Anna and the Vampire Prince (6 page)

But I encouraged Vlad to show mercy to Steffan’s six lieutenants. I never dreamed they’d return from exile—especially so soon.

You can’t blame yourself for being merciful,
Vlad says, once again knowing exactly what I’m thinking and feeling.
I was caught by surprise myself.

How does Marseilles figure in this?
I ask.

It’s where they’re hiding. In the same Banelieu as the immigrants who were to be blamed for the kidnappings. It is one of the poorest in France and the least policed. They can feed with impunity since it is a place that is considered outside the law.

Cecily stirs in the back seat, stretches, and sits up. “How much longer?” she asks.

Vlad holds up a hand. “Five minutes.”

She smoothes her clothes. “Anna, have you a
brosse à cheveux?

But I have nothing with me but a jacket and cell phone.

“Look in the glove box,” Vlad says.

I do—there’s a comb and some wet wipes. “Here,” I hand them back to her. “These will help.”

She busies herself tidying up.

I smile at Vlad.
You are quite the Boy Scout.

He smiles back.
Ah, that reference I know.
Always prepared.

We’d called ahead to let Cecily’s family know we would be arriving shortly. Vlad was given her address by the police in Niaux and he navigates the streets outside Lorgues with practiced efficiency.

As soon as we pull into the driveway, the front door flies open. Cecily’s parents, a young man whom I assume to be a brother, Trish and Dad rush out to meet us. Two policemen stand back, allowing the reunion to take place without interference. I’m sure they have many questions for Cecily. Especially since her kidnappers were two of their own.

I look at them with some suspicion.
How do we know they weren’t part of the plot?
I ask Vlad.

We don’t
, he replies.
Only when the two we caught are returned and questioned will we know. And even then, they may refuse to name accomplices. They are most probably family men themselves and fearful of retaliation. But their plot will he revealed. I believe it’s over.

Cecily and Trish are hugging and crying. The Gerards crowd Vlad and me, their exuberant outpouring of gratitude manifesting itself in an explosion of French I can’t keep up with.

The meaning is clear, though, even though I don’t understand every word. I accept their thanks and quietly slip away to join Dad on the porch steps.

He hugs me. “You did good, kid,” he says.

Cecily’s mom begins shepherding everyone up the stairs and into the house. “Venez. Il est la nourriture et le vin à l'intérieur. Nous allons manger.”

I glance over at Vlad. Neither of us wants to go through the charade of eating.

He offers us an out. “Merci, Mme Gérard. Mais je dois retourner la fourgonnette maintenant et Anna et je ai un rendez-vous avec le chef de police de la ville.”

Dad whispers the translation, recognizing that I caught only a few words. Something about returning the van and an appointment with the Lorgues Chief of Police.

“You go, honey,” he says. “I’ll stay. Trish and I will see you at home later.”

The Gerards are just as gracious in bidding us goodbye. Cecily approaches with Trish.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” she says. There is no suspicion or timidity in her voice. She hugs us one at a time. Trish, her eyes brimming with tears, whispers over her head. “Thank you, Aunt Anna.”

I hug my niece, and watch as the two stroll arm in arm into the house.

We did good, indeed.

Vlad backs the van out of the driveway.

“I should have known this wasn’t your van,” I say. “Definitely not your style.”

He laughs. “It belongs to a friend of mine.” He shoots me a sly smile. “A soccer-mom.”

I grin back. “I was right. What about the other? Do we really have an appointment with the Chief of Police?”

“Well, that part wasn’t exactly true,” he concedes. “I’m sure we’ll be hearing from the authorities before the case goes to trial, but not this afternoon.”

The “soccer-mom” turns out to be human, an attractive thirty-something living on the edge of Lourges. I can tell by her demeanor with Vlad that they are more than just friends. I wonder if she is a host but her polite friendliness to me gives nothing away. We leave on Vlad’s Ducati.

After he whispers something in her ear that makes the color rise in her cheeks.

“Heavy date?” I ask when we’ve pulled away.

He shrugs. “I owe her for the use of the van. I told her I’d be back tonight to pay.”

