Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

DAPHNE

October 31, 1765

Palace of Versailles

The panic that flashed across étienne's face almost made me laugh. Poor thing . He'd really believed he could just kiss me into forgetting my questions. What kind of a simpering fool did he take me for?

He was quiet, staring fixedly at my bare breasts, eyes hazy with lust and his breathing still shallow. I knew he wasn't going to answer me—or if he was, it would be some kind of falsehood. It didn't matter. If he thought he could control me by using my lust as a weapon, he'd just learned that I am not so easily victimized.

I sighed and sat up, tugging my bodice back in place and smoothing the wrinkles from my gown. étienne stood, helping me to my feet. I blushed at seeing his rather conspicuous excitement, and he smiled predatorily at me.

"How fitting that you would come dressed as vestal Artemis and I as the poor, hapless stag," he chuckled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me. "Actaeon stumbling upon his lovely goddess, only to be struck down and ripped to pieces by her hounds."

I smirked and tied my mask back on.

"Oh? And here I thought you showed up as a stag to engage in some mindless rutting with some poor, unsuspecting doe."

"It is never mindless, Duchesse," he purred.

"Well, it's lucky for you I left my hounds at home, then."

He came up behind me and kissed the back of my neck.

"What is your plan?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to help you. You cannot face Asmoday and the as-yet unknown summoner by yourself, Daphne, which is what I know you intend to do. It would be ungentlemanly for me to go back on our original agreement. Consider the last several days a temporary setback in our progress." He bowed with exaggerated gallantry.

Irritated, I adjusted my crown and re-pinned a few of the curls that had come loose during our tryst.

" Our progress? Forgive me if I'm misremembering, étienne, but it's been by my wits alone that we've made any progress at all. Bringing Van Helsing to you was my idea, as was searching Brigitte's bedroom, as was seeking out the book that led us to Asmoday. Well, I had Charlotte's help for that, but my point is, Monsieur, that you overestimate your usefulness to me."

"Oh, you think so? I hate to disappoint you, Duchesse, but if I hadn't brought you to Jeanne's grave, you'd still be laboring under the false information supplied to you by The Order. And how would you have found Brigitte and the bookshop if not for me?" étienne's temper flared as he straightened his hair in its queue.

"We were led to Brigitte because you fucked her and she tried to kill you, étienne. Perhaps that's how we should proceed, then. You can hump your way to the truth and seduce Asmoday and his summoner all the way back to Hell. While you're at it, why not visit The Order, as well? You might find your way off their hit list, and then the whole useless lot of you can stand around and stroke each other's massive egos while Paris bleeds around you."

Hurt flashed in étienne's eyes, but was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. "You sound rather bitter for someone who seems to enjoy my seduction so well."

I bristled. "Yes, well, given my past, I'm sure I would have enjoyed myself with any man who didn't leave me bruised or bleeding after the act."

"Your low expectations of lovers don't insult me, Duchesse—what is it you so often say? ‘I assure you, I've heard worse'. Especially here, at court. They call me ‘a delightful beast' , you know. Not a paramour. Not a vampire. Not a man." His cocksure manner slipped, and for the first time, I saw him radiate sadness, insecurity, and loneliness.

"Then, why do you do it?" I asked.

"You said it yourself, Duchesse. Food. Influence."

I knew exactly what that was like. I'd heard scant rumors of Henri's cruelty before I agreed to the match, but it was only after we were wed that I fully understood the depth of his depravity. My marriage had saved me from one kind of Hell, only to usher me into another. étienne seemed to be in a similar Hell, though not necessarily one of his own making. I felt a swell of empathy for him and immediately regretted some of my words. Yes, I was angry and hurt, and incredibly tired of being underestimated by the men in my life, but that was no excuse to lash out at étienne. Truthfully, I treasured our intimacies, but I was afraid of being strung along by a notorious rake who was only interested in saving his own skin.

étienne leaned against the desk again, his handsome face inscrutable. I didn't like the hiccup in my pulse when I looked at him; all those taut muscles sheathed in sumptuous burgundy velvet, the antlers on his mask making him eerily demonic in the candlelight. He was a devil—born of fire, to be sure, but much of the fault lay within me for being so ready and willing to burn.

"So, Duchesse. Where do we go from here?"

I sighed and shook my head. An ache was building at the base of my neck and I needed quiet and clarity to think.

"I don't know," I said. "But I won't figure it out sitting in here."

I smoothed my skirts and left, casting the barest glance back at him. He remained motionless, obviously lost in thought—still so handsome, still so tempting, still so dangerous. I walked down the hall back toward the ball, though I knew I wouldn't stay long without Charlotte and Philippe to keep me company. Halfway there, I felt a cold draft of air blow through the hallway and I stopped. To my left was another narrow hall that led to the courtyard and gardens beyond. At the very end, I could see one long curtain swelling and fluttering with the breeze. Curious .

