“Of course.” The amulets Kala had given me glinted in the soft light when I lifted my chin.
“Logan will take you there to rest. Your friends may remain here and acquaint themselves with the court.”
Another test.
“Thank you.” I ignored Magda’s scowl; she’d been scowling since Kala first mentioned this visit. Finn bowed once and didn’t say anything else, so I assumed he didn’t have any serious objections. I wasn’t yet used to the cavalier attitude to unchaperoned girls. True, I hadn’t had a chaperone in Paris, but I’d been living in the alleyways pretending not to be a St. Croix. Anyway, we’d assumed they’d separate us; we’d have done the same if a group of royals or ancients had been invited to the caves. They might yet, if the treaties and negotiations went well. That gave me pause.
“I’ll take you to the house.” Logan smiled pleasantly at me. He didn’t seem fazed by my extra set of fangs or the scars on my bare arms and the one on the left side of my throat. The few non-Hounds I’d met couldn’t help but stare.
I hated being stared at.
I couldn’t help but think Logan’s eyes were knowing, as if he knew what I was thinking, when he motioned for me to precede him down the narrow cavern passageway curtained off with a tapestry of a moonlit forest. The embroidery was familiar. We’d hung similar tapestries in the château to keep out the drafts. Charlemagne padded softly by my side, alert but calm. I dug my fingers in his fur for strength when Logan wasn’t looking.
“I take it from your accent that you’re French?”
“Oui.” I didn’t say anything else.
“Turn here. It’s fastest,” he explained, leading us down several more passageways and out into a clearing. He didn’t pry but I could see the speculation in his quick glance. He’d ask more questions soon enough, he and his entire family. I tried to remind myself that I was Kala’s emissary and strong enough to deal with the Drakes, royalty or not, ridiculously handsome or not. The moonlight glinted on the silver buttons of his frock coat. He really did look as if he belonged in a Victor Hugo novel, sipping claret wine by the fireside. “And this way we won’t have to climb down the mountain.”
The stars were thick overhead, visible only when the wind pushed at the cathedral ceiling of leaves and branches. The mountain was a black shadow hulking behind us. A wolf howled somewhere in the distance. Charlemagne threw back his head and opened his jaws to howl back. I snapped my fingers. “Non.” I was nowhere near comfortable enough to have him give our location away. I had no way of knowing who else walked the woods with us. I found it hard to believe they would send the queen’s young son out with a savage princess without some kind of guard.
“The house is through the woods. We can take the tunnels if you’d prefer or . . .”
“Or what?”
“Can you keep up?” His grin was charming.
“Mais oui.” I was immediately on my guard. “I mean, of course.”
“Great.” He winked and then was gone. The leaves fluttered. Charlemagne whined once, excited. I felt the same way. I gave him the hand motion to release him and then we were both running through the woods, passing between huge oaks and maples, ducking under pine boughs, leaping over giant ferns. I’d never seen trees like these. I was used to the stately gardens and ancient vineyards of my childhood or, more recently, the Hounds’ caves; not towering trees so tall I couldn’t see their tops. Mists snaked at our ankles, drifted up to blow a cool breath around my waist. In the clear pockets, warm summer air pressed against me. My hair came loose of its pins and streamed behind me like a war banner. I would have laughed out loud if I hadn’t been sure Logan would hear me and smirk. Somehow he’d known this would center me and calm me down again. I’d only been in the royal court for just under half an hour, scrutinized by barely a quarter of their numbers, and I was already itching for the seclusion of the caves and the uncomplicated company of Kala’s wolfhounds. This was almost as good. I did laugh when Charlemagne charged through a river, splashing me unrepentantly.
Logan was still ahead. He was a blur and I was determined to catch up, if not pass him altogether. I knew his scent already, like the incense they used in church when I was a girl, underlaid with wine. Even under the thickness of the forest smells, of damp mud and decomposing vegetations and mushrooms, I could recognize it.
