From Fear to Eternity: An Immortality Bites Mystery (7 page)

“Agreed.”

In the parlor, the last of the winning guests were finishing up with Thomas, gold and platinum credit cards sparkling under the light from several chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling.

Sebastien watched us approach. “Problems?”

“Numerous,” Thierry replied.

Please don’t say anything,
I pleaded internally. I just
wanted to get out of there and deal with the fallout tomorrow. Or never. Never would be good.

Don’t get me wrong, I actually felt horrible for Sebastien. I couldn’t imagine what he’d been through. And for him to believe it was someone he’d looked up to as a father figure who’d betrayed him so horribly . . .

A simple explanation or a flat denial wasn’t going to do a thing to change his mind right now. I knew it wouldn’t for me.

“Did I hear something about a head?” Sebastien asked.

“Yes.” I tried to sound casual, though I felt anything but. “I’m seeing severed heads floating around tonight. Either it’s a ghost on the loose or I’m finally going insane. It’s fifty-fifty, really.”

“Who does this mansion belong to?” Thierry asked. “Perhaps the owner would know if it’s haunted.”

Why was he asking questions and prolonging this? I glanced at the clock. We were getting closer to midnight. Time to make like a pumpkin and scram before I lost my glass slipper.

Sebastien shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know them personally.”

“Earlier you said it was a friend.”

“I was exaggerating. Many multimillionaires will rent out their houses to movie producers or those who wish to throw elegant parties to impress their friends.”

“Did you think it would impress everyone to be here?”

“I’ve recently felt the intense need to surround myself with luxury.”

Do not say anything,
Thierry,
I thought.
Just don’t.

“It’s time we wrap this up,” Thierry said. “I’d like to arrange payment for the amulet.”

“Excellent.”

Thierry handed over an American Express card, which Sebastien gave to Thomas. Thomas dialed a number on a phone and held it to his ear, stepping a few feet away from us.

“Both a butler and a bookkeeper,” I said. “Handy.”

Sebastien’s gaze flicked to me. “We’re short-staffed tonight.”

“So I gathered. I spoke with your werewolf server earlier. Lovely girl. She takes direction well, doesn’t she?”

“She certainly does.”

He was definitely infuriating. And smug. And incredibly hard to read. It was only a reminder that we’d stayed long beyond when we should have gotten out of here.

“Is there anything further you wish to say to me, Sebastien?” Thierry asked.

My fingertips dug deep into his arm.

Sebastien swallowed and a shadow of pain crossed his eyes, which I hadn’t expected. It wasn’t outrage. It wasn’t fury.

It was sadness.

“Nothing at all,” he said, his voice hoarse.

He’d spiked Thierry’s drink with blood to bring out his dark side, he’d been spouting angry words earlier and hinting at unpleasantness ahead, and yet now I had the sudden urge to give him a hug.

“It seems you’ve acquired a very powerful amulet, Sarah,” he said, after getting a nod from Thomas as the butler ended his call.

“I’m not sure it’ll go with any of my outfits.”

“Be very careful with it.”

“I’ll try my best.” I hesitated as something occurred to me that I’d pondered earlier. “You said you didn’t have time to use it, but I know you did. You could have tested it out. Wished for a million dollars, or something.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You really want to know why?”

“If I didn’t I wouldn’t ask.”

“It’s said that to own an amulet like this will curse you with bad luck.”

My stomach sank. “Sure, now you tell me.”

“I received the worst luck simply by owning it, not by using it. I decided not to press what little luck I had left. Now it’s your choice if you will or not. Perhaps it’ll work out better for you.”

A cursed amulet with a troublemaking djinn trapped inside. All for seventeen million dollars. What a deal.

“We’ll be putting it somewhere safe,” Thierry said. “No one will be accessing its magic ever again.”

Sebastien’s jaw was a tight line. “I think that’s a very good plan.”

“Is that why you let me win?” I asked. “So Atticus wouldn’t?”

“That sounds rather underhanded, doesn’t it?” he replied after a moment.

“Is that a yes?”

“Atticus’s reputation precedes him. I doubted his
motives for wanting to add this piece to his collection.”

“But you didn’t doubt mine?” Thierry said.

“Perhaps. But you didn’t win it. Sarah did.”

“Does that really make a difference?” I asked. “I mean, it’s Thierry’s money”—or, the council’s money—“that’s paying for it.”

