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“What?” Tom asked.

“I dare say one can understand their… disposition toward Nick, considering what those prisoners endured—”

“Can’t exactly blame them for wanting payback.”

31: A Poor Excuse for aChasseuse

Thin strips of sunlight pierced the fabric covering the windows, barely enough to see by. The glow burned behind my eyelids, building gradually until I was awake. This time, the ringing in my ears had stopped. My eyes opened without protest, too, the swelling finally down. Fuck, how long had I been unconscious? All I could remember was the petrol smell that had presumably knocked me out.

Tugging again at the zip ties binding my wrists together, the raw, thin scabs broke beneath the plastic. I sucked in a breath through my teeth, ignoring the pain as best I could, pushing and stretching to try and get some give or movement. I knew it was pointless, but there was no chance I was going to sit here and do nothing. Then I remembered Nicholas.

The cupboard door was ajar as before, but I couldn’t make out any movement in the half-light. Straining to hear over the pounding of my heart, my ears picked up voices above me. If I concentrated, I could make out the words.

“She will not co-operate, Émilie. She knows Murray too well, now. She was not fooled.”

I recognised the French accent I’d heard so much about – an older dialect, though, like we’d suspected. And I figured that meant we’d been right about Paris. At least the others would have something to work with – if Adam and Isabel could stop sniping at each other long enough.

“It doesn’t matter. She’ll do as she’s told, Alistair – that’s why he sent me. All I have to do is show her how far we’re willing to go… and she’ll cave.” Émilie’s tone was harder than before, though still sickly sweet.

“I disagree. Their relationship has gone too far.Notre ruse aurait dû fonctionner…” he muttered in French. “They have shared blood already. I’m sure of it.C’est impossible…It is time to re-assess. Thismustgo our way.”

“Just because she slept with Murray doesn’t mean they shared blood.” She was trying to convince him, that much was clear. “And even if they did, she still wouldn’t sacrifice a human life for a vampire life. Murray’s a piece of work – and she’s a hunter. Shecan’tlet him go free. Not in place of her friend.”

“But we do not have that leverage, thanks to you!Tu es inutile!”

“It wasn’t my fault, and you know it. But what does it matter? They were getting close before we took her anyway. He’ll come to us.”

“You do not know him as I do. He is clever. He is manipulativeet charmantat once. I would not be surprised if he sent his friends in his place.” The floorboards creaked above my head, and I imagined him pacing.

Émilie scoffed. “They’re nothing. Wyatt’s strong, but I havea plan for her. The preening blonde bleeds like any mortal. And the boy… maybe I’ll remove his hand, like for like.” She paused. “He can only hide behind his friends for so long before he has no choice but to show himself – until then, it’s a matter of making sure the hunter knows we’re serious.”

I grinned to myself, desperately holding on to this positive piece of news – Tom, of all people, had taken her down. Jon would have been so damn proud.Iwas proud. I’d have to remember to congratulate him if I ever got out of here. But fuck, I hoped it had hurt her.

“Ha! She is too arrogant, too involved… a poor excuse for achasseuse.”

I bristled, the movement causing my plastic bonds to scrape the pipe behind me noisily – even my crappy French was enough to know my hunter skills had just been insulted. The pacing above me stopped.

“She must have awoken. I will speak to her this time.” Alistair’s voice was quieter, and there was a clattering from behind me like something being dragged down a staircase.

“Erin Conrad, at last.Enchanté.”

I twisted around, metal pipe scraping my back, desperate to finally see the face of the man who’d caused all this. He held a simple wooden chair in one hand, and placed it in front of me, sitting and crossing his legs. His face was half-hidden in shadow as his eyes burned into me.

“I can’t say I feel the same way, I’m afraid,” I allowed myself a huge false smile, regretting it instantly as pain shot through my jaw and ear.

He faced me head-on, and my smile vanished.

Where Émilie’s resemblance to Isabel had been largely performance, Alistair’s similarity to Nicholas made my blood run cold. This was the killer from my nightmares. They could have been brothers, but everything I loved in Nicholas’s features was twisted into something cruel, here. I wondered whether he, too, had attempted to change his appearance as Émilie had – but the resemblance was too uncanny.

Alistair cocked his head to one side, narrowing his eyes at me. As he shifted, the shadows on his face receded, revealing scarring across the side of his neck and jaw: burns that looked as if they’d never healed.

“You are something of acélébritéamong the undead here, Erin.” His fingers traced the line of his jaw. “They fear you, and perhaps that is what leads you to think you can speak to me with such disrespect.Ne me sous-estime pas. I am not they,” he said, each word precise and cold.

“I’m not afraid of you, Alistair. You’re another killer, no different to the rest.” I lied, controlling my voice with an effort. “You’re no better or cleverer – you just prefer to play with your food. That’s all.”

His scarred lips twisted in disdain. “You are not my food. If I wished to feed on you,chasseuse, I would have done so. I have another task for you – I think you know this.”

Émilie entered the room as he spoke, standing silently in the corner with a look of disapproval on her face. She placed a single taper candle on the cabinet behind her, elongating her shadow to fearful proportions.