Fire Within (17 page)

“Maybe another night. I have something else in mind, something I would like you to see. We can take dinner and wine with us.”

“Where? Take dinner where?” Ari was concerned about leaving the club. It would make Andreas more vulnerable, harder to protect. Yet, “taking dinner” didn’t sound like he’d planned a public outing.

“Wait and see.”

She watched the rest of the rehearsal while he disappeared into the kitchen. By the time they’d finished a couple of songs, Andreas returned with a tray of covered dishes, a pot of coffee and two bottles of wine, including his favorite Italian Chianti. Balancing the tray on one hand, he led the way into his office. With a flick of his fingers, the bookcase swung out.

Ari hesitated, suddenly uneasy. His private quarters? She was wary of what he had in mind. He still hadn’t defined his idea of “getting to know” one another. Besides, she wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of spending an evening in the caverns or underground tunnels. And there was more than one reason Ari wasn’t sure she wanted to see his sleeping quarters. If he actually slept in a coffin…too creepy.

The passage they entered held little resemblance to the dark, cobwebby tunnels under the trap door that led to Prince Daron’s compound. This was newer, built from wood and concrete, scrupulously clean, and equipped with lights. There were four turns and no false tunnels, but each turn was protected with motion sensors and cameras. Within five minutes, they stood at the end of the passage before a thick, metal door. Andreas waved his free hand at a small mounted camera and punched a security code on a wall panel. The door slid away, and they stepped through the opening.

Ari gaped as she stood in a hallway opening into a large parlor of a restored 19
^th
century Victorian mansion. Antique furnishings, elaborate chandeliers. “This is your home?” She felt like Alice in Wonderland, only she’d stepped into another century. It fit him. Elegant, old world—very much like one face of the vampire beside her.

A male voice boomed from an elaborate sound system, yanking her back into the 21
^st
century. “Mr. De Luca, is everything all right?”

“It is. Samuel, this is my guest, Arianna Calin.”

“Very good, sir. Nice to meet you, Ms. Calin,” said the disembodied voice.

“Likewise,” she said, arching a brow at Andreas.

“Samuel is in the surveillance room. He saw us on the cameras. I will show you around later, and you can actually meet him. First, let us dine. The original dining room is on your right but much too formal. We will find a cozier table in the study. My favorite room.”

As they crossed the hallway, she took the opportunity to look around. He didn’t seem to mind her dragging feet and encouraged her interest by answering questions. More cherry wood, clearly Andreas’s favorite, floors and furniture gleamed with a high polish. A quick look easily identified the rugs as Persian; the furniture and lamps appeared to be antiques.

“These are authentic, aren’t they?”

“Yes. Eighteenth and nineteenth century. The majority were shipped from my landholdings in Italy.” There was justifiable pride in his voice as he talked about his boyhood in Italy and shared his ties to that other world. Ari realized how much he treasured this part of his past. A complicated man, Andreas De Luca.

“We should move on,” Andreas finally said. “Your dinner will soon be cool. The rest of the tour can wait.”

The wainscoted study was impressive with floor to ceiling windows at one end providing an unimpeded view of well-tended gardens, dimly visible under a cloudy sky that had brought an early dusk. In the distance Ari saw dense hedges that surrounded the property and assured privacy.

“Nice view.”

The room was finished with wall hangings and period furniture, including a magnificent roll top desk. It stood open, a laptop on the surface, papers tucked in every cubbyhole. Bookcases lined one wall of the room and were filled, top to bottom. A few books had been pulled out and stacked on a nearby stand. A marble fireplace provided a cozy but elegant touch.

A small round table was set with china, sparking crystal and lighted candles. His staff worked fast.

She stood still in the middle of the room, trying to take it all in.

“What is wrong?” Andreas held her chair, looking a little concerned.

“Sorry.” She shot him an apologetic smile. “But it’s like a museum. I’m afraid to touch anything.”

“Nonsense.” His face relaxed. “Beautiful things should be enjoyed.”

“You’re not worried that something could be damaged or broken?” She glanced around. Except for the laptop, nothing in here was from the 21
^st
century or even the 20
^th
. It was daunting.

