The grove of camellias planted close to the road still possessed some of the trees Kendal had planted when she’d decided to purchase the property that became Oakgrove. Over the years cold snaps or disease had destroyed some, but the new ones that filled in those spots were all hybrids of the originals Charlie had cultivated, knowing how much she loved them. These were the trees where she cut the bouquets she took Angelina when she went to call.
New Orleans, October 1726
On the morning of Angelina and Tomas’s second day at Oakgrove, Tomas stayed inside to enjoy Jacques’s library so Jacques could take Angelina riding. Angelina was excited about seeing the entire plantation, but appeared more excited that they were heading out alone. Dee, for all her loyalty, hated horses and everything to do with them, so Tomas trusted Jacques not to ravage his niece if given the opportunity to spend the day with her. At least that’s the warning he’d issued before they left. With a packed lunch strapped to the back of her horse, they set off so Angelina could see what farm life was like.
“What do you want my role with you to be?” Angelina asked when they stopped for lunch and Jacques sat close to her on the blanket she’d spread out so they could enjoy their meal. Jacques had chosen the other side of the lake since Angelina had admired it the day before.
She stretched out and put her head in Angelina’s lap. “What would you like it to be?”
“First, I’d like to be your wife and the mother of your children, but above all else, whatever will make you happy.”
Jacques looked up at her and felt like someone had ripped her heart out for giving her something so precious she couldn’t keep. Angelina needed to find someone new and wonderful to lavish all the things she deserved on her. Someone who’d love her and grow old with her, which was something Jacques St. Louis couldn’t do because he wasn’t real. She’d been trying to think of a way to tell Angelina that since the night they attended the theater.
“What would make you happy?”
“To always see the same expression in your eyes when you look my way,” Angelina answered, pressing her lips to hers.
“No matter how much time passes, it’ll always be so, but we have to talk before you make too many plans about our future together. You need to know some things about me.”
“You don’t want me?”
She stopped Angelina before she could move too far away. “No man in his right mind would refuse you, but you should know the truth about the man you’re in love with. If we’re to be together, we shouldn’t have any secrets, don’t you agree?”
“There’s nothing you can tell me, Jacques, that’ll make me change my mind about you.”
Over Angelina’s shoulder, she could see the dark clouds forming, and they were at least a couple of hours from the house. “I pray that’s true, but let’s get going before you ruin that beautiful riding outfit in a downpour.” A few more hours of the illusion wouldn’t hurt, she thought, as she helped Angelina back on her horse.
That evening they sat in the parlor and laughed at Tomas’s stories of all the bribes people had offered him over the years because they didn’t want to read about themselves in the paper. The afternoon storm was still raging with no sign of letting up. The noise of nature’s fury and the distraction of Tomas’s company kept Jacques from hearing the light knock at the front door.
“Yes, sir, may I help you?” asked the servant who opened the door.
“Is this the home of Jacques St. Louis?”
“Yes, sir, can I get him for you?”
“I’m his brother, Henri.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize Master St. Louis had a brother.” The servant stood there awkwardly. “Would you like for me to fetch him?” he asked, staring at Henri’s face as if unsure what else to say.
“You have to invite me in, my good man. It would be rude of me to enter otherwise.” Henri smiled and waited, knowing he couldn’t step foot any place he wasn’t welcomed first, especially any house under the Clan’s protection.
“I’m sorry, of course. Please come in. I’m sure Master Jacques will be happy to see you.”
“Wait,” Jacques yelled, but it was too late. The young man who technically lived in the house had issued the invitation, giving Henri permission to enter. Once someone had granted that, Henri no longer had to abide by any rule of protection.
“Come now, Jacques, we are family, after all. Aren’t you pleased to see me?” Henri stepped in and took off his cloak and hat, shaking his hair of any water. “It’s been years, and I’ve gone through so much trouble to find you.”
“Why are you here?”
Henri smiled before he spoke softly. “I’ve come to make peace. The years have made me strong enough that I don’t need to feed as often to survive, so perhaps we can agree that the world’s big enough for both of us and rebuild our relationship.”
Angelina walked up and put her arm through Jacques’s, looking at Henri. “Do I need to send for anything, love?” she asked, seeming unable to tear her eyes away from Henri.
“Just a towel if you have it, kind lady. Allow me to introduce myself. Henri St. Louis. I’m Jacques’s brother.” He walked forward and kissed her hand.
Angelina shivered, and Jacques knew it was from the cold white fingers. “Angelina du’Pon. Uncle Tomas and I are friends of Jacques.”
“Don’t be modest, my dear, I see how my brother looks at you. I’m willing to bet you’re more than friends.”
“Would you like a room to retire to, Henri, after your long voyage?” Jacques asked, wanting to cut him off and get him away from the du’Pons. Henri never reappeared in her life casually, but he knew he could take the chance with Angelina and Tomas in the house.
