Scholar of Decay (5 page)

Ignoring the oil dribbling down his chin, Yves slowly faced his cousin. “And if Louise is hunting …” He worked that information through to its logical conclusion. “… we can hunt. But suppose Jacqueline wants him?”

“She doesn’t. She doesn’t want either of them. I heard her.”

Yves’s eyes glittered in the lamplight. “Find the others.”

Across the ballroom, Louise watched a new pattern swirl past and murmured, “I think I would like to dance.”

Aurek inclined his head. “As you wish.”

“With you.” She swung her hips in toward him. Although he made no apparent effort to avoid her touch, the contact she’d intended never occurred.

“I am very sorry, mamselle, but I do not dance.”

Suddenly standing by himself, though there’d been a knot of townspeople around him a moment before, Dmitri scowled suspiciously at Yves as he and his five companions approached. “What do you want?”

“To apologize.” Yves swept his arm downward in an elaborate bow, the ragged streamers of multicolored cloth that made up his sleeve dusting the floor. “My behavior at the dock was boorish in the extreme, and I hope you’ll allow me to make it up to you.” At his gesture, Chantel came forward with a pair of immense silver
goblets, tarnish dark in the hollows of their heavy embossing. He took them from her and offered one to Dmitri. “Drink with us, and let’s all be friends.”

“Friends?”

“Why not?”

Why not indeed. Dmitri hadn’t lacked for dancing partners nor, for that matter, invitations to a more intimate dance. That he’d declined all of the latter, having no interest in frenzied fumbling with total strangers, only seemed to put him in greater demand. Although he never would have admitted it, while he enjoyed being the center of attention, he was lonely. He missed having a group of people his own age he could spend time with.

But friends? With this lot? The toothy one offering the drink had insulted his brother.

Almost as though he’d read Dmitri’s mind, Yves murmured, “Your … brother, is it? Your brother won’t mind.”

Dmitri followed the direction of Yves’s gaze and saw Aurek by the tall windows that led out to the terrace; Louise Renier was standing so close they were probably breathing the same air. No, Aurek wouldn’t care what he did.

Why not be friends with this lot? His fist closed around the bulky stem of the goblet. They looked as if they knew how to have a good time. Besides, he reasoned, taking a long swallow of the sweet wine, no one else seems to be offering.

Aurek had had a single objective for attending the party: acquiring permission to search the ruins. Had he been willing to leave Dmitri alone in such company, he’d have left immediately upon obtaining it. As he was obliged to stay, he found Louise’s attempts to attract him diverting. Well aware that any other man would have
begged her to accompany him to a more secluded area after the first few moments of such a lascivious assault, he wondered how long she intended to throw herself at him. It was an interesting problem: how long would the apparently irresistible force continue to waste her time on the immovable object.

As a coquettish movement lifted a silken cluster of curls, he also wondered who’d bitten the chunk out of her ear.

The wine was stronger than what Dmitri had been drinking, thicker, sweeter, and the moment he drained the goblet, one of the identical twins filled it again. “Aubert?”

Lips twitched back off long yellow teeth. “No. I’m Henri, the good-looking one. That ugly thing there is Aubert.”

Dmitri blinked at them, trying to clear the fog from his head. “But you look exactly alike.”

When they all laughed, he laughed with them.

As Dmitri swayed where he stood, Yves leaned forward and dropped his tone to a conspiratorial whisper. “Are you finding it warm in here?”

“Yes, a little.”

“Come on.” Yves linked his arm through Dmitri’s, easily holding him upright in spite of their difference in size. Indicating that the other five should follow, he steered him around the edge of the dance floor toward the windows. “Let’s go outside and get some air.”

There was something familiar about Aurek Nuikin. Distracted by desire, Louise couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was.

Eyes locked on his face, searching for a response, Louise realized
that nothing seemed to be working. She fought the urge to snarl and, instead, wet already moist lips. “You’re the first Borcan noble I’ve ever met.”

“I’m afraid we’re merely a minor house.” And were considered nobility only because Ivana Boritsi, who owned everything in the domain, had created a class suitable for her to socialize with.

“Have you left a wife back in this minor house?” Determined to have him, Louise moved closer, laid her hand lightly on his arm, and was amazed to feel the rigidity of the flesh beneath the cloth.

“My wife is dead.”

“I’m so sorry. How long ago did it happen?”

“Not long enough.” He plucked her hand off his sleeve. “Your pardon, mamselle.”

Louise watched him walk away, too stunned by what had just happened to prevent him. He actually plucked her hand off his sleeve. Did he think he could offer her such an insult and survive it? He was either incredibly stupid or the most arrogant man she’d ever met. She took a step after him and forced herself to stop, nails digging bloody half-moons into her palms as she struggled to control her rage.

No, she told herself. Not here. It’s too public.

It was too likely she’d be interrupted before he really started to pay.

According to the little tête-a-tête he’d had with Jacqueline, Aurek Nuikin intended to spend his time searching the ruins of the city. A great many unpleasant things could happen to a man in an abandoned building, Louise mused darkly, eyes glittering in the lamplight. Especially an abandoned building in Pont-a-Museau.

Outside on the terrace, the night was darker than Dmitri remembered its being. The wine made the shadows whisper and move in ways shadows were not supposed to. With his left arm tucked in the crook of Yves’s elbow, and with Chantel a warm presence at his other side, he staggered over the uneven paving stones toward the river. “Where are we going?”

“For a walk.”

“Where are the others?”

“Behind us.” Chantel pushed closer, and Dmitri could feel the heat even through his clothing and hers. Her hair gleamed in the lamplight, the flickering flames adding color to the pale blonde curls.

He half-turned, saw a pile of cloth on the path, and thought he saw a humped shadow move toward the river. There could be no mistaking the silhouette. Rat. But far larger than any rat he’d ever seen—and during the short time he’d been in Pont-a-Museau he’d seen some big rats. Before he could say anything, he stumbled. Yves caught him and, laughing, set him back on his feet.

Dmitri searched the limited visibility thrown by a single lamp hanging high on a canted pole. “Where’s Chantel?” He peered around in confusion. One minute she’d been by his side; the next she was gone. “It’s not safe for her to wander off. I just saw the biggest rat.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

He turned, but except for Yves, the path was empty. Not only was there no rat, but his new friends had disappeared as well. “Where are the twins? And Annette? And Georges?”

“Annette and Georges are also twins. Henri and Aubert merely work harder at using it for protective camouflage.”

“But where are they?”

“Perhaps the rat got them.”

It had been a very large rat. Dmitri searched the shadows and finally turned back to Yves. “I think we should …” he began, but Yves was gone too. “Come on, guys, quit fooling around.” The wine had wrapped his head in sticky fog. “Aren’t we a little old for hide-and-seek?” When no one answered, he giggled. “Okay, I guess not. I’m it. Ollie, ollie, all in …”

Claws scraped against stone, and a large heavy shape brushed up against his legs. He whirled, was pushed from another direction. Whirled again, nearly fell, got shoved two steps closer to the river.