Page 38 of The Agent and the Outlaw
“Do you really think your father knew? That he willingly sent his own grandson into the clutches of a vile predator?” I asked, astonished.
“At first, I didn’t think so. But the more I grieved, the angrier I got. How could my father not have known about his friend’s inclinations? Eventually, I confronted him. We were stationed on the island of Menorca in the Mediterranean then, after the treaty had been signed and the fighting had ended. I’d had a letter from Marie. She was…unwell. Alone and grief-stricken, I think her mind wandered to the same place that mine did.Did Father know?”
He paused, swallowing several times. I could see that he wanted to go on, that he needed to, but it was too hard for him. Compelled by the look of pain on his face, I grasped one of his hands. This seemed to steel him. Finally, he continued. “I cornered him one evening in his study.‘Of course, I knew, you fool!’He told me I was naive and weak for allowing my grief to get the better of me, that Louis should have been stronger, and that it was Marie’s fault for birthing a whelp from such a disappointing match.‘Sade is a brute and a scoundrel, but the world is full of them, Antoine. You’re just too stupid to learn how to use them to your advantage!’I couldn’t believe it. I lunged at him. I managed to get two good punches in before his guards dragged me away and beat me senseless.”
“Thebêtes,you mean?”
He nodded. “They hadn’t been turned yet, but soon after. I wrote to Marie that night, but I didn’t tell her the truth. I couldn’t. I told her that Father hadn’t known, but that I would set things right anyway. I thought I was sparing her emotions from any more blows, but I needn’t have worried. She took her own life before we made it back home. I told my father it was all his fault—both her death and Louis’s death were on his hands. He didn’t seem to care.‘I’m on my way to becoming the most formidable general in France, Antoine. There’s more blood on my hands than you could possibly imagine.’When we arrived home, I packed up and left, unable to think about anything other than making Sade pay for what he’d done.”
“And your father?” I asked.
Antoine turned intense, emotion-filled eyes on me.
“He’s next.”
12
ANTOINE
November 18, 1767
The Wild Rose,Gévaudan
Charlotte sucked in a breath.“You’re going after your father?”
I nodded.
“To kill him?”
“After taking out thebêtes de sang,that is my intent,” I replied coolly.
Charlotte huffed out a breath. “Oh, certainly. Of course. Once you dispense with an elite vampire death squad—allfiveof them—it’ll be no trouble at all to find and defeat one of the most formidable generals in France. I’m sure hehasn’tconnected you to Sade’s death and surelyisn’texpecting you to do something so foolish in your anger and grief.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.
“He is too proud and too entitled to think of me as a serious threat,” I argued.
“He is yourfather,Antoine! Even if you do manage to exact your revenge on him, have you thought nothing of the consequences? The danger you’re already in for Sade’s murder will be that much harder to escape when your own flesh and blood perishes by the samemysteriouscrossbow ailment. Those who know your family will make the connection. As glad as I am that the world is rid of a man like Sade, there will be repercussions for his death, which is whyIwas sent to take care of him. Things were meant to go according to plan and now they are decidedly more…sticky.”
“It’s not just my personal vengeance, Charlotte. There are other things he has done that he must answer for. Of course, I’ve considered the consequences to my actions, but if hanging is the price to pay for justice and for the safety of all the innocents spared by Sade’s depravity and my father’s ambition, then so be it. Besides, as I told you before, I have every intention of parting ways with you as soon as you’re out of danger,” I said firmly.
“Dieuspare me from the misguided pride of men!”
Charlotte’s stomach rumbled and she rubbed at her temples. She’d said she felt better when I first came into her room, but I could tell she was tiring, and I had no desire to argue with her, especially after I’d revealed so much about myself. Not only had I told her about my family’s private trauma and my plans for killing my own father—dangerous enough, given that I was still trying to work out how much to trust her—but I’d practically admitted my desire for her was driving me to distraction.You may as well just tell her she holds all the cards, you fool.
The longer I stayed, the harder it was for me to maintain my distance. I’d been so devastated by her poor health, I thought I’d go mad. Every night, I watched her violent thrashing in bed, I prayed for her, calling out to a God that I’d long abandoned who had no reason to come to my aid. I watched her weaken in her fevered dreams and had curled myself around her protectively, deludedly hoping to impart some of my own strength through the merest touch of skin. I could only hope she had no memory of my weakness, my soft kisses on her damp brow and velvet caresses on her back, trying to hold her nightmares at bay. It certainly wasn’t the behavior fitting the toughened, emotionally calloused man I’d fought to become.
I convinced myself that my desperate need to save her was because I’d failed so long ago to save Marie, but at this point, I had to admit that I’d grown…fondof her. It infuriated me beyond words. When I’d come into the room to see her conversing easily with the pretty Dutch doctor, I’d almost sunk to my knees in sheer gratitude that she’d made it through the worst of the illness and would soon return to her vivacious, exasperating self. Of course, it had been much easier for me to reach for my near constant anger than to throw myself at her, strip her bare, and kiss every inch of her skin.
I stood to go.
“Wait—where are you going? I still need to know what’s happened these last two weeks. Have you seen or heard anything of thebêtesor that creature? Are we going to discuss what, exactly, we think we encountered that night?”
“Rest, Charlotte,” I said. “I can tell your strength is waning. We’ll discuss everything later.”
“I feel fine! I’ve had just about enough of people telling me to rest. I’ve been resting for two weeks, and I want to know what the hell is going on,” she growled in frustration. She slammed her fist down on the bedside table.
It shattered into a jumble of splintered wood.
We both stared in shock at her fist, which looked none the worse for wear.
