Lynn Viehl - [Darkyn 08 - Lords of the Darkyn 01] (14 page)

He got to his feet. “She slipped and fell at a rest stop and struck her head.” He bent over the bed to turn Simone’s face to the side and touched the swelling on her scalp. “Here. She walked back to the car, but then she fell unconscious. I have not been able to wake her.”

The doctor nodded, setting the case on the end of the bed and opening it. “Has she vomited? Have you seen any blood coming from her ears?”

As Korvel answered those and his next questions, the doctor examined Simone, listening to her heartbeat and then using a penlight to check her eyes, her ears, and her mouth. Once he had felt all along her scalp and neck, he performed a quick inspection of the rest of her body, and paused as he reached her right thigh, using his light to inspect a tiny mark there. He then turned and took a small bottle from his case, removing the stopper and holding the sharp-smelling contents under her nose.

Simone’s eyes fluttered, and she made a low sound as she turned her face away.

The doctor replaced the bottle’s stopper. “Your wife does not appear to have a concussion, monsieur. There are some indications she was attacked.” He pointed to her thigh. “She was also drugged.”

Korvel inspected the needle mark. “What was used?”

“Since she was at a rest area, I would think flunitrazepam, or perhaps ketamine. Such drugs are often employed in assaults to make women less resistant.” Pavel glanced at Simone, who was pressing her hand against her temple. “You must keep her here until the effects wear off. By this time tomorrow she should be herself again.”

“What effects?”

“Nothing dangerous.” The doctor looked a little embarrassed. “The drug removes certain inhibitions, especially among women. That is why you should keep her here, alone with you, and see to her needs.”

As soon as the doctor left, Korvel went to Simone and stopped her from trying to sit up. “Stay where you are.”

Her eyes shifted from one side to the other. “Where am I?”

“A hotel in Avignon. When I could not wake you, I brought you here. The doctor has just examined you.” He touched the back of his hand to her cheek. “How do you feel?”

She shifted her arms and legs. “Only my head hurts.”

“Someone struck you,” he told her. “You were also drugged.” When she didn’t respond, he asked, “Do you remember what happened when we stopped?”

“Yes. I was careless.” She closed her eyes. “It won’t happen again.”

Her scent said she was telling the truth. So did the note of self-disgust in her voice. But once again Korvel sensed that she held back more than she said, as if she were using the truth as a means of protection rather than revelation, and not merely to prevent him from knowing who had done this to her.

What did she fear? Surely not him.

“It is only an hour to Marseilles. We should continue on.” She rolled to her side and levered herself up with her hands, but Korvel kept her from trying to stand on her own by scooping her up and holding her against him.

“The doctor said you should rest.” He lowered her to her feet and steadied her with his hands. “Marseilles will wait, sister.”

She squinted up at him. “Why do you call me that? You’re not one of my brothers.”

“I am trying to be respectful.” He followed her away from the bed as she took a short, wavering turn around the room. “How many brothers do you have?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are they stepbrothers?”

“No.” She halted and reached out as if she saw something in the empty air in front of her, and then her hand trembled and dropped to her side. “I would not do it; I would never do it. He had me corrected and taken away and locked in my room. I could not leave until I recovered enough to train again. When I did, they were gone.”

She spoke clearly, but her words made no sense to him. Korvel wondered whether she was talking to him or some hallucination. “What is my name, Simone?”

“You call yourself Captain. Korvel sounds like a surname.” She gave him a curious look. “Do you have a Christian name?”

“I was never given one,” he admitted as he steered her around the desk.

“You should choose one. Oops.” She chuckled as she stumbled over an ottoman. “When I came to the sisters, I did. I picked Simone out of a wonderful book.”

“Your family never named you?”

She shook her head, taking in a sharp breath. “I have no family. I was just the girl. Or my number.” She held her head with her hands. “
Quatorze.
Fourteen. I was number fourteen.”

He bent down to check her eyes. “I think you should go back to bed, angel.”

“What for? I will recover. I always do. And you will need me. You need me now, don’t you?” She staggered away from him, groping for the chair. “You should have said. That is why I’m with you.”

