Twice Cursed (38 page)

It was only ten p.m. and
the club was empty for the most part, with only a few people
scattered around on the vinyl couches surrounding the concrete
dance floor and in the corner shadows past the main bar. They were
too far away to tell if they were vampires, but after what had
zapped her upstairs with
Goody-Two-Shoes
Gone Bad,
she had no intention of going
fishing again.

Abigail pointed for them to follow her
toward the VIP section, platformed off to the side and guarded by a
rather large, rather intense looking bouncer. A quick flash of fang
from him in an over eager smile, and it wasn’t hard to imagine what
he’d do with one word from Abigail. She led them up a few quick
stairs and past the roped off area toward the back. Underground
clubs all over Manhattan were notorious for their backrooms, and
most people equated them with gay clubs and fetish bars, but this
went beyond anything Lily had ever heard about. This was the true
anteroom to the undead inner sanctum, not the sleek leather clad
reception area upstairs.

A crushing feeling hovered over her as
they walked through the corridor toward a steel reinforced door at
the end. Random doors lined their path on both sides, but heaviness
thick with warning actually forced her not to see, not to look.
Wards may have blocked the rooms from view, but she didn’t need her
eyes to see what went on behind closed doors. The images bombarded
her almost of their own volition.

Her throat tightened and she stumbled,
grabbing onto Sean’s arm. His hand gripped her elbow, and he helped
her up. She felt the warmth drain from her face, and one look from
him told her, he felt it too. These rooms were where vampires did
the unspeakable.

“
I trust you can keep up,
yes?” Abigail taunted with a sniff. She turned, and a scornful
breath escaped her lips at Lily’s strained expression. “Oh, please,
where exactly did you think you were headed? These rooms are what
they are, and even among my kind they are not for the faint of
heart. This one here is a favorite.
La
Chambre de L’allaitement.
”

Jack gave Sean a confused look. With
Abigail’s sophistication and flourish, her posh accent made the
words sound mysterious and chic, but after four years of high
school French, Lily knew exactly what it meant. The images that hit
her when they entered the corridor left no doubt in her mind it was
a fetish room for vampires who liked to feed on lactating women.
She looked at Sean, who knowingly met her gaze with the same
revulsion.

What in God’s name had
they gotten themselves into?

Abigail’s grin grew to ugly
proportions, her fangs elongating like an exclamation point on
their debauched lifestyle. “When you live for centuries, it gets
harder and harder to find diversions. It happens.” She shrugged,
unremorseful. “Some of us grow bored with modern notions of
political correctness and become nostalgic. This room is
called
La Oubliette.
” She looked right at Lily. “Just think of the King Charles
VIII and his war on the Borgias and the treatment their enemies
endured. You’ll get the idea.”

Lily swallowed hard. “I don’t need
imagination to give me a visual. I get it unsolicited, complete in
4-D high definition. So, if you don’t mind, can we just get to
where we’re going? I’m sure the council is waiting on
us.”

She let go of Sean’s arm and
straightened, squaring her shoulders, not really caring if that
counted as strike two. He didn’t say a word, though. Not verbally
or telepathically, just sent her a mental kiss.

“
Thanks for that,”
she feathered back.

“
Anytime.”

“
Do you actually know who
we’re meeting with, or are we completely winging it?”

“
The master goes by the
name Sébastien. I met him years ago, and from what I remember he’s
nearly a thousand years old. His right hand man is called Rémy.
They were both made by the same sire in France during the middle
ages. Hence all the Gallic references.”

“
Great. Two vamp brothers
who came from chaos and war. This just keeps getting better and
better…”

***

“
I bid you ease, Sean
Leighton, Alpha of the Brethren,” Sébastien said, rising to greet
Sean from his seat near the fireplace. “Though, I sincerely regret
the reason for this reunion. If only it was under happier
circumstances.” He glided forward across the same ebony hardwood
displayed in the upstairs lobby, his hand extended in
welcome.

