"The local sheriff."
Both answers stepped on each other.
"One at a time, please, gents. Tuxbridge, you claim to be the injured party here, I believe. I'll let you have first say. Doctor, if you'll wait, I'll give you last word." Scott looked at Tux. "Is this true? You believe that De Chaux killed your brother?"
"Yes."
"You have proof?"
"No. Just that Joel told me that he'd take care of the sheriff. Make her disappear. She'd been questioning us too closely regarding a murder investigation. De Chaux had said he'd take care of her. That was a joke. His idea of taking care of her was keeping her warm in bed. But Joel was the one who disappeared, and up until a few minutes ago, the sheriff was alive and well. Joel would never just leave. I haven't been able to reach him by phone for two days now."
"So that's what this little row was about tonight?"
"My brother is dead, Mr. Scott. Truly dead. I can feel it. We're not just brethren. He was my human blood brother. We grew up together. We've been together on both sides. You know what it's like to wear a ring on your finger your whole life? You don't feel it, but you know it's there. But the minute you take it off you're aware that something's different. Something's missing. Something's wrong. Well, two nights ago I felt that ring slip off."
Scott sat silent for a moment, his head down, as if he were considering. Ric might have laughed at the sight of such a youthful face pondering such a weighty issue had his own features not been so similarly untouched by age. He gazed down at Shelby. Her head was tilted slightly to the side, her expression frozen in that moment of realized loss when a person knows they will perish in but a moment. What had he said to her? That vampires don't grow old. They simply cease to exist. As obsessed as he had been with life and death over the years, he had never really pondered the ending of his own existence. It scared him. He knew he had no soul to either linger on earth or to join the spirits of his long-departed family. He was a damned creature. If anything, he would pay the price of his damnation for all eternity in a place much worse than Midexistence.
Ric studied Tux with new eyes. When he had killed Branduff he had had no idea that the rogue was related to Tuxbridge. Would the knowledge have changed his decision to dispatch the vamp to the True Death? He wasn't sure. All he knew now was that Tux was feeling everything that Ric had felt more than two centuries ago when his family was sent to the guillotine. Whatever the consequence, Ric could no longer hide the truth. Tux deserved to know what had happened. He felt Scott's eyes on him.
"Well, Doctor? Did you commit this alleged deed?"
Ric looked down at Shelby and glided the pads of his fingers over her hair. It was still damp. "Joel Branduff was a rogue. I had no idea he was Tux's brother. I should have made the connection, though. Branduff lured the sheriff into the woods with the feu follet-the same trick of the light that Tux had told me he had used years ago. Branduff would have killed her. I couldn't let that happen. She's come to mean much to me in just a short time. When I tried to stop Branduff, he turned on me. I killed him, yes."
"And who did this girl tonight?"
"I did."
Scott shook his head. "You're not making any bloody sense, Doctor. Are you telling me that you yourself just committed the same act that was so heinous to you that you killed one of your own kind for it just two nights ago?"
Ric eased off the sofa and kneeled on the floor in front of Shelby, touching her face. "No."
Ric heard the floor creak behind him and wouldn't have been surprised if Tux tried to come at him again, but the lightness of the step told him it was Scott, not Tux.
"Then what the hell are you telling me, Doc?"
Ric turned around and slumped to the floor, his back against the sofa. "I don't know how much you know about me, Scott, but I have a power called the Hand of Death. I can release energy through my hand that kills. I can kill living things, and I can send the Undead to their True Death. But it's a controllable power. Fine-tuned through the years, you might say. I can momentarily stun, or I can temporarily paralyze, like I did to Ormie just now. I can also feign death in humans. Shelby isn't dead. I didn't feed from her enough to kill her."
"You damn, deceitful son-of-a-bitch!" Tux flew across the room.
Ric bounded to his feet.
But Scott was quicker still, blocking Tux's path. "No! He answers to me-not you. Me!"
Scott was at least three inches shorter and a hundred pounds lighter than Tux, but there was no mistaking the power that sizzled and sparked through the room like Roman candles. It licked Ric's bare skin like hot flames and made the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. The odor of the spoor in the room changed, and Ric could taste the power on his tongue, sharp and metallic, like vampire blood, deadly and noxious. Tux must have felt it, too, for he pulled up without so much as a show of teeth. Ric met Tux's gaze. Even with all the energy filling the room in as great a storm as raged outdoors, Ric could feel what Tux was feeling. Whether Tux knew how Ric felt was probably something he would never know.