“And miss the opportunity to spend time with you and your lady? I think not.” Henri’s answer made Angelina smile. “Lead the way, Mademoiselle du’Pon. I’d love to meet your uncle.”
“Go on, Angelina, we’ll be right in.” Angelina hesitated at her request, but left without a word.
Henri waited until they were alone, knowing that she wouldn’t attack him in front of all these people, no matter how much she wanted to. “She’s simply delicious, Asra.”
“I want to know why you’re here.”
“I wanted a new start, just like you, brother,” he said, laughing. “Does the little precious know your grand secret, or are you waiting to surprise her when it’s too late for her to escape?”
“Get out of my house, or I’ll—”
“You’ll do nothing without risking everything you’ve built here. And have you forgotten, I was invited in.” He moved closer until she could feel the cold skin that felt like death. “One night, Asra, then I’ll disappear into the darkness. You have my word as a gentleman.”
“Your word is worthless, Abez. It always has been, but watch your step here or I’ll destroy you no matter what I have to sacrifice.”
“Remember you said that.”
*
Angelina and Tomas watched as Henri simply pushed the food around on his plate, but none of it touched his lips. The same went for the sweet wine and fig preserves the cooks served after dinner in the parlor.
“Will you be staying long?” Angelina asked Henri.
“Long enough, but if there’s to be a wedding I might be persuaded to stay for the festivities.”
She laughed nervously and put her hand over Jacques’s. “Like I said, monsieur, Jacques and I are only friends.”
“Shame on you, Jacques. You’d best hurry and ask for her hand before someone else steals her from under your nose.”
“Thank you for your encouragement, but I rather like Jacques’s pace as much as his company,” Angelina said without humor. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I think I’ll retire for the evening.” They all stood when she rose to her feet. “Jacques, will you accompany me to my door?”
“Of course. Henri, I trust you’ll be here when I return.”
“Like I said, brother, we’ve much to talk about after all these years.”
They climbed the stairs in silence and walked in equal silence to the door of the bedroom Angelina was using. Henri’s arrival had disturbed her, and she could lose everything, but that wasn’t as important as protecting all those she’d come to care about. If killing Henri would expose her charade, she’d gladly pay the price to save everyone from his evil.
Their last meeting had ended when she wounded Henri, but not enough to keep him from escaping. After that he’d vanished, and the only clue she’d found was the name of a ship he’d written in a journal when he’d stayed in Paris. The merchant ship had sailed to the new world a week after she’d last seen him.
Asra had followed with all the papers she needed to establish Jacques St. Louis in New Orleans. Oakgrove and the people she’d bought off the block hadn’t been part of her plan, but the solitary plantation was a perfect location. No one was around to start gossip if she had to leave to hunt, and everyone who lived with her was tied to her identity, so they’d never turn her in even if they uncovered her secret. No matter how this place had come to be, she’d learned to love the life of a farmer.
“Are you all right, love?”
“Angelina, I want you to lock yourself and Dee in and don’t leave the room until the sun rises.”
Angelina put her hands on her chest, appearing frightened. “Why? What’s wrong? Is that man really your brother?”
Kendal passionately kissed her to stop the litany of questions. She wanted Angelina to know how much she felt for her before, like Henri had said, it was too late. “I love you,” she said before kissing her again.
“I love you as well.”
“This isn’t how I planned to do this,” she said, holding Angelina’s hand. “I have to speak frankly with you first, and if you’ll have me, I’ll speak to your uncle. Are you agreeable to that?” She didn’t have time for romance, but proposing seemed so right. She’d deal with any fallout that her spontaneity caused after she got rid of Henri.
“Yes, of course. You have to know how I feel.”
“Then get inside and remember, open the door to no one until morning.”
“Jacques, please tell me what’s going on. I’m frightened.”
She held her close and kissed her one last time. “Get some sleep, and don’t worry. I’m here to watch over you. In the morning I’ll tell you everything I’ve put off until now, but please, no matter what you hear, keep the door locked.”
“Master Jacques, is everything all right? I just heard screams coming from the back,” Dee said, hurrying toward them.
“Lock the door and watch over Angelina and yourself. Remember what I said and stay safe,” she said before she ran down the hall toward the stairs.
In the parlor Tomas stood by the window looking out at the rain. Henri wasn’t there. “Where’s Henri?”
“He said he was going out to check on his horse. Strange man, your brother. You two don’t seem related at all.” Tomas leaned on his cane, the pain in his hip evident in his grimace.
“Tomas, I don’t have time to explain, but I need you to go up to your room and lock the door. My brother isn’t the gentleman he pretends to be, and I have to find him before he harms anyone.” She pulled one of the crossed swords from over the mantel. Doing so made her want to cry, because in the morning they were coming down anyway to make room for Angelina’s surprise.