My boots barely touched the ground. A rabbit dove for safety into the bushes. His voice drifted back to me. “Come on, Mademoiselle St. Croix, nearly there.”
I broke through a copse of thick evergreen and then I could see him, barely a yard ahead of me. I ran faster, feeling the burn in my legs, remembering how my heart might have pounded if I’d been able to move this fast as a human. We leaped out of the forest and into a field, landing at the same time in a puddle of mud hidden under a carpet of pine needles and wilted oak leaves. Only Charlemagne was smart enough to sail right over it.
Logan sighed. “These pants cost a fortune to dry clean.” They were black, shiny like plastic or worn leather. These vampires worried about the strangest things.
The mud sucked at my boots when I stepped out onto the long grass. Barking erupted out of the farmhouse and I touched Charlemagne’s head, whispering a command. His leg muscles quivered with the need to keep running, to meet the challenge, but he stayed by me. Logan shook his head.
“They weren’t kidding when they said you had a way with dogs.”
I shrugged. “We understand each other.”
“He doesn’t even have a collar.”
“There’s no need. He is not my servant, only my companion, and that is always his choice.”
“Well, maybe he can teach our dogs some manners. Especially Mrs. Brown.”
“Mrs. Brown?”
“Is a terror. And only about fifteen pounds of pug.”
“Pug?” I echoed, interested despite myself. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one.”
“Cross a small dog with a pig and you have a pug.”
“Why would one do that?” I wondered.
“Lucy claims they’re cute.”
“Lucy is your . . . girlfriend?” Now why had I asked him that? I was suddenly too embarrassed to be proud that I’d remembered the modern English word for “girlfriend.”
He slanted me a sidelong glance. “Lucy’s my sister’s best friend and pretty much like a second sister to me. She’s the mouthy one, hard to miss.”
“Oh.”
“And you? Are you being married off to some Hound prince?”
“We don’t have princes.”
“But you have princesses?”
“Not really, but it is the nearest word to describe my position among my people.”
“So will you marry for politics?”
I shook my head. “We rarely marry and never for politics. The bones lead us to our mates.”
“The bones?”
“A ritual passed down through the centuries.”
“And have the bones led you to anyone yet?”
“Non.” I had absolutely no intention of telling him the bones had told Kala I would find my mate in the royal courts. Or that she was rarely wrong in these matters. After all, her magic was so strong she had dreamwalked to find my tomb, projecting her spirit across the ocean to locate me with nothing more than an omen and a wisp of a dream. She could have ignored them to work her spells for some other, more personal purpose. Magic took as much as it gave, and one didn’t just send one’s spirit on such a far and dangerous journey without some cost.
So when Kala said my mate would be from the royal courts, she meant it.
And no Hound in the world would disbelieve her. It didn’t bear thinking on. No other shamanka or shamanka’s handmaiden had ever been joined with someone outside the tribe.
I’d rather be alone.
Besides, omens or not, I was here for another purpose.
“Hey, are you okay?” Logan reached out to touch my elbow, above a jagged scar from the mouth of one of the dogs that had pulled me out
of my grave. I jerked back. He lifted an eyebrow.
“I am fine.” I deliberately turned toward the farmhouse. The porch was wide with several chairs and a swing. Roses grew wild under the windows. The barking grew louder, punctuated with snarls. Logan looked concerned for the first time since he’d stopped a sword from cleaving my rib cage.
“The dogs have never met a Hound before,” he said awkwardly. Even with my limited knowledge of him, I knew for a fact that he wasn’t often awkward. It was endearing, more so than his charming smiles.
I climbed the stairs confidently. Dogs didn’t hide their moods, didn’t play games of manners or intrigue. Logan’s hand was on the doorknob. “There’s no need to worry,” I assured him.
I felt better with three huge shaggy Bouviers charging at me. If Benoit were still alive, he’d have clicked his tongue at that. I didn’t speak to the dogs, barely flicked them a glance. I just stood my ground and let them sniff me once before I snapped my fingers and pointed to the ground. Three furry backsides hit the marble floor.
