Immortal Obsession (12 page)

Amanda muffled a gasp as she realized that the yellow post-it note had page notations written in pencil in her handwriting. She stuffed the yellow post-it note in her pocket and closed the book, and suddenly, she knew that his presence in her life was not an accident.

Chapter Sixteen

A
MANDA WAS ONLY
the third mortal ever to come into his home, and he felt strangely vulnerable. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that she was not connected to him by blood and so he no longer had any obligation to protect her. Only his feelings for her kept him bound to her so he would see this through to the end, no matter the outcome.

In his heart, he knew it was about more than a promise he had made to Josette. He wanted Amanda—not her powerful blood, but her love. Now that his conflict over her lineage and his lust was resolvable, he had to protect her and kill his enemy.

Christian stopped just inside the doorway, afraid to come any closer. He folded his arms across his chest and watched her as she put the book away and stepped closer to the fireplace. She was shivering, which he attributed less to the cold and more to nerves. Amanda slowly took off each of her gloves and shoved them in her coat pockets. She rubbed her hands together as she watched him approach.

“Now I understand your reaction to me at the Grey Wolf, but like I told you, I’m not afraid. I just want the truth. I wanted to thank you for saving my life.” She continued rubbing her hands together. “Everyone tried to convince me that you didn’t exist, but I knew better. I had given up on ever seeing you again, but I always thought of you as my protector, my guardian angel, but Michel tells me differently. He tells me that you are….vampires. Is he joking?”

He was moved by her candidness, her insight, and her seemingly controlled vulnerability. She was like Josette, who despite an arranged marriage and the birth of a child, had managed to maintain lovers and her own independence, all with little fuss. The confines of eighteenth-century life had done little to control her.

“What happened to those other vampires?” She met his gaze as she asked him.

“Antoine turned to dust and Lucien got away.”

She nodded, still staring at him. “How is it I was on the grass and not in the tunnel with Ryan?”

“I caught you when you fainted and set you down on the lawn.”

He thought she looked poised but ready to bolt at the slightest provocation, so he purposely sat down on the loveseat nearest the fireplace. Christian told himself that if she ran he would not stop her. He thought she was doing a good job of holding herself together. It was not every day that one met a vampire.

“Why did you lie to me at the police station? You don’t understand, I thought I was going crazy. No one believed me about ….everything that happened that night.”

“Amanda, I apologize but I only did it to protect us both.” He flipped his hair behind him. It was so long that it brushed against the sofa seat. “It’s not often that mortals come here. In fact, you are only the third person who has been allowed in since 1901. Tony is instructed to act as our guard dog, so forgive his rude behavior. We guard our privacy with a vengeance.”

Christian paused, afraid of scaring her away. He weighed every word carefully.

“You were right about Ryan coming into contact with something unusual. He met up with … us. He needed money, and there were vampires more than willing to pay him for the one thing they needed: his blood.”

“My brother’s death was not a random act of violence, was it?” Her question hung in the air between them. Damn Michel for sending her here, and damn him for allowing Amanda into his world. He could not blame Michel; he had tempted her, had led her right to him, and it felt good having her here, as if she belonged with him.

“No, it was not. You need to trust me, as hard as that might be for you. I can’t tell you much more about it without exposing you to more danger. Running into you last night was an accident,” he lied. “You need to go about your daily life and let me—”

When she touched him he was reminded of how lonely he was, how he missed physical contact and warmth. “Christian, maybe I am missing something here … I mean obviously the danger you are trying to protect me from is already here, isn’t it?”

Her perception rendered him speechless.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be flip. It’s just hard to wrap my mind around vampires walking among us, living in New York. I mean … all the way here in the cab all I could think about was Michel cutting his hand on a glass and it barely bled, then healed leaving no scar. It all happened in a matter of seconds. Why did this happen to you?”

He picked up a strand of hair and began to twirl it. He liked the way she phrased the age-old question. No one had ever asked him why it happened, yet that was the complicated part, the essence of her question. He liked that about Amanda. She tried to get to the core of a person or a situation. Not that she was judgmental; she just needed to understand him.

