Dark Rapture (26 page)

“Shit! Get away from me, you crazy bastard.”

Sebastian complied, allowing Gary to scramble over the back of the couch, where he pressed against the wall in shock, watching as Sebastian's fangs moved up in their sockets. “Oh my God, this is impossible.”

“Yes, well, impossible it is not.”

Sebastian sat, knowing it would take some time before Gary’s shock turned to anger once he realized that his sister was a vampire, too.

“As much as I hated to do that to you, it was the only way. The vampire has always been a fantasy figure, never reality. And so to prove a point, one must take desperate measures. As I’ve told you, Scarlet is also a vampire. I transformed her about a week ago. But you can trust me when I say that I will never harm her in any way, because I love her.”

“Harm her?” Gary's rage exploded. “You don’t think turning my sister into a bloodsucker is harming her? Man, you are crazier than I thought.”

“Gary, there is nothing you can do to reverse the process. Your sister will always be a vampire. But if you’d just settle down I could tell you what else I’ve learned.”

“More? You don’t think finding this out is enough? Or maybe you wanted to bite me too while I’m here, huh?” Gary rubbed his neck. “Oh shit, I gotta get the hell out of here.” He ran to the kitchen.

“I know where Scarlet is, Gary!”

Stopping by the doorframe, Gary waited, his fingernails peeling the paint from the boards, as Sebastian approached.

“I’ve been reading the diaries written by Vince’s ancestor. And I also suspect that Scarlet may be a medium. Do you know what a medium is, Gary? They’re a host, of sorts, for spirits. Anyway, if Scarlet really was possessed by Marie Elisabeth’s spirit, then I know where she is right now.”

“I don’t need to listen to this shit. You’re a lying bastard.”

“She’s in Paris, Gary.”

“Paris?” Gary swung around in renewed fury. “Now I know you’re crazy.”

Sebastian interrupted quickly, “Eighteenth-century Paris”

Gary’s mouth hung open. He smacked his forehead with a palm as if he had entirely given up.

“There is an entry in the diary that states that a stranger visited Alexander Lyons—Vince’s great-great-great-grandfather, I believe. And then later that stranger—Scarlet—went to a party in Paris. My party.”

Speechless, Gary merely shrugged.

“So that means perhaps she’ll run into me back in time.”

“So? What the hell good is that going to do her?”

With a sigh, Sebastian acquiesced “I don’t know.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Scarlet entered the ballroom with Sebastian, and saw Annalise and another girl on their hands and knees scrubbing beneath the crystal chandelier.

"Ahh, Christelle.”

Scarlet jerked her gaze toward the opposite side of the room. Sailing across the checked floor, dressed in breathtaking black velvet and sparkling diamonds, was Christelle Meulan. Her lips were painted brilliant red and in her hands, she carried sheet music. She sashayed over to Sebastian, giving Scarlet nary a glance before tenderly kissing each of his blushing cheeks.

“You’re early, Christelle. There’s another hour, or two, before your lesson.”

Clutching the music to her chest, the woman shimmied in between Sebastian and Scarlet, forcing him to let go of her hand. Scarlet stepped back in a huff, crossing her arms over her chest, and watched as the black velvet vampire worked her spell.

“I was too excited about the new music you promised me, Bastian.”

Bastian?
Scarlet pressed her lips together.
My, aren't we cozy.

“
Oui,
the Vincenzo piece. It’s difficult, but there’s no reason for you not to try it. If that is what you wish.”

Sebastian glanced around Christelle’s powdered wig and shrugged. Scarlet fumed, though she went on full alert when Christelle fingered the lace at his neck.

“I’ve been waiting you to give me . . . more . . . Bastian.” She glanced slyly aside, barely seeing Scarlet but sure that she was close enough to see her actions. “This music sounds like something I can sink my teeth into.”

Scarlet clenched her fists, preparing to swing, but forced a stiff smile to her mouth when Christelle turned to her.

“But I see you have company?” Christelle eyed Scarlet as one dressed in radiant white would eye a mud-soaked child.

"Oui,
this is Elisabeth Montrose. She is staying with us for a few days before traveling on to Paris to study music with her uncle this summer. So you see, Christelle, the two of you have something in common.”