Why would someone leave a window open in the chill of October? I crossed slowly into the hall, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.

This was wrong.

My shoes crunched over broken glass and I saw that the window hadn't been opened—it had been broken. Flecks of blood dotted pieces of glass that trailed outside into the frigid Paris night. Something bad had happened here.

Dread gathered in me when I realized that Philippe and Charlotte had been the only other people in this wing of the palace. Had there been some kind of accident?

"étienne!" I called.

He was there in an instant, taking in the scene with a bright, intense gaze.

"Was it like this when you came through to the library?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No. It must have happened after I came through."

"Do you think—" I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried again. "Do you think it is Charlotte's or Philippe's blood?"

étienne picked up one of the glass fragments and inhaled, then licked the droplet of blood staining it. His pupils dilated to black pools and his fangs extended.

"I do not know who the blood belongs to, but I can tell you that it is a man's." He sniffed the air again and cast his eyes about, looking for something unseen. He walked to the billowing curtain and bent to pick up something on the floor.

I gasped in horror when he held it up.

"Charlotte's mask!"

étienne approached me, our argument forgotten, his face etched with concern. He took my hands in his and looked into my eyes.

"Daphne, there is something else," he hedged.

Frightened, mind racing, I braced myself for what I knew would be devastating information.

"I smell the murderer here. I don't know if it's the demon, or Henri, or the summoner, but I smell it on the glass."

The world spun on its axis and I shut my eyes tightly. No, Daphne. You cannot faint. Keep it together! You must—for Charlotte.

"What else do you detect?" I whispered.

"A few things I cannot place," he said. "Some things I recognize from the bookshop. But, Daphne, if he—it—took Charlotte and Philippe, they're probably still alive. Remember what the book said."

"We have to go after them now! Before it's too late!"

"We don't know what we're walking into and we don't have any way to fight a demon. If we go in there ill prepared, it'll be four corpses, not two. We have to come up with a plan."

I wracked my brain, wildly grasping for a solution. How can you fight a demon? The obvious answer seemed to be a priest, but étienne didn't know any and the only ones I knew were in The Order. When was the last time I was even inside a church?

Suddenly, I remembered. I turned a half-crazed smile on étienne.

"I know where to find a priest," I said.

He eyed me skeptically.

"Come on," I said, tugging at his arm. "This time, I'm leading the way."

He didn't argue or challenge me, and although his face was stern, I swore I saw the glint of amusement in his eyes.

The carriage ride was silent with repressed tension. étienne watched me from beneath long sweeps of lashes but did not speak.

Uncomfortable with the insults I'd hurled at him back at the palace, I cleared my throat.

"étienne, I—" My voice rasped. "What I said back in the library, it was?—"

Mon Dieu, why was this so hard? Out with it, Daphne!

étienne's lip twitched. " Unladylike? "

"It was wrong. You were right. If it hadn't been for you, I would probably still believe the worst of you—that you murdered Jeanne. The progress we've made has been ours , not mine alone. On top of that, you saved my life back at the bookshop and I'm grateful to you for that. I said those things out of anger, and I shouldn't have. I am sorry."

He remained quiet, but nodded once. I held my hand out to him, hoping to put the awkward mess behind us.

He regarded my outstretched hand. Grinning wickedly, he took it and pulled me onto his lap.

"étienne!"

"What? I was just going to tell you that I forgive you. Shall we seal it with a kiss?"

I wriggled against him, trying to extricate myself from his grip. I felt his arousal through my skirts. He tipped his head back and moaned.

"If you keep that up, Duchesse, I shall seal it with more than a kiss."

The carriage slowed and I looked out the window. We were near the abbey.

"We are here," I said.

étienne swore. He brought my face down to his for a quick kiss, then released me. He looked out the window and swore again.

I hesitated. "Can you enter a house of God?"

He laughed. "Of course I can. I just try not to. With all of my sins, it's a wonder I'm not struck down the very moment I set foot on holy ground. I feel as though I'm tempting fate."

"We'll have our fair share of tempting fate tonight," I muttered. "No point in avoiding it now."

"As you say, Duchesse. Alors , shall we go in? I am yours to command tonight, chérie ."

We approached the heavy oak doors and I stopped for a moment. Shoring up my courage, I knocked loudly. It wasn't long before the door swung open and we faced a young and somewhat rumpled-looking priest. His close-cropped brown hair stood out at odd angles and he had a shadow of whiskers on his face that badly needed a shave. He blinked blearily at us, but seeing our extravagant dress, straightened his robes and bowed.