Logan gaped at me. “Dude.”
I gathered by his tone that he was impressed. When I was sure the Bouviers had accepted I was higher in the pack hierarchy, I let Charlemagne past me so they could meet.
The foyer was spacious, cluttered with boots and jackets and bags. The lamps and the overhead chandelier were lit. I tried not to stare. I was still half-awed by electricity. I might have woken up in the twenty-first century, but I still lived in a cave with amenities closer to the Middle Ages. I had recently allowed Magda to foist a cell phone on me but I still wasn’t entirely sure how to work it properly. The first time it rang, I’d tried to stake it.
“Whoa.” A girl interrupted my inspection. I assumed she was Lucy, as she was the only one with a heartbeat. I vaguely remembered her from the night Solange turned, staying close to her and trying to kick anyone who came too close. She’d hadn’t been entirely successful, but she never gave up. “Did you give the dogs Hypnos or something?” she asked. She had brown hair cut to her chin and brown eyes behind dark glasses. She wore an excessive amount of silver and turquoise jewelry. There was a purse slung from her left shoulder to her right hip. It wasn’t for a cell phone or lip gloss; rather it was stuffed full of stakes.
Two vampires followed her out of the living room; Solange, whom I’d last seen lying pale and dead in Montmartre’s arms, and another one of her many brothers. They both stopped, watching me warily. It took Lucy a little longer. She glanced at them, then at me.
“What? What am I missing?” She sounded disgruntled. She tilted her head. “Hey, we know you. Isabel, right?”
“Isabeau,” I corrected stiffly. I hated how polite and stilted I sounded. It was how I was raised but I knew enough to know it wasn’t the way of modern people my age, vampire or not.
“Nice,” she approved. “You don’t look like an Isabel anyway. I’m Lucy, and that one’s Nicholas. There’s so many of them sometimes it’s hard to keep track.” She darted forward, arms out. I stumbled back, watching for a stake, knees bending into a fighting crouch. “Oh, sorry,” she said. “I was just going to hug you for saving my best friend’s life. I guess you’re not the hugging type.”
Logan sounded like he was choking back a laugh. Solange and Nicholas still hadn’t said a word. Lucy turned to stare at them. “What iswrongwith you two? She saved Solange’s life.” The irony that the human was more comfortable around me than the other vampires was not lost on me.
“I’m a Hound,” I murmured.
Lucy shrugged. “You could sing boy band songs all day long and I wouldn’t care.” She shuddered. “You don’t, do you?” That seemed to distress her more than the fact that the Hounds were rumored to be mad killers.
Logan rolled his eyes. “I don’t think she’s had a lot of exposure to boy bands, Lucy.”
“But you do wear bone beads,” she said, ignoring him and nodding at the beads hanging from the braids twisted at the nape of my hair. “Cool.” She tilted her head. “You don’t look crazy.”
“You’re like a runaway train,” Logan groaned at her. “Can’t you shut her up?” he asked his brother pleadingly.
“How?” Nicholas said somewhat helplessly.
“Kiss her, you idiot.”
I happened to appreciate honesty, so it was impossible not to like her. She reminded me a little of Magda. “I guess you don’t look crazy either,” I told her.
Nicholas snorted. She jabbed him in the stomach with her elbow. “Be nice.”
“You first.” He rubbed his sternum. “Ouch.”
Solange stepped forward. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “You took me by surprise.” She licked her lips. She still looked frail, for a vampire anyway. I wondered how she could resist the temptation of Lucy’s heartbeat filling the house. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m in your debt.”
“We all are,” Nicholas agreed.
“It’s nothing.” I looked away, embarrassed. “We have no love for Montmartre.”
“Jerk,” Lucy muttered. She stepped forward, breaking the uncomfortable silence by linking her arm through Solange’s and then through mine, gingerly. Surprisingly, I let her. “Come on,” she said cheerfully. “You guys can watch me eat chocolate.”
The front door opened behind us.
“Solange, are you—”
He didn’t finish his greeting.
