Page 33 of The Doctor and the Devil
“Poor devils,” Antoine muttered. “That is great penance indeed.”
“Many believe their crimes warranted such measures. And after knowing the head of that house, I think I can understand why,” I said quietly.
Antoine froze then, stilling the carriage with his movements. Before I could ask, he and Étienne were on alert, charging the air with tension like the lightning that precedes the heavy thunder of violence.
“Something is wrong,” he growled. “Panic, fear—I can practically taste it.”
“Should we intervene?” I asked, fear lacing through my body.
“No,” Étienne practically shouted. “We must trust them. We promised to stay here with you and keep you safe. I’ll stay here with Mina, Antoine. If you shift and move around to those trees behind the mausoleum, you might be able to hear what’s going on underground.”
Antoine was already shucking his heavy coat and pulling off his boots. I was grateful for the darkness, but I slammed my eyes shut for good measure. Étienne chuckled.
“Are you not a doctor? I’m certain you’ve seen him in the flesh,” he teased, but there was an undercurrent of unease in his voice that I did not care for.
“I am!” I insisted. “But I am not examining him right now, and I don’t fancy peeking at my best friend’s fiancé.”
The carriage lurched as Antoine exited, and I heard the nauseating sounds of bones breaking beneath flesh and tortured groans that morphed into lupine whimpers. He’d transformed into his wolf form.
“I think your modesty is safe,” Étienne murmured. “He’s gone.”
I opened my eyes again but needn’t have bothered. The moon had moved behind a copse of trees, blacking out everything that I’d scarcely been able to see before. It should have felt unnerving to be in utter darkness across from such a lethal predator, but I felt a strange comfort with these men. I’d saved both of their lives before, and I knew they were men of honor—they would lay down their lives to ensure my safety.
For a few moments, the only sounds I heard were the rustle of the bitter wind through the trees and the occasional hoot of an owl. The silence only served to exacerbate my anxiety.
“Some people say owls are ill omens,” I whispered nervously. “But I’ve never found that. I think they’re wonderful creatures, cloaked in night and keeping vermin in check. They aren’t harming anyone, and yet superstitious fools will kill them because they think that will keep death at bay.”
“People will do anything to keep death at bay,” Étienne said distantly.
I cringed. He must’ve been thinking of his turning or of the lives he’d ended in order to feed himself. I hadn’t meant to offend him.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean…”
“Worry not, dear doctor,” he interrupted. “It only piques my curiosity that you speak of owls in the way that I wish people spoke of vampires. Cloaked in night, keeping vermin in check.”
“Humans arenotvermin,” I insisted. “And many of you do harm people, whether intentionally or not. The blood plague turns you into parasites who must absorb the blood of another, and too often your kind kills the providing host.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “That is unfortunate. Not all makers are equipped with the knowledge to help their whelps understand when to stop drinking. And certainly, there must be consent between both parties. Daphne and I have been trying to build a program of education from Versailles, but our efforts are failing. It seems the king is more interested in eradication than education.”
His last words were sharp with frustration, and I wasn’t certain if it was because of his fear for Daphne and Charlotte or if it was because his work as an emissary was proving to be nearly impossible. Likely both.
Antoine suddenly crashed through the carriage door, back in his human form and entirely naked. I shut my eyes again.
“They’re coming,” he huffed, tugging his pants on. “Charlotte and Daphne are coming back. They’re unharmed but upset. Worried. Something has gone wrong.”
No sooner had he pulled his shirt over his broad, muscular chest than the countess and duchess stumbled into the carriage. The moon had moved from behind the trees, caressing their faces with a pale, pearl-like glow. There was fear in their eyes.
“Home,” Charlotte shouted at her driver. “Immediately.”
Daphne wedged herself next to Étienne, then leaned forward and grasped my hands.
“There is a problem,” she said.
Dread pooled in my gut, swirling furiously like Charybdis before Odysseus.
“What?” I asked on a breath.
Charlotte perched on the edge of the seat next to me and put her arm around my shoulders.