Scott was still facing Tux. "Justice will be done, mate. I promise you that. Leave us now, and tell the others I'll be out in a few moments to give them instructions."
"Justice is all I ask. My brother shouldn't have died."
After one last exchange of glances, Tux turned and left. With the sound of the door closing, the level of power in the room subsided abruptly.
Scott heaved a long sigh. "Well, Doc, it's a fine bloody mess you've gotten yourself into."
"No argument there. But before you deal with me, I have to bring her around. Leaving her in this state indefinitely is too dangerous.
Oh, don't worry. I'll put her to sleep right away. She won't even know you're here."
The enforcer rose again. "Then do what you have to do. I'll be in the next room." Scott quickly disappeared through the arch to the dining room.
Ric crouched beside the sofa and leaned over Shelby, placing two fingers along her temple. He could still feel the life within her, and if the council members had been less focused on their own concerns and more centered on what was happening around them, they would have sensed that her blood was still warm. He let the healing power flow from his fingertips. The reverse energy of the Hand of Death had been a much harder beast to tame and harness than its partner. Chaos and destruction were always easier than creation, and Ric could not bring life from final death under any circumstances. But he could heal vampires injured in certain ways, and he could bring humans out of comas. His touch now was light, for no more was needed.
"Come back now, my sweet. Your number hasn't been called yet, though mine has."
She moaned, and her head turned toward the sound of his voice even before her eyes opened. "Ric?"
"I'm here. You're safe."
She blinked and squinted up at him. "What happened? I thought you were killing me."
He shook his head and smiled. "That's what it was supposed to look like. But everything's all right now." The lie flowed as freely as the rest of his assurances. "Rest now. There's nothing to worry about." He strengthened the command with the power of his kind, and her eyes drifted closed again.
Ric was strangely at peace. He stood up. Whatever happened to him now, whatever his fate, this human deserved to live. "It's done, Scott. We can continue now." The words were whispered, but Ric knew that wherever Scott might be in the house, he'd hear them.
Scott materialized a second later and stood framed by the arch. "You disappoint me, Doc. No other vamp I know would have admitted to offing a brother. I don't think I would have. Drago told me once that you have integrity. Well, it might amuse Drago, and humans might value action like this, but it was a bloody stupid thing for you to do. Tell me, do you really care so little for your existence that you would hold it out for destruction like a sacrificial lamb?"
Ric would have smiled at the memory of his friend Drago had not the situation been so serious. "I didn't realize it until a few days ago, but for centuries I've been exactly my namesake. I've been as dead as the remains I've studied." He cocked his head in Shelby's direction. "This female has taught me what it's like to be part of the world again, and that means taking risks."
Scott shook his head and sank into one of the easy chairs. "You lost the plot, mate, that's for sure. All for a skirt."
"You may believe me foolish, Scott, but I'm not careless, and I'm not unthinking. I know what I've done, and I was Paramount long enough to know what the sanction is in a case like this. I'm tired. I would appreciate your skipping the lecture and the hand slaps and getting down to le fond du problPme. That's the heart of the matter in case your French is a little rusty."
Scott didn't look amused. Ric didn't care.
"You said I don't know you, Doc. Well, you don't know me either, do you?"
"Just what I heard in the story of Drago's death."
"Which I fancy wasn't much compared to what you heard about Drago. That suits me fine, but let me tell you something. I was a soldier with Wellington against Napoleon. I know how to follow orders, and I'm bloody good at it. I also don't much like Frenchies. But over the past couple years I've learned to be ... creative in the execution of my duties. Maybe it was Drago's tutelage. Maybe I feel compelled to carry on his tradition in his absence. Who knows? However, I'm just as comfortable throwing the book as bending it, so if that's the way you want it, that's fine by me."
He paused and took a deep breath. "You committed the ultimate sin. You sent a brother to the True Death without just cause.
You've confessed to the deed, so there's no question of guilt. For a council member lesser sanctions apply, but with greater position comes greater price. You are hereby removed of all rank and responsibility within the Cristallia County Council. If you ever again apply for ranking, should you live that long, you'll have to petition the Directorate. You are banned from initiating contact with Judson Tuxbridge or any of the other council members. Am I understood, Doctor?"
