The Vampire Narcise

thoughts from colliding with each other and her mind clear.

“We’ve received a message from your brother,” said Dimitri. “I thought it best if we informed Chas immediately.”

“I said you should be told,” Maia said to Narcise. “I would want to know if my brother was doing something like this.” She slanted a sidewise glance at Chas and gave a little sniff.

“Maia,” Dimitri said, giving her a mildly exasperated look—mild for him, anyway—and said to Narcise, “The message arrived at Blackmont Hall earlier today via blood pigeon.”

Taking care not to glance at Giordan, who sat just beyond Dimitri, Narcise turned her full attention to the formidable earl. But out of the corner of her eye, she saw the blood staining Giordan’s white shirt, and the elegant shape of his wrist, settled casually on the arm of his chair. “Are you going to tell me what the message contained?”

“Napoleon Bonaparte is going to invade England in three days,” he replied with characteristic bluntness. “And your brother promises to send his own army of made vampires with the emperor’s mortal soldiers, to wreak havoc on this country.”

“He said they’d find the children,” Maia Woodmore added, her delicate face grave. “And take them.”

“Maia,” Dimitri snapped. “Blast it, I should have left you home.”

“Then I would have just found the way on my own, Gavril,” she replied. “At least we only needed one carriage this way.”

“You promised you wouldn’t interfere,” Dimitri said from between clenched teeth.

“I did nothing of the sort. You demanded I promise that, but I certainly didn’t. If I weren’t here, none of you would tell Narcise the whole of it,” the woman returned. “How can she make a decision without knowing all of it?”

“A decision?” said Narcise. “What sort of decision?” Her heart was pounding now and she felt an unpleasant twisting in her middle.

“About whether you’ll go back to him,” said Giordan, breaking his silence.

Quiet descended over the chamber.

“Narcise,” Chas said after a moment. “You can understand why we thought not to tell you.”

“No,” she replied through stiff lips. Giordan had shifted in his chair, and now he was looking at Chas. “No, I do not. What did you intend to do about it, since you didn’t plan to tell me?”

“That’s what we were discussing when you made that most dramatic entrance,” replied Voss with a lazy smile. “I know Cezar well enough, but since you know him best of all, perhaps you might have a suggestion. He promises to call off the emperor’s invasion if you return to him.”

Narcise shook her head, her thoughts whirling. Go back? Go back to Cezar? Never. But her heart was pounding and her stomach twisted nauseatingly. France’s invasion didn’t really matter to her—or to any Dracule—insofar as power was concerned.

But there were vampirs involved, and Cezar would ensure that there would be children as victims…as well as others. Children. If she agreed to go back, they’d be saved. She did believe Cezar would keep his word about that. He’d done so in the past, for he knew therein lay his power over her.

But to go back… She shuddered. No.

“I’ll go to Paris,” Chas said flatly. “I can get in to see him—”

“No, Chas,” Maia interrupted. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Be still, Maia,” her brother snapped, and received a warning glare from Dimitri.

“And you attempting to kill Moldavi wouldn’t necessarily stop Napoleon,” Voss added. “Although—”

“Attempting to kill him?” Chas echoed. His voice was sharp. “A poor choice of word—”

“Cezar could stop him if he wanted,” Narcise said slowly. “He’s got the new emperor under his thrall.”

“It does seem more than a bit convenient that Bonaparte has been sitting for months with his army ready to cross the Channel at any moment…and now Moldavi claims he will invade at last,” Dimitri mused. “I’m inclined to believe that your brother,” he said, looking at Narcise, “is indeed behind all of this.”

“And if he’s influencing Bonaparte to invade, then he can stop him as well,” Narcise said. And her Mark panged sharply…because she was thinking about what it would be like to return to Cezar. To put herself back under his control.

A little shiver caught her by surprise—a ripple of fear and trepidation—but then she remembered Sonia’s vision. I’m his greatest fear. How can that be? And how could I use that?

It made her stronger. She could go to Cezar knowing that. And if he feared her, then it gave her the chance to destroy him.

If it were on her terms…

Narcise’s heart began to pound harder. Could she actually go back there? She remembered the comforting feel of the saber…the way Cezar’s eyes lit on her, with both delight and hate.

Another shiver started in her belly. It could be true. She could be his greatest fear.

“You aren’t considering going,” Chas said, breaking the silence. “Narcise.” His voice was strung tightly and she saw the fear in his eyes.

But it was the weight of Giordan’s stare that she felt the most. Heavy, silent, dark…resting on her like a boulder.

“He fears me,” she said, thinking aloud. “He fears me more than anything in the world.”

The twinge that had begun to inflame her shoulder eased a bit more. She had power.

“But how will that help you?” Chas said, his voice low, as if he were fighting to keep it so. “Once you’re back there with him, you’re under his control. In that place. He’s got damned feathers everywhere, Narcise.”

“There’s something else,” Maia Woodmore said quietly. “Maia, no,” Dimitri said, his voice like a whip. “I forbid you.”

She looked up at him, a steely but determined expression on her face, and lifted her chin. “You would want to know.”

He glared at her with his mortal eyes, the burning no longer an actual glow, but no less furious. “Maia. You don’t understand.”

“Allow me,” Giordan spoke again. He shifted in his chair, dragging Narcise’s gaze toward him. His movements were so studied and casual that their easiness seemed forced. “I suspect Narcise isn’t the only one Moldavi wants returned.”

Dimitri made a soft, sharp curse under his breath and turned to look at his friend. “Naturally,” he admitted.

“Just to clarify,” Maia broke in with her imperious voice, “Moldavi promises to stop the invasion if Narcise or Mr. Cale returns to him. He doesn’t specifically require both—”

“I’ll go.”

Narcise’s breath caught at the blank expression that had settled over Giordan’s face as he spoke. Like a mask. Empty, emotionless. She recognized him…and yet it wasn’t truly him. His eyes…they appeared dead. And they were looking at her.

Her heart was thudding in her chest, but she wasn’t certain why. The image of Cezar and Giordan rose once again in her mind and even the memory of the stew of smells around him came with it. Her belly lurched and she bit her lip, thrusting the thoughts away.

Dimitri started to say something, but Giordan’s voice slashed out. “Don’t be a fool. You haven’t the means to stop me.”

“Cale, certainly, there are other ways,” Voss interjected. “Moldavi surely doesn’t know about the change that’s occurred with Dimitri and myself. We could accompany Woodmore and attend to Moldavi permanently.”

“No,” Narcise said softly. “No, I will have to go.” Her Mark pulsed with anger and sharp pain, but she ignored it. “But you’ll come after me. When it’s safe. When I’m certain he’s called off the invasion. You can—”

“Narcise,” Chas began.

“Stop,” she ordered, holding up her hand. “Have you forgotten? I’m a Dracule. I think only of myself. And in