“We were two young men who were seduced by the charms of a beautiful woman until it was too late to turn back.” He remembered both his and Michel’s fascination with Gabrielle.
We were so naïve
, he thought and his mind drifted to one day in particular.

“Did that really happen?” Michel moaned, lying naked across his bed. The early morning sunlight played across his sculpted face and shoulders, making his light green eyes appear to glow.

“All of it and more,” Christian said with a smirk. He sat on the end of the bed and tugged at his leather boots. Their eyes locked, and both young men smiled.

“How long have you been awake?” Michel asked as he stumbled toward the tiny room that held the chamber pot.

“It was dark when I awoke,” Christian called to his best friend. Michel reemerged and rummaged through his bed linens.

Christian handed him his tattered trousers. “Your shirt is over there.” He pointed to the corner as he finished putting on his boots. Michel grabbed his shirt and then poured water from a white porcelain pitcher into a matching bowl; he slowly splashed the water onto his face.

“Now that feels good,” he sighed, drying his face on his cotton shirt before slipping it over his head. “Where do you suppose Gabrielle went?”

Michel combed his hair with wet fingers then stretched his neck from side to side.

“I don’t know. When I got up she was already gone. I can’t remember where she told us she was staying.” Christian went to the first-floor French doors and gazed past the courtyard toward the stone well and the stables.

“A very small price to pay for the most incredible night of your young life, don’t you think?” Michel chuckled, grabbing his crotch. “I thought it would fall off.”

“I’d better go before father realizes I never came home.”

“Don’t let him intimidate you. You’re a grown man, for Christ’s sake.” Michel tucked his shirt in and looked around for his boots.

“They’re under the bed,” Christian volunteered, grabbing his coat. “I’ll see you later.”

“Perhaps we will get lucky again tonight.” Michel winked and slapped Christian on the shoulder.

If I never see her again I will consider myself lucky
, Christian thought as he stepped out into the courtyard. Something about the bold, dark-haired beauty unnerved him but he could not put his finger on it. The morning air already felt humid and he took a deep breath. He stopped at the well to get water.
How am I supposed to do anything today when I am so exhausted?
He hurried across the courtyard toward the stables to saddle up Starlight, his black mare. As he galloped across the golden fields, he tried to clear his head.

He arrived home and paused in the cuisine, listening for signs of life in his father’s house. He had almost made it into the bedroom that he shared with his brother Guillaume when he heard his father’s footsteps on the slate floor.

“Are you just coming in, Christian?”

Philippe Du Mauré stood in the dining room with one of their many cats in his arms. He stroked it lovingly. Like his son, he was tall and thin.

“Michel and I went to the Gaspard’s last night. I had a bit too much to drink.” At best, Christian’s relationship with his father was cordial. He always thought he cared more for his cats than he did for his sons.

“I hope she was worth it,” he snapped, turning on his heels and walking away. Christian began to say something, but stopped himself. He was grateful that his father had spared him another lecture concerning his whoring with Michel. He dreaded working in the hot sun, feeling hung over with so little sleep, but he threw his coat down on his bed and went over to his washbasin to clean up nevertheless.
Yes, I hope she was worth it, too
, he thought, noticing the two small wounds on his neck in the faded mirror.
What has she done to me?

“Where you in love with her?” She stared up at him with eyes that took his breath away.

“As much as any of us could know about love at twenty years old.”

“Twenty! Who was she?”

“Her name was Gabrielle.”

“God, I’m almost thirty and I still haven’t figured love out yet.” She smiled up at him.

“Don’t tell me there’s no one special in your life?”

“There is … sort of …There’s this ongoing joke in our department about the mysterious books that show up just around the time my boss Cole dumps a major research project on me. Though the books are helpful, my French is horrible and I turn to either Cole or … this friend to help with the translations.”

“It sounds like Cole is quite the taskmaster.”

“He is … the man is brilliant, but very busy, so I turn to a friend for help. He’s a night guard at the museum, actually, but he’s also French, and he knows more about the French Revolution than any textbook I have ever read. He’s … incredible.”

