Dark Rapture (38 page)

“Come on, man, we have to get going.”

“Gary, be patient.”

He scribbled his name across the ledger where the woman pointed and replaced his wallet. The man was getting on his nerves and he wondered if maybe it wouldn’t have been smarter to leave him behind. He didn’t want him in the way when they finally did find Francesco.

Gary reached over the counter and grabbed his canteen. He fingered the metal cross but the woman waved her finger at him. “Stolen property.”

“Gary, what in the world were you doing stealing holy water from a church? And the cross?” Sebastian picked up the heavy crucifix and saw that it must have been ripped from the wall; there were four screws in each of its points, two of which were bent.

Gary’s jaw dropped at the sight of Sebastian actually holding the thing. “Oh man, you mean crosses have no effect on vampires?” he whispered. “I thought that you’d burn or something if you touched it.”

Sebastian shook his head. “Does it look like I’m in pain?” He was ready to leave. The harsh fluorescent lights were beginning to strain his eyes. He replaced the cross and grabbed Gary by the arm.

“But what about the holy water?”

“Gary!” Perturbed Sebastian dropped his arm, snatched the canteen, and sloshed down a few swallows. Then he stood before Gary, water dripping from his chin, waiting for the man’s response.

“Well, I’ll be—”

“Can we go now?”

“Let’s hit the road.”

Sebastian swiped the water from his chin as they marched down the hallway. “That stuff was awful.”

“Hmm, must’ve still had some beer left in the canteen from the road trip.”

“Lovely,” Sebastian muttered and pushed the glass doors open.

“Wait!” Gary dashed back down the hallway, leaving Sebastian fuming. A minute passed and he returned, beaming from ear to ear, stake in hand. “I almost forgot. This is mine, and I’m not stepping foot in some vampire lair without it.” Fingering the sharpened tip of the makeshift stake, Sebastian swallowed hard. “Fine. It just may come in handy.”

Chapter Forty-Two

By the time the motorcycle pulled into the muddy driveway, Scarlet was exhausted. The wind had whipped at her mercilessly, and any breath she had left had been squeezed from her by Vince’s tight grasp.

He dismounted and helped her to the ground where she stood shakily surveying the ominous castle. It was old and rotting, like the witch’s castle that always stood at the top of a hill in fairy tales. She saw a flicker of light coming from one of the windows about halfway up the huge stone structure.

Vince tugged her arm and she followed.

He’d changed since they’d last spoken. He was no longer the shy, sweet Vince who had once attracted her. Now, he commanded her movements with a fierce hand and a maniacal glimmer to his clouded blue eyes. The stage version of Vince had taken over full force.

The horrifying image of the two murdered women strewn across the cold ground made her stomach swirl. He had broken the jaw on one of them. How could he do that? This was Vince Lyons, sensitive musician; not a vicious killer. She wondered what he had in mind for her. Was he going to kill her like the others, or just toy with her until he tired of her enough to turn her over to Francesco?

They approached a door set into one of the two towers and the stench, mixed with humid air, stirred the bile to her throat. She pulled away, pressing her back to the stone wall. Vince stopped and hovered over her.

“No, I can’t go in there. Just let me catch my breath, Vince. Please.”

“Scarlet,” he whispered breathlessly, and seemed at the moment to be concentrating on something else. “Yes, let’s stop here. Please . . .” He pushed his head into her shoulder and his hand quivered as it rested on her arm. “Yes, it will pass . . . just . . . concentrate.”

“Vince? Are you all right? Is it another headache?”

He moaned against her hair. “Please . . . just . . . hold me.”

She hugged him, frightened yet worried for what was happening to him. His body shook as he turned his head from side to side, mumbling incoherently, as if a child pleading for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered over and over.

“Vince!” she yelled and shook him until finally she reached him and he came back from wherever he had gone. He stared vacantly at her as if trying to remember who she was and why she was there. Silently, he turned to the window and looked out across the field. His hair brushed over her cheek, sending a cold chill down her spine. Weeks ago she would have been thrilled to be so close to him, but now she was nothing but scared.

“Once you get into the main rooms the smell isn’t so bad,” he whispered, dismissing what had just happened. “Everything is going to be fine, Scarlet. You’ll see.” He brushed his lips over hers and then pushed her in front of him. “Hold my hand, there’s a winding staircase ahead but it’s too dark to see.”

She grasped his hand and stumbled across the first two steps. Thereafter, she was able to judge the distance between steps and followed Vince, who quickly ascended the staircase as if he’d done it a hundred times before. The floor leveled out and soon he pulled her down a hallway.

