Page 37 of Vampire so Virtuous (Boston Vampires #1)

Cally pressed the buzzer.

“Welcome back, madam.” Marcel said over the intercom.

The gate clicked open, and Cally gave it a push. She distinctly remembered walking out swearing she’d never return, and she was back already. Fuck my life.

Marcel opened the front door as they arrived. “How nice to see you again so soon. And with a friend.”

Cally checked over her shoulder. The Uber driver had left, but the black BMW was parked down the street. “Let’s get in speedily, please, Marcel.”

The elderly retainer peered outside. “Is there something amiss?”

“We were followed all the way from Arlington.”

“How discomfiting, madam.” He opened the door wider. “Please, do come in.”

“Thank you, Marcel,” she said, stepping over the threshold and into the foyer. “Is he in the living room?”

“No, madam, but if you would like to wait within, I shall summon him.”

“Are you a vampire?” Eve asked as she followed Cally inside.

“No, madam,” Marcel replied patiently, “but of late, you’d be surprised how often I’m asked.”

Marcel closed the front door, then passed them with a stately but unhurried pace to open the door to the living room. “Please make yourselves at home.” He bowed stiffly and left.

“Wow, nice house,” Eve said, looking around. She wandered over to the bookcase. “Less gothic than I was expecting. Have you seen his bedroom yet?”

“No, I haven’t seen his bedroom yet,” Cally replied, gritting her teeth. “Are you going to behave in here?”

“Sure.” Eve gasped, pulling a large book off a shelf. It looked leather-bound and very old. “I can’t believe it! He has a copy of Le Comte de Monte-Cristo in the original French! I love that book!”

“As do I, my dear.” Antoine had appeared silently through the other door, standing perfectly straight with his hands clasped behind his back.

He wore his usual black jeans and T-shirt, his bare feet making no sound on the thick carpet.

It was incongruous how well his wardrobe choices complemented Eve’s.

“That is an early-bound edition from the nineteenth century, and would be quite difficult to replace. Please take care with it.”

Eve turned to Cally, the book clutched in her hands. “You didn’t need a UV light! You just had to threaten his library.” She swung toward Antoine, holding the book up like a shield. “Stay back, foul fiend, or I’ll rip out page one!”

Antoine slowly raised an eyebrow, then glanced at Cally for help.

“She’s joking… I think.” She gave Eve an imploring look. “You said you’d behave.”

“Hmm.” Antoine crossed to his usual seat beside the fire. He didn’t sit, but leaned over to press a button on the side table. A moment later, Marcel opened the door.

“Sir?”

“Marcel, would you kindly escort Cally’s friend to one of the spare bedrooms? Perhaps bring her a nice mug of hot milk?”

“Sassy,” Eve said. “I like you, Mr. Vampire.” She placed the book carefully back on the shelf, nodded at Cally, and followed Marcel out. The door closed quietly behind them.

Cally rubbed her palm over her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think she’d be so… her.” At least she didn’t try to buss his cheeks. But he was French. He probably wouldn’t have found it odd.

“Are you all right?” Antoine asked, crossing to her in quick strides—yet at human speeds. “I heard you had an unpleasant evening.”

“What did Marcel tell you?”

“He didn’t say anything. Why? What don’t I know?”

Cally shook her head. They were talking past each other. She started from the beginning. “We were followed back from—Wait.” Cally frowned at him. “What do you mean you heard, if Marcel didn’t say anything?”

“My thralls told me you went into a nightclub in the Theatre District, then left soon after, in a state of distress. One of you was in tears.”

“Your thralls ?”

He took a small pace back, then turned, walking to his usual chair. He sat down and crossed one leg over the other. “Merely a precaution,” he said, as if he had every right. He inclined his head toward her. “You do wear my mark.”

“You had me followed?” Cally took a pace toward him, frowning in disbelief.

“We thought we were being followed from the club, and it turns out it was just your damn thralls?” She shook her head, frustration building.

“You scared the hell out of us, you know that? And you owe me a hundred and forty-two bucks in cab fares.”

“I left my wallet in my jacket,” he replied dryly, his pale blue eyes studying her. “Why are you here?”

“Why am I here?” He always asked her that, like she had no right turning up. “I’m here because I—we—were being followed! I’m here because we thought we had a clear and present danger, and nowhere else to go!”

“You came here for safety ?”

“Yes! No. Wait.” Cally shook her head. “I came here because… damn it, Antoine.” She drew in a breath and released it, trying to settle herself. “I had a vision, okay?”

