Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

éTIENNE

September 28, 1765

Cimetière Notre-Dame

Belatedly, I wondered if I should have brought some smelling salts. I knew this would be unpleasant for Daphne, but even I found my stomach souring at the grotesque scene before us. Having witnessed more than my fair share of deathly horrors, it still pained me to see a beautiful woman struck down in the prime of her life by something so unbearably savage.

I peered at my companion, ready to catch her if she swooned. Her breath came in shallow gasps and her pupils had dilated considerably, but she seemed steady enough. Assured that she wasn't about to keel over and fall into the open grave, I turned my attention to Madame de Pompadour's decaying body.

She was further gone from the last time I'd seen her, but her wounds remained pristine. I leaned in to inspect them . They weren't like anything I'd ever seen—they were certainly unlike any vampire bite I'd known.

"It looks like…" Daphne's whisper sounded unsettled. "It almost looks like she's been attacked by a wild animal—a wolf, perhaps. The edges of the wound are jagged and rough, as though the flesh has been ripped away. It would suggest fangs in the upper and lower jaw, as opposed to the neat insertion of a single pair of canines common in vampire bites."

I stared at her, unable to mask my astonishment. She was studying the body as intently as possible, though a sheen of sweat had broken out across her worryingly pale brow. Her voice shook as she continued.

"étienne, her ring."

"She isn't wearing a ring, Daphne," I said, gently prodding the casket to feel for some misplaced jewelry.

"Exactly. Where is her ring? Most of her jewels were given back to the king after her death, all except for one ring that she never removed. It was a large pink pearl surrounded by diamonds—the first gift that Louis ever gave her. It was very precious to her, but I do not see it. Do you think grave robbers could have claimed it?" She wavered a bit on her feet. I needed more time to look around, but I wasn't sure how long Daphne's strength would hold out.

"Steady, Duchesse," I urged. "If you swoon now, I'll be forced to lay hands on you and carry you home."

That startled her enough. She snapped her eyes to mine and choked on an incensed huff.

"I am not going to swoon," she bit out.

"Too bad. I was rather looking forward to carrying you back."

I searched the rest of the coffin—no ring. She was right. It could have disappeared at any time, but I doubted grave robbers. They would have taken the simple burial shift—it was silk, after all—as well as the ribbons tying back the dead woman's hair. Daphne clearly suspected the killer had taken the ring and though I was loath to admit it, I agreed with her.

I'd hoped to find something else that would point toward a suspect, but other than convincing Daphne I hadn't killed the king's mistress, I was no better off than when we'd started this morbid little adventure. I scanned the body from head to toe looking for clues.

Something nagged at me—some peculiarity that I couldn't quite place. Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply, allowing my heightened sense of smell to paint parts of the scene I could not see. I smelled death, of course, and rot. I smelled the decay before me but also something else. There was a bitter musk in the air that I'd never encountered. It wasn't quite an animal, I didn't think, but?—

I leaned down next to the gaping wound in Jeanne's neck and breathed. Yes, this was where it was coming from. It must have been the scent of the killer. Bitter, sour, smoky, almost sulfuric. Fantastic . Now all I needed to do was walk around, sniffing everyone in Paris until I found the same odor. No problem at all .

Daphne was motionless, staring at me with revulsion.

"I think I know what the killer smells like," I explained. "There is something odd about her neck—the way it smells, even in death."

She nodded and crossed herself. I went to bring the gravedigger back to put Jeanne in the ground again and caught Daphne wiping a tear from her cheek. At my notice, she dropped her hand and straightened, her gaze turning instantly icy. My dead heart gave a curious little squeeze and I led her away.

When we reached the shadowy comfort of my carriage, I handed her my gold flask. She considered me a moment, her face inscrutable. I shrugged and started to pull away, but she finally reached for the flask. Without asking about its contents, she took a long pull on it. When she saw my surprised expression, she gave a tired half-shrug.

"I figured it was either blood or brandy, but you don't seem the type to carry around an expensive flask full of blood."

"I am fortunate enough to find willing sources when I require them," I admitted, taking a drink of the sweet brandy. I imagined I could taste her lips on the flask and heat spread through me.

She leaned back and closed her eyes, allowing me the time to drink in her lithe body, wrapped in those ridiculous masculine clothes. Who would've thought that a woman wearing breeches could be so erotic ? The way they clung to her shapely legs and followed every sinful curve of her bottom?—

"We should take you home," I said. I needed distance from her to clear my head and think. "I imagine your husband will be worried."

She barked a laugh and snatched the flask from me again, drinking deeply.

"I didn't realize you had such a scathing sense of humor," she seethed.

When she recognized the confusion in my face, she was taken aback.

"My apologies, Duchesse. Has he passed on?"

"You mean, you really don't know? How can that be? You worked out I was with The Order, but you managed to avoid the gossip about my marriage? It's all anyone's talked about for the last two years."

Frustration rose. "My presence at court is not the same as it once was. I am seldom privy to the gossip of the tonne . When I am around the ladies of the nobility, we usually aren't engaging in idle conversation."