The woman's lashes fluttered as she drew her eyes down Scarlet’s figure, as if the thought of even breathing the same air would give her the plague. “How nice. But quite unfortunate that you won’t be taking lessons from Bastian.” She fluttered her sheet music before her face, coolly studying Scarlet for a reaction.

“Yes, well I had no idea—”

“No matter.” Christelle walked past her and swung around, her skirts brushing over Scarlet’s. “Just leaves more time for me to spend with him. Shall we, Bastian?” She held out a jeweled hand, awaiting obedience.

“Would you mind, Elisabeth?”

Scarlet squeezed the hand he placed on her arm, wishing she could keep him with her. She didn’t want to let Christelle out of her sight, or leave her alone with Sebastian so that she could transform him. But there didn’t seem much else to do. Besides, Christelle wouldn’t transform him during the day, and in his own home, with his family so close. Would she?

“Don’t worry about me. If you’ve a music lesson then I won’t keep you. I’ll find something to do.”

He kissed her cheek quickly. Too quickly.

"Merci beaucoup.
It will only be an hour or so. I’ll come and find you as soon as we’re finished.”

Sebastian took Christelle’s arm and started across the ballroom as Scarlet stood watching. Christelle said something that made him laugh, and she glanced back over her shoulder to cast Scarlet a sly grin.

“Bitch,” Scarlet muttered.

Giggles erupted from the floor and Scarlet swung around and marched stiffly past the servants. She could not find any humor in the sight of Sebastian being carted away by the woman who was to change him into a vampire. She stalked out of the ballroom, knowing that if it hadn’t been for Christelle, she would still be mortal.

She reached the entrance to the ballroom and slid her fingers over the carved woodwork, wondering if she could find her room. The hallway looked the same to either side of her, the same ugly gray marble pots holding huge overgrown ferns. Which way?

“My, my, Sebastian leaving such a delightful catch all alone?”

Gregoire appeared by her side, holding a crystal bowl of strawberries. He leaned against the wall, nudging a fern leaf away with his leg, and offered the glistening red fruit.

“No, thank you, I was trying to figure the way back to my room.”

“That way,” he nodded, biting into a juicy morsel. “Where is Sebastian?”

Scarlet huffed and motioned toward the ballroom. “Christelle is here for a music lesson.” Speaking the woman’s name made her want to spit. Seeking relief, she quickly grabbed a strawberry and bit into it, finding its sweetness a welcome relief from thoughts of Christelle Meulan.

“Music lesson? Ha! Tell me another one.” Gregoire smirked, then reached quickly to wipe away fresh strawberry juice from the corner of Scarlet’s mouth.

Scarlet swallowed. “What’s so funny about that?”

“Elisabeth, please.” He gestured grandly with a flip of his wrist. “You did hear her play last night?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Well, she was terrible, but—”

“Exactly.” He bit into another strawberry. “Two years of music lessons and no better than that? When I know that Sebastian is quite accomplished on the piano. Isn’t it as obvious to you what’s going on between the two of them?”

Scarlet glanced back into the ballroom. The door to the music room was closed and all she could see were Annalise’s toes waving back and forth as she scrubbed.

“Two women,” Gregoire continued slyly. “Hmm, perhaps I shall witness a cat fight before the day is dark.”

With that, he pulled a huge strawberry from his bowl and plopped it in Scarlet’s hand, closing her fingers around it, then strolled away.

Scarlet eyed the strawberry, thinking how much its color resembled Christelle’s sports car pucker. She touched the strawberry to her mouth, feeling the juice stream down her chin as her fangs descended, sinking deep into the red flesh.

“I’ll give you something to sink your teeth into, Christelle.”

***

“May she rest in peace.” The minister made the sign of the cross in the air before him, then stepped back from the soggy grass to the sidewalk.

The small gaggle of people that had gathered around the graveside lingered long enough to pay their respects and then filed to their cars until only three remained. Francesco shook the minister’s hand, slipping an envelope with payment into the other hand as he did so. And then he walked to the edge of the burial vault, waiting as Vince collected his thoughts.

It had started to thunder, the rain crowning Vince’s golden mane like a jeweled headdress. They were both soaked to the skin, but Francesco held his ground, not wanting to push Vince. He was surprised at Vince’s despair, but relented, remembering his grief over Serena’s death.

