Seducing the Vampire (27 page)

Paris, modern day

S
IMON KEPT PACE WITH
D
ANE
and didn't grumble as they descended to the third level beneath the park west of the city to track the missing cataphile, Marcus Leonard. They were on the trail now. If Marcus had come this way, and gotten lost because his equipment had failed, they would find him.

Rhys had joined the search with a separate crew, which surprised Dane. Simon explained the man did have a tendency to draw into himself when troubled. Being with strangers was probably less stressful for him right now.

“I'm impressed you didn't take the money,” Simon commented.

They strode, side by side, rubber boots occasionally slipping on the slick stones. This tunnel was ten feet high and about as wide. Ahead, lights from two on the rescue team flashed across the walls.

“Wasn't mine to take,” Dane said. “Look, I know you don't trust me, and that's your prerogative. But if you knew the big bads I owed money to, you'd know I'm in this for the big payoff.”

“Human or other?”

“Other.”

“Vampires?”

“Something like that. It's tribe Anakim. You know about them?”

“I know vampires form tribes, but that one is not familiar to me.”

“They are night walkers. Can't access the daylight unless they can restore their bloodline.”

“How do they do that?”

“By getting their hands on a nephilim.”

“Isn't that a—”

“Yep.”

Simon whistled.

Dane had said enough. “You really think we'll find the coffin?”

“Honestly?” Simon paused to lean against the curved wall and swiped sweat from his brow. Dane was impressed he'd tracked in this far. He was no athlete, to gauge from his spare frame. “No. But, as you have discovered, it's worth the search.”

“My brand-new purse is doing the happy dance. But are you getting a bonus for this adventure?”

“I'd do anything for Rhys. The man has integrity dripping from his pores. He would walk the world for me if I needed him to. I hate to imagine what this will do to him if we find out it's true.”

A shout ahead set the lead lights bobbling. Dane gripped Simon's hand. “They must have found something. Come on!”

As they raced through the tunnel, a terrified scream joined the melee.

Dane's hackles lifted. A foul scent alerted her she wasn't going to like what was around the corner. If she were in cat form right now her back would be arched and her tail high.

One of the lead team members pushed past her, hand
over his mouth. He didn't make it far before she heard him retching.

“Oh, Christ.” Simon wrenched his forearm over his nose. “What is it?”

She pressed a palm to his shoulder as a sign to stay put. Two others stood glued to the wall, eyeing her, shaking their heads miserably.

“I'll take a look,” she offered, and turned the curve where the rock ceiling suddenly dipped.

On the dirt floor lay a body crawling with beetles. The stench of death was so strong Dane had to swallow her bile. “Marcus?”

One of the leaders nodded and rushed past her to join the others.

Moving her head to direct the headlamp away from the body, Dane surveyed the area. The wall behind the body was splattered with a dark glistening substance. Blood.

“Something attacked him?” she muttered.

“Attack?” Simon called. He kept out of keen vision of the body. “What do you see?”

“Marcus's body,” she relayed to him. Her nose could not adjust to the odor and she spat to get the foul taste from her mouth. “The wall and the floor are spattered with his blood. It's like an animal attacked him. Or someone went after him with a weapon.”

Simon gagged.

Dane leaned over the body. The insects were not en masse, so the body could not have been dead long. Dane was no forensics expert, but she figured it should take at least a few days for massive insect invasion. Peering over his neck revealed claw marks. Not deep or wide. She wouldn't say wolf or any particular creature. Could simply be fingernails. In fact, when holding her fingers near the wounds without touching, they were a good match.

Another shout alerted her to a turn in the tunnel ahead.

“Stay there!” she called to Simon. “I'll go check it out.”

Around the corner she found Roger, a burly German whom she'd dated once—until she'd met his six real cats; she did not do fetishes. He beamed his headlamp upon a scatter of thick limestone pavers. They'd been toppled from what looked to have been a half wall. Here and there a centuries-old skull pocked the wall.

“Another body?” she asked cautiously.