I'd said it to shock her, but the night had taken its toll on her caustic fa?ade. She had dimmed, somehow—softened beneath the weight of her own sadness.

"You are right, of course. Forgive my offense yet again. People do not often speak to me about my husband, preferring instead to delight in the scandalous rumors. No, étienne. My husband does not worry for my safe return and he does not wait for me at home." She trailed off, a thousand miles away. Her manner made me uncomfortable, as if teasing her now would be like kicking a puppy. I tried for my courtly charm.

"Then he is either dead, or a fool," I said, taking the brandy from her for another drink.

A guarded smile broke upon her lips, like sunlight through storm clouds. If only she weren't the Duchesse de Duras. Hang that. If only I weren't a vampire . I noticed that the brandy had restored some color to her cheeks, and I imagined her warming all over—warming to me. Damn it . I hungered again. I would need to find a woman tomorrow, or tonight, if possible.

" Alors ," she said, stretching her legs out in front of her and eagerly changing the subject. "Where does our investigation take us now, étienne? I am disturbed by the absence of the ring. I think we should try to eliminate the possibility that someone stole it between the palace and the cemetery for a quick sale."

"Sounds reasonable."

"As an underworld emissary to His Majesty, I don't suppose you'd know where to find a reputable fence for disreputably acquired jewelry?"

"I could certainly make some inquiries," I offered.

" Bon ," she said. "Shall we go, then?"

"Go where?"

She waved a hand dismissively. "To make the inquiries."

"I will do that on my own. I can't have you running amok in the streets of Paris inciting some kind of scandal that I'll be responsible for," I chastened. "For now, you must be patient. I'll have my driver take you home." I knocked on the roof of the carriage, signaling our departure.

"I assure you; I've weathered far worse scandals than you could possibly imagine, and I don't have a lot of time. My report to The Order is already long overdue and I need to give them a good reason why I haven't killed you yet. I would think haste would be a top priority for you, as well, Monsieur. As soon as your name is cleared, you're free to go back to your debauchery with your former impunity."

Her disdainful impression of me, like so many of the Versailles courtiers, stung more than it should have. She was right about one thing, though; time was of the essence. Despite my irritation, I still didn't want her out in the seedy underbelly of the city where the whispers of revolution were stirring. The vampires were becoming increasingly hostile to humans from every class—especially the aristocracy. My attempts to negotiate with Louis had slowed to the point of failure and there was a palpable restlessness across the city. I could protect Daphne from bodily harm, of course, but I knew I wouldn't be able to protect her from her world crashing down around her. To expose her to such brutal reality after forcing her to dig up her ghoulishly murdered friend all in one night seemed cruel, even for me.

"You're right, Duchesse, but I need some time to find out if my contacts are still in Paris. You should go home tonight. Send your report to The Order. I'd be obliged if you told them that you didn't think I was a murderer, but somehow I doubt it will make much of a difference in their minds."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You are not the first to make an attempt on my life on their behalf."

She stared at me in surprise.

"What else have they convicted you of? They do not kill arbitrarily. There is always a good reason. Protection of the king and country. Justice for those wronged," she defended.

I laughed bitterly. "They further their own aims, just like every other governing body. The Order protects its own power and its own interests, operating in shadow and serving as judge, jury, and executioner. It isn't right that so few should hold such sway over the lives and deaths of others—especially those who have no way to defend against their judgment. We already have a king, after all."

"What would you have, then? Anarchy in the streets? People left with no law and no moral guidance? Of course that's what you dream of—a city overrun with vice and depravity. You and your creatures of the night," she spat. "Your only aim is to bring your stain of darkness to the world around you. Well, you'll have to excuse me, but I for one do not wish to live in your realm of blood and filth and fear. I choose the light, étienne, and I will always fight for it."

Rage ripped through me at her contempt and I leaped forward, pinning her back against the seat.

"You know nothing of my world," I hissed through my lengthening fangs. "And your privilege blinds you to the reality of light and dark."

Her heart beat a tattoo of fear and excitement in her chest—something I'd no doubt she'd deny.

"Release me," she said through gritted teeth. "I'm not going to stay here and allow you to insult me further."

I crowded in closer, the anger in my blood suddenly giving way to white-hot lust. I could see the rise and fall of her bound breasts beneath the coarse linen shirt. Her fragrance of orange blossom and vanilla surrounded me, and I was suddenly desperate to taste her. My hardening cock pressed against my breeches.

Time stood still—neither of us seemed willing to concede and back down. The delicate flare of her nostrils, the defiant tilt of her chin, and the wild look in her eyes nearly unmanned me. I briefly considered tearing those damn breeches from her, bending her over the seat and claiming her, but I reminded myself that I wasn't the animal she took me for.

The rasp of gravel beneath the carriage wheels signaled arrival at her impressive chateau, saving us both from God only knew what.

I sat back in my seat and let her descend on her own. As she climbed the stairs into her grand house, I called out to her.

"If we are to work together, Duchesse, I suggest you keep an open mind. In the world beyond Versailles, your pride will be your undoing."

And you will be mine.