Christian reached up and touched her face with his fingertips. Her skin was warm and she seemed so willing. Her scent was intoxicating. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, as if he were surrendering to a dark current, never to surface again.

“You want incredible?” He whispered, pulling her into his arms.

She froze as he gently kissed her warm lips. He lifted her chin towards him to breathe in her scent. He could not trust himself to let her go. It was wrong, he had to protect her.

“You’d better go now.” His breath caught in his throat as he pulled away from her.

“Why?” She asked holding onto him. He could read the lust and confusion in her face. He left the room before she could ask any more questions, and he stopped on the second floor when the front door slammed. It echoed through the silent house and his soul. He watched from the window as she walked to the corner of Fifth Avenue to hail a cab. It had taken all his will to make her leave, but there was something he had to find out before he was too late.

Chapter Seventeen

I
T WAS WELL
after midnight, early Wednesday morning when Christian entered the Metropolitan Museum of Art. His footsteps made no sound as he cut through the labyrinth of galleries in the Egyptian Wing then through the Temple of Dendur in the Sackler Wing. The vampire planned to start on the first floor and work his way upstairs to the American Wing.

If he’s here, I will find him.

He knew the guards had a set routine that rarely varied. They worked in pairs and made their rounds on the hour. As he walked, he began to second guess himself. Was that Gaétan who had left a message on Amanda’s answering machine? It had sounded like the ancient vampire, but it had been centuries since he heard him speak. He needed more proof and this was the place to find it.

The thought of him making love to Amanda was too much to bear. He felt rage build up inside of him as he cut back through the Arms and Armor galleries where he heard voices and laughter. As he entered the Equestrian Court, two guards sat on the dais under a knight on horseback, their sandwiches and coffee spread out between them. They were talking sports, and he moved past them undetected.

Christian scoured the entire museum and found nothing unusual. Guards in pairs made their rounds just as they always did, but there was no sign of anything or anyone out of the ordinary.

Maybe I am losing my mind after all
, he thought as he sat down on the bed in the Louis XVI bedroom in the French furniture galleries. It was time to think and formulate a plan and this room felt so much like home with its delicate chairs, Marie Antoinette desk and pale green walls.

He closed his eyes and put his face in his hands, trying to concentrate in the deathly quiet of the museum. He had never taken the older vampire seriously while stealing his mortal lover, Josette Delacore right out from under his nose. Michel had always tried to protect him, especially when it came to Gaétan. They never knew where he had come from, only that he was at least two hundred years old when he emerged on the social scene in Paris. Christian’s memory tumbled over a night hundreds of years ago when Michel had tried to warn him about the powerful vampire, but he was too arrogant, too full of hope.

He had crept into the parlor of the apartment they both shared with Gabrielle, silently closing the French doors behind him. As he turned he realized he was not alone. Michel sat on a divan in the far corner of the room, half hidden in the shadows cast by the torchieres. He seemed uncomfortable, stretched across a delicate couch, wearing nothing but satin britches.

“And where have you been all evening?” Christian could hear the anger underneath Michel’s words.

There was no use in lying. Michel had already smelled the mortal woman on him.

“Where’s Gabrielle?” Christian asked, though he could have guessed.

“Where we all were and you should have been tonight, at the salon of Madame Troustes.” He held Christian’s gaze.

“I had other business to attend to this evening.”

Michel was in front of him before he could take another breath. “She belongs to Gaétan. Do you have a death wish?”

Christian shrugged. “He will grow bored of her soon enough—”

Suddenly Michel was circling him. “So, use your head. Let him tire of her and discard her. Then there is no further animosity between you.”

He knew Michel was only trying to protect him, and he was right, but it was no use. He had become bewitched by Josette Delacore. Ever since the night they had met on the Pont Neuf he wanted her. Tonight they had walked alone near her apartment on the Seine.

“I cannot wait that long Michel. I can’t stay away from her. She is—”

“She is a child, Christian. She knows not what she plays with and I am only trying to save your life.”