“I've heard the legend,” Roger said in wonder, “but dismissed it.”

His statement giddied her belly. Dane scampered over to view what Roger's headlamp illuminated within the torn limestone wall.

“A glass coffin.” Broken, or rather shattered.

From the inside? Or had Marcus found it and broken the glass to get to what had been inside?

 

R
HYS, WHO STOOD TOPSIDE
after assisting a guide who'd twisted his ankle, spied Vincent Lepore standing on the street corner, another man at his side. At sight of the tall, dark-haired man, Rhys rushed across the street, fists bared.

Lepore stepped before the man, grabbing Rhys's wrists to keep him from an attack. “He's come to talk! Honor that, Hawkes.”

Growling, and shoving into Lepore's body as if he could move through him to get to the man standing behind him, Rhys gave a surrendering growl and disengaged. He fisted the air and yowled out his frustrations.

“You bastard!”

Constantine stepped forward. The vampire had not
changed in appearance save his shoulders sagged and he appeared submissive, beaten down. His dark eyes did not fix to Rhys for more than a nanosecond at a time as he swept the area back and forth to Rhys.

“How could you do this?”

“It took you a long time to miss her, brother.”

The statement prodded his werewolf, and Rhys lunged, shoving Lepore aside to slam Constantine's shoulders to the brick wall behind him. Talons grew out of his fingers and into his brother's flesh.

“Still so quick to anger.” Constantine gritted his jaws, and met his glare. “I was jealous of you.”

Pulled from behind, Rhys snarled as Lepore detached him, his talons dragging bloody gouges in Constantine's shoulders. “You said you wanted to speak to him. It will do no good to kill him now.”

“I will do my heart a world of good to slaughter this vile creature.”

“Before the world? Mortals walk across the street and drive by in their cars. Be smart, Hawkes.”

Rhys huffed and stepped back of his own accord. He flicked a wrist, drawing his talons back in. Blood dripped from his fingertips. “You could never step back and allow me to have happiness, could you?”

“You stole her from me!”

“Gentlemen.” Lepore stood between them, his arms out to grab the next one who made a move. “What's been done is done.”

“She could be dead,” Rhys argued.

“You thought her dead centuries ago,” Lepore reasoned.

“What if she is alive?”

Constantine smirked.

“I will kill you!” This time Lepore delivered a gut
punch to Rhys as he charged, which caused him to bend over. The vampire had a mean right lunge. “Why do you protect him?” he muttered, slowing rising straight. “The Council should not take sides.”

“The Council has only just become aware of a situation that may or may not be deemed a crime. Have you found a coffin?” Lepore insisted.

“No. But he's alluded to it. You did it, didn't you? Tell him of your crime!”

Constantine wrapped his arms across his chest and eyed the sidewalk. “If I cannot have her, then no man shall.”

Rhys felt the tingle of his rising werewolf goad at his neck and spine. It would be so easy to shift, take his brother's head off, and Lepore's, too. He was not a man to murder, but sometimes even the staunchest must surrender to pure anger.

His brother had taken Viviane from him.

The jangle of his cell phone momentarily diverted his rage. Normally, he would ignore it, but Simon and Dane were still below ground. “Don't move,” he said to the two men.

He answered and Simon's excited breathing startled him. “Take a breath, man. I can't understand you.”

Simon huffed through his short, rapid sentences and the staticky connection, but Rhys heard a few key things. Murdered. Coffin. Escaped.

“A coffin? I'll be right there,” Rhys said.

“I'll meet you topside to guide you.”

“Not necessary. If there's blood, I'll scent you right to the location.”

He shoved the phone in a pocket and stepped up to his brother. Without touching him, he stood face-to-face, seething. “They found the coffin.”

“Is she alive?”

Lepore said, “Make a deal, gentlemen. If she is alive, you walk away with the girl, Hawkes, and leave your brother with the guilt over what he has done.”

He didn't like that idea, but the growing excitement that there might possibly be a girl to find made him nod. “And if she is dead?”

“I will leave you two to fight it out.”

