Page 26 of The Doctor and the Devil
“Question you?” Charlotte’s brows narrowed.
“As a witch,” I said coldly.
“No,” she breathed. “They wouldn’t! Torturing witches has been banned for years! Even with the men in the Order becoming more polarized against the supernatural cause, such measures would mean they’d been hiding more fromles DDthan Daphne and I realized.” She paled at the thought. “Could Rafael be mistaken?”
I shook my head. “One of his unique powers is the ability to…compelthe truth from people. It would have been impossible for Pascal to lie.”
Her eyes snapped to mine. “Do you trust him?”
“In this, I think so. I don’t know what other motivation he would have to lie to me about it. You told me yourself the Order has been moving farther away from Daphne and Étienne’s influence. They have been holding back the tide of brutality against vampires, but we all knew it was only a matter of time before their strength would be overwhelmed by the power of hate.”
Charlotte stood and paced in front of the fireplace, anger rippling over her skin and making her eyes flash lupine gold and red.
“Even knowing that, it appears the Order has made the first move,” she murmured, oddly calm. Without warning, she picked up a small vase from the mantle, studied it for a moment, and then heaved it against the wall with a fierce roar. The vase exploded into minute shards of porcelain.
“Chérie,” she said, kneeling at my feet. “I’m so deeply sorry. I should have prevented this. I’m overwhelmed by my rage and regret. I swear to you, dear one, their transgressions will not go unpunished.”
“Do not berate yourself for the sins of others,” I said, grasping her hands in mine. “That is a lesson I’m working to unlearn myself.”
She smiled, wiped a tear from her cheek, and sat back down on the chaise across from me.
“There’s more,” I said, sipping my coffee to gather courage. “It is about the blood plague.”
At that moment, Antoine stepped into the room with a soft knock on the doorframe. He looked gentler here than when I’d seen him days ago in his uniform. He wore a loose cotton shirt and soft buckskin breeches, and his wavy brown hair hung loosely about his shoulders. With the moon-shaped scar across his temple and his slightly crooked nose, he reminded me of Ares, the god of war, but his temperament was infinitely more patient.
His eyes flickered over the smashed vase and then back to Charlotte, who shrugged by way of apology. He dropped a soft kiss on her forehead before bowing low to me.
“Doctor,” he rumbled. “I’m most relieved to find you well.”
“And you,” I said. “You have my thanks and my apologies for suffering my misadventures.”
“Darling, did you eat? There’s plenty of food in the dining room if you’d like,” Charlotte offered. Her tone was melancholy and distracted, and my gut twisted at the thought that she was blaming herself for what the Order had done.
Antoine inclined his head, studying me with his emerald eyes.
“It can wait,l’amour. I have a feeling the good doctor is about to tell us something rather important.”
They both fixed me with a stare that made me want to squirm.
“You make me nervous—both of you! Stop looking at me like I’m a specimen to be studied. I said I would tell you, and I shall,” I snapped.
They waited.
“The blood plague originated from Rafael’s family,” I said. “It began as an ancient curse upon his household and his family line.Cursed to walk the earth forever for one’s sins, drinking the blood of the damned,that sort of thing. No one remembers much about the exact beginning or circumstances, which have been lost to time. What has lingered—up until quite recently—was the responsibility of the family to contain the curse. They did not turn others outside their family—it is forbidden and taboo. They are permitted to turn their mate during their wedding so they can continue their lineage. The offspring of those unions, while extremely rare, are born vampires. So far, they have been the only vampiresbornand notmade.They’re unlike any turned vampires you’ll meet, possessing unique abilities beyond heightened senses and strength. They grow ever more powerful as they age, but the curse of madness waits for the ones who live too long.”
Antoine sat on a chaise opposite me, which looked amusingly small beneath his large frame. Charlotte sat next to him, clasping his hand.
“My father and I were brought to Wallachia to help find a cure for the family—the House of Dracul. There were two sons, Laszlo and Rafael. Laszlo was heir to the throne, but he fled to be with the woman he loved—a maid from their household. His father disinherited him and forced Rafael to take his place. It was around this time that the blood plague first escaped the confines of their castle.”
“It was not Rafael’s doing?” Charlotte asked, unable to hide her surprise and disbelief.
“Not according to him,” I replied. “No, that is unfair of me…I do not believe he lies about this. He does not know exactly who is responsible, but he has come to France to find his brother and determine if he is the source. He wishes to help.”
Antoine’s brows shot up. “Help? How?”
Strangely, revealing Rafael’s secret passion for botany felt like revealing something too intimate.
“Rafael has been searching for his brother and for a cure, just as I have. He knows the Order hunts him. He knew the Order had men watching me. He loathes the Order and does not trust them, and after the events of the other night, I’m not ashamed to say I trust them even less than I did before.”
