Seduction (37 page)

“Are you kidding? I slammed him with a table.”

“Ah,” he said with a chuckle. “Good for you, Katy Ainsworth.”

I put my head in my hands. “I don’t even know where to begin,” I said. “Peter’s going to be initiated into the coven.”

“Peter . . .” He looked as if he were trying to place the name. “Ah, yes. He has decided to join that herd of idiots?”

“They’re not just idiots, Azrael,” I said. “They’re the ones who killed Marie-Therèse. There’s something evil at the core of them. I can feel it. That’s how this coven is different from the one in your book. And Peter’s right in the thick of it.”

“Can you stop it?”

“What, the Initiation? I wish I could.”

“But Peter’s participation, perhaps?”

I sighed. “I don’t think he’ll listen to me anymore,” I said. “Jeremiah’s promised him a free ride to the presidency of Shaw Enterprises. His future’s made. All he has to do is sell his soul. And I think he’s already done that.”

“A familiar theme,” Azrael said. “Someone dangles a trinket in front of our eyes, and suddenly we are hypnotized. We walk toward evil willingly, without a thought, our eyes fixed only on the shiny object.”

“Is that what happened to Henry?” I asked.

He smiled. “Surely you’ve guessed who Henry has become.”

“Jeremiah?” I asked.

He nodded. “It’s a relatively new name. The first time I’d heard it was when you said that he’d asked about me.” His lips pressed together. “He was a good friend. I miss him.”

“But he’s still here, in Paris. Don’t you ever see him?”

“No,” Azrael said sadly. “We have not spoken for many years.”

“I guess he was lured by Sophie. She was his shiny object.”

“There are many sorts of temptations, little one. No one is immune to all of them.”

“What about you?” I swallowed.

“Me?” He looked amused. “I’m afraid I’m a bit old for most seductions. A slice of cream pie, perhaps, or a night’s sleep without having to walk to the bathroom may be the limit of my forbidden desires. Henry—Jeremiah—now supports the coven, you know.”

“Yes. He’s grooming Peter.”

“Ah. Your young man is an alchemist, then.”

“That’s why they want him in the coven. Those witches need their gold.” I crooked my head, curious about something. “Do you still go to the rituals?”

“To perpetuate my endless life? Alas, yes.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “It is not my idea to attend. I am made to hobble around like a penitent begging for another day in this cave. I occasionally see Henry at these events. I see his face and remember the boy he was, before . . .” He winced.

“Before Drago,” I finished.

“Yes,” he said bitterly.

“At least your son hasn’t . . .” I cleared my throat.

“Hasn’t killed me?” he rasped. The old man’s eyes narrowed. “My son, like Henry, no longer bothers much with me,” he said.

“But he does bother with some people,” I went on doggedly. I had to. It was the reason I’d come here in the middle of the night. “Is Drago still here? Or has he taught someone else to . . . to . . .” I felt such disgust that I couldn’t even form the words. “Azrael, Marie-Therèse was
drained
. Nearly dessicated, and all but dead. And there was a mummy on the street—”

“What?”
The old man leaned heavily against the arm of a chair.

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence.” Then, with a sudden sob, all my worst fears came pouring out of me. “When I found Marie-Therèse, she said that Peter had left her in that condition.
Peter!
” I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. “He wasn’t a killer when he got here. Someone had to show him. And now . . .” I was shaking all over, and crying so hard that I was choking on my tears.

“Shh.” Azrael put his arms around me and held me until I could bring my grief under control. “Do not think on this,
child. There are things in this world that are not meant for the pure of heart to see.”

Pure of heart.
How wrong he was. “I’m not pure of heart,” I said miserably.

“So you believe.”

“Do you know what the Darkness is?”

“I’ve heard of it.” He looked away, disinterested.

“Well, I do know. I’ve seen the Darkness. I understand it. I’ve felt it in myself.”