“Intention is the most important thing, especially as a piece like this shifts from one owner to another. The amulet now belongs to you, Sarah, and you alone. It doesn’t matter whose name is on the credit card.”

Sebastien reached behind the podium to draw out the black velvet box.

“Here it is.”

I tried not to cringe at the sight of it. “My very own cursed amulet. Hooray.”

He glanced down at the box. “Whether or not you believe in the curse, I suggest you leave it in the box. Lock it up. And keep it out of the hands of people like Atticus Kincade.”

“So responsible,” Thierry said. “You’ve changed over the years.”

“You have no idea how much I’ve changed.” Sebastien hissed out a breath, then returned his attention to me. “Here you go, Sarah. The Jacquerra Amulet—it’s all yours.”

He opened the box.

“There’s a problem,” I said.

He looked down at the box and frowned.

Yes, definitely a problem.

The amulet was gone.

G
one. Nothing was in the box but air.

By the shock on Sebastien’s face, this was not something he’d expected.

“What are you playing at?” Thierry growled. “Where is it?”

“I’m not playing at anything. It was here. Nobody touched it.”

“Obviously, somebody did. Somebody who wanted it badly and has since before this night began.”

Without another word, Thierry turned and swiftly moved out of the salon. I had to run to keep up with him.

“Thierry—”

“Atticus stole it from right under our noses, Sarah. And then he made that scene in the foyer to divert attention, to establish his innocence once the discovery had been made.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Wrong. I do.”

Almost everyone had left by now, but Atticus was still here. He was halfway out the front door when Thierry grabbed his shoulder, pulled him back inside, and kicked the door shut.

Atticus looked stunned by this. “De Bennicoeur—”

“Where is the amulet?”

“I assume it’s in the salon waiting for you to claim it.”

“The box is there. The amulet is missing.”

The odds of us getting out of here before something very unpleasant happened between the two of them seemed slim to none at this point, but I didn’t know what I could do to help. And if Atticus had swiped the amulet, he had to come clean.

Another heated conversation drew my attention to the left of the foyer. The voices were lowered, but the argument was no less intense.

The Darks were in the corner, glaring at each other, which finally proved to me they could make facial expressions after all.

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” Anna snarled.

“I’m not lying.”

“Do you think I’m stupid? I know exactly what’s going on here.”

“Really, Anna? If you do it would be the first time in two decades that you weren’t totally ignorant to something important that’s happening around you.”

“How dare you speak to me like that after what you’ve done!”

“This conversation is over.”

“And this marriage?”

“That is yet to be determined. I can think of others I’d much rather spend eternity with.”

“Fine with me!”

Anna stomped away from him toward the other side of the foyer, meeting my gaze directly as she passed me. And, yikes, the glare she gave me was fiery enough to singe my eyebrows.

Frederic Dark shot me a tight smile. “Please ignore her.”

I felt the need to respond to that. “Drama queen?”

“She’s . . . unexpectedly temperamental this evening.”

“Maybe it’s a full moon. Although I hope not. There is a werewolf in the house.” I sent a look toward Melanie, who lurked at the edges of the foyer.

“You’re Thierry de Bennicoeur’s new wife, aren’t you?” Frederic asked.

“I am.”

“Hmm.” He swept his gaze down the front of me as if noticing me for the first time tonight. From his bland expression, I couldn’t tell if he liked what he saw or if I completely disgusted him.

“It was really nice to meet you,” I lied, and turned back to the standoff between Thierry and Atticus.

Atticus was turning his pockets out. “See? I have nothing on me but a wallet and a cell phone. Would you like to frisk me?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Sebastien said as he entered the foyer. “We will find the amulet.”

“Someone stole it,” Thierry said.

“So intelligent you are,” Atticus said, sarcasm dripping. “Just what the council needs in our investigating consultants.”

“So it’s true, Thierry.” Sebastien glanced between the two, his expression impossible to read. “You’re working for the council.”

“At the moment.”

“I never thought I’d see the day where you took anyone else’s orders but your own.”

I stood there frozen in place, waiting for
something horrible to happen, ready to spring into action to defend . . . well, whoever needed defending.

Veronique and Jacob stood over by the archway near the staircase. Tasha had pulled her pashmina around her shoulders. The three looked on with interest but without comment as Sebastien drew closer to Thierry.

Thierry watched his approach. “I know what you believe I did, but it’s not true.”