Christian tried to move past him. “It’s too late for that Michel.”

“Listen to me.” Michel grabbed his friend by his frock coat. “He will not harm her, but come after you.” He poked Christian in the chest. “I like my eternal life, how about you?”

“She said she would leave him for me.”

Michel’s mouth fell open.

“That’s right and I refuse to wait for that cunning bastard to try to talk her out of it.”

Michel shook his head. “You play with fate, my friend.”

“If she walks away from him he will act as though it does not matter—”

“True, but it does and he will wait for the right moment to strike back at you.” Michel put an arm around his friend.

“I know you mean well.” Christian tried to smile as he thought about the lie he would have to concoct for Gabrielle.

“He will get his revenge Christian, you’ll see.”

The two sets of male voices brought him back to the present. They were coming towards him from a gallery down the hall. Christian quickly retreated back down a corridor and waited in the shadows as they approached. He quietly slid his machete out of the sheath and waited for them to come into view. He held his breath as two figures emerged from the shadows approaching him. Their voices booming in the silence as their footsteps echoed in the cavernous hallway.

In a moment he realized the guard on the left was Gaétan. He barely felt him, nor did he recognize the vampire. It was as if he no longer was immortal.

It must be the blood that shields him.

He seemed shorter than Christian remembered, but then he realized that people in this century were taller by comparison. His long hair was now shoulder-length and tied back in a ponytail. He wore the typical blue uniform of a museum guard, complete with an ID badge, a walkie talkie, a set of keys, and a flashlight. He laughed at something the other guard, a taller Hispanic man said, and Christian wondered if his enemy could sense his presence. For a second he wanted to rush him, thinking he could take his head if he acted fast enough, but then he stopped himself.

He glanced up at the cameras all around the galleries and realized that Gaétan was able to appear on camera without drawing suspicion. He seemed so ordinary, in fact, that Christian had a moment of doubt. He wondered if he had made a mistake and it was his imagination that was in overdrive. He watched them walk slowly down a corridor, still talking and then they made a sharp right.

Christian followed them until they reached a bank of elevators. Gaétan got on his walkie talkie and let someone know they were taking a break. The elevator doors opened and they both stepped inside, then Gaétan quickly stepped outside again, calling to the other guard to hold the elevator door.

Christian moved further into the shadows as Gaétan shone his flashlight into the recesses around the elevator. It was hard for Christian to believe it was really him but when he spoke, his voice removed any doubt.

Christian raised his machete in case the vampire came toward him and waited for what seemed like hours.

Once satisfied, the other vampire got back inside the elevator and the doors shut.

Christian fell to his knees, trying to stay calm. He could not believe his own eyes but it was true. His ancient enemy was here, working in the museum with Amanda. She was more of a threat to the Parisian vampires than he had ever imagined and there was no more time. He had to get moving and execute his plan.

Racing down the grand staircase and back through the medieval galleries he stopped at the French period rooms again. From there he slowly walked towards the case of beautiful terra cotta statutes from eighteenth century France. They were small, perhaps fifteen inches high. One would be easy to carry away.

Needing to suppress his strength he gently hit the glass case. It bowed inward then unable to take the pressure, it shattered in a web-like pattern. Shards of glass tore the leather sleeve of his duster. Quickly he grabbed a statue and tucked it into his coat while the alarm pierced the silence. Not sure how much time he had before the guards would converge in the gallery, he ran towards the Great Hall and the exit.

Christian found himself on the south shore of the reservoir. Black water glistened under the street lamps, casting his ominous reflection back to him. Passing the Central Park precinct, he thought about stopping in to see Ross, but he didn’t need to talk, he needed to squelch the rage inside him. He wound north around the reservoir until he was calm enough to think clearly again. His long strides made no sound as he headed toward the loch in the North Woods. He passed no one.

As he came through the Glen Span Arch, the stench of someone up ahead stopped him. He scanned the bare landscape but saw nothing. Then he noticed a young man sitting on a rock on the banks of the Loch, almost hidden by the boulders. The roar of the icy water made his approach undetectable as he came toward the boy. The boy sat cross-legged, his face half hidden by his hooded sweatshirt. His black jeans were torn and he smelled dirty, but his blood smelled sweet to the vampire.

