“Apart from that. I have reason to believe that Thierry means me great harm.”
This man was a serious question mark. Was he a villain or a victim? “Now who’s paranoid, Atticus? Are you going to let me leave?”
“I have a few more questions.”
Fine. He wanted to play this game? “So do I. What did you want the amulet for?”
“For my collection.”
“Right. You’re already the boss of the council. What more do you want to wish for?”
“My position with the Ring has nothing to do with this.”
I found that very difficult to believe. “That amulet should be destroyed. It’s trouble. And it’s cursed, did you know that? Sebastien tells me that anyone who owns it gets saddled with a little curse. Maybe that’s why he ended up in a tomb for so long.”
“I thought Thierry put him in that tomb.”
“He didn’t.”
“Why do you defend him when he is not here to protect you? When he publicly claims to consider you a temporary plaything, not a true companion?”
I still wasn’t sure what he thought this conversation would accomplish. All I knew was that I was more than ready to get out of it. “Do I need protection right now?”
He spread his hands. “I’m happy to protect you.”
“Look, Atticus, I don’t mean to be rude, even though you’re now literally blocking me from leaving this room, but I don’t need your protection or anyone else’s.”
Frustration and a sliver of growing anger flashed through his eyes. “The more I think about it, the more I’m certain that the murders tonight—both Jacob’s and Frederic’s—are Thierry’s doing.”
Of course he’d think something like that. His saying it so bluntly made a knot form in my stomach, since I knew it would be impossible to convince him otherwise. “You’re wrong.”
He waved a hand as if dismissing my commentary. “Two very important elder vampires have been murdered in the last couple of months, Sarah. Vampires who were a part of the original council. Only myself and Thierry have survived. My theory is that Thierry was so angry about being forced back into the Ring that he took out this anger by murdering those he held responsible. I can only assume that I will be next. Of course I wanted the amulet, so I could have some means of protecting myself now and in the future.”
Yes, I was seriously having this conversation right now.
Atticus was openly talking about the very crime he’d been accused of. But he believed Thierry had done it.
What the hell was going on here?
“I couldn’t let him acquire the amulet, Sarah,” Atticus continued. “He’s wanted it for so long that I fear what he’d do with that power in his hands, especially with the threat of vengeance toward me.”
This guy was delusional, paranoid, or crazy. Likely, all three.
And none of the above made me comfortable about spending another minute in his company with no one else around.
“I hate to admit it, but you might be right,” I said slowly. Humoring him seemed like the best way to get out of here.
Relief entered his gaze. “I’m glad you’re open to this unfortunate possibility.”
“I’m not as naive as some people think I am. And I’m definitely not blind when it comes to knowing a dangerous man when I see one.”
Or when I was stuck in a room with him.
Atticus rubbed his chin. “This blood spell may be a blessing in disguise. One day, perhaps I can thank Sebastien for giving me this loophole to take care of an ongoing problem.” He watched me carefully. “Is this too much information for you to handle?”
“Oh no,” I managed. You talking about offing Thierry just because he’s a little on the thirsty side? “I can handle it just fine.”
“I will stay by your side and ensure that no harm comes to you.”
“That’s really super-nice of you.” I followed as he moved across the room and pushed open the door. “But not necessary. We can cover more ground if we—”
He cut me off. “Why do women always argue with me about every little thing? It’s very annoying.”
I glared at him. “Is it? I suppose I should learn my place.”
“Yes. Try to learn it swiftly if you want my help now and in the future. Understood?”
I slipped past him to enter the hallway. “Don’t worry. I’m a quick learner.”
I slammed the door shut in his face and began running down the hallway.
Chapter 18
A couple of moments later, Atticus easily caught up to me, grabbed my arm, and pulled me to a halt.
He spun me around so I could see his flushed face. “What are you doing, you foolish woman?”
I tried to pull away from his bruising grip, but found I couldn’t. “Let go of me.”
“You need to behave yourself!”
I was about to start clawing at him with my free hand when I heard a whack and he stumbled forward a step. After a crash, he fell face-first onto the carpet.
Tasha Evans stood behind him holding a broken vase that she let drop to the floor. “Are you okay?”
There were red marks on my arm where Atticus had gripped me. “I—I think so.”
“What did he think he was doing, manhandling you like that?”
“I don’t think he was thinking.”
She let out an angry grunt. “I thought he’d changed, but he’s just as much of a jerk as when we dated. He thinks women are nothing more than arm candy and that we need to be coddled and protected and cared for like children, but he also thinks we’re stupid and irresponsible and need harsh discipline to keep us in line.” She poked him in the forehead with her open-toed shoe. “Jerk.”
I looked down at the council elder who’d wanted me to “learn my place.” Was he really evil or was it a case of not so simple misogyny? He was a manipulator who used people’s weaknesses against them.
He was using the events of tonight to find a reason to have Thierry killed. And he’d actually thought I would help him.
Atticus Kincade was a bad guy—our enemy—and he’d gotten what he deserved.