“But that is what makes you pure,” he said. “Purity does not mean sterility. Or perfection. It just means walking toward the light, one step at a time. That is how we defeat evil, whatever form it takes.”

I felt myself trembling. “I think It wants me,” I said. “The butler at the Poplars said that the Master had saved Marie-Therèse’s last breath for me.” I took a deep breath. “I think the Master is the Darkness.”

“And . . .” The old man’s smile quickly changed into an expression of pain.

“Azrael?”

He stumbled forward.

“Oh, God,” I said, catching him in my arms. “Come sit down.” I eased him into a chair, wishing with all my heart that I had a cell phone. He’d collapsed before. I couldn’t ignore it this time. “I’m going to go for help,” I said. “Now, I know you don’t like hospitals, but—”

“Quiet.” He put his hand over mine. “No, little cook. Again, it is not time.”

“How do you know?” I asked, trying to keep the note of hysteria out of my voice.

He was panting. “Because . . . I have always known . . . that I will choose . . . the hour of my death,” he said between breaths. “Be still.”

I sank down beside him. If he didn’t want medical help, there wasn’t much I could do unless I went against his wishes and exposed his hideaway to the authorities. I didn’t think he’d want that, no matter how dire his situation.

My Gram says old people think differently about death than young people. I never knew exactly what that meant, but while I sat with Azrael, I was beginning to see that he didn’t view dying as something terrible and weird.

“Is it hard to be old?” I asked quietly.

He smiled. “Not as hard as it is to be young,” he said.

We sat together in silence, there on the floor, for a long time. Finally I spoke. I said what had been on my mind since I’d read the last words of his book. “There’s no such thing as forever.”

He patted my hand. “One day you’ll be glad of that,” he said. “Now leave me. I need rest.”

“But Peter . . . the Enclave . . .”

He snorted. “Losing is always painful, but you cannot win every battle,” he said. “The Enclave has been doing what it does for a very long time. You will never reform it. Those people are too corrupt to listen.”

Although there were a lot of things about the Abbey of Lost Souls that were more frightening and terrible than their treatment of their children, at that moment I couldn’t help but think about Fabienne. Her gift of astral projection, a gift much greater than mine, was never going to be developed because her mother wouldn’t allow it. But then, Fabby didn’t
object to her sacrifice as much as I did. As wrong as it seemed to me, the Enclave was her world.

“Believe me, Katy. It is too late for any of them.”

I nodded, digging my fingernails into my palms.

“But not for you,” Azrael said softly. “For you, perhaps there is such a thing as forever.”

He inclined his head. His eyes were shining with unshed tears.

CHAPTER

•

FORTY-FOUR

It was after midnight now, but naturally, Sophie and her gang were still up. There was no doubt in my mind that the butler from the Poplars had called and filled them in on the details of our altercation, so this time I walked into the house prepared—no,
eager
—to confront whoever was assigned to punish me for finding out their ugly little secret. My telekinetic talent might not hold a candle to Peter’s gift for making gold, but it was still pretty useful in a fight. It’s hard to argue with a flying frying pan.

But no one in the house said anything. They just kept chatting and acting like they didn’t see me come in.
Okay,
I thought.
Being ignored is fine with me.
But if any of them started anything, I was going to finish it.

Before I went to my own room, I stopped to say good-bye to Fabby, but she wasn’t in. Neither was Peter. Well, that was nothing new. It took me less than ten minutes to gather up all my things—two chef’s jackets, my knife kit, one suitcase filled with clothes, and a paper bag with handles that held
books and letters and whatever small things I’d picked up. My passport and other ID, plus my plane ticket home and the small amount of cash I had, were all in my backpack.

As I was lugging everything downstairs, Sophie called out, “Going somewhere, darling?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Anywhere you’re not.”