Lily slid her eyes sideways to Jack,
who had visibly blanched at the sight of the master vampire. The
man was imposing. Not that he was physically large. In fact, his
physique appeared more in line with the men of his time, diminutive
as compared with men of the twenty-first century, and downright
small compared with both Sean and Jack. His commanding presence and
the unmistakable aura of vampiric power and formidable magic made
him lethal.

Sébastien moved fluidly and seemed to
float above the ground. His dark curling hair set off his pale
skin, but it wasn’t the stark white Lily expected. It seemed to
have a translucent appearance, like a thin sheet of velum or onion
skin. Through the veil of her lashes, she compared him with the
other vampires, surprised to find as many varying shades of pale
translucence as there were human skin tones.

As the man came upon Sean, Lily
shivered, her skin crawling with gooseflesh from the cold knowledge
that this was the first of many tests this evening would bear. The
manner in which the master vampire acknowledged the Alpha of the
Brethren would set the tenor for the rest of the undead seated
around the room.

Sean stood tall and grasped the man’s
proffered hand in an ancient symbol of brotherhood, each clasping
the other’s forearm, though Lily knew it was for protocol’s sake
alone and not because of any abiding alliance. The inherent promise
smacked of equality and fidelity, yet it was a pie crust promise,
easily made and easily broken.

The fire crackled in the oak and stone
hearth, sending shadows dancing along the walls. The warm light
added richness to the heavy furniture and the brocade tapestries
that hung in long decorative panels on either side of the
fireplace. More of a library than tribunal, the room’s ambiance
lent itself to knowledge and contemplation rather than argued pleas
and convictions.

Four chairs graced the thick hearth.
They were unmistakably seats of power. As Sébastien greeted their
guests, the three remaining adjudicators stayed seated, each with a
vampire guard standing directly behind them, their eyes alert and
unblinking. Abigail took her place behind Sébastien’s empty chair,
her long white fingers curved possessively over its tufted
top.

None of the vampires were dressed
casually, making Lily wonder if this parley was considered a formal
occasion. She glanced down at her own attire, questioning her
choice to wear her leathers. Glancing across to Jack, the younger
wolf shrugged as if he read her thoughts. He was right; there was
nothing she could do about it now. The important thing was Sean had
dressed appropriately, thank God—as Sébastien was dressed similarly
in a dark pinstripe suit, his blood ruby shirt paired with a tie of
the same.

Sean met the master vampire’s smile.
“Thank you for your gracious invitation, especially considering the
short notice. I am gratified you deigned this matter essential
enough to oversee personally.” Sean answered, his manner and his
speech taking on as formal a tone as the vampire’s.

Lily studied Sean’s body language,
sending a mental note to Jack to do the same. If this meeting
required old fashioned formalities to be successful, then they’d
both better be onboard with it as well.

The skin on the back of her neck
prickled. Not in the same way it did in the bar, but more like when
someone was watching you. Abigail eyed her, but the vibe wasn’t
coming from her. Lily swiveled her head around toward the doorway
on the opposite wall from where they stood.

The guard standing at attention next
to the exit was staring at her, his eyes narrowed and
suspicious.

Abigail followed Lily’s gaze and
chuckled quietly, earning a sharp look from Sébastien. “And what is
so amusing, Abigail?”

She snapped to attention, immediately
dropping her eyes. “Nothing, my liege. It’s just Etienne seems to
have honed in on their psychic.”

Lips tight, Sébastien gave her a
withering glance. “You’ll have to accept my apologies, Sean. My
second in command is yet a fledgling, less than 250 years old. She
was one of the original settlers here in the New World. I saved her
from starvation by assuaging my own thirst on her lovely neck,” he
chuckled. “1767, I believe, isn’t that so, chéri?”

Lily’s gaze jerked toward
Abigail, and the look on the woman’s face confirmed what she
suspected. They not only identified the vamps by voice, but also by
date sired.
2141767. Aww…Abigail was a
valentine vamp!