Not bothering with a horse, she ran toward the cabins to see if Dee was right. She wasn’t prepared to find Lionel walking through the mud as if in a trance holding the lifeless body of his wife Celia. His white work shirt was covered with what was left of her blood.
“I don’t know what it was, but it killed her,” Lionel said through his tears. “It killed all of them, and I couldn’t stop it.”
She entered the cabin to find Lionel’s children with their throats ripped open, dead as if a wild animal had come in and feasted on them. She ran back to the house, already aware of her mistake. The first body she found was the boy who’d invited Henri in, not far from Tomas.
“You old fool,” she said from her knees. She closed the tired green eyes staring off into nothing before putting her hand on his forehead. Tomas’s walking stick was backward in his hand as if he had tried to use it as a club to fight off his attacker.
Her boots felt like lead as she moved up the stairs. Angelina’s door was almost ripped from its hinges, the lock no opponent for Henri’s vengeance. Dee wore the same mask of death as Tomas. Her soft brown eyes were open, and in her hand the only weapon she had was the small gold cross Angelina always wore around her neck. The only thing missing from the room was Angelina.
She looked for the body until sunrise, but Henri had taken Angelina as a way to hurt her, and she swore she’d get even when the sun set again. Now, though, she had people to calm and bodies to bury after the night of death. Working together, they quickly assembled the pyres needed for Celia, her sons, Tomas, Dee, and the others who’d fallen to the demon they’d invited into their midst.
“Have them all pack and get them ready to travel soon,” she told Lola, who was twisting a rag and appeared terrified.
“Where we going?”
“I’m giving you your freedom to go wherever you please, but I’d like you all to consider my estates in the northern part of England. You’ll be welcome there and you’ll be safe for as long you care to stay.”
“I thought you were from France?”
She put down her glass of whiskey and turned her attention to Lola, who’d befriended her from the minute she came off the auction block and begged her for the life of her son. “I am Egyptian, but does that really matter now? This is all I can think to do, because after last night, I can’t stay here, and I won’t leave you all to suffer for my mistakes. Angelina and Tomas aren’t worth more than the others Henri killed, but we both know the law won’t see it that way.”
“I’ll get them ready, Jacques.” Lola stood to go and spread the word. “And, Jacques, we don’t blame you for what happened, especially Lionel. You’re too good to be related to that monster.”
“Thank you, but hurry and go. The sunset isn’t far off. Lock your doors and invite no one in.”
She waited in the study with her sword lying across her lap. Wondering why Abez had come back now was about to give her a headache. At midnight marking All Hallow’s Eve, the front door creaked open and they entered together.
Henri followed the movement of the knife in her hand as she twirled it through her fingers. For the moment he didn’t appear too concerned that she would throw it since he had Angelina pressed against his chest.
“Miss me, or should I say us?” He ran his hand through Angelina’s hair, which hung freely down her back. The style made her look wild and sensual.
“For centuries I haven’t struck the death blow when it came to you, Abez, because no matter how many despicable acts you’ve committed, I believed a small part of my brother remained in your heart. I was wrong. No matter what price I have to pay, you’ll die tonight.” She embedded the knife in the arm of the chair, put her glass down, and stood. The only noise in the room that followed was the sword leaving the sheath that housed it. “I’ll take my revenge for our father and all the other lives you’ve ruined.”
“Will you kill her too?” Henri pulled back on Angelina’s head and, to her disgust, she kissed him. “Where has the love you have for her gone?”
“Angelina, come here,” she said softly, and Angelina obeyed, acting as if she was drugged. Something had changed, and as she watched Angelina walk across the room, her heart broke because she knew what it was.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Angelina asked, running her hand up her chest. “Did you think that would frighten me away?” Her hand moved lower and squeezed between her legs to confirm what was missing from her anatomy.
“I intended to tell you, you have to believe me.” Angelina’s touch was overwhelming her senses, and she almost forgot Henri was still in the room.
Angelina pulled her head down, clearly wanting to share a kiss. Their lips were about to touch when the truth of Asra’s suspicions registered in her mind and she felt like someone had dropped a bucket of ice on her soul. Angelina’s strength was unnatural; she could feel it in the hand at her neck. Her lips went limp against Angelina’s, but before she could move away, Angelina sank her teeth into her upper lip.
Henri’s laugh rang through the house when she pulled back, her mouth cut and bleeding. “She belongs to me now, sister. I took what you so cherished last night, and I was right, she was delicious. What a wonderful wife she would’ve been, but you can delight in what an incredible bedmate she’ll be to me.”
“No.” The word came out as a whisper, and she wanted nothing more than to run out of the room to find darkness and sleep. In darkness she would find emptiness and oblivion. That was the only way she’d find release from the pain of what she’d allowed to happen.