Vampire hunter.
Chapter 3
Isabeau
I didn’t think, I just reacted.
A Helios-Ra agent should not be able to breach the security of the Drake house now that they were the ruling family, especially when he had a broken arm. I might not consider themmyruling family particularly, but I wasn’t about to let Solange get staked by a hunter after all the trouble we’d gone to to save her.
Shockingly, I was the only one who felt that way.
If I’d had a moment to let the group’s reaction, or lack thereof, register, I might have wondered at it. They merely glanced at the intruder and were now positively aghast that I was flying through the air, double fangs bared.
I didn’t like hunters.
This one was fast, I’d give him that. He slipped on the nose plugs that hung around his neck. It took him far less time to realize I was attacking than it had taken the others. The look of surprise on his face might have been comical if he hadn’t been reaching for the release button on the Hypnos powder I knew was hidden in his sleeve. Once the secret was out about their new drug, it had spread like wildfire through the underground informants.
“No!” Solange yelled, but I wasn’t sure whom she was shouting at.
I landed in front of the hunter before the Hypnos powder billowed in front of him, but only barely. I dropped into a crouch and rolled out of the way. I’d never actually experienced Hypnos, but I’d heard enough about it to want to avoid it. It had been created by the Helios-Ra as one more weapon in their arsenal in their fight against our kind.
Vampire pheromones could befuddle humans, could make them forget what they had seen or done, and could even make them succumb to us without the faintest threat of violence, if the vampire was strong enough. The Helios-Ra had grown tired of battles ending with their hunters wandering around perplexed and weaponless, or killed outright while they waited meekly for fang or knife. Certainly not all vampires were as civilized as the Drakes purported to be.
And now Hypnos was beginning to travel among the vampire tribes, making us vulnerable to one another in a way we had never been before. Pheromones didn’t work on other vampires, but Hypnos, by all accounts, did.
I didn’t have time to cover my nose and mouth. The powder was so fine, like delicate confectioners’ sugar on a poisoned pastry. I reached for a stake, fingers fumbling.
“Don’t,” the hunter snapped. “Don’t move. Quiet.”
I only took orders from Kala. I tried to leap to my feet but couldn’t. The drug really was as nefarious as I’d heard. He had ordered me to stay where I was, and that was
all I could do; I couldn’t even move my mouth to speak. Even though every part of me screamed for release, every muscle ached with the pressure of it and my mind gibbered like a cornered badger, all teeth and claws and the need for violence.
But all I could do was lie there.
Charlemagne stood over me, growling, hackles raised. The Drake dogs growled in response but clearly hadn’t yet decided who the enemy was.
Logan tried to approach me, moving slowly and warily. “Isabeau, don’t panic.”
Don’t panic?Don’t panic? I was virtually trapped inside my own body, unable to make it do what I wanted it to. I was at the mercy of royal vampires and a hunter.
I was an idiot.
I hadn’t learned anything from Kala to protect myself in this situation mere hours after leaving the Hounds’ caves. I probably deserved to die here in a puff of dust. But that would leave Greyhaven free, my first and second death utterly unavenged. Unacceptable. I actually growled, like the dogs, with my frantic need to be free.
“Isabeau, listen to me.” Logan crouched to look at me since Charlemagne wouldn’t let him any closer. His eyes were very green, very intense. His jaw was tight. Behind him, Solange touched the hunter’s arm, as if she worried for him. He took her hand in response.
This family made no sense.
“The effects will fade soon,” Logan promised me soothingly, giving me his full attention. The light from the lamps made his cravat look like frozen snow. “You’re not in any danger. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I glared at him, then over his shoulder pointedly. He flicked his sister and her hunter a brief glance. “Kieran’s a friend,” he explained. “He won’t hurt you either, I promise.”
I wanted to tell him that I could look after myself.
But I couldn’t.
I might never forgive any of them for seeing me this way.
“I’m sorry,” Solange said to Kieran, then to me. “Really. He’s not like the other Helios-Ra.”