Let Them Eat Stake: A Vampire Chef Novel (29 page)

“There was that thing with Dylan Maddox last year, and then Brendan went public with a way to make real money and a new reputation by working with the city and the vampires rather than against them…You have no idea what that’s done to the family.”

“He doesn’t talk about it,” I murmured.

“Well, it ain’t been pretty,” said Trudy. “Especially since Deanna started seeing Gabriel. Now we’ve got Lloyd Maddox coming in every day and browbeating Adrienne about not being able to control her own daughters, and how she doesn’t understand how important she is. And…well, today I’m coming in and Lloyd’s going out, and he decides to start in on me about not taking proper care of the woman who saved my skinny white ass all those years ago, took me in, and gave me a home and a job. And so, I’m fired.”

“I’m sorry,” I said again, but at the same time I noticed Trudy’s eyes were completely dry, and while she was picking at coffee cake crumbs, she hadn’t once reached for the Kleenex.

“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s my own fault really, and…well, and I’d actually made up my mind I needed to get out of here a while ago. But…well, I thought I’d have at least a little more time, but it’s all hit the fan and…What am I going to do?” she demanded suddenly. “My one girl’s in California and the other’s in Texas, and they’ve both got full houses and mortgages, and I’ve got nothing except years of maid service and a pair of bum knees. My savings won’t last a week, and who’s gonna hire me?”

“I would.”

Trudy shook her head. “Don’t.”

But I wasn’t listening. Finally, here was something I could help with. “Have you got any supervisory experience?”

“At the Roosevelt Hotel, but that was ages ago…”

“You’ve worked hotels? Great.” There was a notepad by the phone. I pulled out my phone, opened the address book and scribbled down a name and number. “Here. Call this, ask for Peter, and tell him Chef Caine sent you. Their hotel’s head housekeeper just quit. The manager’s a good guy, but you’ve got to have backbone to deal with him.”

Trudy stared at the paper as though it might burst into
flame; around this house, you never knew. “You’re serious?”

“Yes, and I know it’s not legal for them to ask, but find a way to slip in that you’re a witch. Apparently, they have real problems with out-of-towners leaving little half-used Viagra amulets around…”

Her eyes narrowed as the despairing housekeeper was rolled under by the hard-bitten survivor. “What do you want for this?”

“I want to know why, if Lloyd Maddox has enough influence with Adrienne Alden to get you fired, he hasn’t stopped Deanna’s wedding,” I told her. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s all right. The number’s good either way.”

Slowly Trudy folded the paper and tucked it into the pocket of her work dress. I watched hard mental calculations chase one another around behind her eyes for a long moment. I also abruptly remembered the tears in her eyes when she’d watched Reese standing by me even as the mess got itself piled higher and deeper.

“He hasn’t seriously tried to stop the wedding,” she said softly. “He’s making a lot of noise, but he’s not really doing anything.”

I sucked on my cheek, then asked the other question—the one I’d asked Mrs. Alden but gotten no good answer to. “Why wasn’t Adrienne worried about Gabriel and company stealing the Arall?”

Trudy frowned. “Because you can’t steal the Arall,” she said. “It’s not a thing; it’s a formula.”

“Formula?” I repeated slowly. “Like a recipe?”

Trudy nodded. “Adrienne’s specialty is potions. She’s what’s called a Macbeth worker, after the three witches in the play. You know, ‘eye of newt, toe of frog…’”

This time the penny didn’t just drop. A whole shower of coins rained down inside my skull. I was also an idiot—a total and complete idiot. Because I’d been staring at a big-ass clue every time I looked into that beautiful, herb-filled
garden. And that was even before I’d gotten my hands on that recipe in Oscar’s office.

Karina had an antivamp perfume contract? What could be better than basing it on her family’s own secret recipe?

“Mrs. Alden, Adrienne, ripped the ingredients out of the garden so no one would be able to figure the formula out by coming in and having a look around.” She’d cleaned out her kitchen for the same reason, throwing away everything and anything that might be a hint as to how she brewed up her potions, any potions, not just the Arall. She’d taken precautions, all right. Only they weren’t against the Renaults. They were against her own daughter.

