Devil at Midnight (31 page)

“It would kind of be a shame to kill her,” she said.

“Grace! How can you want her to remain alive?”

She saw she had truly shocked him. “Well, she tried to do the right thing by warning you about your father.”

“I harbor no illusions about how long her defense of me will last, now that I have spurned her.”

Grace plunked down beside him on the tree trunk. “I guess she’d know you were lying if you pretended to change your mind.”

Christian patted her buzzing thigh. “I think I must warn the others what she might do.”

He didn’t look happy about the prospect. “Are you afraid they won’t believe you?”

“I would not believe me if I were them. Especially given how strangely I have been acting.”

Grace twisted to face him more squarely. “You have to try, Christian.”

“I know.” He smiled and drew one finger around her ephemeral cheek. His eyes shone with more fondness than she had ever seen in her life. She could tell he liked having her to talk things over with. In spite of everything, a glow of happiness washed through her. It was truly wonderful to be someone’s confidant. Christian let his hand drop reluctantly. “Matthaus may believe me. And Michael. She has not ... fed from either of them.”

Grace laid her palm on his arm. “Your men might have an easier time believing you if you show them something else supernatural, if you explain why they keep catching you talking to yourself.”

“But, Grace, your powers are not under your control.”

“I’ll think of a way,” she promised, determined to. “You and your friends’ safety is important.”

C
hristian was a private person, and sharing this business with others was not comfortable for him. Though the men were too well trained to ask immediate questions, he was grateful for Michael’s help gathering them—some from sleep and some from patrol. As unobtrusively as they could, they came together in the same green mossy clearing he and Grace had used earlier. Only Hans was missing from their number. Their stores being low, he had gone off with Mace, Christian’s father’s man, to hunt wild goats. Christian wished none of his
rotte
were absent, but he could not magically bring Hans here.

True to his expectations, Michael was the most skeptical of his listeners. Then again, as Christian’s closest friend, perhaps he simply was the most comfortable airing his doubts. Now that Christian had laid out the worst of it, Michael raked both hands through his golden hair, pushing forward from the tree on which his weight had been braced.

“You want us to believe a ghost told you Mistress Wei is—what was the word—a
vampire?”

“Mistress Wei told me herself. Grace merely confirmed it.”

“Grace.” Michael shook his head as if Christian had given a snake a name. “And how is it you are certain that this spirit is not evil?”

This was a fair question. Christian strove to answer it reasonably. “She warned us about the bandits. And she has been nothing but kind to me.”

“Kind,”
Michael repeated with a roll of his sky blue eyes. “That would explain a number of things.”

Charles snickered, stopping abruptly when Michael and Christian both shot a glare at him. The jest Christian suspected involved St. Onan died unspoken.

Matthaus spared Charles their reproval by clearing his throat. His rough-skinned face looked gaunt in the gray daylight. Like the rest of the men-at-arms, he was standing with his back to a tree. Philippe was next to him but not close enough to touch. The look Philippe sent his lover was so careful it hurt to see.

“If Mistress Wei has the powers you claim,” Matthaus said, just as carefully
not
looking at Philippe, “it would account for other ... changes in people’s behavior. Both Charles and William were stronger after they went to her, and I do remember Hans rubbing his throat afterward.”

Philippe uttered a soft, pained sound. Matthaus’s body tensed, but he did not look up from his study of the damp ground.

“Forgive me,” Charles broke in, his tone not the least bit apologetic. His cheeks were so red with anger his freckles blurred together. “But I remember everything Mistress Wei did to me. I swear on my ballocks, she did not drink my blood.”

“Nor mine,” William seconded, though not as heatedly. Because he seemed less resistant, Christian addressed him.

“She has the power to make you forget. She did it to me as well, when I went to—” He hesitated, then pushed ahead—because what did Philippe and Matthaus’s secret matter compared to the other troubles they were facing? His men had their suspicions even if they did not speak of them openly. “When I went to confront the vampire about seducing Philippe against his will, she made me forget why I had come there. I never would have remembered had Grace not reminded me.”

“Is she here now?” Philippe asked, his face almost as flushed as Charles’s. Christian knew he was pretending very hard not to be embarrassed. “Not that I distrust you, Christian, but can she prove her existence to the rest of us?”

“She is going to try,” Christian said at a nod from her. She had been watching, in her usual quiet way, from the edge of the men’s circle. “Grace is still learning to control her abilities. You might have to wait a minute or two.”

 

 

G
race stepped to the center of the clearing, closed her eyes, and tried to ignore her stage fright. She’d spent a lot of her life working at being invisible. Attention was not enjoyable when you’d had her father. She knew she had to release all memory of that now, and all anxiety that she’d fail. Her angel had warned her impatience stood in her way ... or maybe he’d warned her it was a sign that she didn’t have enough faith in herself.

Either way, she had plenty of reasons to be convinced that this world held magic. She was a ghost who’d met a vampire and an angel. She’d traveled through time and found someone wonderful to love her. That was a miracle by itself, just like how fully her heart had opened to love him back.

Hadn’t her angel said it was her job to talk herself into believing? His words seemed like a dream now, but hadn’t he said that bit by bit she could do it?

I’m not afraid,
she told herself, each thought calming her a fraction more.
I’m relaxed and patient and I’m doing this because I love Christian. I can let the others see me, too. They couldn’t hurt me even if they wanted to.

Out of the blue, like a blessing flung from her troubled past, a scene from the movie
Subset Boulevard
came to her, where Norma Desmond glides down her staircase toward the crowd of waiting reporters. Norma was a mad, bad murderess, about to be sent to jail, but both the actress and the character had been fearless. No one who’d seen the moment would forget it, not as long as film and eyes to watch it existed.
I’m ready for my close-up,
Norma had said.