“A vision?” His tone was skeptical.

“Yes. Of that nightclub.”

“A vision of a nightclub,” he repeated, tilting his head as he regarded her.

“Yes, goddammit,” she said, her jaw clenched.

“Is that why you went?”

“No. A friend of ours met a guy. He wanted to take her there. We went along because… reasons.” Cally shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that the nightclub was exactly the same as the one in my vision.”

He gave a small nod, his gaze steady. “You’ve had a traumatic night, ma chérie . Why don’t you—”

“Don’t patronize me, goddammit. I know what I saw. There was a corridor beneath that club, an ornate door, locked with chains. The sense of evil coming from behind it was like nothing I’ve ever felt before. And it was the same club.”

“A sense of evil?” he echoed, his face perfectly composed.

“It was a waste of time coming here.” She folded her arms and glared at him. “I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re sitting there laughing at me.”

“I’m not lau—”

“You were about to, you bastard.”

Antoine raised a hand placatingly. “I’m not laughing. Have you had visions before?”

Cally hesitated. “No,” she admitted with reluctance, then raised her chin in defiance. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“It’s not that I—”

The doorbell rang through the house, and Antoine stopped in puzzlement. Both of them looked toward the door as Marcel’s voice floated in from the hall, speaking with someone on the gate intercom. Not long after, Marcel knocked and entered, carrying a small, flat package.

“My apologies for interrupting you, sir, but this appears to be of some importance.”

Antoine rose to accept the package and Marcel bowed and left, closing the door behind him.

What he had given Antoine wasn’t an envelope; it looked like folded vellum, complete with a wax seal.

At the sight of it, his lips thinned and his jaw firmed.

Cally waited as he slit the wax with his thumb and swiftly scanned the letter.

“I regret that we will have to postpone our investigation of your vision,” he said as he read. “I will need to deal with this first. It will likely take me a night or two.”

She crossed her arms. “Really? Now’s when you get important mail?”

He tapped the letter on his other hand. “In point of fact,” he said, his tone thoughtful, “this makes your presence here serendipitous.”

“Oh?”

His expression changed, becoming somehow more predatory. It’s his eyes . They were not quite as pale nor as blue, with a hint of red that made them look almost lilac. They narrowed as he regarded her.

“This”—he waved the letter—“is a summons from the Curia. The vampire Council, if you will. They’ve recently arrived in Boston, and now I will be seeing them tomorrow night. There are preparations to make, things to do, and it would not be prudent to attend at anything less than full strength.”

“Uh-huh.”

He took a step toward her, and though there were still several feet between them, Cally took an instinctive step back, feeling a thrill of fear. And something else?

“I need to feed before I go.”

“There’s a whole city out there, full of ‘snacks.’” She made air-quotes for his benefit. “You’ve got plenty of options.”

He took another step. “You would rather I pick on some other poor soul, than drink from you?”

Cally glared at him. That was hitting below the belt. “I don’t think that bothers you at all, does it? You said that to manipulate me, didn’t you?”

He sobered, and the heat in his eyes faded. “You’re wrong. It bothers me greatly, every time I feed.” He turned away.

“But isn’t that why you marked me?” She crossed her arms, her gaze challenging. “So you could feed on me more often, and pretend it doesn’t affect you?”

He shook his head slightly, still with his back to her.

“Perhaps it was,” he said thoughtfully. “I wanted to be able to find you again, because there was something about you that…” He took a breath then turned back, fixing her with that intense stare he did so well.

“Why shouldn’t I feed from you more than others, now that you have my mark? ”

“I didn’t ask for it.”

He laughed bitterly. “No one ever does.”

Cally glared at him. “You expect me to agree to this, just so others don’t have to go through what you’ve already put me through?”

He shrugged, saying nothing.

“Fine,” she spat, holding out her wrist. “Here. And fuck you, Antoine.”

He didn’t move. “I don’t feed from a wrist.”

“Don’t, or can’t?” Her arm remained stiff, the motion defiant even as her skin tingled at the thought of him touching her.

He shook his head. “ Merde , in almost three hundred years—”

“—You’ve been alive three hundred years?” She stared at him in disbelief, her arm falling slightly.

He inclined his head. “Rounding up a little.”

“So the French isn’t a Canadian thing.”

“I told you I was French.” He almost sounded offended. “I am originally from a town called Brest, in Brittany. It has been a long time since I was last there.”