price up to nearly two hundred thousand dollars, Frederic Dark was the victor. I couldn’t tell if he or his wife, Anna, was pleased by the win. Their pale, morose expressions didn’t shift for even a moment into anything cheerier.

“I’m not surprised he won,” Thierry said under his breath. “Frederic is said to possess a wide collection of supernatural weaponry.”

“He sounds like a really fun guy.”

“And Anna likely would be interested in such an item, too. She was once a vampire hunter.”

I stared at him. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not.”

“How long have they been married?”

“Twenty years, I believe. He is also her sire.”

I glanced toward the Purist couple with much more interest now, and a large helping of caution. A vampire hunter and a vamp who liked things old-school.

Talk about opposites attracting.

The auction continued and I lost track after a full hour passed. My mind began to wander to other subjects beyond that of what creepy object was being highlighted at the podium. I kept a close eye on Atticus, who hadn’t bid on anything yet. However, he did seem every bit as focused on the proceedings as Thierry.

Was he really a murderer? And if so, how far would someone like him be willing to go to achieve a higher level of power? Had it all been to become the sole elder in charge of the Ring?

Yet he’d spoken to me about Thierry as if he was the real danger.

It made no sense. All I knew for sure was that I trusted Thierry and I didn’t trust Atticus.

That made things very simple. If Thierry was at risk from his current vampire boss, then I would do anything I could to protect him.

By the time the auction had nearly reached its end, we were well past eleven and moving closer to midnight.

“Our last item,” Sebastien said, taking a black velvet box the size of his hand from Thomas, “is the
most infamous by far. Please, if you have questions, don’t hesitate to ask. I will answer them the best I can.”

He opened the box and walked down the aisle so everyone could get a look at what lay inside.

It appeared to be a small emerald bottle about two inches in height. Thin gold bands wrapped around it, holding it in place like a large pendant. On the gold bands were lines of engraved symbols. A thick gold chain was attached to two golden loops on either side of it.

As he passed my chair, I could have sworn I felt something coming off the object. A hum. A vibration. It
felt
magical even from a distance.

“This is the Jacquerra Amulet,” Sebastien said as he turned around to walk back to the front. “Created in the sixth century by a coven of witches who possessed a spell to summon and trap a djinn. Djinn—sometimes referred to as genies—are real, but they are not exactly what one might expect. Inside this amulet is a djinn, imprisoned by that original coven’s spell, which is etched into the amulet itself. Once summoned, the djinn will be bound to its master, the current owner of the amulet, and will be at that master’s command.”

A woman in the front row raised her hand. “Will the djinn grant wishes?”

“Yes,” Sebastien replied, his voice grave. “But be cautioned that you must ask very specifically for what you want, and there should be no room for interpretation—just in case the djinn wants to cause trouble. And the legends you may have heard are true. A djinn’s master will be allowed precisely three
spoken wishes before the djinn will be able to fight the compulsion to obey.”

Another man spoke up. “If the djinn was trapped so long ago, would it even understand English?”

“The djinn will understand the language of its master. And it’s said that it will also naturally have a firm grasp of current customs and knowledge.”

I raised my hand and Thierry eyed me curiously.

“Yes, Sarah?” Sebastien said. “You have a question?”

It was something that had been bothering me ever since I’d found out about the amulet’s existence. “If the djinn is angry about being imprisoned, wouldn’t it try to seek revenge the moment it’s released?”

His jaw tightened. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“How do you know? Have you tried it?”

“No, never.”

“Why not? Because you know how dangerous it is?”

“Since I’ve been detained for quite some time, I haven’t had the chance.”

I wasn’t buying that. He’d been out of the tomb for a while. If he wanted revenge on Thierry so badly, why wouldn’t he have released the djinn and made a trio of malevolent wishes?

What exactly was he up to?

Sebastien turned from me to answer another question and I grabbed hold of Thierry’s hand.

“I really don’t like this,” I told him, worry churning inside of me. “I’m feeling a great need to get out of this place as soon as possible.”

He leaned closer to whisper in my ear. “As soon as I acquire the amulet we can leave, I promise. But I have to do this first.”

I didn’t like this at all, but I nodded. The alternative was to let Atticus have it. And if he was as bad as the other elders thought he was, he couldn’t be allowed that kind of power.

Jacob raised his hand to ask a question. “When you say there’s a genie inside that object, you’re speaking metaphorically, aren’t you? Genies don’t actually exist.”

Sebastien blinked. “Are there any other questions?”

“I have a question,” Thierry said, loud enough for all to hear. “When and from whom did you acquire this piece? And where have you hidden it all these years?”

The look Sebastien gave him was sharp enough to cut glass.

“A long time ago in a land far away from here,” Sebastien replied, his words clipped. “And I have my hiding spots, Thierry—places I could hide anything and it would not be discovered for, oh, centuries. If I tell you where those hiding places are, they wouldn’t be much good to me, would they? I’m sure you also have hiding places like that, don’t you?” His tone held absolutely no warmth at all now. “So, let’s begin. We’ll be starting the bidding at one million dollars.”

My mouth fell open at that.

The other objects had gone for tons of money, but the most expensive one up until now had been the dagger Frederic Dark acquired for two hundred grand.

One million was the
opening
bid?

“Be calm, Sarah,” Thierry murmured again, watching me nervously twist my hands on my lap.

“I’m calm. Totally, totally calm. But that is a lot of money.”

“It certainly is.” He actually had the audacity to smile at my financial anxiety attack. “But just wait.”

“Wait? Wait for what?”

He didn’t have to answer. I knew what he meant as the bidding swiftly escalated.

All I could do was watch and listen as, in increments of a quarter million, one million became two. Two became three. I couldn’t see the faces of the participating men in the back row without turning and staring, but I heard the greed in their voices as they called out their bids.

I looked at Thierry, expecting him to join in.

“Not yet,” he said under his breath.

This was stressful.

At the five-million-dollar mark, Atticus finally showed his hand. Literally. He raised his arm to signal his bid.

“Five million from Atticus Kincade,” Sebastien acknowledged. “Do I hear five and a quarter?”

I realized I was holding my breath. This was way more exciting than the auctions I was used to, which admittedly had only been on eBay.

I had to remind myself that Thierry was using Ring money to help acquire the amulet and keep it out of Atticus’s greedy mitts.

The men in the back row helped to raise the bidding to eight million, but Atticus still looked confident. Smug, really.

I glanced over my shoulder to see the other bidders. With an annoyed groan of disdain, one of the men slumped back in his chair.

He was out.

Several bids later, the other man joined him in his defeat.

Atticus practically glowed. He was going to get his prize for the bargain-basement price of ten million dollars.

Was it hot in here, or was it just me?

“Going once,” Sebastien said, “going twice . . .”

“Eleven million.” Thierry finally spoke up, jumping the bid by a full million.

Like it was no big deal.
Sure, eleven million. Just let me check my wallet.

The room went completely silent for a few heavy moments.

“We have a bid for eleven million dollars from Thierry de Bennicoeur.” Sebastien said his name like it tasted rotten.

Atticus turned in his seat and fixed Thierry with what I could only describe of as a look of death.

Hadn’t he expected that Thierry would be bidding on this? He knew Thierry’s previous interest in the amulet, so what was up with the nasty glare?

“He’s not happy with you right now,” I said very quietly.

“I’m sure he’s not. Likely, he believed I would step aside for him in order to maintain our working relationship.”

Before I could say another word, Atticus spoke up, his tone dark. “Eleven point five.”