She laughed. Strange about that laughter: What I’d once thought of as tinkling and feminine now sounded like a crude, ugly bray. I was going to force her out of my thoughts as soon as I left this house, and never allow her to enter them again. It was too bad that I’d missed Fabienne, though. She couldn’t help who her mother was. I just hoped she’d be able to find some sort of happiness in what promised to be a very long and boring life.

“Ta-ta,” Sophie sang as I closed the heavy front door behind me.

Good, I thought. I was out of there, at least. The problem now was where I was going to go next. I sat on the steps and checked my watch. 1:45. My old digs were out, unless I could impose on Hernan the drag queen to put me up for the night. That was two Metro transfers away, though, and I was already exhausted. I supposed I could stay in a hotel, at least until I decided what to do. Although that would eat up a lot of my money, it seemed like the best idea, given how late it was and the fact that I had school in the morning.

“Can I help?”

I looked up. “Belmondo?” No one seemed to be with him. “What are you doing here?”

He shook his head slowly. “Someone from the house called me. She said you might be in trouble.”

“Who was it?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said.

“And she asked you to help me?” I asked incredulously.

He smiled. “No. She just found it amusing.”

“That figures,” I said. “Well, I’m out of there now.”

“So I see.” He took my suitcase. “Where to? My car’s just around the corner.”

I swallowed. “Um . . .” I looked around as we walked. “Do you know of any cheap hotels around here?”

“I can do better than that,” he said. “Get in.”

“Er . . .”

“Yes?” Belmondo asked, leaning toward me.

“Can I ask you about Joelle?” I blurted.

“Joelle?”

“She’s disappeared.”

“Really? I thought she was in Vienna.”

“Vienna? When did she go to Vienna?”

“After the party. I took her to the airport.”

The airport?
“You mean . . .”

He laughed. “Did you think that Joelle and I were going out?” His face took on a pained expression. “Definitely not my taste.”

“Oh,” I said. He gestured toward the Jaguar’s open door. “I don’t really know where I want to go,” I said.

“I do. I’m taking you to my apartment.”

That was what I was afraid of. “No,” I said, my disappointment evident in my voice. I was just so tired and freaked out. I didn’t want to fight off a guy, even one as good-looking as Belmondo. “A hotel would be better.”

“Relax,” he said. “I won’t be there.”

“Huh?”

He shooed me into the car and stashed my suitcase in the backseat. “I have to spend three weeks in London with my band. I’ll be driving there tonight. My bags are already in the trunk.” He started the engine, and the car took off like a rocket.

“Then why did you come to the Rue des Âmes Perdues?” I asked as we zipped through the crowded streets.

He shrugged. “I just wanted to help.” He looked over at me. “I thought you might not want to stay in the house.”

“You were right,” I said. Then, in a small voice: “Belmondo?”

He laughed. “Yes?” he squeaked, imitating me.

I cleared my throat. “Um . . . how old are you?”

He was smiling, but his brows knit together. “Twenty-five. Why?”

“So you’re saying you don’t know what they do? The Enclave?”

He shrugged. “They have parties. I know that.” He laughed. “I guess everyone within a two-kilometer radius knows that.”

So maybe he was telling the truth when he said he wasn’t one of them,
I thought. Relief washed over me like a wave. He was twenty-five.

Sitting next to him, I could sense his warmth, the electric vibrancy of his energy.
Stop it,
I told myself. But it was so hard to stay away from him. I wanted so much to touch him, as if that would erase all my questions and fears and make me feel safe again.

We walk toward evil willingly,
Azrael had said. But this wasn’t evil, was it? Just an attraction.

Don’t walk. Don’t.

We drove in silence for a while. Finally he said, “I’m sorry about Marie-Therèse.” When he saw my surprised face, he added, “Apparently, the butler at the Vincennes house said that she’d died.”

“Something else the witches found amusing?” I asked bitterly.

He didn’t answer. I looked out the window.

“She was old,” he said after a long silence.

“That wasn’t why she died.” I sighed. “She was killed.”