Lyon (26 page)

Warming to his brother's proposal, Nicholas chimed in. “Raine will introduce the plants he has grafted and prepare everyone for the coming wine we will produce with them. Normally it would take several years for the new vines to mature, but we have a way with these things…”

There was a charged pause.

“The question is, will the taste of the new grapes be acceptable,” said Lyon. “The French are notorious snobs when it comes to wine.”

“Oh?” said Juliette.

Belatedly recalling her heritage, he shot her a teasing grin. “
Pardonnez-moi
. Present company excepted.”

He turned then, his face wreathed in smiles as he looked beyond her toward the empty rear doorway. “Liber! Ceres!” he called out.

Juliette spun in time to see two slinky black panthers bound toward him to stand with their paws on his chest and back, as if they were bookends and he, a book. The force of their weight would have knocked over any mere mortal, but Lyon didn't even rock under it.

“I missed you!” he informed them, beginning to roughhouse.

“Emma, darling, your dress!” said Jane, shaking her head at the mess her sister had become through her fetching of the beasts. No one seemed at all concerned that the animals Lyon petted were capable of ripping out his throat with a single swipe of a paw.

One of the jungle cats suddenly bounced Juliette's way to lick her hand.

“G-get
away
from me!” she shrieked, stumbling backward.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at her, stunned.

“Down!” Chastised, the animals obeyed Lyon's command instantly, sinking to lie on the marble floor.

Badly shaken, Juliette dashed through the nearest door, so eager for an escape that she didn't realize until too late that she'd entered a large closet.

“I forgot!” Lyon called after her. Then to Jane and Nicholas in
sotto voce
, “She doesn't like animals.”

“So I gathered,” said Nicholas.

“I didn't know!” she heard Emma wail behind her, and then came Lyon's comforting tone, reassuring her.

Lovely. She'd just upset a child and made a fool of herself before Lyon's relatives. Dropping her bag on a shelf, Juliette rummaged through it, and with trembling hands, prepared her drops and took them. Distraught and absorbed in her task, she didn't notice when Lyon joined her.

“They may look frightening, but they're pussycats,” he assured from behind her.

She slipped the dropper back inside the vial with a
plink
. “They're animals. With an instinct to kill.”

There was a small silence.

“What's this?” he asked, his gaze sharpening on the bottle.

The drops slid down her throat, and she waited for their resulting calm to wash over her. “Medicine, given to me by a physician.”

He took the bottle, put the tip of his tongue to the rim, and drew back, frowning. “Opiates. How often do you take it?”

“As often as I require it.” She reached for the bottle, but he held it fast.

“Are you an addict?”

“Only since our carriage ride began,” she lied. For in truth, the opposite was true. Since the night in the hunting cabin, she'd required the drops only sporadically. It was as if being in his sphere of influence had somehow made them less necessary.

“Then now that it is over, you won't be needing this.” Lyon slid the vial in his pocket.

She only shrugged. “It's easily had. I can no doubt get more if I want it.”

He set his broad hands at her waist. “Don't,” he coaxed. “For me. For us. Don't.”

Her eyes searched his, and her heart twisted at his concern. Whereas Valmont wanted to cage her with her addictions and phobias, Lyon wanted to set her free of them.

“You may have noticed that I'm unusually afraid,” she murmured. “Of certain things. Animals. The drops help me with that. I don't want to use them, but at times it seems I need them. And in truth I've used them far longer than the carriage ride.”

He tucked her close, wrapping protective arms around her and rubbing a hand over her back. “Liber and Ceres recognize you as fey. They would rather die themselves than hurt you. They're descendents of Bacchus's familiars and for that reason if no other, I am their caretaker.”

“It's not just animals, but the outdoors in general that puts me off. I—I had a difficult experience a few years ago.”

He drew away to see her face, but she shrugged and shook her head, unwilling to speak of it.

“I'm here now,” he said, hugging her again. “I'll help you through taking leave of this crutch. As you helped me through my illness.”

“I'm not sure it requires the same cure,” she said with a small smile.

“You may be surprised how quickly a cure is wrought, for your body's rhythms will be different here. You'll find many things easier now that you're on our land. It's where you were meant to be.”

F
rom the corner of her eye, Juliette glimpsed an ethereal glow in the woods just beyond where she stood at the edge of Lyon's garden. She turned with a feeling of foreboding and saw what appeared to be a dozen or more lanterns bobbing through the trees. They were moving swiftly and erratically, and they were coming her way. Ghostly, childish giggles and a whiff of grapemust accompanied them.

“
Non!
” she breathed, backing away.

But of course the lights only continued closer, until she saw it was exactly as she'd feared. The bright-children—those mischiefmakers, whose arrival was a harbinger of momentous and often unfortunate occurrences—had come again to haunt her.

