Night's Cold Kiss (14 page)

Antoinette burst out through the doors onto the wide stone stairs. The sun would be up within the hour, but for now the night’s cold kiss chased away some of the temper burning her cheeks. She felt a little calmer as she breathed deep, but was still very pissed.

The two Aeternus followed her, and then a cell phone started to ring. Christian pulled it from his pocket and flipped it open, cutting off the strains of Frank Sinatra’s “Strangers in the Night.”

Viktor looked at her, his mouth clamped shut, his eyes glittering. Christian didn’t notice as he put the phone to his ear, and then he straightened almost to attention.

“Yes, sir. I’ll be right there…” He flipped the cell closed, a scowl crinkling his forehead. “The boss wants to see me. Drive her back to my place and bring her up to date on Grigore. Take my car.”

He tossed the keys to Viktor, who snatched them out of the air. After Christian disappeared inside, Viktor turned to her.

“Sinatra,” he said, shaking his head. “I thought he grew out of that phase.”

The tension burst and she giggled, until she remembered her father and the laughter died in her throat.

“Come on, you’ll need a drink for this,” Viktor said, taking her arm.

He led her down to the underground parking garage and a new black Audi S5 coupe. He held open the door while she climbed in then came around to take the driver’s seat. The engine roared into life with a throaty purr and within minutes they were making their way through the city, Viktor expertly handling the car at breakneck speed.

The velocity pumped adrenaline through her bloodstream—just what she needed right now. She sighed and sank back into the leather seat.

“Feeling better?” Viktor asked, double clutching and shifting gears.

“Yes, actually.” She glanced over at his profile. Strange that this man, this Aeternus, knew exactly the right thing to say and do. “So tell me about my father.”

“Not yet.” He took the next left hard, cutting into the other lane and missing another car by mere inches.

Antoinette fought the urge to throw her hands in the air and whoop with excitement and nerves.

Viktor took a hard right roaring along a narrow side street then out into another road, the back end sliding before Viktor accelerated, gaining traction to bring the car straight again.

Weaving in and out of the slight traffic, they soon reached a brownstone. Viktor pulled into an underground garage and cut the engine. Antoinette regretted the ride was over.

He flowed out of the driver’s seat in one graceful motion and came around to open her door before she had a chance to gather herself.

“Come on, I’ll buy you that drink,” he said, holding out his hand.

She allowed him to lead her into the house and to a large drawing room. A butler appeared at the door shortly after they arrived, carrying a silver ice bucket.

“Welcome home, Mr. Dushic. The master called ahead
and told me of your guest.” He bowed to Antoinette before placing the bucket on the bar. “Please ring if you require anything else. The master said he will not be home until nightfall and asked me to make up a room for the young lady.”

“Excellent, Kavindish, I’ll ring when she’s ready to retire,” Viktor said, crossing to the bar.

While he busied himself with the drinks, Antoinette looked around. She guessed the “master” was Christian and the room, like his airplane, held the finest of furniture and books. Not that she knew one fine piece of furniture from the next, but it looked expensive and it was definitely a man’s room full of wood and leather.

Viktor strode across the room and handed her a balloon glass of brandy.

“Please, come and sit over here,” he said.

She sank down next to him on a leather two-seat sofa. “So did my father commit suicide?”

“No,” Viktor replied.

Relief washed over her. As a Venator she could think of nothing more cowardly, and as a daughter she could think of nothing more selfish.

“So it was an accident,” she said.

“No,” Viktor said again.

“You mean he was murdered.” She knew it, her father had been an expert driver.

Viktor took a sip of his drink. “No.”

Now Antoinette was confused. “What do you mean—no?”

“We set it all up—your father and I—he didn’t die in that car accident.”

Antoinette’s glass slipped from her fingers and hit the floor. Amber liquid spilled out onto the fine, expensive carpet but she didn’t care. A numbness crept up from her stomach, through her chest and into her face.

“Here,” Viktor put his own glass to her lips. “Take a big sip, you’ll feel much better.”