His thoughts reflect the method of payment he has in mind until I forcefully shut them down. He chuckles.

Vlad drops me off at the estate with the promise to call in the morning after he talks with Amélie and Alexander. I wave him off and go inside.

The house is quiet without Dad and Trish. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and head out to check the old wine press. It takes me a while to find the path, but once I do, it’s easy going.

I pass workers in the vineyards on my way. They look up as I go, some raise a hand in greeting. I know immigrant workers are a political hot potato in many countries, but France seems to have a dangerously radical faction who thinks blaming them for the murder of innocent children is an acceptable solution.

The press is in an old stone building, probably hundreds of years old. It is as tall as a two-story building, but the windows on three sides are all about five feet from the ground and narrow slits that would allow little light inside. The door is an opening, nothing more, with a ragged leather curtain hung from wooden pegs. I push it aside and go in.

It smells mainly of dirt and decay. The press itself has long gone to ruin, only rotted timbers piled in the center remain. The wood is stained purple, and there is the lingering odor of fruit to remind one of the decades of grape pressing that went on here. Puffs of dust rise from my footfalls. I think it’s a possibility that no one has been in here since the original owner, another vampire—my maker, in fact, trod these floors.

The thought sends a shiver down my spine. Avery was an evil bastard who fooled me not once, but twice.

He’s gone now. Of that, I’m certain.

I shake away the gloom and walk back outside.

I was right in offering this place to Vlad. There is only one way in and one way out. In the dark, it won’t be easy to conceal myself in a field not yet budded. But my eyes go to the roof. I scale the walls with ease. It is flat up here with a six-inch parapet behind which three vampires can easily conceal themselves. People looking for an ambush usually look everywhere but up. Plus, there is a pipe that extends down into the building; maybe to allow fresh air inside, I’m not sure. But it would make listening to what’s going on inside effortless—especially for a vampire.

 I go back to the house to await the return of my father and Trish. But the celebration at the Gerards must go on until well past midnight, and I’m fast asleep by then.

The mood at breakfast is celebratory. Trish, even after not getting a great deal of sleep last night (I heard them come in at one in the morning) is beaming. She eats a hearty breakfast, thanking me again and again until I shoo her off to the school bus. It is such a relief to have things back to normal.

My dad goes off to the vineyards, and I’m left to await Vlad’s call. Instead of that, though, he appears in the driveway, the Ducati announcing his arrival as surely as if he had blown an air horn. I greet him with coffee, which he takes with an appreciative smile.

“This is early for you, isn’t it?” I ask.

“Good God, yes,” he replies. “But since it may be my last day on this earth, I decided not to waste a moment of it.” He takes a sip and rolls his eyes. “Heaven. Speaking of which, how is Trish?”

But I’m caught off guard by his first remark. “I thought it was to be a one-on-one meeting?”

He shrugs. “My informants tell me there is talk of an ambush.”

“But you suspected as much. Are you really afraid of these vampires?”

He lifts a shoulder noncommittally. “I don't want to underestimate them. They are firm in their resolve to have their way and resentful that I killed their leader in such a public way.”

“You sound resigned. I don’t know if I like that.”

Vlad waves a hand. “You know how long I have lived. Maybe it’s time to pass the torch.”

His remarks send a shudder through me. “What are you saying? Who could possibly take your place?”

He looks at me over the rim of his coffee cup as he drinks and says nothing.

The silence, however, speaks volumes.

My temper flares. “You can’t be serious. What happened to
you have no say in what happens here, Anna?
Or,
remember you have no power here.
The European vampires don’t even recognize me as the Chosen One. How do you think they’d respond to you making me their leader?”

“They wouldn’t have a choice, would they?”

“Well, I do,” I snap quickly. “And the answer is no. Once I go back to the states, I have no idea what I’ll be dealing with there. I’m not about to take on anything else.”

Vlad raises his eyebrows but doesn’t respond.

Again.

