Taken By Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #7.25)(8)

“Not helpless, but you will never be ruthless enough to survive alone in the demon world, remerciez un dieu.”

She ignored the painful truth of his words. “Perhaps Yiant will accept the Damanica as a proper token and offer Justin the herbs he needs. He will have no reason to linger in London once he has his potion.”

“I would not be so certain.”

Juliet halted her pacing to regard the gargoyle with a puzzled frown.

“What do you mean?”

“It is rumored that Hawthorne has at last convinced Madame Andreas to become his mistress.”

Juliet snorted. “If you mean to shock me, Levet, you are wide of the mark. Justin always has one mistress or another. He will easily find another in the West Indies or Egypt or the Americas.”

“Madame Andreas is not just another mistress, Juliet, she is considered the most beautiful woman in London,” Levet corrected. “Even DeRosa has been seen attempting to court her favors.”

A sharp, savage pain jabbed through her heart at the mere thought of Victor being beguiled by the golden-haired, blue-eyed, voluptuous beauty. Which was utterly absurd. From the moment she had arrived in London she had heard whispers of the Marquis DeRosa’s numerous mistresses, and had seen with her own eyes how the women flocked to be at his side.

Besides, it was common knowledge among the demon world that vampires were sexually insatiable. Until they mated it was not at all unusual for them to insist on a dozen or more lovers.

Damn Victor to the fiery pits of hell.

“Has he? Well, I hope…”

“Oui?”

“I hope he chokes on her,” Juliet snapped.

Levet’s lumpy brow furrowed as he regarded her in sudden dismay. “Did I make a middle of it?”

“Middle?” It took her a moment to realize what the gargoyle was saying. “Muddle. A muddle of it.”

He gave a dismissive shrug. “Middle, muddle. Did I say something wrong?”

“Not at all.” Juliet felt her brittle composure begin to falter. “If you will excuse me, I believe I will retire for the night.”

“Are you not feeling well?”

“I seem to have developed a pain in my neck.”

Without giving Levet time to halt her retreat, Juliet left the attics, taking a direct route through the candlelit corridors to her private chambers.

Normally she found a sense of pleasure when she entered the sitting room decorated in shades of blue and ivory, with solid English furniture that had been designed for comfort rather than fashion. And most charming of all, the tall, arched windows that overlooked the cobblestone road. She adored spending her mornings sipping chocolate while seated on the cushioned window seat and watching the neighbors go about their business.

Tonight, however, she headed straight for the connected room, preparing for bed with stiff, angry movements.

She could call for a maid, of course. Justin had a full staff of servants, all of them of mixed demon blood so that Juliet had no need to pretend to be human. But she was in no mood to endure the curious gaze and inane chatter of her maid.

She only wished to crawl beneath her covers and pretend she was far away from London and the Marquis DeRosa.

Much to her surprise, Juliet managed to slip into a deep sleep, although it was marred with nightmares of being trapped in a small cellar while something—or someone—crept toward the door.

If she were a practicing witch, she might have attempted to discover the deeper meaning of her vivid dream and the choking fear that had seemed far too real. But with no genuine power beyond her ability to sense magic, she was willing to dismiss the vague premonition when Levet’s voice echoed through her head.

“Juliet,” the gargoyle called. “Sacre bleu, wake up.”

“Levet?” Sitting up, Juliet glanced around the empty room, her father’s demon blood giving her the ability to see no matter how dark it might be. “Levet, where are you?”

“I am speaking to you through your mind.”

She frowned, lifting a hand to her temple. “I wish you would not. It is making me dizzy.”

“Non, do not sever our bond. I need you, ma belle.”

“Now?”

“Oui. I am in trouble.”

Juliet’s heart missed a beat at the unmistakable edge of panic in the gargoyle’s voice.

“Dear God, are you hurt?”

“For now only my pride is injured, but I sense the future of my health is not at all certain. In truth, ma belle, it appears to be particularly dire.”

Barely realizing she was moving, Juliet crawled from the bed and headed for the smaller of the two armoires. Her fey blood demanded that she occasionally escape the confines of the city and surround herself with nature. She always kept several sets of loose smocks and pants that were more fitting for a stable boy than a young lady of society. Perfect for her long afternoons in the woods.

“Where are you?”

“I am not entirely certain.”

“Levet, you are not being excessively helpful,” she said, swiftly exchanging her night shift for the pants and smock, as well as a pair of boys’ boots. “I need to know where to begin my search if you desire to be rescued.”

“And you think that has not occurred to me?” Levet barked. “Had I known I was to be attacked and held hostage I would have been clever enough to leave a trail of bread crumbs for you to follow.”