Uh-oh. Not the time, Thierry. So not the time!

“Do you, now?” Sebastien clasped his hands together and flicked a glance at me, one that held either accusation or relief, I couldn’t tell which. “Does everyone know about this? Shall we tell them?”

“Sebastien, darling, what is going on?” Veronique asked.

“You should know this already. You let me down. Unless you’re the one who assisted him.” He pointed at her with each sentence as if punctuating it. “He hated me. He did from the very beginning. I was a burden. I threated his sense of being the master of his world. He didn’t want the responsibility of watching over a fledgling, especially one who reminded him so much of himself.”

“It was never as bad as you thought it was, darling.” Veronique drew closer to him, but finally faltered when he held up a hand to stop her. “We were a family. Families have difficulties, but nothing that can’t be worked out with time and effort. If only you’d stayed close to us, I’m sure you and Thierry would have reconciled your differences.”

“Wrong. He left me there in a tomb no bigger than a coffin. I suffered for weeks before I fell unconscious, wasting away to nothing but a flesh-covered
skeleton. And nobody searched for me. Nobody found me. It took three centuries for me to gain my freedom.”

Her eyes widened with shock. “And you believe Thierry was the one who did this to you?”

Sebastien nodded with a stiff jerk of his head. “I do.”

I watched Thierry for his reaction to this, but his expression remained stoic and controlled.

Still, when he spoke, his voice was softer and didn’t have any of the anger in it from before. “It wasn’t me. Whatever you’ve been led to believe, and whoever led you to believe it, I did not do this to you.”

Veronique now regarded Thierry with trepidation. “You said that he was trouble. . . .”

“It doesn’t matter what I said. Even at my worst, I would not do such a thing to a living being, no matter who they were. He disappeared. We assumed he had moved on as he had threatened to do many times. How were we to know?”

“Oh, my darling.” Veronique rushed toward Sebastien, her arms outstretched, but he backed away from her and shook his head.

“No. It’s not that easy, Veronique.”

“How long have you been freed?”

“Long enough to gather my treasures and plan this evening.” Sebastien’s jaw clenched. “I wanted to see your face when you saw me again, Thierry, knowing what you did to me.”

“He said he didn’t do it,” I said, my throat tight. Everyone else remained completely silent. I could almost forget we had a sizable audience for this uncomfortable conversation.

Sebastien gave me a look of disgust. “Of course
you’d
believe that. He’s your husband.”

I shoved my hands deep into the convenient pockets of my red dress. “I believe it because it’s true. I’m sorry for what you had to go through, really I am, but if Thierry did do what you say he did, he’d own it. He wouldn’t lie about it.”

“Or perhaps he doesn’t want his armor to be tarnished in the eyes of his new bride. Perhaps someone as experienced as Veronique could handle a truth like this, but a mere fledgling . . . that’s a different thing.”

There was that “mere fledgling” phrase again.

Sebastien had been through a lot, so I wanted to be understanding with this acting out, but he’d caused all this trouble based on what? An assumption?

“Are you feeling the effects of the blood from earlier, Thierry?” Sebastien said. “You should probably know by now that it wasn’t normal blood.”

Thierry looked at him, his brow lowered. “What are you talking about?”

Sebastien’s eyes narrowed cruelly. “My revenge was contained in that glass. The blood has a powerful spell cast upon it, which will not loosen its hold on you anytime soon.”

With growing dismay, I noticed for the first time that there was a thin sheen of perspiration on Thierry’s forehead. How could I have missed this? If it was true, he had to have been masking the severity of his thirst. “Is it that bad? Do you feel it?” I asked.

“I’m fine.” Thierry didn’t look at me. His attention was fixed entirely on Sebastien. “You need to break this spell.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” He glanced at me, at my
throat. “He had to taste another’s blood for the spell to fully take hold. Looks like he’s tasted yours. Your shiny new husband now has an insatiable need to feed tonight. He won’t be able to resist for long. And when Thierry let his thirst take hold of him in the past, very few of his victims survived it.”

All of my sympathy for this guy went out the window in milliseconds. As well as the last remaining piece of my ability to see the good side in just about everyone. “Big mistake, Sebastien.”

He just shrugged at me, which only infuriated me further.

“What witch do you associate with that would help with this horrible act?” Veronique said, shocked.

