We took a silver Rolls Royce to Philippe Moreau’s lair. Ridley sat next to me, and Gabriel and Leo de Froulay took the seats opposite us.
Ridley’s sire hadn’t changed since the last time I’d last seen him ten years ago. Same long blond hair, same stunning face, same lean, sinewy body. Except for the fact that he was grim-faced, quiet. I remembered him as charming, larger-than-life—a silent-film version of a vampire—but tonight he was subdued.
At one point he gave Ridley a look of naked yearning, and I realized he wanted to claim her as his. Very much.
She didn’t see it; she was staring the window.
I took her hand and interlaced my fingers in hers. De Froulay glanced from our intertwined hands to my face, and I knew he got the message.
Maybe Ridley would let him acknowledge her as his spawn, and maybe she wouldn’t. But she was my mate, first and foremost, and whatever she decided, I was part of the equation.
Gabriel shifted his body so he was looking at de Froulay. “So,” he said, “I’m still wondering how Moreau came to be involved in this. Other than the fact that he was Prima Victorine’s sire, that is.”
De Froulay pursed his lips. “Here’s what I’ve discovered so far. Philippe knew Karoly Kral was pushing SI too hard, and he and Victorine came up with a plan to hire SI to take out the Krals. Meanwhile, Tomas Mraz somehow heard about it and got involved. He was on board with the plot to kill the Kral brothers, but not Karoly.”
Gabriel nodded. “Mraz said something like that to my father.”
“Whether or not Karoly died,” de Froulay added, “wasn’t important to Philippe. His ultimate goal was to point the blame at me, not Victorine, thereby forcing Karoly to come after me. And if Karoly had died before he had a chance to take revenge on me, Philippe would’ve made sure whoever succeeded him as primus would know I was responsible.”
“His mistake,” Ridley muttered.
Froulay glanced at her. “What do you mean?”
“You’re stronger and smarter than him. He couldn’t have won a fight against you.”
A pleased smile curved De Froulay’s mouth. “Thank you, my dear.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “It’s the truth. Honestly, I think he might be in the first stages of blood madness. The man’s not thinking clearly.”
“Then it’s time we put him out of his misery,” said de Froulay.
“And what about Ridley?” I asked. “He put the hit out on her because she’s your spawn?”
“Yes.” De Froulay’s eyes narrowed. “He’d been trying to kill her for years, but then he lost her when she went into the SI training program. He didn’t want to take a chance that she’d succeed me as my heir. He believed she was dead until she resurfaced as Reaper. He couldn’t risk staking her once she’d been embedded in his lair, but after she left with you...”
I ground my back teeth. “The man needs to die.”
“In that,” said de Froulay, “we are in complete agreement.”
We turned onto Moreau’s street. The limo stopped in front of his lair, and the driver got out and opened the door for us. De Froulay got out first.
I stared past him at Moreau’s mansion, feeling a heavy dose of anger along with a rush of adrenaline. The building was very upper-class French, a classic limestone-block building with a wrought-iron fence and bushes that had been clipped within an inch of their life. From the outside, you’d never guess the depravity that occurred within its walls.
Ridley squeezed my hand, wordlessly reminding me to stay focused. I nodded and gave her a small smile, and she followed her father out of the limo.
On the seat opposite, Gabriel caught my eye and gave me a thumbs-up. A rush of love filled me. Gods, I’d missed him and Rafe.
I gave him a thumbs-up back. “Time to get even.”
His cheek creased. “You know it.”
I faded into the shadows and exited the limo. Gabriel followed a few seconds later, and we trailed Ridley and her father up the brick path to the tall blue door guarded by twin bronze griffins. I couldn’t see Gabriel, but I sensed him at my side.
The long-faced butler opened the door. “M’sieur Primus. Mademoiselle.”
“Aubin.” De Froulay acknowledged the butler with a small nod.
“We’re here to see Moreau,” Ridley said.
“Of course. Come in.” He bowed the two of them inside.
Gabriel and I slipped past the three of them and waited in the foyer for Aubin to unlock the door to Moreau’s underground lair.
My mouth was dry, but I wasn’t afraid. I just wanted to get to Moreau.
I glanced at the wall where Étan and Blaise had worked me over and smiled grimly. Apparently both vampires had been staked that night they’d captured Rafe. Too bad. I’d like to see them try messing with me now the odds were more even.
Aubin opened the door and we trooped down the stairs. “Is he alone?” de Froulay asked Aubin.
“A thrall is with him, m’sieur.”
“Bien. Wait at the door. No one is to enter.”
Moreau was seated on the same couch he’d been on the night we’d struck our bargain. This time, instead of regarding us from the couch in that lordly vampire way, he rose immediately. The thrall he was with scrambled to her feet and backed up a few steps, her gaze bouncing between the five of us.
“Leo,” Moreau said in French. “You honor me with your presence.” His eyes gave a telltale flick to Ridley.
With his broad shoulders and long blond hair, De Froulay loomed above the small, darker Moreau like a Viking. He jerked his chin at the thrall. “Leave.”
“Yes, m’sieur.” She hurried from the room, eyes down, shoulders hunched.
