Page 46 of The Assassin and the Libertine
“Dieu, I know nothing about demons! The Order won’t help me and it’s been far too long since I’ve set foot in a church…” I groaned.
“I think I know where we may find a copy of that book,” she said, her eyes sparkling with intrigue.
“No! Where?”
“The library at Versailles.”
“That cannot be. King Louis would never have such a heretical text in his library,” I said with a frown.
“You are right. It wouldn’t be inhislibrary, but it would be in Jeanne’s.”
“What? Charlotte, you aren’t making any sense. Jeanne was a devoted Catholic, just like Louis.”
“Yes, but she was also a grand patron of the arts. She attended salons with some of the most liberal thinkers in France. She was friends with Voltaire, for God’s sake. The library in her apartments is said to have a much moreenlightenedandprogressivecatalogue of texts. Did you never hear the rumors of her interest in life beyond the grave? There were even whispers of her holding a séance at court.”
My mind worked. I’d always thought Jeanne was an innocent victim in all of this. Was it possible she was caught up in something dangerous and otherworldly?
“But her apartments have been closed up,” I said. “Even if she had a copy of the book, it would be nearly impossible for us to get inside that wing of the palace without attracting too much attention.”
“Well, then, it’s fortunate indeed that we have the perfect excuse to skulk around Versailles in the middle of the night next week!” Charlotte nearly fell off the bed in her excitement.Seeing my confused expression, she groaned in exasperation. “Oh, Daphne. Tell me you haven’t forgotten about the midnight masquerade on All Hallow’s Eve. You told me ages ago that you were thinking of the perfect costume.”
Merde.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ÉTIENNE
October 26, 1765
Rue Saint-Denis, Paris
“I thinkyou’ve had enough this evening, Monsieur. Why don’t you go home and sleep it off, eh?” The barkeep tugged the empty tankard from my clammy grip. My fangs extended and my eyes darkened.
“Another,” I snarled at him. He sighed and waved to one of the curvy barmaids at the back of the tavern. Nervously, she brought me a fresh ale and hurried away before I could unleash my ire upon another undeserving person. A month ago, she would have been winking at me and refilling my drinks with overt displays of her impressive cleavage. I would have taken her to bed for pleasure and blood.
Not anymore, I thought sourly.
After Daphne took off into the afternoon, I fell into a restless sleep and promptly woke at sunset, tormented by growing fears that I’d been wrong, and somehow Henri or the thing bearing his voice had made its way to her. I rushed over to her château, butonce there, refused to allow myself the pleasure of meeting her in person. Instead, I miserably patrolled her grounds, hunting and sniffing for any putrid whiff of the murderer’s scent. When I was satisfied that he hadn’t been there, and I’d caught a vexing glimpse of Daphne seated at her library desk, I turned from the estate and sulked all the way back to my own home.
I returned the next night and two nights hence to perform the same ridiculous ritual of ensuring her safety.
The evening of the fifth day, I decided to forgo my warped desire to prowl around her home and dressed instead to seek different company. I went to all of my favorite haunts—upper class gaming clubs, bourgeoisie taverns, even a few questionable brothels, but nothing appealed. Woman after woman solicited my attention, but each one left me feeling cold and uninspired. I sated myself with drink and went home hungry. The next night, I suffered the same disappointments.
Necessity forced me to find someone to feed upon. Shamefully, I found a bleeder with golden hair and light eyes, but even when I had her naked in front of me, I could not bear to pursue any carnal pleasure. Angry with myself, I told her to dress and drank what I needed from her wrist. Since then, I’d given up seeking pleasure with other women, at least until the damned duchesse Daphne was out of my system. I’d been enamored before. I knew it was only a matter of time and distance before she was forgotten.
Unfortunately, Daphne was not making it easy on me. She’d sent me several letters asking reasonable questions about our investigation.Where should we go from here?Damned if I knew. I suspected there was something much more demonic and less ghostly tole Duc Dépravé’s appearance, but I couldn’t concentrate long enough to figure out my next steps. Every thought circled back to Daphne—to her strength and wit, her soft skin and shimmering hair, her beautiful violet eyesglittering with desire. It was infuriating. Trying to screw her out of my mind was supposed to work, to help, but then message after message arrived, smelling of orange blossoms and vanilla, and I’d inevitably lose an evening caressing myself with memories of her velvet heat.
It was pathetic.
So, I’d decided the only acceptable plan of action was to keep myself in the throes of a drunken stupor until enough time passed that I could think about anything other than Daphne.Daphne.Things were—it must be said—not going well, but I was immortal. I had all the time in the world.
“Monsieur, you look so hungry! Do you care for a bite?” The woman next to me stroked her neck seductively, showing off half a dozen bite marks in various states of healing. Her arms, too, were covered in scrapes and punctures. She grinned lasciviously with a mouth full of brown, rotten teeth. My gut churned and bile rose to my throat.
“Not tonight, my lady. Find another gentleman,” I slurred. I stared into my ale.
“What’s wrong,mon cher? My blood is as sweet as any aristo’s! Just a taste, then, on the house.” She pouted and shoved her wrist under my nose. I pulled away from her and slipped off my chair, falling to the floor. The bleeder laughed heartily and extended a hand to help me up, but I batted her away. I supposed that was enough humiliation for one evening. I stumbled out of the tavern, tossing a handful of coins at the barkeep and one to the bleeder. I bowed unsteadily amid guffaws of drunken laughter from the other patrons.
“My apologies for my unseemly behavior, good people.” Their laughter followed me out the door and carried a good way down the street.
