Despite being at war with England, Napoleon’s Paris was surprisingly easy to enter, particularly with the resources of the Earl of Corvindale to grease palms and ensure that certain eyes turned blindly away from certain things. And for a gentleman like Chas Woodmore, whose Romany heritage gave him an almost Gallic appearance, the blending in was even simpler.
It was the the getting out of the city that would be the problem.
But for Chas, there was only one element of the plan to be concerned with at a time, and the first was to gain entrance to Cezar Moldavi’s house.
It was past noon, well into the afternoon, as he walked along a La Maraisrue. Although this was the area where the wealthy lived, the street was busy—filled with servants walking to and from the market, deliverymen, and the residents rumbling along in their carriages on their way to shopping and other social engagements. No one would take note of yet another courier with a small paper-wrapped packet, particularly since he was dressed so as to be unremarkable in simple clothing and sturdy shoes. He’d settled a simple cap on his head, which had the result of covering much of his thick, dark hair and shading his face. It also made him appear younger.
Nevertheless, Chas knew it was highly unlikely he’d actually make it out of the city. If he succeeded with his plan to assassinate Moldavi, and possibly the sister as well, then he would have the greatest chance of making it back to London. In that case, he’d only have to contend with getting past the soldiers at every corner of the city.
He couldn’t help a rueful smile, imagining Corvindale’s reaction if he had to carry through on his promise to take in Maia, Angelica, and Sonia in the event of Chas’s demise. Maia, the eldest of the sisters and his junior by nearly ten years, would have plenty to say about it as well. Chas could already imagine her, with her hands on her hips and her foot tapping in annoyance. She was used to being in charge and managing the household, notwithstanding the dubious assistance of their chaperone Mrs. Fernfeather.
But there was no one better equipped, nor more trustworthy, than Corvindale to protect his sisters if something happened to him, and as such, for the first time in all of his travels, Chas had left instructions with Maia to contact the earl if he didn’t return or otherwise message her within a fortnight.
That was how long Chas expected it to take to infiltrate Moldavi’s homestead—if things went smoothly—and get close enough to his target, then get out of the city. He’d have one chance to drive the stake home, and God willing, for those poor children, he’d succeed.
Therueswere just as dirty and crowded in Paris as they were in London, Rome, and St. Petersburg. He happened to prefer the countryside to the big, loud cities, perhaps because he was fairly forced to frequent them—and their seediest, most dark and unsavory places—in search of Dracule. As he avoided a steaming pile of dog shit in the center of the walkway, which was really just the edge of the street, he pictured for a moment the small estate he’d just purchased in Wales, with its neat, unassuming manor house tucked amid rolling green hills.
It was likely he’d never have a chance to enjoy the place. He’d acquired it secretly, in hopes that it would be a private haven for him if he needed to hide his sisters from danger. For, just as he attempted to rid the world ofvampirs, so were therevampirswho were bent on ridding the world of him…and who wouldn’t hesitate to use Maia, Angelica and Sonia to do so.
Thank goodness at least Sonia was tucked safely away at St. Bridie’s. The last time he’d seen her, when he’d come to visit, they’d had a terrible row. A flush of guilt warmed his cheeks as it occurred to him that he might never see her or any of them again.God willing I’ll make it up to them all.
Then he realized he hadn’t been paying attention to the numbers on the houses, and had nearly missed Moldavi’s.
Here it is.
He walked past the columned, whitewashed front of the narrow but imposing three-story building, his attention moving from thoughts of his sisters and sharpening as he observed the area. A maidservant rushed past, carrying three large parcels that obstructed her view, and nearly collided with two footmen who were standing in the center of the walkway. Two carriages passed each other, harnesses rattling, hooves clopping. Someone shouted across the way from an unshuttered window, and there was a bellicose response from another window in the next building. Moldavi’s house, while it looked the same as the ones surrounding it, was the only one that seemed devoid of life.
From Giordan Cale, Chas knew that the house itself was only the facade of Moldavi’s residence, and that most of the living space was underground in well-furnished but windowless chambers.
The servants—mostlyvampir, but some mortals—lived in the above-ground floors, where heavy curtains were drawn over the windows during the day. It was also where merchants entered and deliveries were made, and these upper floors were the way Chas would gain access to the house. He just had to wait for an opportune time…or to create one himself.
The improved smoke packets that his friend Miro had made for him were in his coat pocket, but those were best used inside a confined space. And since this was his first visit to the area, he didn’t intend to do anything more than get a sense of the area.
He’d continued on his way to the end of the block. The houses that lined the thoroughfare were all similar to each other in design, with classical columns and landings. Built close together, these structures were part of an architectural revival that had swept Paris during the Revolution. Along with the city’s rebuttal of all things royal had come the desire to eliminate the opulence and richness the ruling class had imposed upon it.
Thus, the nouveau style embraced the simplicity of the Greeks and Romans along with symbolizing the rise of the bourgeoisie and their own seal on the city.
The scent of spring roses and lilies caught in the breeze as he walked past neatly trimmed gardens around to the next block. There was a small alley between two of the houses that abutted Moldavi’s, and he turned into it, still carrying his package.
The alley was deserted and he walked purposely along toward the rear side of Moldavi’s house. If anyone saw him, he was delivering a package to Monsieur Tournedo—and could not someone direct him to which of these houses did the gentleman live,s’il vous plait? If no one did, he’d have the chance to explore the rear of the house.
During sunlight was the best time to attempt to break into avampirresidence, for a good portion of the household would be asleep. He just had to find the right time.
And then as luck would have it, an opportunity presented itself. Looking back, Chas knew he couldn’t have planned anything better.
All at once, he heard a loud crash and clatter coming from the street in front of Moldavi’s house. The horrified whinny of a horse, followed by a scream and lots of shouting. More whinnies and even a terrible, agonized shriek from one of the beasts. Whatever had occurred, it wasn’t good—likely an animal would have to be put down to sleep—but it was also a guaranteed distraction to anyone in the vicinity.
Sure enough, as Chas peered around the corner toward the mess on the narrow street, he saw crowds gathering. Like executions, accidents drew the morbid as well as the curious. Which included, more often than not, everyone in the vicinity.
“It was a cat! She ran in front of me and I could not stop!” a driver was shouting.
“But you should have been looking!” raged another. “Now see what you’ve done!”
People were streaming from their houses, shouting encouragement and orders, crying out in shock and horror. Dogs barked and whined, and warning bells began to ring. Even a gunshot sounded, momentarily tempting even Chas to investigate further.
But, no…he had much more important and satisfying things to attend to.Bloody damned child-bleeder.He was looking forward to seeing the man cower in fear for his life, knowing that only the thrust of a stake was between him and eternal damnation.
His lips settled in a feral grin that no one could see, he eased back behind the house. If anyone in the Moldavi household was awake, it was certain they’d be either looking out the front windows or standing on the front porch. Chas had the perfect opportunity and had to work quickly.