“He won’t be unconscious for long,” Tasha said. She looked back over her shoulder. “I saw something that might contain him so he doesn’t try anything else tonight.”
A shiver went down my spine. “What do you mean, ‘contain him’?”
“Trust me. Unless you want to wait around for him to wake up.”
“No, not a good idea.”
“Didn’t think so. Help me carry him.”
Together, without further argument, we got his unconscious body down the hallway and around the corner. Tasha pushed open a door to a cluttered room that looked as if it was used to store old furniture.
“Here,” she said as we dragged his body over to a chest. “It’s made of wood, but it’s banded with silver. Don’t touch the lid.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. My hand was still stinging from clutching the stake back in Vampireland.
Vampires couldn’t break through silver because it burned our skin, which made it perfect for restraints. Legend said that a silver cross would repel and burn a vampire, but the cross itself actually had nothing to do with it. It was all about the silver, which was most definitely not my favorite precious metal.
Tasha carefully opened the lid of the carved chest.
I grimaced. “That looks eerily like a coffin.”
“Yes, it does, doesn’t it?”
“Who did Sebastien rent this mansion from, anyway? Morticia Addams?”
“Who cares? Come on, hoist him up.”
I did as she instructed and Atticus dropped inside the large chest with a thunk. He was now snoring.
Tasha closed the lid. A bronze key was already in the lock. She twisted the key and pulled it out, placing it on
a nearby shelf. “He’ll be in there until someone lets him out.”
I eyed the chest uneasily, suddenly thinking of Sebastien being locked in a tomb for three centuries. “Can he breathe in there okay?”
She inspected the lid more closely. “There are some holes, see? He’ll be fine. Besides, it’s much better for everyone if he’s out of our way for now.”
I let out a long, shaky sigh. “Thanks for intervening.”
“No problem.”
“It was sort of like that scene in Kill or Be Killed.”
She nodded, smiling. “I played a wisecracking spy.”
“Wisecracking spy by night, supermodel by day. Brilliant and hilarious. I own the DVD.” My inner fangirl was threatening to rise up and spill over again. Since I didn’t have time for her right now, I changed the subject. “When did you date Atticus, anyway?”
“It’s got to be fifty years ago by now.” She sighed. “Time flies.”
She turned and moved toward the windows that were blocked by furniture and I could see some of her tattoos on her back and shoulders. The woman seemed to ooze cool from every pore.
Despite this, and maybe only because I was paranoid, everybody in this mansion was currently a suspect for me. I couldn’t give Tasha a free pass just because she was completely awesome.
I leaned against a stack of wooden boxes and attempted to look remotely at ease. “You said you knew Frederic and Anna.”
She rattled the windows, but they were every bit as sealed shut as any others in this place. “I recognize them enough to speak to, but I wouldn’t really call us friends. Anna was a sweet kid in the beginning, despite the crazy hunter family she escaped from, but now . . .” She turned toward me so I could see that her expression had shadowed. “Frederic’s really gone?”
“Afraid so.”
She wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed. “Maybe it sounds strange, but I feel so sorry for her. I knew they had troubles, but maybe if I’d been friendlier earlier and spoken to her, made her feel like she could talk to someone, she might have found another answer tonight.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. It’s not your fault.” I studied Tasha’s face, trying to see any glimpse of deception.
Then a loud bang made me jump.
“Let me the hell out of here!” Atticus’s voice boomed.
“Uh-oh.” I eyed the chest uneasily. “He’s awake.”
“I swear on all that is holy, if you don’t let me out of here I’m going to kill you!”
“Death threats,” Tasha said. “I think that’s our cue to leave.”
“Sit tight, Atticus,” I told him. “Behave yourself and we’ll let you out as soon as—”
“Did you hear me? I’ll kill you! Are you forgetting who I am? I tried to help you and you do this to me, you ungrateful little bitch! And you, Tasha, you’ll never get another favor from me. Ever. You hear me?”
My empathy for his current predicament was fading away in record time. I knocked on the non-silver part of the lid. “Don’t try to sweet-talk us like that, Atticus, because it won’t work. Just try to relax and reflect on your more unpleasant life choices. Oh, and by the way? Bite me.”
I left the room as he was hollering something about me being an idiot. Men. Always wanting to have the last word.
Tasha shut the door behind her and gave me a squeamish look. “Bite me?”
I shrugged. “I can’t help it—some people bring out the worst in me.”
“That’s Atticus.” She grinned, flashing a hint of fang. “Believe it or not, I actually had the idea I might go and work for the Ring once I’m done with acting. But that would mean working for him—thus his comment about favors.”
“Not fun.”
“No, it certainly wouldn’t be.”
I scanned the hallway, checking a drawer in a table and behind an oil painting. Why waste valuable search time? “How much longer will you act?”
“I don’t know. It’s been twenty years and I haven’t aged a day. For now, everyone thinks I’m gifted with fantastic collagen. If they only knew the truth. I’m thinking angry mobs, pitchforks, and burning torches.” She shrugged. “Then again, I’ve dealt with the paparazzi. What could be worse?”