De Froulay waited until Aubin had closed the door behind her before turning back to Moreau. “I believe you know my daughter.”
“Yes.” Moreau gave Ridley a stiff nod.
Ridley stared back, unmoving. It wasn’t a comfortable stillness. It was the stillness of a predator preparing to attack.
Moreau licked his lips and glanced at his primus. “What is this about?”
De Froulay switched to English. “Charlotte Crawford.”
“My mother,” Ridley added.
“Charlotte Crawford?” Moreau’s gaze bounced from his primus to Ridley to me. If a vampire could sweat, his face would’ve been dripping. “A thrall?”
The mention of Charlotte was my and Gabriel’s cue. We stepped out of the shadows.
Moreau’s mouth dropped open. “You,” he hissed at me.
“Enough,” said de Froulay softly. “I know everything, Philippe. That ‘thrall’ was carrying my spawn, as you knew damn well.”
Moreau’s spine stiffened. “What have they told you?”
Ridley and I glanced at each other and moved forward, blades out.
I circled to his right. “That you had me kidnapped and kept me locked up in a cell with no food or water. That you drank my blood while I was fastened to a fucking concrete wall.”
“Fuck.” Gabriel sucked in a breath and turned an angry glare on Moreau. He had his blade out, but as agreed, he hung back, allowing me and Ridley to make the kill.
Ridley circled to Moreau’s left. “That you hunted me and my mom for years. When you found us, you tortured my mom so she’d tell you where I was. And when she refused, you murdered her.”
Her accusations fell into the quiet room like hard white pebbles dropping into a still pond.
Moreau blinked several times, then rallied. “It’s a lie,” he spat at his primus. “You’re going to believe these dhampirs over me?”
“Hugo says different,” de Froulay replied. “He told me that when Charlotte left, you had her followed, that you knew from the beginning she’d given birth to my daughter. That you didn’t tell me because you’ve been maneuvering to take my place after I’m gone.”
Moreau’s expression changed, became dangerous. Blue encircled his eyes and his fangs slid out. He broke into fast, furious French. I only caught a few phrases here and there, but it was clear he was denying everything.
De Froulay looked bored. “According to Hugo,” he said in English, “you’ve grown tired of waiting for me to go to my final grave. You egged Victorine on, hoping that Karoly would blame me when his sons died. Because after all, my top enforcer had Zaquiel in his dungeon. How could I not be part of this? And now you took out a hit on my daughter and Zaquiel, paid for with Paris Syndicate money. My money.” His voice had turned so cold, my forearms prickled.
Moreau slipped a hand beneath his suit jacket. He was breathing hard, his gaze darting from his primus to us.
My toothed beast simmered beneath the surface, eager to show itself.
Yes, I told it—and opened myself to the vampire’s dark power. My vision sharpened, and I felt energy surge through me.
I bared my fangs at Moreau. “Go ahead,” I invited in a guttural voice. “Draw your weapon. We are your executioners, but we agreed this will be a fight with odds like you gave me and Rafe. Three against one seems about right. Or maybe we should drag you downstairs to one of those goddamned cells and fasten your wrists to a wall first?”
Moreau’s own fangs slid out. “She’s a slayer, Leo,” he said without taking his gaze from me and Ridley. “Did you know that? SI is in this up to their necks.”
“And you’re a traitor.” De Froulay’s mouth thinned. “Stake him,” he told us. “I grow tired of his babbling.”
Moreau went for me first. Apparently he’d decided I was the greater threat.
His mistake.
I parried his thrust and shoved him at Ridley.
She chose that moment to release her own vampire. We all felt the whoosh of power. The woman had some serious magic to call on. It glowed in her eyes, made her skin shimmer.
And yeah, she was beautiful. Inhumanly, supernaturally so.
But then, to me, she was always beautiful.
Moreau blanched. His Adam’s apple worked. He raised his arm.
“Bastard dhampir,” he hissed at her.
I darted behind him, and as he slashed his dagger down, Ridley and I skewered him with our blades at the same time.
He grunted and listed to the side. The rotten stench was almost overwhelming. A second later, it mixed with the acrid scent of his flesh turning to ashes.
I released my handle and so did Ridley. He crumpled to the ground.
He stared up at us with eyes that were already clouding over. “You…were both supposed to be dead by now. I figured you’d fail, and she’d have to kill you. Then Karoly would kill…her.”
I grinned darkly. “Guess you blew it.”
Moreau’s mouth opened again, but all that came out of it was a puff of smoke.
Gabriel came to my side and clapped my back. “Nice job.” He curled his lip at Moreau’s disintegrating body. “May he burn in a light-filled hell.”
“Amen to that,” I muttered.
Ridley stared down at Moreau. She’d shut down. Her affect was flat, her emotions a flat line.
My triumph at sending Moreau to his final grave curdled. I reached for her. “What is it, sweetheart?”
She turned empty gray eyes to mine. “I thought I’d feel something. Happiness. Relief. Satisfaction. Something. But all I feel is cold.”
I enfolded her in my arms. “Let me warm you, then.”