“Deanna knew she’d done it, of course,” Trudy went on. “I’m sure she’s told Gabriel. Whether he told the other two…I don’t know.”

So, Henri might not have known the Arall was a concept, not an artifact. He even might have thought it was being hidden in plain sight on the mantelpiece, just like I had. “What does the Arall do?”

Trudy hesitated. “I don’t know. It’s a family secret.”

You’re lying.
I carefully kept my eyes on my coffee. I waited. A lot of times people will talk too much, just to cover a silence. But Trudy was better than that. We both sat there, watching steam curl in our cups, and thinking our own thoughts. I thought about the Last Resort and the Five Points Riot for a while as I stared out at the back garden. But I also thought about Adrienne Alden being a potion worker and a control freak. Would she kill Oscar if she found out he’d gotten hold of the Arall formula? She might. But would she let her daughter take the blame, even if her daughter had betrayed the family?

She might. She was a Maddox after all.

I remembered her watching Deanna and Gabriel out in the dark, declaring their love, and the fact that they didn’t know why they loved.

Oh. No. She didn’t. She wouldn’t.

“Trudy?” I whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Could Adrienne make a love potion?”

Trudy met my gaze, and I watched the pennies raining down behind her eyes.

“Would she make a love potion and feed it to Gabriel?” I asked. “Or maybe to him and Deanna?”

“Oh no. She wouldn’t.”

“Are you sure? Because it seems to me it’d be a hell of a way to keep Deanna safe from his blood family and to control them both at the same time. Deanna would become very, very cooperative, because she’d need her mother’s help to stay together with her true love, and a magically induced love would be strong enough to crack Gabriel’s bond with his sire. Wouldn’t it?” I added. Just in case the Renaults were planning something like, say, just for argument’s sake, theft or blackmail, Gabriel would now be both willing and able to side with Deanna and her family, splitting apart the nightblood forces—and possibly splitting them apart far enough that he would be able to kill his sire if Henri continued to threaten his true love and her family. Adrienne Alden was covering all the bases.

Trudy’s face screwed up painfully tight, and she drummed her fingers against the marble countertop. “Maybe. Maybe. Oh, blessed mother and father, she just might have. That would explain it. And she’s been putting Lloyd off, telling him she’s got it under control…”

More ideas dropped into place for me, a whole summer shower of them. “Trudy, can you work potions?”

“A little.” She shrugged. “I’m a water witch, so I have an affinity to brewing.”

“Could you do up an antidote to a love potion?”

Trudy was very quiet for a long moment. “Yes.” She spoke to the bottom of her coffee cup. “Probably, anyway. Breaking a spell is usually easier than setting it.” She paused. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m
thinking it’s not fair.” That was why looking at that gorgeous white dress had made me sad. On some level, I’d already known Deanna and Gabriel were being used. “I don’t care what else is going on; it’s not right.” It’s not right to play with other people’s existence, even if they’re your own kids—especially if they’re your own kids. I suddenly found I had lost my ability to sit still. “I have to get out of here.” I grabbed my knife roll and my chef’s coat and headed for the side door.

“Are you going to tell Brendan Maddox?” Trudy asked behind me.

“Yes.” I had to. This was so huge, I couldn’t even consider keeping it secret, even though my throat tightened painfully at the thought of how this new wrinkle to his family mess would hurt him. “But…I don’t want him to be the one who has to break the spell. He’s taking enough heat as it is.”

Trudy nodded, her gray eyes sad. There was so much going on inside her. I couldn’t even begin to guess at half of it, but the regret was plain to see. “Okay. This all might take a day or so. I’ll call as soon as I can.”

“Thank you. My number’s on that paper too.” I paused. “I’m really sorry, Trudy.”

“Me too, Charlotte. Me too.” She stood up, smoothing down her dress. “In case I don’t get the chance later…thank you for everything.”