Christian waited, poised in a copse of trees as the urchin tried to stand up. He wobbled and fell face first into the rushing water. He reminded Christian of a bear trying to catch a salmon. Christian watched as he tried again to get up and fell into the water. Slowly, he stood up, teetering a bit yet managing to stay upright. Christian watched, initially amused at the young mortal, then he felt his amusement turn to frustration and anger.

Why had he sent Amanda away? Why was he so afraid to be with a woman again? It had always been so easy for Michel to take lovers, and even in his youth, Christian had many women. The need for both blood and sex drove him to hunt them down and take their bodies and their blood. He had not loved them; he preyed on them. Josette had been the love of his life and he had left her to die, mortal and alone. Why?

Selfishly, Christian did not like vampires, especially the female of the species. He wanted a mortal woman by his side. It was crazy he knew, but there was something wrong, something that kept him alone and so lonely.

In a blind rage, the vampire grabbed the boy by the collar and yanked him off the ground. He slammed him back onto the rocks and heard something crack as the boy moaned and rolled into the water. Christian yanked his limp wet body up out of the water, his right arm dangling like a rag doll. He pulled the boy into his dark eyes and willed him to be still. Then he bit into the cold mortal’s neck; the warm blood gushed into his mouth and ran down his throat. The boy tried to fight him, but it was useless. His screams were muffled by the icy water roaring beside them.

Taking human life, especially in anger, seemed irrational and irresponsible to Christian, but tonight he did not care; he felt powerless. How could he not tell Amanda the truth about Gaétan? Maybe he had taken the wrong approach all along. Maybe she could help him find his enemy and together they could bring him down.

He sucked harder as the boy’s heart pounded, fighting for survival. Then it began to slow down. Christian stopped himself as the boy died in his arms and then let him go, dropping him like a leaf into the rushing water. Something about his lifeless eyes chilled even the vampire.

Christian opened the door of his townhouse. Her smell lingered, a reminder that she had really been there. He needed time to think. Everything was happening so fast.

He put the machete down beside him on the couch and leaned back. Sated with so much mortal blood, he felt comforted and safe. The fire warmed him and he closed his eyes; his thoughts turned from the women in his present to the woman from his past, Josette Delacore.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me, Gaétan?”

Gaétan feigned a smile, but Christian knew he was fuming inside. She extended her hand and he took it cautiously, kissing her gently. He could feel her shudder as their eyes locked.

“Josette Delacore, this is Christian Du Mauré, who is usually by the side of Gabrielle. By the way, where is she tonight?”

Michel rolled his eyes at his best friend.

“We are meeting up at Madame Troustes later to hear some opera music,” he confessed, unable to take his eyes off the young beauty before him. She was petite, with smooth white skin that glistened in the torch light that lined the bridge. Her silk dress shimmered and she smelled intoxicating. Christian thought her eyes were the darkest green he had ever seen. They were warm and seductive, intelligent and kind. Her smile was wide, and her high cheekbones were framed with dark curls.

At that moment all he wanted was to know her, to taste her and hear her cry out his name in pleasure. Nothing else mattered except possessing her. It was not vampiric seduction on his part, but instant love for the young vampire.

“My, a cultured vampire; how refreshing.” She smiled, but did not pull her hand away.

“Would you like to hear opera music tonight, my love?” Gaétan begged, taking her hand from Christian’s.

She looked from one vampire to another. “Why don’t we all go?”

Christian smiled to himself as he tossed another log on the fire. That had been a part of Josette’s charm. She was fearless, with no guile or shame. Had she betrayed him and taken Gaétan back as her lover, or had someone so close to him that he was like a brother fallen in love with her as well? He could not blame Michel if he had fallen in love with her, nor could he confront Josette. She had accepted them on their terms without sacrificing her own life. Like Amanda, who only wanted to understand them, Josette had never been afraid of the vampires she had taken as her lovers.