The knowledge of the note back in her luggage burned in her heart like a guilty secret. Beltaire leaned farther forward, and put one of his hands on both her clasped ones.
'I would like to help you, Miss Hawkins,' he said. 'I sense that you are a brave young woman; I know that you are an accomplished woman, a resourceful woman, and a beautiful woman. I would like very much to help you, but I cannot unless you allow me to.'
She found her voice again. 'Help me?' she croaked. 'How?'
He did not release her hand, and she could not look away from his eyes at all. 'In a sense, you would come under my protection,' he said. 'You would do the same thing for me that you have been doing for Cameron. I could use a fine translator for the many works of Magick I have acquired over the years. My scholarship and knowledge of languages is not as great as his, but my knowledge is broader. If you have any personal interest in Magick, I could further it, easily enough. But I know that you have limited means, and that your position with Cameron is a precarious one. He is not a generous man, and he can be a vindictive one. He might even blame you for his own failures, and turn on you. If that were to happen, in the state that he is in, he might lose all caution and hunt you down like a frightened doe no matter where you happened to be-unless you accepted my protection.'
It was so hard to breathe! She gasped, as if she had been running. 'And then-what?'
Beltaire shrugged. 'Eventually, something will happen. Either he will realize that he cannot reverse his condition and end his suffering by his own hand, or he will more likely revert entirely to the beast, break out of the grounds of his mansion, and go hunting. When that happens, someone will cut him down. It is just a matter of time.'
'What do you have to do with this?' she asked, in a thin whisper.
'I? Well, for one thing, I am able to protect a fine scholar.' He patted her hand. 'I have seen your record; do not protest. If Jason reverts to the beast-it should be the hand of someone who knows him and will give him a quick and easy death that takes him down. I would also make certain it happens before he kills someone.'
Was this a nightmare? It felt like one! But if it was a nightmare, why couldn't she wake up?
'If you are willing-and brave enough-you could make certain of that, Miss Hawkins, and I would see you had a reward commensurate with your risk,' he continued, with earnest intensity. 'You could serve as the bait in the trap for the beast. You could make certain that no one who was innocent and helpless became his victim. Think of it! Think of a child, or an innocent youth, or a harmless old woman being in the wrong place at the wrong time when he finally snapped! Think of him rending their flesh, tearing their throats cut! And think of his horror when he realized what he had done! If you value his honor, if you have compassion for what remains of his humanity, you can save him from that, Miss Hawkins. You can make it possible for him to die with some shred of honor and dignity left!'
She shook her head, but the movement was so faint, he probably didn't see it. Or else he chose to ignore it.
She heard music, and recognized it as the fortune-telling scene in the gypsy camp. It seemed to come from a thousand miles away.
He released her hand. 'Then-when it is all over-I can send you back home. Back to Chicago,' he continued in silken tones as he sat back, releasing her from his eyes as he had released her from his grip. 'That would be your reward. I can send you back with restored fortunes. I can make certain that you have all you once had before your father's ill-considered speculations-the house, the furnishings, the income-all. You will never need to worry about money again for the rest of your life. It will be a fitting reward for a brave heart and a gallant, self-sacrificing lady.'
She licked lips gone suddenly dry. 'I-I'll think about it,' she heard herself saying, as from a vast distance.
Somewhere, out beyond the curtains of the box, the orchestra thundered as Carmen turned over the card for Death.
Her entire body jerked and her eyes closed. When she opened them again, Beltaire was gone. There was only the half-empty bottle of champagne, and a single glass lying on its side on the floor, to show that he had been there at all.
Jason Cameron fought the red rage as it threatened to engulf him and prove that everything Simon Beltaire had told Rose was true. He succeeded barely-and sat literally panting in exhaustion with his paws clenched tightly on the arms of his chair. Meanwhile, in the mirror, Rose watched Don Jose murder Carmen in a scene that unfortunately more closely resembled Captain Ahab stabbing Moby Dick with a harpoon. Under other circumstances, he would have been howling with laughter, since he would not offend anyone with his mirth.
He was nearer to tears than to laughter at the moment. As his rage died, the stark truth of at least some of what Beltaire had told her chilled him even further.