“Deal.” Rhys smacked a handshake with Lepore, then turned to walk off.

Just off the curb, he twisted and rushed back to his brother. A right swing caught Constantine's jaw and he felt the bones crack and saw the broken fang fly through the air.

Constantine dropped unconscious.

“Keep an eye on him,” Rhys said to Lepore.

 

R
HYS TRACKED UNDERGROUND
through miles of tunnels, agility moving him swiftly. He located the rescue team in less than twenty minutes. Strong blood scent tickled his vampire's hunger. He had not fed in weeks. Over the centuries his blood hunger had grown lesser and his werewolf mind had but to appease the vampire once a month. A wise man would have done so before descending, but it was too late to worry now.

More than one team member had been sick, and he avoided the evidence as he raced around the corner and ran smack into Simon.

“You've found her?”

Simon gripped Rhys's forearm. Sweat drooled down his face and he trembled. It wasn't hot down here. The man must be in shock.

“No, but there's a coffin.”

“Of glass?” His heart already sat in his throat. After
all these years, Constantine still had not changed. The arrogance of him!

Simon nodded effusively. “Glass. It's real.”

Feeling the tingle of change at the tips of his fingers, Rhys shook his hands, fighting the vampire's menacing hunger. Inhaling, he maintained composure and clamped his arms across his chest. “Show me.”

Simon pointed. “There's a body around the corner. I put my head around but didn't want to add to the stench with my own sickness. Dane's with it right now.”

Rhys left the man and swung around the corner. He'd seen many a dead body. This one was a fresh kill. The blood had coagulated, but it was still bright red.

Fortunately, the stench consisted of more than blood, for the foul scents of death and trauma rose. He felt his vampire cringe, backing from it like a mongrel from rotting meat.

Something glinted in the eye….

Rhys leaned in and plucked out a small object from the eyeball. It was no longer than an inch, like a straight pin, yet fashioned from—

Heartbeats scurrying, Rhys gasped. This was— It looked as if it had been carved from wood, and had been broken off from the larger piece.

A strange elation eddied through his system. It could really be her!

He took in the surroundings. Blood everywhere. Ancient skulls were tucked in the walls and strewn on the cave floor. It looked a slaughter, not a simple killing. Whatever had done this…

He could think what had done this, and it hurt his heart to imagine it.

All these years, Constantine must have reveled in
the notion that he had achieved the greatest and most devastating triumph between the brothers.

“Rhys?” Dane swung around the corner. She seemed comfortable with the body and smell, and he gave her credit for that. “This way. I suspect Marcus found it and broke the glass.”

Dropping the small wood piece into his breast pocket, he followed her down a passage. Her lamp lit the narrow tunnel. Spiderwebs glittered with blood droplets.

A small cove was blocked off with limestone blocks. Looking at the fallen blocks and glass shards wrenched his soul out through his pores.

Emitting an agonized cry at sight of the broken glass coffin, Rhys caught a palm against the limestone wall. He leaned forward, knowing he would not find anyone inside, for it was obvious whatever had been inside had escaped.

Breathing deeply through his nose, he separated the blood and sickness from the humid air. His vampire picked out the metallic taint of mortal man's blood glimmering on the glass shards.

Rhys rolled his shoulders back, stretching his muscles to stay relaxed, in control.

No other scent lifted beyond the blood. He slapped a palm to his forehead and clenched his jaws. What had she smelled like? It had been so long. Curse him, but he had forgotten what she had smelled like.

Concentrate. Give yourself to her memory
.

Soft, silken hair veiling his face after they'd made love. The warmth of her skin steeped in the luscious aroma. It had been…like summer fields and rich, sweet grapes.

“Wine,” he gasped, recognizing the smell. “Yes, it is her!”

Clamping his hands to his shoulders, he moaned at the horror of it, unable to celebrate the fact she may still be alive. He had done this to her! He had abandoned her after the fire, fully believing she had perished in it.

He had seen the burned body. Who had been the one wearing the hairpiece with the tiny skulls? Constantine was a foul bastard.