Korvel didn’t realize she had taken a dagger from the harness until he heard the blade cutting through the fabric of her sleeve. “Sister, stop.”

He reached to take the dagger from her before she cut herself, and in the struggle that followed felt a slash of pain across his palm as the blade turned and cut his flesh. He finally gained control of it, and held it up to see his blood staining the dark metal.

He threw it away and seized her, turning her to face him. “Why are you carrying a copper blade?”

“It’s the only way. Therese told me.” She swayed, smiling blindly. “But I know the real reason she gave it to me. To put an end to it forever.” She leaned forward to tell him in a theatrical whisper, “As soon as the scroll is safe, I’m going to use it to kill Helada.”

“Simone.” He cradled her head between his hands. “You don’t have to kill anyone. Do you understand me? You don’t have to do anything.”

“I don’t want to kill,” she whispered, her eyes fever-bright. “I swore that I never would. But if I don’t, Helada will never die.”

He caught her as she collapsed and swung her up into his arms, swearing as he felt her body heat. She was suddenly, inexplicably burning up. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“Please, no.” She clutched at him. “There is no one else. My brothers are gone. I think he killed them.”

“You’re not making any sense, and this is not your responsibility,” he told her. “Helada is charged with guarding the scroll. Where is he?”

The question made her go rigid, and she pulled back from him, her tear-streaked face suddenly calm. “Everywhere. In the frost that withers, and the snow that buries. No one can escape the winter, or the shadow of the valley of death.”

Now she was misquoting Bible passages. “Simone, is he the one who did this to you? Was it Helada?”

A strange smile touched her lips before her body drooped against him. One last crystalline tear escaped her lashes before she went still and silent.

The weary village police chief only glanced at the counterfeit identification before handing it back to Gabriel Seran. “The fire inspector has not yet given permission for anyone to enter the château, Detective.”

“That’s all right, Chief.” Nicola leaned close, suffusing the smoky air with the sweet-sharp scent of juniper as she rested her hand on his shoulder. “You know we’ll be careful, so you’re going to give us clearance.”

“Careful.” Dazed, he nodded. “Clearance.”

She patted his shoulder. “Now, go ask the fire inspector to take a walk around the grounds with you to see whether anything else was torched. Be sure to walk around the outside of the walls first.”

As the remaining firefighters were busy packing up and securing their equipment, no one challenged Gabriel or his
sygkenis
as they slipped inside the burned-out château.

“Two killed outside.” Nicola turned on her flashlight and surveyed the entrance foyer. “Three more in here. They were thorough.”

Gabriel walked to each body, crouching down to examine the remains. “Mortals,” he said. “Shot with standard rounds in the head.”

“Looks like Antoine wasn’t lying when he bragged about the arson job to Oksana.” She sniffed the air as they made their way toward the stairs. “They splashed around a couple gallons of gasoline in here.” She eyed the burn patterns on the walls, and then bent and picked up a broken piece of clear glass before handing it to him. “Then they set it off with Molotov cocktails.”

Gabriel and Nicola had investigated dozens of suspicious arsons in France. When burning out a Darkyn stronghold, the Brethren had used very specific incendiary devices designed to leave little to no trace evidence behind. Most of the time the local authorities declared the fires accidental, or the result of vandalism. “Perhaps they did not have the chance to make their usual preparations.”

Nicola shook her head. “This doesn’t feel like Brethren. For one thing they’ve never chased down and shot the humans on-site; they sneak into their rooms, knock them out, and burn them in their beds.” She stopped and looked in at two charred bodies that had fallen with their arms still clutching each other. “No, this feels much more personal. Like someone wanted to send a very nasty message. Someone who doesn’t care about getting caught. Which is seriously crazy.”

Gabriel put an arm around her waist. “What are you thinking? That this was a deed born in madness?”

She shrugged. “A changeling doesn’t have enough brains or self-control to hire a crew and pull off something this sophisticated. A rogue operates alone, and he certainly wouldn’t have to shoot the servants to stop them from escaping. Not when he could easily control them with
l’attrait.
”

Gabriel tested the stairs, which, while scorched black, were made of stone and remained intact. “Is there anything upstairs?”