“As if I’d tell you anything,” Sebastien replied. “I doubt if I’ve even crossed your mind more than once or twice in all these years.”

Her shock dissipated, replaced by an anger that reflected my own. “How dare you say such a thing?”

“If I may interject,” Atticus said flippantly. “I see Thierry has more difficulties than I believed. I’ll call in an enforcer to deal with this. I can have one here in less than an hour.”

No, big mistake. An enforcer would deal with a vampire bespelled with uncontrollable bloodlust in only one way—a stake through the heart.

That was
not
going to happen.

My mind reeled. I’d thought it was dangerous for Sebastien to spike Thierry’s drink with blood, but I’d assumed that had been merely a mean-spirited act of mischief. But blood that contained a spell to drive him to feed . . .

To drive him to kill . . .

Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

He was fine and nothing bad had happened. I could handle a couple of minor bite marks.

But I knew I had to do something before this escalated. My track record with witches and spells hadn’t been stellar so far in my supernatural life. I definitely wouldn’t underestimate one tonight.

To break a witch’s spell, we’d likely need another witch. And we’d just happened to meet a couple of very powerful—and very friendly—witches recently who might be able to help. They were on the East Coast, but that was a minor inconvenience at this point.

My tension eased just a little at having a potential game plan in mind. For now, I’d keep it to myself.

“We need to get out of here,” I told Thierry.

He regarded me with a tight jaw and a furrowed brow. “I can’t leave. Not given how I’m feeling.”

Atticus pulled his cell phone from his pocket and looked down at the screen. “Why is there no reception?”

“It will be fine.” Veronique drew closer and linked arms with me. “Once Sebastien comes to his senses he’ll realize what he’s done is immature and petty and he will break this ridiculous spell.”

“Three hundred years, Veronique,” Sebastien reminded her. “He has to pay for that time he stole from me.”

She gave him a sharp look. “When you come to your senses and realize what you’ve done,” she repeated, every word crisp, “you will remember that Thierry gave you the gift of immortality when you were moments from death. You owe him for that.”

Silence fell between them.

“What the hell is going on here?” Jacob had been
silent until now, but he roared this like a cornered lion. “I’ve been thinking I was a part of some sort of amusing role-playing party all night, but what is this? Who the hell are you people?”

Veronique winced. “Role-playing. Yes, that’s it. That’s all it is, darling. Aren’t you having fun?”

The rich publisher marched over to a side table by the front door, where I saw that someone had placed Veronique’s book that she’d given me earlier. He hoisted it up so the cover could be seen by everyone.

“This,” he hissed, “is supposed to be fiction.”

“It is,” Veronique replied. “Yes, it is.”

“This is your
actual
memoir, isn’t it?”

“Fictional memoir. Darling.” She cleared her throat.

Jacob jabbed his index finger at her accusingly. “You have fangs. Actual fangs. I thought they were specialty veneers owned by one who enjoys vampire lore a bit too much. But . . . but they’re real, aren’t they?”

Atticus rolled his eyes. “This human should not have been invited here this evening. Do you know what an inconvenience this is, Veronique?”

Jacob reared back, his eyes wide. “You’re
all
vampires, aren’t you? You all have fangs!”

Finally, he noticed. Better late than never. Or, really,
never
would have been much better.

“Not me.” Tasha said this to me directly. “I have mine ground down every other week to appear as human as possible. The tabloids would have a field day otherwise. They’re such vultures.”

“They totally are.” Still starstruck. I seriously couldn’t help it.

“I need to get out of here.” Jacob made for the door.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you leave yet.” Atticus stepped in front of him to block his path. “Calm yourself. We mean you no harm.” He cocked his head. “Although perhaps you should stay away from de Bennicoeur.”

I watched most of this unfold from the corner of my eye as I studied Thierry closely. He’d been silent since the truth about the blood spell came out and, honestly, I had no idea how he was feeling right now. I had to admit, it worried me.

He dealt with his thirst on a daily basis, but I knew he normally had it well under control.

But a malicious spell could definitely change a lot.

“We’re leaving, Thierry,” I told him again, even firmer this time. “I’ll keep my distance, I promise, but we’re going to figure this out together.”

“Loyal, isn’t she?” Sebastien gave us a cold grin. “All the way to the bloody end.”

“You will regret this,” Thierry said, words as dark as ever I’d heard them. “You think three hundred years locked in a tomb was torture? Just you wait.”