She covered his hands with hers and guided the brandy to
her mouth. The fiery liquor ran down her throat and stung her eyes. She fought back the urge to cough, instead taking another large, shaky sip. Viktor let go and picked up the fallen glass and placed it on the table. He reached over to pin an errant curl behind her ear. She frowned and batted his hand away.
How dare he?

“You remind me of Grigore when you’re angry. He’s been my closest friend for over a decade. You are so alike it’s scary—the same moods, the same look in your eye, and the same drive.”

All this time…her father had been alive all this time and she never knew. “Why did he leave us?”

“He couldn’t take you on the run with him, he was a wanted man. We could never prove Dante killed your mother, and the Guild weren’t so sure. We only had your identification and the word of a six-year-old didn’t hold much sway.”

Antoinette remembered going through thousands of mug shots only to point him out from a newspaper article on a Paris society event.

“Where is my father now?” she asked.

“I don’t know. About a month ago he called me and arranged a meeting between me, him, and a mysterious inside source from the Guild. This was just after the assassinations started. He contacted me saying he had news of a conspiracy involving the Guild and somehow it involved your family as well. I showed up, they didn’t, and I haven’t heard from him since. It was shortly after that I contacted Christian for his help.”

Antoinette stood, throwing the brandy balloon across the room. It shattered into a thousand pieces against the wall, brandy staining the paintwork. She had to get away from Viktor or she’d kill him. “So Christian’s in on this too. What is his part in this game you’re playing?”

“Christian’s job was to deliver you and your little brother safely to your aunt and uncle. He had no more idea Grigore was alive than you did, until recently.”

“And, Sergei, did he know?”

“About your father being alive, yes—about his disappearance, no. Grigore contacted Sergei two years after his supposed death. He needed to know how his children were being looked after.”

All the years she grieved for her parents—and all along her father had been living half a tiny world away. She felt so betrayed.

After trying to sleep the day away, Antoinette felt on edge as she stood with her uncle outside Christian’s house. He took her hand in his, but she pulled away. It still hurt too much.

“Lishka…”
he pleaded.

“I’m not a child anymore,” she snapped and turned away from his hurt expression. “You’ve lied to me my entire life.”

“It was for your own protection as much as his. If you’d known your father was alive, you would’ve tried to find him. We didn’t know who was watching and it was too dangerous. Please come home with me.”

In a matter of hours, Antoinette’s whole world had been turned upside down. And even though she knew Sergei had done it to protect her, she still found it hard to forgive him. Viktor she could understand—he didn’t know her—but she’d trusted her uncle. She turned to look at him and her heart broke at his pain-etched expression.

“I can’t go home, Uncle.” She reached out and cupped his cheek. “Not yet anyway.”

“So, you’re staying,” Christian said, melting out of the shadows.

Antoinette swore. She’d wanted this moment alone with her uncle.

“Yes,” she said.

“She can stay with Viktor and me here,” Christian said to Sergei. “You won’t need to worry.”

Damn him.
She swallowed and held up her chin. “I can look after myself, thank you.”

“Why do you want to stay so much?” Sergei asked.

“To find Dante and kill him.” If she hadn’t imagined the whole thing like everyone seemed to think.

“Lishka,
Dante is already dead,” her uncle said in the tone he used on his students.

“I have to find out for sure, Uncle. His eyes were so cold, and the way he said “You taste just as sweet as your mother’.” She shivered at the memory of his slimy tongue against her flesh.
“It was him.”

Christian looked at her more closely, but said nothing.

“Then I would sleep better if I knew you were here.” Sergei turned to Christian.

She did need somewhere to stay—so why not? It was a big house and she did want to hear more about her father from Viktor. She sighed. “Okay, Uncle, I’ll stay.”

Sergei beamed and nodded to Christian. “Thank you, Christian. She is such a hothead and her brother isn’t here to keep her out of trouble.”

At the mention of Nici she realized she hadn’t thought of him once during this whole mess. A pang of guilt squeezed her heart.

“So you didn’t find out anything more from your sources in the Guild?” Christian asked.

Sergei shook his head. “Now I remember why I distanced myself from them. There are fractures appearing that worry me, and Sir Roger’s murder has caused great upheaval. People are accusing each other of involvement in his death. Factions are jockeying their candidates as his replacement, and I fear it may get worse than it did during The Troubles. Our best hope would be if Lucian accepts the position. But who knows with his injury.”