Yes, he and Vince had a common bond. Both of them had lost someone dear. To a vampire. Of course,
he
was the vampire Vince had lost his mother to, but that was a point easily overlooked. Vince would never know.

Vince looked up, his face drawn and the tears washed away by the rain. Francesco offered his hand. “Let’s get you into some dry clothes. It’s over now, Vincent. From now on I promise you that things are going to be better. So much better.”

They stopped at the car and Vince looked up, searching Francesco’s eyes. “I loved her. I just wish my father had been here.”

Francesco was surprised that he had never mentioned his father before. He hadn’t run across a spouse’s name when planning the funeral. “Perhaps we can contact him when we get back to the hotel.”

Leaving a trail of water across the black leather seats, Vince slid to the opposite side of the limousine and fixed his stare out the shaded window as Francesco gave directions to the chauffeur. “He’s gone.”

“Your father?” Francesco brushed the rain from Vince’s shoulder and pulled his coat tight to his throat, wishing that the young man would have enough sense to shake the water from his body.

“Disappeared right before I was born,” Vince said in a daze. “I don’t have anyone now.”

Feeling sinister delight at Vince’s self-proclaimed orphanage, Francesco hugged him across the shoulders. “You have me now, Vincent.”

***

Scarlet tiptoed across the black and white marble floor and out into the garden. The grass was soft and cool on her bare feet, tickling her ankles with each step. It had been an hour and a half, but still no Sebastian.

“Oh.” She stepped over to the fountain after seeing a flash of brilliant red. “You’re still here.”

Christelle held a coral blossom to her nose, looking over its generous petals, and rolled her eyes at Scarlet's approach. “And so are you.”

“Where is Sebastian?”

“He’s copying some music for me,” she said.

“Then you’ll be leaving soon?” Scarlet asked, wishing there was some way she could be sure of the woman’s vampirism.

“I should ask you the same.”

“Really?” Scarlet felt her blood simmer.

“Yes, but then, I imagine as soon as the hospitality runs thin and the wine stops flowing you’ll be on to another party.” Christelle drew the flower across her lips, leaving a greasy stain on the petal. “Let me warn you now, that you will be leaving, and soon.”

“And how is it that I must be warned of my imminent departure when it is only you that is to leave soon?”

Christelle whipped the flower through the air, sending it to the ground behind her as she stepped furiously into Scarlet’s space. “Listen to me, you sly little fox, I do not know where you have come from. I know that you are here in an attempt to snare a husband. You should be aware that Sebastian has no interest in you—”

“And how would you know?”

The fury left her face and Christelle smiled. “Bastian tells me everything. I am his confidante.”

Scarlet knew Christelle was lying. Sebastian would never confide in such a woman.
Would he?

“More like his courtesan. How dare you assume anything about me, Christelle? Believe me, in all your days, you will never begin to have a clue about me. Though I think I may know more about you than you might guess.”

“Is that so? And do you use the word courtesan because you have first-hand knowledge of the sport?”

Scarlet eyed Christelle’s greasy lips, wishing she could punch her. She noticed that Christelle clenched her fists into tight balls, as if she had the same idea. “You’re no more than a . . . a . . . cheap French tart.”

Christelle’s eyes bugged and her fists opened into claws. But Scarlet was able to reach up before the woman’s open palm smacked her cheek. She grabbed Christelle’s wrist.

Something was wrong.

Startled, Scarlet quickly dropped Christelle’s wrist and stepped back.

A spoken meow sounded above their heads, and both women looked to the balcony. Their spat had been witnessed by Gregoire.

“You little whore.” Christelle hiked her skirts to her sides. “How dare you insult me! I’ll see to it that Bastian hears what his ragamuffin has said.” In a rage, she turned and pranced away to the solitary applause from the balcony.

Scarlet rubbed the palm that had held Christelle’s wrist. She was sure of what she had just felt. Nothing.

“Meow.”

She looked up to the balcony, where Gregoire had taken to making scratching motions with his hand.

Feeling as if the whole world was against her, Scarlet ran to the bench on the far side of the yard, plunging to the ground before it in a swoosh of silk. She pressed her fingers to her temples in an attempt to sort through her confusion of thoughts.

She had felt nothing!

Christelle Meulan had felt like just another mortal to her. There had been none of the vibrations that would lead her to believe the woman was a vampire.

If she’s not the vampire, then who was Sebastian's creator?