"You are." "Good." As quickly as he had made himself comfortable, Scott was at the front door. "I'll leave you to see to your female. I hope she was worth it. You said you thought hard about this. Take a piece of advice, Doc, and do some more hard thinking on what's really important to you. Oh, and one more thing. The others won't go Scot-free. You can believe that. Physical violence against an Overlord is an offense carrying sanction. Just the same, I think you and your female will keep your health a lot longer if the two of you get as far as possible from Shadow Bay as quickly as you can. Even with sanctions, I can't guarantee your safety, and I sure as hell can't do anything about hers."
At that Scott was gone before Ric could reply. He looked out the nearest window. Liquid sheets of rain still blurred the view of the night. Shelby was still alive. And he was ... well, if not alive, at least not truly dead. But it was far from over. He didn't really know or trust Revelin Scott. The rank of Patriarchal Enforcer was second in the Brotherhood only to that of Patriarch itself. Many even thought that the P.E. was l' eminence grise, the shadowy figure of power that was the true force behind the Patriarch. Ric had no doubt that behind the shaggy hair and dimples was indeed a power not to be underestimated.
Certainly Ric didn't trust Tuxbridge. There might be more of the rogue in Tux than Tux himself would admit. He might just think that sanctions were well worth exacting revenge on Ric.
And Shelby was a bigger problem than ever. She hadn't seen Revelin Scott, but she had certainly recognized Tux, Eva, and perhaps some of the others. And being abducted was surely not going to sit well with a sheriff. How far could he trust her? He could compel her to forget the past few hours, but if he did, would he ever know how much she trusted him?
Do some thinking about what's really important to you. What did he want? Surely not power. The position of Paramount he had given up in France had been one of both power and prestige. And after the last Patriarch, Evrard Verkist, had been ousted by Drago and Revelin Scott not even two years ago, la directrice had come to Ric and offered him the title. It had been his great pleasure to turn her down. Now he wasn't even Overlord to a half dozen country vamps.
He knelt on the floor in front of Shelby. What he had told Scott was the truth-he hadn't felt alive until he had met her. But how was he going to keep her? Would she come with him if he left? Would she give up a career and the only kind of life she had ever known to embark on a whole new lifestyle with a creature that fed on blood and killed with the touch of a hand?
"Wake up, my sweet."
The words were like pleasant background music to accompany Shelby's journey through the mist.
"Shelby..."
The voice became louder, more insistent, until it sounded right in her ear. Her eyes popped open.
"Welcome back."
She stared, feeling as weak and groggy as she had the night she had been attacked in the woods. The last clear memory she had was that she thought she was going to die, yet the vision before her could hardly qualify as angelic. Not unless angels nowadays were dressing in black trousers and high leather boots.
Maybe this is a special corner of heaven reserved for female cops. She blinked, and wakefulness pulled her back to earth with a disagreeable jolt.
"Ric." She glanced around the room. The rain had stopped, and silence framed the empty room. A lamp and end table were overturned, and the fireplace screen lay bent and twisted on its side like a wounded beast. "What happened to everybody?"
"Gone. It's just us."
That drew her gaze back to his. "My God. Judson Tuxbridge? And Eva Hazard? They're both..." "...like me, yes."
"But what happened? This place looks like a battlefield, and you look like the last man standing."
He smiled, but it was as bleak as the surroundings. "I guess I am. For now, anyway." He stood up and extended his hand to her.
"Come on. I'll take you home."
She looked at the long fingers curled upward like an inverted spider. No matter how good he looked, she couldn't forget the memories of the evening-of being abducted from her house. Of having her will subjugated to that of another being. Of thinking she was going to die at the hands of someone she had given her trust to.
The moment of death was something she had felt only once before in her life, when, during a physical struggle with a suspect, the man had put his hand on her holstered weapon and was attempting to draw it and use it against her. But in that instance she had been able to fight back. Tonight, she had been helpless. A moment of certainty, of inevitability, had held her tightly in its grasp. She saw her whole life in that drop of time, sealed and suspended like a thing over and done with. The moment had hung before her, and while it seemed to stretch into eternity, there hadn't been time for fear or regrets or sadness. But now the moment had passed, unfulfilled, and she had time once again for anger and questions.