Nicola lifted her face, her eyes glittering as she reached out with her ability. No matter how well they were concealed, she could detect the presence of other Kyn as well as objects they had handled. “Something small…and not old.” She mounted the stairs slowly, moving from one side to the other, until she reached the landing and turned toward the east wing’s upper level. “Over there.”

Gabriel followed her as she picked her way across the burned floorboards, skirting open gaps where the flames had burned through. She stopped in front of an open doorframe, switching off her flashlight before she stepped inside.

Gabriel smelled it as soon as he crossed the threshold behind her. “Blood.”

The word echoed faintly around them as he became aware of the size and emptiness of the space.

“I don’t see any bodies.” Using her flashlight, she moved around, eyeing the smoke-streaked mirrored walls before she stared at the irregular areas of dark brown stains marring the center portion of the gray stone floor. “It’s all over the place.” She stopped at one stain, dropping down to press her hands against the granite. “Here, mostly. Old blood. Human, not Kyn.”

“Most of the servants were elderly.” Gabriel reached out with his ability to communicate with insects, but whatever had formerly inhabited the château had either fled the fire or perished in it. “Perhaps some were killed here and their bodies moved.”

“No, I meant old as in it’s been here awhile.” She stood and absently rubbed her hand against her trousers. “Maybe years.”

He didn’t like the strange room any more than she did. “There is nothing here. The object must be in an adjoining chamber.”

“Trust me, baby; it’s right here. The feel of it is just about crawling all over my skin.” She walked over to one of the mirrored walls and placed her hand against it. “Behind this.”

He measured the wall and the single sheet of silver-backed glass covering it. “I do not see how we are to get behind it.”

“That’s because you’re not the thief; I am.” Using her flashlight like a small club, Nicola struck the mirror squarely in the center. Glass splintered, and an enormous web of cracks rayed out from the spot she had punched, but the wall remained intact.

Gabriel pulled her away from it. “It will fall on you.”

“I doubt it. The glass is coated with a polymer, like safety glass.” She studied the panel again. “I doubt an immortal guardian was worried about seven years’ bad luck. So why go to all this trouble?”

“It must be where the scroll is hidden.”

“Maybe.” She put her hand to one side of the panel and felt along the seam. She found something and pressed it, and stepped back as the panel began to descend into the floor. “Hello.”

The weapons hidden behind the panel had been carefully hung on custom racks, and ranged from small knives to two-handed swords. All had been fashioned from copper.

“Interesting choice of materials, considering he’s Kyn.” Nicola bent down to a storage unit and opened the doors. “Some clothes down here.” She took out one folded black garment and shook it out. “Looks like pants, but they’re too small for an adult.” She took out a matching long-sleeved jacket and a long belt. “These remind me of kids’ karate uniforms.”

“They are sparring garments,” Gabriel told her. “Sized for children.”

“Helada has kids? How is that possible?”

“They likely belonged to his
tresora
’s children. They begin their training as soon as they can walk.” Gabriel went to the next panel, found the side latch, and opened it to reveal another, identical cache of weapons and stored garments. He continued around the room until he had opened all twelve.

Nicola stood up and wrapped her arms around her waist as she surveyed the open caches. “I know Europeans like big families, but would his
tresora
really have this many kids running around this place?”

He felt as puzzled as his
sygkenis
. “It would seem so.”

Nicola turned and eyed the first rack of weapons. “He didn’t touch any of these.” She took down one of the daggers, frowned, and peered into a hole where the blade had been hanging. She tugged on the rack, which swung out on a hinge, revealing video equipment and a television screen. “Here we go. He handled this.”

Gabriel studied the equipment. “He was secretly filming something.”

“This looks like the first VCR ever made.” She touched the front panel of the boxy recorder, jumping back as the television screen illuminated. “Didn’t they cut the power to this place?”

“There is the power source.” He pointed to the rows of batteries and wires sitting on the lowest rack.