I rage on, “If you’re intent on stepping down, what about naming Amélie and Alexander your successors as you did Steffan? They are strong vampires, loyal to you.” I take a step closer.  “And anyway, nothing is going to happen to you tonight. I have a plan. One vampire or six, it will make no difference. Did you call Amélie and Alexander?”

Vlad has finished his coffee. He hands the mug back to me. “Yes. They are willing to help.”

“Then let’s take a walk. I’ll show you what I have in mind.”

Vlad and I start out across the vineyards to the old press. I show him the building and demonstrate how easily we can conceal ourselves on the roof, all the while listening to what goes on inside. “If there’s any hint of ambush, we can be inside before Steffan’s toadies know what hit them. Four against six are certainly better odds than one against six.”

“You are very sure of yourself,” Vlad remarks.

“And you very unsure.” I take his arm. “What is it? This is so unlike you.”

He leans against the parapet and gazes out at the vineyards. “What happened to Trish’s friend made me aware of a fact I’ve long avoided. I have no interest in what happens to humans around me, even when innocents are murdered in my own backyard. I know I accused you of doing the same thing, but I also know you’ve put your life on the line for those humans you love again and again. No one can save the world. But we should be willing to save the little corner we occupy. You do.”

“And you can, too. You proved it. Now all you need do is not cloister yourself so. Stepping down or getting yourself killed is not an answer. Shutting down the fanatics that think mortals have no purpose save to be blood bags or servants is.”

Vlad doesn’t speak for a long moment. He’s shut me out of his thoughts effectively leaving me alone with mine. Have I said too much or too little?

After several moments, Vlad straightens. “You know, there is another alternative,” he says.

“To what?”

He keeps his gaze focused on the horizon. “You and I could rule together.”

His answer takes me so by surprise, I gasp, “I don’t understand.” But even as I say the words, I know it’s untrue. I understand very well.

Vlad knows it, too.

He turns and takes my chin, tilting my face toward him. “From the moment I saw you, I knew. Since my wife centuries ago, you are the first woman whom I could love as an equal.”

I twist away. “You also know that’s impossible.”

“Because of Frey?” Vlad spits his name like a curse.

His venom is as unexpected as it is cruel. “I owe you for saving Trish’s friend,” I say slowly. “I owe you for helping me in the dark time with my mother. I owe you for allowing me to live in your country as a vampire. But I do not owe you my heart.”

His eyes bore into mine before he breaks the spell and looks away. “I don’t apologize for speaking my mind,” he says.

“As I don’t apologize for speaking mine,” I reply.

He nods. “We should go to Amélie’s. That is, if you still wish to help me.”

“I wish to help your community,” I say. “Both human and vampire.”

He doesn’t look at me as we depart. I have the feeling he may never look at me again.

I drive my own car to Amélie and Alexander’s. It makes the most sense since Vlad needs to be at home for the car that will bring him to the meeting. He and the leader of the conspiracy, a vampire named Renaldo, would come together. Presumably as an effort to thwart an attack. Vlad would choose the driver.

As I follow the Ducati into the countryside, I keep replaying the scene between Vlad and me on the roof. Everything about him this morning was odd. From his apparent resignation to being killed to his wanting to give up his position as vampire ruler to his abrupt proposal that we rule together. For the first time since we met, he was a stranger.

The vampire couple is waiting for us. Amélie greets me like an old friend, introducing Alexander as he had been in his study when I came to feed. He is not at all what I expected—portly where Amélie is thin, with the bearing of a jolly monk, a face open and friendly, a head balding on top, a mouth made for laughter. His eyes twinkle when he takes my hand.

I see why Vlad is so taken with you
, he says.

He means it as a compliment but it makes me uneasy. What has Vlad been telling them?

Amélie senses my apprehension.
Enough, my love,
she says.
You are embarrassing Anna. And I told you, she is a very happily married woman.

Alexander raises an eyebrow but doesn’t reply. He looks at Vlad who shifts nervously and refuses to meet his eyes.

Once again, Amélie breaks the uneasy silence.
Anna
,
Vlad tells us you have a plan for tonight. It’s important that we rid ourselves of these dissenters once and for all. This evening, when they are all together, may be the only chance to strike that blow.