"Madame. Monsieur. How may I assist you?"

Without waiting for an invitation, I swept past him into the nave. Candles flickered in the darkness, but it was still possible to be awestruck by the beauty and grandeur of the building.

"Do you know who I am?" I demanded of the priest, who was shutting the door behind us.

"No, Madame, I don't believe I've had the pleasure."

"I am the Duchesse de Duras. My husband and I were married here four years ago in a wedding presided over by Cardinal de Bernis."

The priest's eyes widened, and he looked at étienne in confusion. étienne grinned at him, showing a good deal of fang. The priest let out a noise somewhere between a squeak and a gulp. He bowed again.

"I've come here tonight to seek his help. It is a matter of grave importance and I'm afraid it is rather urgent. Would you be so kind as to direct me to him?"

The priest shook his head. "But, Madame, His Eminence is not here."

"No, I didn't expect he would be here. But I do expect that you'll be able to help me find him," I said, glaring at the quivering man.

"You do not understand. His Eminence has been retired for some time. He no longer resides in Paris—he is at his home in Soissons." The priest swallowed and darted his eyes over to étienne.

"Retired," I huffed.

"Well, yes. For some time now…as I said."

Nervously, the priest shifted and wiped a droplet of sweat from his forehead. Not looking away from étienne, he forced a laugh.

Blocking out the rest of the priest's stammering, I sat on a pew and sighed. So much for my stroke of genius. How will I defeat the demon Asmoday now?

étienne sat down next to me and put his hand on my knee.

"I'm afraid we won't be able to make it all the way to Soissons tonight. Even if we could, the chances of Charlotte and Philippe being alive by the time we returned would be slim. I fear I've let them down," I said.

étienne sighed. "It was a good idea."

The priest stepped forward, apparently taking pity on me.

"Madame, is there anything—I mean, I am certainly not as capable as His Eminence, but I am a man of God and—is there any way that I might assist you?" He produced a rosary from his pocket and toyed with the beads.

"What is your name, Monsieur?" I asked.

"Father Clarence."

"No, Father Clarence. I don't suppose you can be of assistance—unless, of course, you are somehow adept at performing exorcisms and banishing demonic entities from this earthly plain," I quipped humorlessly.

His eyes flicked to étienne again, who growled at him.

"Not me," he said.

"No, of course not, Monsieur," he stuttered. "Well, what I mean to say is that I can, of course, perform an exorcism—it is one of the rites that we must all know, you see—but I would not dare to do such without the express permission and assistance of the Vatican. To do so would be dangerous and practically blasphemou— erp! "

Father Clarence's skittish ramblings abruptly ended, and I looked up to see étienne holding him one-handed by the front of his robes. He lifted him easily until the priest's feet dangled above the ground. Eyes darkening, fangs extended, étienne hissed an oath that made Father Clarence blanch.

"Monsieur! This is a house of God!"

"Do you think he will come home before I can separate your head from your body and drain the blood from your corpse?" étienne thundered. Father Clarence whimpered.

"étienne, I don't think that is necessary," I said. He ignored me.

"What happens if you perform an exorcism without the knowledge of the Vatican?" étienne demanded. His voice was low and threatening.

"It is not done!" Father Clarence choked out. He kicked his legs futilely. "I could lose everything—be excommunicated! It could go all wrong!"

étienne's eyes had blackened to solid pools of onyx. As I watched in horrified fascination, his handsome face started to morph into something monstrous—his gaping mouth expanded, showing off rows of needle-sharp teeth. His tongue snaked out, forked and flittering like a snake's. His cheekbones and jawline sharpened, and two horns started to protrude from his forehead. When his transformation stopped, he looked just as satanic as the pictures of Asmoday. Had I not known the man he was and—admittedly—enjoyed such sensual pleasure in his arms, I would have been paralyzed by fear.

"And what do you think you will lose if you do not help us now, priest?" étienne said, his deep voice sounding like a legion of angry demons.

Father Clarence's white face wavered as if he were about to be sick. He whispered prayers and called upon saints I hadn't even heard of, until finally his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out.

As quickly as étienne had transformed, he snapped back to his ethereally handsome self. I glared at him, hands on my hips. He winked at me.

"Well, aren't we just full of surprises? And where was that when we were fighting vampire thugs in an alley?" I sniffed.

He chuckled. "Parlor tricks, Duchesse. But I do believe Father Clarence will help us now—just as soon as he comes to. In the meantime…" He shifted the limp priest over his shoulder. "I suggest we make him comfortable in your carriage and find our way to the bookshop. We're running short on time."