“Jacques, please.” The voice sounded like her sweet Angelina, but this hideous creature only inhabited the shell of her body. Her Angelina was dead. Jacques opened her eyes to watch Henri run his tongue along her ear. “If you love me, release me from this hell. I killed Uncle Tomas last night. May God forgive me, but I couldn’t stop myself.” A tear of blood fell from the green eyes Jacques loved.
“I can’t,” she said in anguish. “Please don’t ask that of me.”
“Please, love, I’m begging you. If you care for me still even a little, then you’ll do as I ask.” When Jacques screamed, Angelina closed her eyes.
The sword flew from Jacques’s hand like a javelin and pierced Angelina’s heart. She threw it so hard it tore into Henri’s chest as well, missing his heart by inches. When Angelina exploded into dust, he staggered back, clutching the weapon that was weakening him by the second. When he looked up gasping, she was standing over him, intent on finishing the job.
“If you kill me, you’ll never find the other blond bitch you sniff after all the time,” he said as the sword slipped out, and she now held the point to the skin over his heart. “I buried your little teacher deep.” He kept speaking as the sword drew its first blood on the way to its target. “Swear you’ll let me go and I’ll tell you where she is.” Henri knew her sense of honor as well as her weaknesses, and her word would be his salvation. What he was saying was his ticket to escape.
“You believe I’d trust anything you say?”
“I’ll take you myself. If I’m lying you can kill me, but if I’m not, you have to let me go after you get her out.”
They arrived on horseback the next night, having to stop at daybreak; she’d watched over him when he crawled wrapped in a blanket under the bed in the room she’d rented. They had stopped at the church being built with Jacques’s generosity after Angelina had convinced her to make a donation. This was where Angelina had wanted to marry the man she’d fallen in love with, but that fairy tale was over.
“Under the last pile of stones laid,” Henri said as he held his hand over the festering wound. It would take extensive feeding and months to heal because of the essence of wood the blade was made with. Unlike when they were children and he showed no interest in learning battle strategy, he’d planned well for every possibility to escape, since his goal was to destroy her.
She braced her legs and pushed against the carved stones. She didn’t believe Morgaine would be underneath, but she wasn’t willing to gamble. She’d had no message that Morgaine was coming, but when the stones moved, she found Morgaine bound and gagged in an indentation in the dark soil.
“I kept my word, now it’s time for you to keep yours,” Henri said as he slowly staggered away.
“Kill him,” Morgaine rasped from her arms.
“I gave my word not to kill him now, but I won’t be bound to it forever. To the future I pledge my oath that Abez will die no matter the cost.”
Two days later the sunrise came, bringing with it a sense of despair. She gathered Angelina’s ashes and arranged to have them buried in the church-run cemetery outside the city after Angelina’s priest blessed them. Morgaine waited in the du’Pons’ home until all of Jacques’s slaves set sail to freedom in Europe. All of them accepted her offer and boarded ships except one.
Lionel stayed behind with her, wanting some explanation as to what had happened, why his family had been slaughtered. Her answers made no sense to him, and he cursed her for trying to finish driving him insane.
“No man or woman lives forever, and no one lives on blood alone,” Lionel screamed.
The plantation was quiet and peaceful without the sounds of workers and playing children. They were standing in the field where they had lit the pyres of their dead. “I can only tell you the truth as I know it, but I can’t make you believe me. I’ve lived almost three thousand years as a warrior of the Genesis Clan. Our Elders are the keepers of balance between good and evil in the world. You can say I’m their angel of death to the undead.”
“You are mad.”
She sighed and pulled a dagger from her belt and handed it to him. “If my words can’t convince you, perhaps my blade can.” She ripped her shirt open, and he appeared confused at the bindings wrapped around her chest. “I am Asra, born in Egypt under the rule of the only female pharaoh in history. The sun is my strength, and the Genesis Clan is my guide.” She faced the afternoon sun and held her hands out. “Go on, try to kill me.”
“So I can find myself at the end of a rope? I don’t think so, Jacques.”
She took the dagger back and drove it in herself, and Lionel lunged forward to try to stop her. “Pull it out,” she said as they both lay on the ground. He watched in amazement as the wound closed and healed with the help of the sun. “Do you believe me now? These little demonstrations are rather taxing, and I’d hate to have to do it again.”
“I want to be like you, if only to avenge my family.”
She sat up, wiping her hands of her own blood on the grass. “I can’t, Lionel. I promised the Elders, and to me that’s very precious. A person is nothing without their word.”
“Do you know how?”
“Yes, I remember how to make the elixir and recite the incantations necessary to draw the powers of the sun into the cup, but you don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I’m asking for the time to find that bastard who calls himself your brother and drive him into hell, even if it means going with him myself.”