I contemplate leaving a note, but I know her well enough by now to know she wouldn’t read it. Better for me to return once I’m free of Lucien’s influence and explain myself.
I slip away into the sunlight.
I know there is no point returning to Lucien while the sun is high. He sleeps like the dead and no matter the urgency, the guard on duty during daylight – the one with the sadistic streak and the scarf pulled tightly around his neck – won’t let me in to see him. So I wander, distraught, through the streets of Paris, my pocket heavy with jewels and betrayal.
When I return in the evening, Lucien has only one guard at the apartment. I’m so familiar with the habits of Lucien’s soldiers that it’s easy for me to slip past him when he goes to the basement for more wine. My brother’s snores tremble the basement stairs – at least that means Jacob is still alive.
Silently, I push open the door to Lucien’s boudoir, blocking the exit and squinting to make him out in the gloom.
Lucien’s head snaps up from where he’s tangled in the sheets with a youth cradled in his arms. I haven’t said a thing, but he knows I’m there. He’s always had a canny sense like that. Lucien drops the boy, who murmurs as he hugs the sheets, his neck bruised and smeared with dry blood—
My back hits the wall with aCRACKlike a revolver shot.
I gasp for breath. Lucien’s smooth, cool hand closes around my throat. He pushed me, but how? How did he cross the room that fast?
“Little Prince, you dare show your face here?” Lucien’s eye bore into mine, cold as death and twice as dangerous.
“I told you I would handle it, and I did.” I gasp out.
“You have it?” he whispers, his breath reeking of blood and nightmares.
His fingers close tighter in excitement. I manage to choke out a sound of assent.
“Leave us!” Lucien commands. The youth crawls away, his eyes blinking slowly, lost in an opium daze. Lucien lets go of my throat. I drop in a heap, gasping for air.
“Show me.” Lucien sits on the edge of the bed, his limbs jittering with excitement.
With trembling hands and still gasping for breath, I pull the necklace out of my trouser pocket and lay it across his waiting palms.
He stares at the collar with a hunger so raw and greedy I half expect him to stuff the jewels into his mouth and start chewing. I’ve been so sick with the need to keep Arabella and Jacob safe that I’ve forgotten that if the collar truly is magic, I’ve handed Lucien a powerful weapon.
“Our business is concluded,” I say. “I’ll take cash now, and the key to my brother’s restraints. We’ll be out of the city before you’ve even put on trousers.”
“Oh, sweet, innocent Little Prince.” Lucien stands. At his full height, he’s nearly a head taller than me, and even though he’s naked and I have a knife and revolver concealed, every hard line of his body speaks of danger. His hand circles my wrist, his fingers squeezing together until I wince with pain. “I told you, you’remine. I’m not done with you yet.”
“I don’t even need the money. I just want my brother.” I look up into his eyes, but they are fathomless black holes. There’s nothing human inside him, no softness, no empathy. “I got you the necklace, so Jacob’s debts are wiped and we’re both free.”
“Tsk, tsk.” His fingers tighten their grip. A whimper rises in my throat. I buck against him, trying to free my hand, but it’s like fighting a brick wall. His skin is so cold, like touching ice. “That was never our deal. I promised only that your brother’s debts would be wiped. He may of course go free. But I cannot allow someone with such a talent for this business to leave me. You are mine, Little Prince, andthat makes you the luckiest of men. I will give you the world. I will give youimmortality.”
His eyes flash with cold, monstrouspossessiveness, and the last thing I see as a human is a pair of long, gleaming fangs sliding from his upper jaw and sinking into my neck.
28
Arabella
Gideon:I truly am sorry about showing up for the auditions. I know that you’re sick of me.
But I’m not sorry we’re performing together, even though I know you’re going to use it to torture me.
I enjoy being tortured by you, ma petite déesse.
And I’m also not sorry that we’re now in business together. Welcome to the Sanctus family, my not-so-silent investor.
In the interests of full investor disclosure, I should let you know that as well as stealing from the vault, someone has been leaking information about Sanctus to the Conclave – like a teeny tiny security breach on the night of the Midnight Garden launch party. I’ve determined the leak to be Paul Badica, and I’ve taken care of him. I thought you’d like to know.
IHURL THE PHONE AT THE WALL. It bounces off and skids across the tiles, the screen shattering. Cleo VII slithers to safety. There’s now a phone-corner-shaped dent in my brand new wall.
He’s not allowed to do this to me.
