Page 20 of The Assassin and the Libertine
“Drink please, Monsieur,” she instructed through a thick Dutch accent. “This should help.”
“What is it?” I couldn’t keep the suspicion from my voice.
“Virgin’s blood. It will help restore much of your strength. Mind you, don’t spill a drop—it’s hard enough to find a virgin in Paris these days,” she complained.
I tossed the vial back and felt a surge of euphoric power rush through my body.Mon Dieu. No wonder everyone was always banging on about drinking the blood of virgins. As restorative as it was, I still longed for more of the blood from the porcelain bowl.
“Now then,” the doctor said. “Do you remember the last person you ate?”
Daphne was putting dishes on a tray, pretending not to listen. I felt strangely uncomfortable going into the details with her there, but I didn’t think she’d respond well to my request that she leave.Merde.
“Vaguely,” I hedged.
“Someone new?”
“Yes, why?”
“You were suffering from an acute attack of quicksilver poisoning. It enters the blood and affects the mind—usually resulting in brain fever and a kind of madness, which, when untreated, leads to a very unpleasant second death. Vampiresseem to be more susceptible to its symptoms than humans, but not many people know that. The contaminated blood must be removed from the body of the infected, which is a very difficult procedure. You’ll also feel weak, I imagine, for some time until you can feed enough to heal completely.”
“How does one succumb to quicksilver poisoning?” Daphne asked.
The doctor handed me two more vials of blood.
“Take one vial just before sunrise for the next two days. You will recover entirely if you allow yourself the proper time to rest,” she instructed. “As to the method of poisoning, I believe it was in the blood of the last person you ate, which means they deliberately ingested it before you fed on them. At the risk of sounding dire, Monsieur, I think you should make sure your affairs are in order. You seem to have a very formidable enemy who wants you dead.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
DAPHNE
October 17, 1765
Château de Champs-sur-Marne
The Order must have sentsomeone else—another assassin. I knew it would happen eventually, but as usual, I’d miscalculated how much time I had, and Étienne had paid the price.
The two weeks that he’d been senseless had been some of the worst of my life. Not only had it delayed our investigation, but seeing a powerful man laid low and raving through unconscious delirium was disturbing, to say the least.
“After this, he should be well enough to travel,” Doctor Van Helsing said. She expertly bandaged the small cut on the inside of my arm and carefully handed the porcelain bowl of my blood to the cook. “Keep it warm,” she instructed, ignoring the cook’s queasy expression.
“Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate the care you’ve bestowed on the emissary,” I said. I tugged my sleeve down over the bandage.
Van Helsing cocked her head and studied me, her bright blue eyes made owlish by her thick spectacles.
“On the contrary, Your Grace. I merely treated the patient. He has you to thank for his care.”
Uncomfortable with the insinuation that I cared for the vampire, I stood—somewhat unsteadily. Van Helsing caught my elbow andtsked.
“You’ve been feeding him for days now—you must take some time to recover your own strength. Red meat for your evening meal, and early to bed, I say. And this should be thelastthat you feed him. Understand?” She fussed over me, looking more like an aging governess than the voluptuous, vibrant woman of thirty that she was.
“Far be it from me to disagree with a doctor’s orders,” I smiled, steadying myself. “I’m fine, Doctor, I promise. Nicole, if you’ll hand me that tray with the blood, and I’ll see to our guest.”
The cook nodded and handed me the tray, after half-heartedly offering to take it down herself. I brushed her off and descended the stairs to the wine cellar. Even though several of the household staff had offered their blood instead of mine, I’d refused. When Michel was found drained, it shocked and devastated our entire home—I did not grieve alone. I couldn’t subject anyone else to something so unpleasant when I knew I had the strength to bear the burden. Besides, as long as Étienne was in my house, his care and feeding was my responsibility, though I preferred him being ignorant to that.
I knocked on the cellar door, and Étienne bade me enter. He looked vastly improved for a dead man. The hollows beneath his eyes had gone, and his gaunt features had evened out over the last several days, losing the sunken pallor of illness. He flashed me a grin and sat up straighter in bed, reaching for the tray in my hands.
“You must send my compliments to your chef—or whomever has kindly offered to sustain me. I must say, this is the best blood that I’ve ever had,” he said, picking up the bowl eagerly.
I nodded and turned to leave, but he stopped me.
