****
The hooded messenger trudged into Philippe’s apartments. With a small flick of his finger, the servant closed and locked the heavy doors, leaving them alone. The mole never came herself, she always sent sacrificial messengers. Philippe took a deep drink from a large goblet before standing up and approaching the messenger. He pulled the hood back and hissed, his lip curling in disgust at the female vampire. She gave him an equally disrespectful glare. Philippe stepped back from her and reseated himself.
“What crime did you commit, girl, to receive so great a punishment as to be sent to me?”
“Theft,” she answered curtly.
“You must have stolen a great treasure. Tell me what it was.”
“Some of the queen’s jewelry.”
Philippe barked out a laugh. “Stupid girl.”
He narrowed his black eyes at her. Her skin was the color of warm cream, and Philippe thought she looked soft. Her platinum hair was wrapped and braided intricately around her head, her large amber eyes filled with insolence, and her pouty crimson lips twisted in a sneer. She was dressed plainly, but Philippe wasn’t fooled. He recognized the evidence of breeding. Maybe he’d keep her for a while after he retrieved the information she had for him. He hoped he wouldn’t have to torture her to get it. Not that he minded torturing, but vampires always seemed to fight longer than most.
“Are you prepared to deliver your message?” Philippe asked.
“I am.”
“What forms of torture would you prefer me to use to get the whole truth out of you?”
A small smile flashed through her sneer. “None, I’m sure.”
Philippe barked another laugh. “I know that’s the truth.”
The young woman lifted her arm, raising her hand towards him. The light glinted off the large gold ring set with a glowing orange stone. The ring was ornately carved and the stone gave off its own light, pulsing and flickering. Philippe gazed at it blankly. After a moment, she realized he didn’t know what she was showing him.
“It’s a collar,” she said emphatically as though he were a halfwit. “I have no choice but to tell you the truth and deliver the entire message.”
Philippe rose from his seat and grabbed her hand. His eyes danced with the flickering light of the stone and obvious greed.
“Give me the message.”
“The time is close at hand, but do not be hasty," Her voice was flat, the words coming from her mouth like an automated recording. "The alliance between the Elves and the Vampires could undo all you have worked for. Zeren has a sting in store for you of a personal nature. Integrate the shifters; they will bring your killing strike. The Ogre’s are creating new weapons. I am working to destabilize from within. Gagnee can be trusted, but Frost is a traitor. Do as you like with the messenger, and keep the collar with my compliments.”
Philippe paced in front of her as she talked, running his rough fingers through his beard. When he turned his lupine eyes on her, she held out her hand again, and the collar verified that she had finished her mission. The glowing stone turned as colorless as glass and slid easily from her finger. She sighed as Philippe took it from her, relieved to be free of the cursed object.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Netriet.”
Before she could blink, he grabbed her, threw her over his shoulder, and carted her upstairs. She wished he’d have killed her. As soon as he dumped her back on her feet and grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, she made the mistake of screaming. His fist efficiently knocked her unconscious.
A wave of nausea rolled through Netriet as she regained consciousness. The room swam before her blurry eyes. The taste of blood was in her mouth and throat. She gingerly touched her face. Her nose was broken, and her lips were split and puffy. A generously sized knot throbbed on the back of her head where she assumed she’d smacked it against the floor after Philippe had punched her. Shock and indignation flared in her gut at the abrupt memory. She might be worth nothing, but she had never been brutalized like that before.
Netriet was sure Philippe had any number of unspeakable plans in mind for her, and she was equally sure that she would rather take her own life. She stood up slowly. The empty room swirled around her. A heavy chain pulled down on her wrist. She looked down at it. He'd leashed her to the wall.
The night sky beckoned her through a wide-open doorway. It led out onto a balcony. The length of her chain allowed her to step out into the thin open air, but didn't stretch far enough for her to look down. Still, she knew that she had never been up so high.