“Good point.”
“Seriously, though, I have two more movies in me, I think.” She gave me another mischievous smile. “Maybe I’ll give it another try in a century or so. I’ll get myself a makeover.”
“Those tattoos, though.” I looked at the distinctive one of a black rose, which she’d famously bared for the cover of Vanity Fair a few years ago. “They’re a bit of a giveaway of your true identity.”
“Tattoos can be removed if necessary.” She glanced at them. “But these ones are special. They’re a part of me, way more than just skin-deep. I’d hate to have to lose them. But first, before any decisions can be made, we need to make it past dawn, don’t we?”
“Good point.” It was shadowy in the room, but I’d seen something that surprised me. “And you might also want to get back to your dentist. I’m seeing a bit of fang.”
She grimaced and touched her lips. “I know. I keep them filed down, but it’s a pain to maintain.”
One of the many reasons why I’d never bothered. Getting regular manicures was trouble enough.
“I need to keep searching,” she said.
Right. Enough with the chitchat. It was time to get back on track. “I swear,” I said, “the answer is Sebastien. He’s the one who had the amulet from the beginning.”
“You think he hid it?”
I nodded. “Him, or maybe Thomas. They’re the last ones who had direct access to it after the auction.”
“Maybe he’s waiting for something, some last moment where he can extort something out of us in order for us to leave safely.”
“Or maybe he’s in way over his head.”
Head.
I couldn’t forget the head.
That pesky gut of mine was telling me I needed to find his body as per his request. If only I had any idea of where to start looking.
I also had no idea if I was right about him being the djinn or if Thierry was right that he was just a ghost.
“Do you know anything about djinn?” I asked Tasha as we moved down the long hallway checking rooms as we went.
She gave me a sidelong look. “I was in a movie about djinn.”
“Right, Wishcaster! That was . . . It was . . .” I grimaced. “Actually, it wasn’t one of my favorites.”
She stopped walking and peered in the next room to our left, its door creaking as she pushed it open. I tried to sense any magic in the area, but came up empty.
“I think you’re being kind, since it was absolutely dreadful. But it was my first starring role.”
I stopped breathing. “Wait a minute, I remember something. You killed the djinn at the end of that movie by chopping off its head.”
She grimaced. “That was really disgusting. The purple blood they used smelled as terrible as it tasted. But, so what?”
“The screenwriter must have done his research, because that is actually how you kill a djinn.”
“What? It is?”
My shoulders slumped after a moment’s consideration. “Yeah, but it’s also the way you can kill just about anything, so I’m not sure that makes whoever wrote it an expert on the subject. It doesn’t really matter right now. All that matters is finding that amulet.”
I didn’t share anything about the head with Tasha. I loved her movies, but at this point in the evening’s festivities I trusted only one person other than myself: Thierry. And he was currently somewhere else, hopefully acting as Veronique’s guardian angel.
Tasha was silent for a minute after she closed the door to the room we’d just finished searching. She turned to face me. “So what do we do now?”
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I wished I had all the answers, if only to impress my favorite actress.
I paced back and forth along the hallway. I could still hear Atticus’s muted hollering from down the hall, and my stomach inexplicably twisted with guilt that we’d trapped him like that. Even if he was guilty, it seemed a terrible thing to do to anyone.
But a couple hours were not nearly the same as a few hundred years.
“Find Sebastien and keep an eye on him,” I told her. “Watch him for any shady behavior and if you see any, make with the broken-vase action again.”
Tasha gave me an alarmed look. “Aren’t you going to come with me?”
“No, but I’ll catch up to you as soon as I can.”
She looked like she was going to argue this, but then she closed her mouth and nodded. “Sounds as good as any plan we already have.”
“Which means it doesn’t sound great, right?”
“Let’s hope all the answers lie with Sebastien.”
“And if you see Anna, be very careful.”
“I can handle her.”
She said this confidently, but I wasn’t sure how much of that was false bravado. If Anna was a murderer, that meant she was dangerous. No exceptions.
“Don’t be so sure,” I said.
“Fine.” She nodded. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Good luck.”
We moved away in opposite directions. I wished I had a specific plan of attack, but I felt at loose ends. Something wasn’t fitting into the puzzle and I wished I knew what it was. If we found the amulet . . . what then?
If the head was the djinn, that meant I should focus on finding his body, just as he’d requested. And finding his head again, too, rather than his disembodied voice.
Wild-goose chase or a good use of my time?
All I knew was I had a lot to do in not a lot of time. But first I needed to quickly visit Atticus’s room again.
When I got there, I whispered, “Are you still in there?”
“Let. Me. Out. Of. Here.” He growled each word like an ugly troll living under a bridge. “Now.”
“You didn’t say pretty please.” I scurried over to the shelf and grabbed the key, eyed it for a moment, then shoved it down the front of my red dress and into my bra.