Andreas shrugged. “It would be repaired or replaced. They are, after all, only things.”

Easy for him to say. These particular “things” were priceless. Ari took her seat, careful not to bump anything.

A smile tugged at Andreas’s mouth. “I have seen you face murderous werewolves with less concern, little witch. I hoped my home would bring you pleasure, not discomfort.”

“It does. I do like it. Why wouldn’t I?” Responding to his easy manner, she grinned at him. “Don’t worry. This, I could get used to.”

“I am hopeful.” His voice held so much meaning that she dropped her attention to the fine linen tablecloth. Ari’s skin warmed when his gaze lingered before he poured the wine.

Halfway through the meal, the earlier storm clouds kept their promise. It began to rain, turning the starlight view into waterfalls cascading over the windowpanes. Andreas lit the fireplace, and they finished the wine and talked by the flickering light of a fire. When she asked about the roll top desk, she learned it had belonged to his grandfather. The house was a window into Andreas’s past.

When the first bottle of wine was finished, they toured the house. The remainder of the first floor held a kitchen, living room, a parlor converted to family room/library and a modern bath disguised in early 19
^th
century decor. A wide curved staircase led to the next two floors. She paused on the way up the stairs to study a series of paintings in ornate gold frames. The first was a family portrait: two dark-haired boys; a handsome, aristocratic man; a stunning woman with large, black eyes and raven hair falling to her waist. The woman’s features glinted with humor.

“My family,” Andreas said from behind her, so close she felt his hand brush against her back.

“Which one of the boys is you?”

“The younger.” He rested one hand casually on her shoulder and leaned forward, pointing with the other. “I was seven. My brother Luis was ten.”

Aware as she was of his touch, she tried to focus on the portrait. His past was important if she was ever to understand this complex man. Luis’s portrait was solemn, but Ari thought Andreas looked mischievous even then. “Your mother was beautiful.”

“Yes, she was.”

Ari wondered if her loss was still painful after all this time. It struck her he must have loved and lost a number of people in two hundred years. She moved to the next portrait, a stern-looking gentleman. As she moved forward, Andreas’s hand slid off her shoulder and down to her waist.

“My paternal grandfather,” Andreas said, “known throughout the countryside as ‘the Baron.’ And this is my great-great maternal grandfather, reputed to have been rather eccentric.”

So Andreas favored the maternal side, she thought, studying this last gentleman with his striking dark looks. Each subsequent ancestral picture was examined and briefly explained as they continued up the broad staircase. The last portrait, hanging at some distance from the others, was a grouping of seven robed figures.

“More relatives? They look like judges or clerics.”

“No. They are the elder vampires, collectively known as the Original Seven.” He pointed a long finger at one of the men. “This is Daron’s sire. Our prince has a noteworthy lineage. It is rare to be a first generation descendant of an elder.”

“What about your lineage?”

“Much more ordinary.” He didn’t elaborate.

According to Andreas-the-tour-guide, the second floor they by-passed held bedrooms. Curiosity about his sleeping abode—coffin, box of cemetery dust or otherwise—almost made her ask for a peek. She held back for fear of sending the wrong message.

The third floor held smaller rooms, probably former servants’ quarters. They turned right into the surveillance room, and she was properly introduced to Samuel.

He returned the introduction with a smile. Samuel was slender; small statured for a man, maybe five-foot-seven. Drab brown hair, human-looking, Mr. Ordinary. But she wouldn’t make the mistake of under-estimating him. He was running security for a master vampire, and her witch powers identified his aura as weretiger. Samuel’s energy came through the moment he spoke. “You’re the local Guardian, aren’t you?” When Ari lifted a brow, he added, “I know Steffan. Heard all about the big shoot out with the Frenchie wolves. Whipped their asses. Must have been exciting.”

“Um, I guess.” She really didn’t want to talk about the past tonight. “Samuel, it was nice to meet you.” She turned to Andreas. “It’s late. I should be going. I still have patrol.”

