The Damned (The Beautiful #2)(43)

“Then allow me to propose another one,” Michael says. “Stay away from Celine. She wanted nothing to do with this world. She asked to forget. For once in your life, be selfless and listen.”

My laughter is brittle. “You mistake me for someone who gives a shit what you think.”

“It’s not a request, leech.”

Jae blurs before him. “Flee, little cub. While you still have legs to carry you.” Menace radiates from his every syllable.

“If you lay a finger on me, the Brotherhood will return the insult, tenfold.” To his credit, Michael Grimaldi does not shrink away from Jae’s threat.

“Not if there’s nothing left of you to avenge.” Jae’s response is more breath than sound.

Michael turns to Nicodemus. “You realize what this means, don’t you?”

My uncle says nothing.

“You promised the Brotherhood you would not break faith,” Michael says. “Ten years ago, you swore never to bring another vampire into New Orleans.”

Nicodemus whirls away without a word and vanishes into the darkness.

“Perhaps your uncle doesn’t care about keeping his promises,” Michael says to me. “But there is no reason for me to hide the truth of what you’ve become from my family. You shattered this peace, Bastien.” His hands fist at his sides. “What happens next is on you.”

“And what happens if we choose to share your secrets with the girl you love?” Odette says softly. “What happens if Celine discovers you are not the hero you’ve cast yourself to be? That you, too, are part of this world she wishes to forget?”

Michael does not blink, though his jaw clenches. “I lay the consequences at your feet, Miss Valmont.” His lip curls. “But if you cause Celine any pain, you will answer to me.”

Hisses ripple around me. I hold up a hand, staying my brothers and sisters before they take it upon themselves to attack. No one threatens Odette in our presence. No one.

“Celine is yours to protect, then,” I say with a malicious smile.

He nods.

“Then have at it,” I continue in a mild tone. “It’s sure to be an easy task.” I lean forward, my hands in my pockets. “Tell her Bastien says hello.”

Anger descends on his face like a storm cloud. He opens his mouth to issue a reply. Reconsiders it. Then races down the stairs.

Madeleine comes to stand beside me. Every muscle in my body is stretched like the surface of a drum. I do not move. I do not speak.

“Her memories are returning,” she murmurs. “How is this possible?”

I say nothing. For I am wondering the same thing.





BASTIEN





The following evening, Arjun waits until the precise moment the last rays of the sun dip below the horizon to knock on my chamber door.

I do not respond, but the ethereal turns the brass handle and steps inside, uninvited. “You’re to come with me.” It is not a request. His poncy British accent makes that quite clear.

I sit up. Make a show of swinging my legs to the floor beside my bed, the velvet drapes swaying around me. Then I place my open book beside the single candle on my bedside table and quirk a brow at him.

“Valeria Henri is waiting for you in her shop,” Arjun says, dropping onto an ornate chair positioned in the corner of the room. He lights a cheroot, the blue smoke unwinding above his head. “Nicodemus says it’s time for you to have your fétiche made so that you may move about freely in the sun.”

I rub my left hand across the back of my neck. “Bold of me to walk about in broad daylight after Michael Grimaldi levies such threats. If he did indeed tell the wolves I am no longer mortal, Luca Grimaldi will have my head.”

“Which will happen whether you wander around in the middle of the day or the middle of the night. And it’s all the more reason to give yourself every advantage. You don’t want to be one of those foolish immortals left to die in the sun. It’s too droll, even for you.”

“Do you know what you’re talking about, or did you read about it in a book?”

Arjun snorts. “I heard some stories in the Sylvan Vale.”

“Wishful thinking, perhaps. I’ll bet those in the Vale love to envision creative ways of bringing about a blood drinker’s demise.”

He inclines his head toward the book on my bedside table. “Speaking of wishful thinking, is that more research on the elusive Sunan the Immortal Unmaker?”

Surprise flares through me, though I’m careful not to show it. “The subject merely piqued my interest.”

Laughter rumbles through his chest. He exhales twin plumes of smoke from his nostrils. “You really are a terrible vampire. If you’re going to lie, at least make it believable. We all know what you’re reading. Odette and Madeleine have been keeping watch over any requests you make, including those as mundane as books from the library.”

I swear beneath my breath, the Spanish words rolling from my tongue.

“Don’t be too fussed about it,” Arjun continues. “Mother and Auntie are trying to make sure you’re not drowning in literature about the futility of life. Death is not the only outcome, old chap.”

“As a point of fact, it is.”

More low laughter. “And this Sunan character can help you along your merry way?” He stands. Adjusts the monocle clipped to his jacquard waistcoat. “Stop reading fairy tales and collect your things. Let’s spend a night among the living.”