"No. Not until you tell me what's going on."
He took a long breath and stared at the fireplace.
She bit at her lip, impatient, but realized with a sudden dawning that conversation with a vampire was like interrogating a suspect. It was an art form unto itself. She had to be patient and persistent and remember that he wasn't intentionally trying to ignore her or avoid her question. She hoped.
Her patience was rewarded. He turned back to her. "I was stripped."
She stared at his chest and laughed in spite of herself. "I should say so." The pale skin of his lean torso glowed like a marble statue, naked and pure.
A deep stillness seemed to pervade him, but it was more like a vessel emptying than filling. More than ever she was reminded of a sculpture, perfect and cold. The laugh died on her lips.
"I was stripped of my rank. I'm no longer Overlord. And I can't stay here any longer."
"Stripped? Why? For not killing me?"
"No. For killing the vampire who attacked you in the woods."
"Which you did to save me."
He nodded.
"So, let me get this straight. You saved my life not just once, but twice, and as a result you lose everything?"
"Not everything. I was retired 'with grace.' The hierarchy doesn't have a retirement policy. 'Retirement' from an elevated position is normally nothing more than a euphemism for the final journey to Hell."
Even with the blanket Ric had draped over her, she suddenly shivered with cold.
"Take me home."
* * * *Shelby was quiet on the drive home. Thoughts were streaming through her head so fast that if the drive had been five hundred miles instead of five miles she still wouldn't have had enough time to make sense of them all. But one thought kept returning. Ric had saved her life twice, and he had sacrificed himself to do it. No man had ever risked anything for her-not in Milwaukee, and certainly not in Shadow Bay. This man had risked everything.
Ric parked his SUV behind her house and exited the vehicle when she did. He was clearly intending to stay, though whether it was to protect her or simply be with her, she wasn't sure. In any case, she certainly wasn't going to ask him to leave.
A new thought came to her as she reached the front door. She put her back against the door and looked up at him. He was standing close, but his head was up, as if he were an animal testing the wind.
"How do we know it's safe? What if someone's here waiting for us?" she whispered.
He bent his head and his gaze found hers. "It's safe. I would be able to sense were it not. The Undead give off a very recognizable scent to others of their kind."
She nodded and turned, unlocking the door. As she stepped into the house, she realized she was questioning fewer and fewer of his statements. "Ric, remind me never to become too complacent around you."
"That's something, my sweet, that I don't think you'll ever have to worry about."
She smiled, but a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over her. Now that she was home, the desire for certain creature comforts was all she wanted to concern herself with. Leaving Ric to his own worries, she shrugged out of her clothes without her usual care, leaving them in a pile on the bedroom floor, and started running a hot shower. She stood under the pelting heat and blanked her mind, concentrating instead on the warmth and cleansing power of the water. It sealed her from the world, and for a few moments she was more than happy for the privacy. But she couldn't lock herself away forever any more than she could numb her mind from all the disasters of the past few days.
When she stepped out of the shower, the first cold thought hit her. Ric had said something about leaving. And she didn't remember him saying anything about wanting her to come with him. She pulled on a clean tank top and drawstring pants and sat down on the bed, her legs having little strength left to support her. He came into the room a moment later. As usual, he made no sound, but even with her eyes closed she sensed him.
She felt the mattress dip with his weight, and she opened her eyes. He had changed clothes before leaving his house, and he wore a white T-shirt and black sweatpants. But somewhere between her living room and bedroom he had lost the shirt. He was holding out a sandwich to her.
"You lost some blood. You should eat."
She smiled. She wasn't particularly hungry, and had she been, his half-naked body was more appealing than what he held in his hand. But she did as he said and ate about two-thirds of the ham and cheese sandwich. When she was done, she stretched out on the bed, and Ric joined her.
"Why, Ric? Of all the men that have come in and out of my life, why you? Why did I have to get involved with a vampire?" There.
It was said. She didn't really expect him to be able to answer such a question, but it made her feel good that she had at least been able to at last voice the words aloud.
He was silent for only a moment. "Vampires are basically static beings. We don't grow, and we don't age. We're nothing more than reflections of humans. When humans interact with vampires the things they see reflected in us often result in personal disaster.
In change. That's what we feed on-the changes we force the living to make. I never guessed when I met you that you'd be the one to bring disaster to me. To force me to change."