Read Online Follow The Night (Bewitch The Dark) by Michele Hauf - Free Book Online
Authors: Michele Hauf
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well. The obituaries listed no less than seventy-two people, none of them the illustrious precieuse Leo.
Following every attack Henri always placed his victim in the obituaries. It reassured him no minions had been created. As it was, there were enough baffle-headed lickspittles under his charge. Really, he could start a tribe, but the notion of organization, and having to look after that organization, bothered him.
The man had to be dead. Yesterday’s pages stated Leo had been absent from Mademoiselle de Vaine’s salon.
Perhaps the fop’s family sought to keep the man’s death quiet?
It was useless to hope. Henri knew without doubt that had he been allowed a few more moments with the man before being whacked across the back with a stick he could have ensured a finished job.
Such sweet elixir the man’s blood had been. He’d hated killing him the moment he’d begun. Of course, he hadn’t succeeded, had he?
“What is the trouble?” Xavier sauntered into the mist-blurred bathing room and kicked off his embroidered Chinese slippers.
Though a hazy cloud of steam, the man’s towel dropped onto the slate floor and he eased his way into the hot water across the sunken bathing pool from Henri.
Henri stretched his arms across the rim of the tub. “He is not dead.”
“Who?”
“That fop Leo.”
“The mishap?”
Xavier often used euphemisms. He tiptoed about his own vampirism as if it was a temporary condition and it would yet clear up if only he did not speak of it so loudly.
“I’ll have to send someone out after him,” Henri said, his lips dipping to touch the surface of water. “Can’t risk creating yet another minion.”
The look Xavier speared him with cut delicious runnels through Anjou’s heart.
“My lovely Xavier, you are more than a minion,” he assured.
“I don’t like that word.”
“It is a good word for the lackwits who do my bidding. A word dripping of evil, blood and danger—”
“Enough.” Xavier leaned forward, catching his face in his palms. “Whom do you wish me to send out after the fop?”
“Try Renfeaux. He’s an idiot, but for coin, he smartens up nicely. No more than five livres. The fop can’t be worth any more than that. Leo should be half drained as it is. Should make an easy mark.”
“Do you know where he lives?”
“That is up to Renfeaux to discover. St. Honoré, no doubt. The idle rich all live there. Now come. Let me rub your temples for you, Xavier. It’ll relax you, take your mind off things like—”
“Minions?”
“Indeed.”
SIX
Roxane found breakfast waiting for her in the music room, a massive space, floored in black and white harlequin tiles, and stretched floor to ceiling with heavy, red velvet curtains. Only a sofa and a chair set near a pianoforte furnished the room. Toussaint escorted her in and served pastry and chocolate from a silver platter.
Alone in a rich man’s home, surprisingly she was not uncomfortable. Nor did she fear for things like her virtue and propriety.She did not consider the kiss she had given Gabriel last night seduction. It had been a reaction. In that moment, they had both needed. Besides, a simple country rustic as herself could never attract the eye of a swish.
Just keep to the plan.
“Bait,” she murmured.
“What was that?” Toussaint asked.
“Oh…great. This chocolate is great.”
She liked Toussaint, and his casual regard for his master. Damian had considered hiring a valet but she had dissuaded him. Too expensive. Damian had only father’s money to support his newly acquired habits. Roxane did not care to be beholden to anyone. Even her father. It was his way of showing emotion, she knew. I love you—can’t you see that in my money?
Not wishing to spoil a perfectly marvelous morning with thoughts of her rogue father, she focused on the glide of spiced chocolate down her throat. Cinnamon flavored the drink. Truly, Leo must put out a fortune for that spice alone.
Toussaint
Following every attack Henri always placed his victim in the obituaries. It reassured him no minions had been created. As it was, there were enough baffle-headed lickspittles under his charge. Really, he could start a tribe, but the notion of organization, and having to look after that organization, bothered him.
The man had to be dead. Yesterday’s pages stated Leo had been absent from Mademoiselle de Vaine’s salon.
Perhaps the fop’s family sought to keep the man’s death quiet?
It was useless to hope. Henri knew without doubt that had he been allowed a few more moments with the man before being whacked across the back with a stick he could have ensured a finished job.
Such sweet elixir the man’s blood had been. He’d hated killing him the moment he’d begun. Of course, he hadn’t succeeded, had he?
“What is the trouble?” Xavier sauntered into the mist-blurred bathing room and kicked off his embroidered Chinese slippers.
Though a hazy cloud of steam, the man’s towel dropped onto the slate floor and he eased his way into the hot water across the sunken bathing pool from Henri.
Henri stretched his arms across the rim of the tub. “He is not dead.”
“Who?”
“That fop Leo.”
“The mishap?”
Xavier often used euphemisms. He tiptoed about his own vampirism as if it was a temporary condition and it would yet clear up if only he did not speak of it so loudly.
“I’ll have to send someone out after him,” Henri said, his lips dipping to touch the surface of water. “Can’t risk creating yet another minion.”
The look Xavier speared him with cut delicious runnels through Anjou’s heart.
“My lovely Xavier, you are more than a minion,” he assured.
“I don’t like that word.”
“It is a good word for the lackwits who do my bidding. A word dripping of evil, blood and danger—”
“Enough.” Xavier leaned forward, catching his face in his palms. “Whom do you wish me to send out after the fop?”
“Try Renfeaux. He’s an idiot, but for coin, he smartens up nicely. No more than five livres. The fop can’t be worth any more than that. Leo should be half drained as it is. Should make an easy mark.”
“Do you know where he lives?”
“That is up to Renfeaux to discover. St. Honoré, no doubt. The idle rich all live there. Now come. Let me rub your temples for you, Xavier. It’ll relax you, take your mind off things like—”
“Minions?”
“Indeed.”
SIX
Roxane found breakfast waiting for her in the music room, a massive space, floored in black and white harlequin tiles, and stretched floor to ceiling with heavy, red velvet curtains. Only a sofa and a chair set near a pianoforte furnished the room. Toussaint escorted her in and served pastry and chocolate from a silver platter.
Alone in a rich man’s home, surprisingly she was not uncomfortable. Nor did she fear for things like her virtue and propriety.She did not consider the kiss she had given Gabriel last night seduction. It had been a reaction. In that moment, they had both needed. Besides, a simple country rustic as herself could never attract the eye of a swish.
Just keep to the plan.
“Bait,” she murmured.
“What was that?” Toussaint asked.
“Oh…great. This chocolate is great.”
She liked Toussaint, and his casual regard for his master. Damian had considered hiring a valet but she had dissuaded him. Too expensive. Damian had only father’s money to support his newly acquired habits. Roxane did not care to be beholden to anyone. Even her father. It was his way of showing emotion, she knew. I love you—can’t you see that in my money?
Not wishing to spoil a perfectly marvelous morning with thoughts of her rogue father, she focused on the glide of spiced chocolate down her throat. Cinnamon flavored the drink. Truly, Leo must put out a fortune for that spice alone.
Toussaint
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