Why did this have to happen now, when things had seemed to be going so well for her? She'd been here on Lyon's estate over a week. He had almost fully recuperated from his illness and had been exceptionally amorous of late. He'd told her his attentions were in preparation for an ancient Satyr ceremony known as the Calling, after which his recovery from the effects of what had occurred—or rather, what had
not
occurred the night she'd tricked him in Paris—would be complete.

It seemed that under the full moon, which would arrive tonight, his body would alter in the way she'd seen it a month ago in his hotel. Together, they were to engage in a carnal ritual, which she'd begged him to describe and he had.

What he'd revealed had exceeded her most perverse and delicious imaginings and she was now anticipating the reality with equal amounts of trepidation and yearning. However, this rite of his normally took place in the open wood, at some designated location she'd yet to see on the grounds. And though this was the site he would prefer, he'd resigned himself to her inability to endure so long a time in a natural setting, and had assured her they would undertake the ceremony in his home tonight instead.

Yet with the lessening of her dependence on opium, she'd discovered a desire to broaden the scope of her world and had recently also discovered in herself a longing to please him where she could. And this had been the impetus for her foray into his garden this afternoon. Since he was now visiting his eldest brother in some secret fraternal endeavor that he'd claimed would prepare them both for tonight, it had seemed a good time to make such an attempt in private.

Of course, she'd only meant to venture to the boundaries marked by the tiled courtyard at the rear of the
castello
. But giddy at the success of attaining that goal without trouble, some foolish impulse had tugged her to go beyond fountains, terracotta urns, black-painted Attic vases, and jeweled mosaic flooring. And beyond potted lemon trees and statues where the landscape had given way to wilder plantings and then to the beginnings of an oak and cypress forest.

She spun around, locating the golden edifice that was Lyon's home just uphill from where she stood. It wasn't so great a distance. She lifted her skirts and scurried off, retracing her steps on the path toward home. Perhaps she could make it there before she was caught. Perhaps she could outrun whatever disaster loomed.

So she ran, knowing all the while, it was a wasted effort, for the imps would catch her and wreak whatever havoc they liked, regardless of her wishes. She felt for the oatmeal she'd continued to carry with her as a talisman, thinking herself an idiot since it had proven it didn't ward them off. They were almost upon her now, and there were far more of them than she'd ever seen at one time.

Then they were prancing ahead of her, where they gleefully blocked her path. She came to a standstill so abrupt that she almost pitched forward into their midst. Her eyes searched for a way to pass them, but they spiraled closer, forming a dancing ring around her from which she could not escape. Small hands brushed her skirt in passing and flitting feet made whirlwinds in the leaves. Like some sort of luminous lasso, they held her prisoner within their merry, undulating circle.

“
Nonononon!
” she wailed, yanking her skirts away. Unable to stand their proximity any longer, she tried again to lunge free and to her surprise broke through their orbit. Undismayed, they followed her, forming a living barrier to her right. She veered left in response, away from Lyon's home. Behind her, they wove among the trees, all devious grins and twirls.

Now and then, a few separated from the pack and moved to one side of her or the other and she always swerved in the opposite direction. A few minutes later, she realized they were in control of her flight and were in fact herding her in a direction they wished her to go!

She swung around to confront them, only to discover that they'd disappeared. She put a hand to her chest to calm her heart. Her breath puffed in and out, visible in the autumn air.

Why had they gone without making their usual mischief? Had something scared them away? Turning toward the
castello
, she looked upward to its gleaming golden towers and took a step in its direction.

But when she glanced directly ahead, she saw that a woman had materialized on the path between her and her destination. She was fragile and beautiful—and shockingly nude, at least what Juliette could see of her. Dark, lustrous hair draped her face, shoulders, and much of her body, hanging in long silken strands that fell almost to her knees. It was damp as if she'd recently come from the bath. Or the river.

“
Mon pere et ma mere m'ont abandonné,
” the creature announced. Her words were musical, chanted. Almost a croon.

Juliette pressed her fingers over her mouth.
My father and my mother have abandoned me.
The phrase was well known to her. Those very words were engraved above the doorway at the Hospice des Enfants Trouvés, which had taken her in as a foundling.

“You remember, don't you?” lilted the voice.

“What do you want? Who are you?”

The woman tottered unsteadily forward until her belly bumped Juliette's and her hair dripped on her shoes. A furtive glance downward informed her of something she'd initially overlooked. The woman was heavily swollen with child. Her features were indiscernible through the curtain of her hair, but there was a strange pearlescent scallop-shaped design on the skin of her forehead where it was visible, and on her legs.

Juliette stepped back from her, wary.

From among the great swag of necklaces she wore, the creature selected one, seeming unfazed by the lack of welcome. Untangling it from the others, she pulled it over her head and held it out, attempting to encircle Juliette's neck with it. It was green with algae and Juliette recoiled from it.

“What's wrong? You act like it's a sea-snake,” the woman said, sounding annoyed. She looped it back around her own throat and turned it until she located the pendant hanging from it.