Grace was ready for hers-more than, to tell the truth.

She felt the hum in her bones that said her energy was rising, the subtle increase in the weight of the air. Her nose wrinkled as she began to pick up a scent, like a pack of dogs that had not washed in too long.

Almost there
, she thought, resisting the urge to open her eyes.
They’ll see me any moment now.

A sudden, concerted clanking startled her eyelids up. As one, all the armored men but Christian had taken a step away. Their mouths formed a silent chorus of matching
Os.

“Hey,” she said, waving at them a little embarrassedly.

Only William jerked his hand to wave in return, either too surprised or too polite not to acknowledge her. The rest were busy crossing themselves.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Really. I’m on your side.”

“I can hear her,” Michael said wonderingly. “Though I do not fully comprehend her words.”

“The people from her town speak strangely,” Christian said. “You will grow accustomed to it with time.”

‟You—I—” Michael shook his head. “Old friend, you must pardon me. I see why you were reluctant to confide this.”

“Can she hear us?” Charles asked Christian in a loud whisper.

“I can,” Grace said, which spun the orange-haired man around.

“Tell us everything,” Charles said, taking a stride to her. He stopped a second later, not daring to close the whole distance, though he quivered with eagerness. Grace fought her instinct to retreat from him. “How did you die? Where do you come from? Can you communicate with other dead people? Do prayers and indulgences really help sinful souls progress to heaven? Are all friendly spirits as fair as you?”

“Charles!” Christian remonstrated as Grace broke into a laugh. “Grace is not here to satisfy your idle curiosity.”

“Can you help defend us?” Michael asked. “Do you have heaven’s ear?”

His manner was unexpectedly tentative, though something in his expression was as hungry as Charles’s. Grace remembered he’d studied to be a monk. Did he believe that, because he’d given up his calling, heaven wouldn’t lend its ear to him?

“I’m sorry,” she said, her laughter fading as her compassion rose. “I’m afraid I don’t know much more than you do. I only got a peek at the afterlife before I came here.”

“Of course,” Michael said with a small head bow. “Forgive me. I did not mean to be intrusive.”

“You weren’t,” Grace assured him, not wanting this sensitive, handsome man, this friend of Christian, to be uncomfortable with her. Of all the mercenaries, he was the one she most felt as if she knew. Unfortunately, she didn’t think the reverse was true. He seemed less confident with her than he was with Christian alone—maybe because she was a ghost, or possibly because he didn’t spend much time with females.

“Can you spy for us?” William asked, more practical than either Michael or Charles. “Could you let us know what Gregori’s men are plotting without them seeing you?”

“She can spy for us,” Christian said. “But not on the minstrel. The vampire’s energy is inimical to Grace.”

“What of the minstrel’s power to discern our thoughts?” Matthaus asked. “Will Mistress Wei not uncover our strategy—once we have one, of course.”

Christian began to answer again, used to being in charge. He stopped himself, then gave Grace a little bow that said she should proceed. Though she liked it, his deference increased her shyness.

She had a feeling this was harder than meeting a boy-friend’s folks.

“I think Nim Wei’s power is stronger closer up,” she said. “It affects me more anyway. And it helps not to meet her eyes. Vampires can bespell you with their gazes.”

William drew in a breath to ask another question, but Philippe interrupted him.

“Hsst,” he said, immediately causing the others to fall silent. “Someone comes.”

“Grace,”
Christian said, low and urgent.

For a second, she thought she wouldn’t be able to disappear in time. That, however, was an easier process for her. Even as her panic receded, she felt the air lighten on her skin.

She must have blinked out, because Charles muttered, “Mary save us,” under his breath.

“Christian!” called a voice she wasn’t familiar with.

“Timkin,” Michael hissed in a tone someone else might have used to say bastard.

A thin, silver-haired man appeared through the trees, his heavy boots snapping a pair of fir twigs as he came to a halt. Grace recognized him then, especially his ice-pale eyes. She simply hadn’t heard him speak before. His shark-like gaze took in the group, some of whom Grace knew were supposed to be patrolling. Grace was impressed that Christian didn’t shiver when Timkin’s attention settled on him.

“We have been searching for you,” he said, his voice no more revealing than his expression. “Hans has suffered an accident.”

All of Christian’s men had straightened when Timkin first showed up. Now a ripple of horror swept over them, as if they were one person.

“What sort of
accident?”
William growled.

Grace couldn’t help shuddering at the dangerous light in the big man’s eyes, but Timkin remained unmoved.

“Come,” he said, already turning away. “Your father and Mace are with him.”

Grace didn’t follow. Her concern for Christian’s friend aside, she didn’t want to accidentally appear in front of the others. To her surprise, Michael also hung back for a moment. She knew
he
couldn’t see her. When he spoke, it wasn’t quite to her face.

“You had better not harm my friend,” he said, his jaw clenched with his intensity. “Whether you be devil or angel, for that I would seek vengeance in hell itself.”

 

 

C
hristian. was not running, merely striding very fast, but his heart pounded the same as if he galloped. Though Timkin led the way as swiftly, his breathing was not labored.

“How far?” Christian demanded.

Timkin stopped and pointed.

Christian saw the pair at the bottom of a slope. Hans was on his back on the ground, unmoving, and his head lay in Mace’s lap. They were near a stream, the earth around them torn up in violent clods. Two other men stood nearby: Lavaux and Christian’s father, but Christian barely noticed them. Tears were running down Mace’s face, causing the brutal scar that crossed his neck to glisten even at this distance.