The woman’s eyes narrowed, and another
wave of hostility surged in Lily’s direction along with a
protracted hiss.

“
That’s enough, Abigail.
Your behavior is not only beneath your station, it’s tiresome. The
alpha’s seer is no threat to any of us. In fact, she is quite the
interesting specimen.” Sébastien shifted his regard toward Lily and
inhaled, holding his breath for a moment as if sampling a fine
wine. “Yes, indeed. I so love a trace of Were blood. It makes for
such an irresistible blend. But I digress.”

He returned to his seat,
his second-in-command chastised, but still scowling. Arranging
himself, he crossed one leg over the other. “Don’t look so thrown
my dear. You are all quite safe…for the moment. As to how I
gathered my information, did you honestly think a complete dossier
on each of you wouldn’t be there at my fingertips? There has never
been anything left to chance when it comes to those granted right
of entry to
Les
Sanctuaire
. From the minute this meeting
was arranged, I have known all there is to know about you,
especially. The wolves are of no consequence,” he added with a
flourish. “Such instinct-driven beasts.”

Sébastien rested his elbows on the
damask arms of his chair. He templed his fingers, studying Lily.
“You look as though I’ve said something offensive.” A pregnant
pause hung in the air between them. “I assure you, it was not my
intention. We are all slaves to our natures; however it has been my
long experience with the children of the moon…as we call the
Weres…that they lack the finesse granted to the vampire race.” His
turned his eyes toward Sean. “Present company excepted, of course,”
he added with a smile, inclining his head before returning his
attention to Lily. “Nevertheless, on whole the Weres are still very
much…human.” The last word left his mouth like it tasted of
vinegar.

Lily forced a smile. “I
understand.”

“
Do you?” This time it was
Rémy who spoke.

All eyes moved to the seat half turned
toward the fire. The vampire’s face was obscured by the angle and
the sloping wings of his Queen Anne chair. He stood, pivoting on
his heel as if in slow motion. The urge to cringe reigned hard and
fast, but Lily bit the inside of her cheek. The entire side of the
vampire’s face was deformed, melted into a cascade of flesh. The
glow of the fire did nothing to soften the shock, instead making
him appear even more garish.

Lily looked at the floor, focusing on
the wide, thick hearth rug across from her feet.

“
Look at me, mademoiselle,”
he demanded softly.

Lily raised her eyes slowly. He was
dressed in black, tight-fitting slacks and a poet’s style shirt
with a black on black brocade waistcoat. He had narrow hips and
broad shoulders, but it was his shoulder length dark blonde hair
that she couldn’t drag her eyes from. It caught the firelight and
seemed to glow with shades of gold and copper. He must have been
beautiful to behold. At the thought of what he must have endured,
her heart clenched, forgetting, for a moment, the man in front of
her was a bloodless, heartless killer.

The untouched side of Rémy’s face
showed surprise. “My brother is correct. You are a sweet smelling
anomaly. It has been many years since I’ve felt the weight of a
compassionate gaze,” he said, with an upward wave of his hand. Tell
me, what kind of witch are you?”

Lily shook her head, taken
aback by the question. “I…I’m not a witch at all,” she blurted out,
heat rushing to her cheeks as she realized she sounded like
Dorothy
from
The Wizard of Oz
.

“
Au contraire,
chéri.
Every seer possesses a witch’s
soul. Your century merely refuses to see what exists right under
their noses. Humans fear what they don’t understand, and they abhor
what they fear.”

Lily opened her mouth to respond, but
Sean held up his hand. “Rémy, Lily is by far one of the most
compassionate women I have ever encountered—her fiery temper
notwithstanding. She is more warrior than witch, and uses her gifts
for strategy and the preservation of life.”

“
Ha! I’ve read her mind.
She’s been filled with as much hate as anger. And she is a hunter.”
Etienne interjected.