This she lifted between two fingers and tugged it forward for display. Juliette glanced at it, seeing it appeared to be cast pewter or perhaps iron, rendered pitch black with corrosion.

But it was familiar.

Strangely intrigued, she took it and held it to drape her palm so the necklace stretched, momentarily tethering them. With growing excitement, she ran her thumb over the grime, trying to determine what it covered. Engraved upon it were two sets of numbers, she saw, both barely discernable.

Eagerly, she scratched with her nail and peered closer. The first set was easily revealed: 1804. A number identical to the birthdate inscribed on her own necklace!

She scratched diligently at the second. It was more stubborn, but her companion stood patiently as she worked at it, and eventually it was exposed as well. 8901! This was the number that had been assigned to Elise to indicate her place among the ranks of abandoned children at the hospice in Paris. The number on the necklace she had worn that summer they'd met three years ago. Her own ranking had been only one digit off.

She tightened her fist around the medallion. “Where did you get this?”

“Do you not know me?” Sea-green eyes identical to her own blinked at her. Then the necklace was pulled away as she bent slightly and speared her fingers through the front of her hair, pushing it back from her face.

“Do you not know me?” she asked again.

“Elise?” Juliette's asked, her voice laced with burgeoning hope.

The woman reached toward her to stroke curls the color of almonds. “Light and dark. That's what your Madame Fouche used to call us, remember?”

Juliette let out an amazed cry and enveloped her in an embrace, which she didn't notice was only half-heartedly returned. She drew back, a confused look on her face.

“But everyone believed you dead!” It came out as a choked whisper. “Even I. For a time I was almost convinced I'd killed you myself. There are those who still accuse me of it.” Her tone begged for an explanation.

Sea-green eyes shifted, secretive. “It wasn't possible to return to you.”

The brevity of this response was so like Elise, for she'd always been private. When she'd first come to Burgundy, she'd revealed little about the sixteen years of her life prior to their meeting. They'd been constant companions that summer, but at its end, Elise had gone.

She took the woman's pale hands in hers and determinedly sought to bring back the girl she'd known. “Elise, I saw your name in the hospice registry in Paris. Inscribed just below mine. And from this I also learned that our arrivals there were not months or days apart, or even hours. But only minutes. We were born and delivered there at the same time! On December 20
^th
of 1804.”

The woman shrugged, looking uninterested.

“But, don't you know what that means? This evidence, coupled with our similar eye color and the numbers? It's too great a coincidence. It has to mean we're sisters, just as we once pretended.”

“Wonderful,” came the wooden response.

What was going on here? Elise had returned, yet she was not the sister Juliette remembered. It was almost as if another inhabited her body.

Her sister's swollen belly inadvertently bumped against her own flat one—a reminder that another being did in fact currently reside within.

“I'm to be an aunt?” she asked, lowering her gaze.

“
Oui.
” Brightening at the introduction of this new subject, she lifted Juliette's hands and placed them on her abdomen.

When she felt the kick of a child, a smile curved Juliette's lips. She'd taken so much from this dear woman. Very nearly taken her life. Even if she hadn't killed her, she'd been responsible for the assault on her that day. It was a joy to see her well and to know she'd soon bear her a niece. Since she had so little family—to suddenly add two members to it was a momentous event and joyful tears burned her eyes.

“I've come here to birth it.” Her sister slanted her a significant glance apparently expecting her to grasp something she did not.

“Oh. Well, I'm glad.” Juliette glanced at the scallops on her arm, and saw that they seemed to be rapidly fading, rendering her ever more normal. “Oh, Elise, where have you been all this time? Did you transform into the river to escape our attackers, and then were unable to find me again?”

“But don't you remember? We did find each other again. Only a month ago. On the bridge in Paris.”

In a shocking flash, Juliette realized that she'd been right in her guess that night on the Pont Neuf. Elise and the woman she'd seen with Lyon were apparently one and the same.

“Ah! You begin to comprehend our situation.”

“But Lyon said his…partner…that night was a Nereid. One named Sibela.”

Her companion looked a bit startled at her having this knowledge, but quickly recovered. “My sea name. However, I saw you again after that, though you didn't notice me. It was the very next night, as you were leaving his hotel.” She set her hands on her distended belly. “The night he gave me this.”

Juliette snatched her hands away and clasped them over her heart where a dagger of dread had just struck. Slowly her eyes rose to search identical ones. Reading the answer she'd feared there, she whispered, “It's Lyon's.”

“Yes.” Elise polished her hands over her belly, looking pleased with herself. “It's exactly one month since he and I lay together in his hotel. And tonight is to be a full moon,” she hinted. “The child will require its father.”

She paused then. Waiting.

But Juliette just stood there, staring at her, unable to speak. Then, after an agonizing interval, she resigned herself to the fact that she must act selflessly.

“Yes,” she said dully. “Of course. I understand.”

After all that she'd put her sister through, and in view of her fecund state, it seemed the only answer she could give.