“Have you looked outside recently? No self-respecting evil doer is out in this weather. And you have not met the rest of my staff and housemates. In light of the situation, they’ll need to know who you are.”

What situation? Ari wondered. Yesterday’s attack or their dating?

She glanced at the window. The rain was coming down in sheets, and lightning flashed now and then; a typical Midwest summer storm brought on by the excessive heat earlier in the day. “Looks like Mother Nature’s on your side.” Actually, he was right about meeting his staff, and she had to admit she was happy to have an excuse to prolong the evening. She’d never before spent so much time in harmony with Andreas. She flashed him a smile. “At least for now, lead on.”

In the next room, four vampires and three weretigers jumped to their feet when Andreas opened the door. Ari got the impression their boss didn’t often make unannounced visits.

When Andreas had introduced Ari, a vampire he’d identified as Cedric came over to them.

“We haven’t met before, but I’ve heard your name.” Cedric said to Ari. “Are you working on the murders? Jules was a friend.”

“Yes, we’re working with the PD. I’m sorry about your friend. Were you close?”

“Close enough to miss him.”

“My regrets also,” Andreas said. “I was not aware of your friendship. It there anything you can tell us that might identify his killer?”

“Not that I can think of. He spent most of his time with Lorraine. Griped about the counseling she insisted on, and her family, but nothing else I remember.”

“What did he say about the counseling?” Ari asked, curious to hear Jules’s side of the story, even if second hand.

“Something made him uncomfortable, reluctant to go back. Something ‘weird’ I think he said. They quit going after the bonding, and Jules was happy about that.”

Weird, huh? Ari quirked her lips. Wasn’t that the definition of counseling?

After they spent a brief time talking with the others vampires and weretigers, Andreas and Ari left. Once they were back in the hallway, Ari asked him about the weretigers.

“Is there a reason you chose that lycanthrope group?”

“There was a reason two hundred years ago. Members of this same family have been with me that long.”

“Really? That’s tremendous loyalty.” She smiled to herself when he caught her hand as they walked toward the stairs. “Tell me the story behind it.” She loved listening to him talk; the whisper of Italian in his voice would sound good reading the tax code. Hearing pieces of his fascinating history was an added bonus.

“Their human grandfather worked in our vineyards. He was infected while defending my uncle from a weretiger attack. At that period in history, werecreatures were thought to be evil.” Andreas pulled her to him and slipped his arm around her waist as they started down the staircase. “They were hunted and executed. My family sheltered him, kept his secret. When I returned from England as a vampire, I recruited him for my personal staff. His children and their children have remained in my service.”

Ari was impressed with his beautiful home and his loyal, competent staff. No security worries here. The club was his only vulnerable spot, and she intended to keep working on it.

“I’d love to hear the rest of your history,” she said, tipping her head to look up at him, “but not tonight. It’s time I went home. Raining or not.”

“You could stay here.”

Ari shook her head. “Not a good idea.”

“There are three guest suites,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard her. “You would like Chantilly.”

“I’m not staying.” She pulled a step ahead.

Reaching the second floor, Andreas turned south, grabbed her hand again, and opened a door at the end. “Tell me what you think.”

White with blue trim. Crisp and feminine. A four-poster bed with a lace canopy dominated the room. 18
^th
or 19
^th
century, whenever they made the furniture with the fancy bowed legs.

“Chantilly Suite,” he said simply.

The floors gleamed of cherry wood, but the doors, framing, and wainscoting were white. A soft white rug under the bed, a snowy canopy and matching lace swags contrasted with the blue drapes at the windows. The bed covering was icy blue; several dark blue pillows were tossed on top. On the left was a small private lounge; a private bath and spa on the right.

“It’s beautiful.” She looked at him. “Did you choose the decor?”

His voice lit with pleasure. “I did. It is mostly Queen Anne.”

“A man of many talents. You know women even better than I thought you did.”

“I am glad you like it,” he said smoothly, ignoring the other implications.

Who had inspired this room? How many women had he entertained here? Disturbing to think about, but Ari knew he hadn’t been a monk. She’d drive herself crazy if she delved into that part of his past.