Guilt slid cold tendrils into her heart. She’d been so worried over her predicament; she’d forgotten how much worse off Lucian was. “Any change in his condition?”

Christian slid his hands into his pockets. “He’s in stable condition and under guard at the hospital for the moment.”

“Well, I’d better go or I’ll miss my flight,” Sergei said.

“Don’t worry.” Christian stepped forward and shook her uncle’s hand. “We’ll make sure she stays safe.”

Antoinette hugged her uncle close. She may be pissed with him, but he was still the man who’d been the closest thing to a father she had. As the limo pulled away from the curb, she continued to wave until the car turned the corner and disappeared.

Christian turned and walked toward the house. Viktor met her at the door and leaned close. “You don’t have to be brave all the time, you know.”

Christian scowled in their direction before he disappeared into the drawing room.

“Come on, let’s go for a walk and get a cup of coffee,” Viktor said and wrapped her arm through his and then looked at her, his face breaking into a grin. “Or maybe something a little stronger? And I know the perfect place. Come on.”

Antoinette thought a cowboy bar was a strange choice, but Viktor seemed to fit right in with blue jeans, black western style shirt, cowboy hat, and snakeskin boots. He even had his hair pulled into a ponytail, giving him more country-boy appeal. A honky-tonk band played in the far corner and a few people were either line dancing or doing the two-step on the open floor. It could have been worse; he’d originally threatened to take her to a karaoke bar.

“Come on, little lady, I’ll buy ya a drink,” he said in a rather sexy southern drawl, as he took her hand and dragged her to a nearby table.

Despite herself, she smiled and almost giggled, especially at the hot young thang in a miniskirt and cowboy boots shaking ass past their table. Viktor pushed up his hat, leaned back in his chair, and winked at the universal come-on smile she gave him, then watched her wiggle all the way to the bar.

The waitress stopped by, chewing gum and pulling a pen from her hair. “What can I git ya, hon.”

Antoinette didn’t even think. “Lemonade,” she ordered.

“Scrap that,” Viktor said, still in full southern mode. “We’re celebratin’. Can ya bring her one of them fancy drinks with a little umbrella in it? We just decided to get ourselves hitched. Ain’t that right, darlin’?”

Antoinette nearly fell off her chair and looked at him. He gave her a cheeky wink and mouthed,
Play along.

Okay.
“Y’ll know it is, sugar pie.” She reached over and squeezed his mouth into a pucker. Antoinette didn’t know if her accent was any good, but Viktor seemed pleased enough.

“I brung her up here to New York special and everything,” Viktor said. “Popped the question right in top o’ that big ol’ buildin’.”

“Well, ain’t that sweet.” The waitress’s acting wasn’t nearly as good as Viktor’s. “I’ll get the bartender to mix up something real special, like. And for you, hon?”

Viktor tossed the waitress another award-winning grin. “I think I’ll have me a Kentucky bourbon straight up, sugar. Hell—make it a double.”

“Sure thang, hon, comin’ right up.”

“Okay, what the hell are you doing?” Antoinette hissed at the grinning Aeternus.

He pushed back the brim of the hat with a finger and almost split his face in half with his self-satisfied grin. “Sometimes it’s just fun to pretend to be someone else for a while and this is the perfect place for it.”

Was he insane?

“Don’t look at me like that. The guy who owns this place is a canian friend of mine from Alabama, and it’s just for the tourists and city folk—no self-respecting southern boy would come to a place this tacky. Look around, it’s cliché heaven.” He grabbed her head in both hands and gave her a big smacking kiss right on the lips. “So enjoy yourself—you just became aff-fee-onsed to the handsomest devil alive.”

It was true. A souvenir stand sold hats, boots, and all things cowboy; a mechanical bull whirled and twirled, sending some poor Japanese girl flying, much to the mouth-
covering amusement of her friends; and a woman gave line dancing tips to a group of middle-aged people at the edge of the dance floor. People came here to be something else.

Why not?
It might be fun. Antoinette sat back and relaxed. She didn’t feel so strange in the cotton summer dress she borrowed from the maid.