Was he bringing home a stray puppy to show his master? Would he display his find proudly, before the master ripped her to shreds? Knowing that once she was within Francesco’s grasp her time was limited Scarlet walked slowly, feeling the resistance from Vince’s hand. It seemed as if he had no idea of Francesco’s plan. Could it be possible?

Ahead of them, the glow that she’d seen from the ground seeped out from an open door. The windows were all broken and shattered into piles of dirty glass on the floor. Piles of broken, rotted wood heaped along the walls. Had Vince lived in this place since his disappearance? No wonder he’d gone mad.

As they neared the door, the light was blocked by a tall shadow and Scarlet came face to face with Francesco Volierre.

Vince pushed her in front of him.

“Vincent,” Francesco said with the delight of a child receiving a new toy. “You’ve found her! Oh, this is wonderful.” He stepped aside and motioned to Scarlet with a welcoming smile. “Come inside, my lovely one. Let me see the beauty who has captured the heart of my new blood child.”

Yeah, right, she thought. That old eighteenth-century charm was not going to fool her this time.

Vince led her in and Scarlet saw the high flames of the fire licking at the wood piled in the hearth. There was a single chair over by the window and ashes scattered everywhere, as if they had been swept to the floor each time a new fire was started.

“Very beautiful indeed, Vincent,” Francesco said with a nod to him, and he began to circle her as if she were a circus attraction.

“I found her in a graveyard,” Vince said. “Sebastian had tucked her away in some dirty old coffin and left her for good.”

“He was going to come back!” she protested, but Vince broke in immediately.

“Scarlet has this crazy idea that you want to hurt her. I told her that wasn’t true, since all you want is for me to be happy with her. Isn’t that right, Francesco? Tell Scarlet the truth so she’ll know. You mean her no harm.”

Aware of the tension in Francesco’s posture as he turned and walked to the fire, Scarlet used this chance to take a quick inventory of the room. Besides the chair there was a rolled-up rug against the wall opposite the fire, and over that hung two ancient swords, both rusted. The only escape was through the door by which they’d entered.

Francesco toed the edge of the fire, pushing a half-burnt log back into the flames, and a spray of orange sparks flickered over his boot.

Vince strode over to Francesco and leaned against the mantel, keeping a watchful eye on Scarlet. “She
has
been telling me lies, hasn’t she? You don’t intend to use Scarlet to get back at Sebastian for some past misdeed, do you, Francesco?”

She slowly edged to the chair and glanced out the window at the gray sky and blackened ground and then quickly back over to the fire. Vince stared at the side of Francesco’s face while the other vampire held his silence. She guessed Francesco must be vacillating between telling Vince the truth or lying to him again.

Vince really had no idea what Francesco was up to.

Becoming angry, Vince spoke calmly but much louder. “Francesco, I know you would never betray me, not after everything you’ve done for me. Now, please, tell Scarlet the truth. You mean her no harm!”

Francesco broke his silence. “I can’t do that, Vincent. I’m sorry, but I did not disclose the entire truth to you.”

“What?” Vince shot out. “You lied to me?” He looked to Scarlet, his face confused and drawn. “No, I won’t let you hurt her. You can’t.”

Just come back over here, Vince, Scarlet thought, as Francesco turned his head to gaze at her. The man was plotting. He was the devil with flames in his eyes, and he would stop at nothing to avenge his pain. Even if he had to betray his own blood child.

“It has to be this way, Vincent,” he said calmly. “Sebastian must know the pain of losing one so cherished. It is better if I do away with her now, before you become too attached to your little prize.”

Scarlet glanced out the window again and nearly screamed with delight, but quickly stifled her relief. A set of headlights was headed toward the castle.

“You bastard!” Vince said, prompting her attention back to the two men.

Scarlet had to do something to buy some time. Suddenly a thought struck her, and with a deep breath she stepped forward, closing the distance between her and Francesco. “And you would do this to the most beautiful rose in all of Paris?”

Vince was confused, but Francesco’s glare locked onto her eyes. He stared hard as the wheels in his memory slowly erased the cobwebs. He was remembering, she could tell by the way his jaw slowly dropped and his hand pointed to her.

“You?”

He remembered. But would it do any good?

“Yes, Francesco, how quickly you forget.” She walked to Vince’s side and threaded her fingers through his.