She headed upstairs, I assumed to pack something or leave official notice, or maybe key the Scarlett O’Hara staircase. I took my stuff and headed out the door. As soon as I was clear of the house, I had my phone in my hand. I’d thought I’d be going to Nightlife first, but my conversation with Trudy had changed my mind. I needed to get hold of Brendan, now. He had to hear what I knew, whether he wanted to or not. Because it was his family, and because he trusted me.

I just wished that one day I could deliver the closest thing I had to a boyfriend some good news for a change.

But Brendan wasn’t answering his phone, again. I left a voice message asking him to call, and telling him I’d be at Nightlife instead of Brooklyn Heights. As I did, another one of those bad feelings crawled slowly up my spine. After unearthing Henri Renault’s jewelry in Gabriel’s bedroom, and spotting an NYU class ring that might just have belonged to a kid murdered right around the time the Five Points Riot was going down and that also might be the center of a blackmail scheme, I found I really did not like not knowing where Brendan was.

I could have caught a cab back to Manhattan, but I needed time. I had to think about what I was going to tell my people. I had to give Brendan time to get my message and call back. So, I sat on the subway train, watched the lights and stations flicker past, and tried and failed to think. And then tried some more. And then failed some more.

Because I was about to put a halt to the wedding of the decade, deliberately and with malice aforethought. That meant the money was never going to materialize. Not to mention that Felicity was never going to speak to me again. Elaine was going to quit for sure this time. Mel might just possibly forgive me, after a while. At least I could put off telling
those three what had happened until after I’d gotten Trudy’s antidote to Gabriel and Deanna. But I had to tell Reese and Zoe today, just like I had to tell Brendan. They deserved to know. Besides, there was no way I was letting any of my people walk back into that double-width, Italianate mansion with its so thoroughly messed-up residents. Zoe and Reese would be all right, though. They had plans, and by now, I was pretty sure I knew what those plans were. I just didn’t know how I was going to manage without them.

I had to tell Marie too. I rested my head against the train window. I was a dead chef walking.

I let myself in through the back door of Nightlife and was greeted by a kitchen full of silence. The lights were all on. Pans of perfect golden brown chiffon cake occupied the cooling racks by the pastry oven and filled the air with sweetness and warmth. But they were unattended, as were the prep stations, the cooktop, and the grill. I dropped my purse on my desk and put my hands on my hips. I’d been working myself into my own particular dither only to walk in on an empty kitchen? It seemed like a waste of effort.

Then I heard the voices coming in from the dining room.

“We
can’t
, not while Alden week is going on,” Zoe was saying. “You both know it. She’ll have a total, control-freak meltdown.”

“It does not matter,” answered Marie in full Cakeinator mode. “It is up to her how she will react. It is up to you to act like grown-ups, not naughty children.”

I drifted to the door and leaned in close. I might have qualms about eavesdropping on clients, but those were
my
people out there.

“Zoe,” said Reese, “that meltdown you’re worried about is already on the way. She
knows
we’re keeping something from her. Hell, the whole kitchen knows what’s happening. I
had to ban Hank from coming out to Brooklyn anymore. He almost gave it up last time.”

“I know, I know. But we need her focused on the Alden wedding, for Nightlife, and for her sake as well. As soon as the wedding’s over, I’ll tell her myself, I swear.”

It’s not often in life you get to time your own entrance. “What are you going to tell me?” I asked, pushing through into the dining room.

The looks on my sous-chefs’ faces as they jumped back would stay with me for a long time. Marie, of course, did not jump back. She just turned smoothly, so I could see her mouth was set in a thin straight line.

“Chef Caine…,” began Zoe.

I held up my hand. “I know.” There’s a space between calm and numb that you get to when you’re already aware the worst has arrived. It’s surprisingly peaceful there. “You’re quitting. You’ve gotten the truck, and you’re setting up on your own.” Zoe opened her mouth, but I didn’t let her finish. “I don’t blame you. If it makes things any easier, the Alden wedding really is off now. I’ll be settling up with Felicity Garnett as soon as it’s official, but our kill fee isn’t going to come to even a quarter of what we would have made on the catering. So right now, I don’t know how Nightlife’s going to make it through next year. If you’re going, this is a very good time.”