Page 11 of The Doctor and the Devil
I shifted to my bat form and flew to Rue Ordener. Her clinic was dark, as was her apartment above. I flew to the back alley, shifted to my human form, and donned the hidden stash of clothing I kept nearby. Nothing grand—simple black breeches, hose, a shirt, waistcoat, and jacket. Shifting was certainly useful, but ungainly when one was transforming in and around crowds of people.
I sniffed around for Pascal and Hubert, but their scents had faded some. Where had they gone? Unease built in me. I walked around to the front of her clinic and caught her scent, along with horse, leather, and wood—a fiacre. Where would she take a hired carriage at this time of night?
Two options came to mind. Either the estate of vampire Duchess Daphne or the estate of Comtesse Charlotte de Brionne, the werewolf of my somewhat accidental making. Both women worked within the Order, were mated to a vampire and a werewolf (respectively), and had the kind of power that politicians and priests dreamed of. They loved Mina fiercely, which suited me fine, but they were formidable enemies if crossed, and I suspected they had more than one reason to distrust me.
I’d need to be on my guard and tread carefully.
Still, perhaps I could find Mina before she arrived at eitherchâteau—if she arrived. The thought sent another spike of heated anger through me, and when I loosened my clenched fist, rivulets of blood dripped from the indentations my claws had made. I took a deep breath and forced myself calm as the tiny wounds healed.
I reached out again with my senses, detecting Mina’s fading scent. Within moments, I was able to pinpoint its direction, and I took off at a rapid clip. After an hour of winding through the streets of Paris, I finally sensed I was nearing my destination.
At the end of a small lane, I spotted the dilapidated fiacre. Behind the small carriage sprawled a grim-looking cemetery, complete with overgrown graves and crumbling tombs. It was obvious the dead here didn’t have many mourners to honor their memory.
As I approached the fiacre, I heard the labored grunting of two men wrestling with a weight between them. Willing myself calm again, I approached, only to see my old friends Pascal and Hubert struggling to lift an unconscious Mina down from the door of the carriage. I scanned the area again, trying to determine where they would take her in such a forgotten place. If they were trying to violate her—my claws lengthened at the thought—it seemed rather out of the way for them when they could have had her in the fiacre.Unless they already have…
“Gentlemen,” I said smoothly. “It appears you need some help.”
“Fuck off,” Hubert grumbled. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“Be on your way, Monsieur. We don’t need your help,” Pascal huffed.
I chuckled—the deep, monstrous sound echoing in the night.
“You misunderstand me,” I rumbled, fangs and claws lengthening. “It appears youwill needsome help.”
I launched myself at Hubert, the closest man. Before his shock could register, I sank my claws into his neck and twisted his head from his shoulders. His body fell to the ground with a soft thump, and the wet sounds of blood leeching from his decapitated head. The elegant scent of copper and salt drifted up from the pile of human at my feet, making me nearly feral with hunger and violence.
An ear-piercing shriek split the night, and Pascal dropped Mina and stumbled backward. He recovered and bolted toward one of the old mausoleums, which struck me as odd until I saw the faint flicker of candlelight glowing from the cracks in the door.A hideout of some sort?
I caught up to him easily and lifted him by the throat. He whimpered and kicked, and I felt the frenzied beat of his pulse beneath my fingertips.
“Tell me,” I soothed, compelling the truth from his lips and ignoring the siren song of fresh blood. “You watched Mina for the Order. What were you doing with her this evening?”
“They wanted her,” he choked out.
“Yes,” I grinned, displaying my infamous dual sets of fangs. “Don’t we all?”
His eyes widened in fear and surprise. “It’s…it’s you! The Beast! The Master of all Vampires! The devil himself!”
“Enchanté,”I said, inclining my head slightly. “Do call me Rafael.” I allowed my human face to transform into a demonic shape, sprouting horns, a forked tongue, and wholly black eyes with red pinprick pupils.
Pascal squeezed his eyes shut and pissed himself.
“Why did the Order want Mina?” I repeated, in a deep voice that sounded like a legion of angry demons.
“They’re looking for you,” he whispered. “They think she knows more than she’s telling. They wanted her in for questioning. Please don’t kill me!”
“Questioning?” I echoed, concern knitting my brows. “What kind of questioning?”
Pascal pressed his lips together, but I couldn’t tell if it was from fear of me or fear of the Order.
“What kind of questioning?” I boomed, infusing the command with more compulsion.
His eyes snapped to mine, and I let my demon visage melt away until I looked human again.
“They plan to question her as a witch,” he finally said.
A witch.Mina was no more a witch than I was a demon. The Order would torture and murder her to get to me. Either they had become more desperate and dangerous than I’d realized, or their fear of the blood plague had introduced madness into their ranks. I’d known about the Order for years but had let them operate as they willed, especially after theDuchesse de Durashad joined and been turned. She and her mate, the recently madeDuc Étienne de Noailles—who was, himself, a vampire and the vampire emissary to King Louis XV—had been fighting what I knew could only be a losing battle. Rights for vampire-kind. Peaceful coexistence between the vampire poor and the human aristocracy.Absolutely ridiculous.