“No, it is impossible. But . . .” He reached out, coming within a foot of her face, and trailed his finger along the outline of her head as if piecing things together.
"Mon dieu,
it is! How is this possible? You are a witch! Yes, that is it! You were the one who created Sebastian and saw to the eventual destruction of our friendship. I don’t know how you did it, but it doesn’t matter. All witches must be burned at the stake and suffer eternal hellfire for their damnable actions!” He swung around and bent over the fireplace.

“Oh shit!” Vince grabbed her and pulled her toward the window. “He’s going to do it. He wants to set you on fire!”

“No, Francesco!”

Scarlet turned to the door and caught her breath. Sebastian had slipped in and now brandished one of the ancient swords, while he dangled the other in his left hand.

“Your vendetta is with me. And you will face me alone before I let you harm either one of them.”

Francesco whirled around and Vince pulled Scarlet over to the chair, imprisoning her in his arms. But she didn’t fight; she was too thankful to see Sebastian. And then as the two vampires, once friends, faced each other down, Gary appeared in the doorway.

“Scarlet!” Gary yelled. He rushed across the room, brandishing a stake, and pushed Vince away. Sebastian shouted for them to stay back. This was his fight.

He tossed the other blade through the air and Francesco caught the grip expertly and assumed the
en guarde
stance. As Scarlet was enfolded into Gary’s protective arms she prayed that Sebastian knew what he was doing. She remembered the skill that Francesco had demonstrated to her less than a week ago.

Sebastian assumed the same stance, his right arm thrust into the air in a salute matching Francesco’s, and Scarlet remembered Francesco explaining that you must always salute, even your enemies. She braced her hands against Gary’s arm, absently fingering the wooden stake, and watched as the swords clashed in a rattle of flashing steel.

“You’re a bit rusty, old friend,” Francesco teased, as he dodged Sebastian’s sword easily.

“So, you still consider me your friend? I thought you’d changed that to enemy long ago.”

“Isn’t it only fair?” Francesco said as he made a sweeping lunge at Sebastian. Two centuries had done nothing to diminish their skills; their movements were swift, their actions clean and graceful. “Tit for tat, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.”

“Once a friend always a friend?” Sebastian added with an inquiring tilt of his head.

“Ah, but my friends have never been engaged in the company of a witch before.”

Francesco stabbed through the air, missing Sebastian’s shoulder by a fraction of an inch, and Scarlet gasped.

“A witch? You mean Scarlet? Or should I say, Elisabeth Montrose. So you remember, Francesco. Well your memory is better than mine. But a witch she is not. An angel, perhaps, but never a witch.”

“To each his own,” Francesco said quickly, eyeing the trio by the window to be sure that no one had in mind to thwart his actions and interfere in the duel.

The two engaged swords in front of the fireplace, their faces inches apart, and Sebastian could see the sweat dripping down the side of his former friend’s face. Francesco growled and was able to push him away. Sebastian stumbled over the hearth, nearly falling into the flames.

Scarlet struggled, prompting Gary to clutch her tighter. “Please, I have to help.”

“No,” he said quietly. “This is between the two of them.”

“I’m sorry, man.” Vince laid a hand on Gary’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Vince. I’m only concerned with one thing right now . . . Kill the bastard!” Gary shouted, brandishing his stake overhead.

“So you’ve come to kill me, have you?” Francesco asked while his sword clanged across the other.

Sebastian had the advantage now as he dashed his opponent across the floor to the far wall and Francesco fervently tried to defend the new onslaught of attacks.

“Can you say that you don’t wish the same for me?” They moved dangerously close to Scarlet and she wanted to reach out for Sebastian, but Gary pulled her closer to the window. She was on edge as she watched, her fingers squeezing the wooden stake anxiously.

“I had my eyes set on a different prey.” At that moment Francesco dodged Sebastian’s sword and slipped close to Scarlet, bringing the tip of his blade to her chest, and just as quickly, stepping away and re-engaging with Sebastian to prove his point.

Sebastian leapt from his opponent’s sword to the fireplace, and turned only to let out a cry. Scarlet tried to see around Francesco’s body as his back was turned to her, but she could only see Sebastian’s sword arm falling to his side.

“Let go of me!” she screamed and pulled out of her brother’s grasp. She stepped forward, unknowingly clutching the stake to her chest, and at that moment she could feel the sharp stab of her fangs as they pricked her lower lip.

“Direct hit, I believe,” Francesco said proudly.

Sebastian dropped his sword to the floor in a clatter and fingered the blade that was suspended in mid-air. The blade had pierced him below the left nipple and exited out his back. Francesco stepped to the side and bowed to Scarlet, his face a wicked mask.