Wild Fire Page 15

  “I won’t be here long enough for them to care. My brother will arrive next week.”

  Emily dismissed the idea with a delicate wave of her hand. “That is a long way off. Why don’t you dine with us tonight?” When Abigail started to protest, she coaxed. “Please, don’t say no. My aunt will make you welcome, won’t she, Richard?”

  “Of course. With all our cousins, she will hardly notice another person at the table.” He chuckled and drew the horses to a halt as they reached the inn. “May we pick you up at 7:00? They dine early in the country.”

  “If you’re sure.” Abigail questioned him with her eyes as he handed her to the ground.

  “Positive.” He glanced at his sister. “Aunt Marie would think us very rude if we didn’t invite you.”

  “Then I’ll see you at 7:00.”

  * * *

  Aunt Marie was every bit as welcoming as the Farnsworths had predicted. An ample Italian mother, she did not stand on ceremony but kissed Abigail on both cheeks as if she were part of the family. Marie’s English was limited to what she had learned from her sister and her sister’s children, Emily and Richard, and so heavily accented that it made direct conversation with her problematic at best. But she made up for it with numerous gestures and a non-stop flow in Italian that didn’t seem to require a response.

  In any case, it would have been difficult to hear her among the numerous conversations at the dinner table. Marie’s ten children ranged in age from five to twenty-seven, and seven of them lived at home. Her husband had died from heart failure two years ago, and her oldest son had moved home with his wife and two young children. It made for a busy household, and dinners were a lively event.

  Emily leaned over to Abigail seated beside her and whispered, “See what Richard meant? We could have smuggled you in, and Auntie Marie might not have noticed for a week or two.”

  “How do you think in the midst of this?”

  “You don’t.” Emily giggled. “That’s why we go for drives and visit places of interest in the area. Come with me to the music room. No one will find us there for a while.”

  Abigail agreed eagerly.

  “Just a moment and I will get Auntie to excuse us.”

  But Aunt Marie was involved in an intense discussion with her oldest son, and they had to wait for a break in the conversation. Abigail was half listening to the flow of Italian words around her, most of it meaningless until she heard the name De Luca.

  “What are they talking about?” she asked Emily.

  “Planting, running the estate. Teo took over all that when my uncle died.”

  “Did I hear them talking about the De Lucas? Didn’t you say they were a wealthy family around here?” Abigail tried to convey mild curiosity.

  “The wealthiest. True aristocracy. Andreas, who recently inherited the estate, is quite attractive.” At a brief lull in the conversation, Emily’s gaze flitted to her aunt. “Auntie Marie, may we be excused to go to the music room?”

  Abigail understood the Si, si part of the conversation, and the two young women slipped out of the dining room. Abigail sighed the moment they reached the quiet of the hallway. The room at the end of the hall held a piano and two rows of chairs for guests to sit and listen.

  “Do you play?” Emily asked.

  “Not a note.”

  “Honestly? We were all required to learn. Since that was our excuse for leaving the table, I suppose you will have to put up with my poor efforts.” Emily sat on the piano bench, opened the music, and began to run her fingers over the keys. “Come sit with me, so we can chat. You can turn the music pages.”

  Abigail settled beside her. “You were telling me about the De Lucas.”

  “Was I?” Emily gave her a sly glance. “You seem very interested. Have you seen Andreas?”

  “No, I just heard talk. Do you know him?” The sudden twinge in her gut surprised her. Was she feeling possessive of a man she’d never met?

  “I saw him across the room at a dance in London two years ago. He attended all the best balls and parties. And the sporting events. He’s considered quite a catch, but nobody has been able to tie him down.” She glanced at Abigail again. “Want to give it a try? If we put our heads together, we might come up with a way to gain an introduction.”

  What would it be like to meet him? Would he be very different? Would he be the man she knew or a stranger?

  The music stopped and Abigail looked up.

  “Caught you,” Emily said. “You’re daydreaming and forgot to turn the page.”

  “Sorry. I’m more tired than I realized.” She turned the page.

  A speculative light danced in Emily’s eyes. “Or more interested in Andreas De Luca than you want to admit.”

  Not to appear too eager, she looked away. “Don’t be silly. I haven’t met or even seen him.”

  “I think we should remedy that.” Emily began playing again, and they dropped the subject. Within minutes they were joined by other family members. One of Emily’s cousins took over the piano, and the subject of Andreas wasn’t brought up again.

  At least, not that night.

  * * *

  The following morning Abigail was sitting in the satin robe Claris had loaned her, thinking about getting dressed and finding coffee or hot chocolate or whatever Italians served for breakfast, when there was a knock on her door. It was Mrs. Paglia’s serving girl with a breakfast tray. The young woman set it on a small table next to the bed, then stood with her hands together shifting from foot to foot.

  What did she want? A tip? Abigail didn’t remember anyone mentioning tips were expected. “Grazie. You may go,” she finally said.

  The girl clearly didn’t understand English, but she pointed to the tray. A small card lay in the corner. Abigail picked it up and read the feminine script.

  Dearest new friend Abigail,

  I am so glad we met. Richard is busy with boring business with Teo, and I propose that we should go driving. I have an idea of something interesting to occupy our time.

  I will be in front of the inn at ten o’clock.

  Please send your answer with our servant who is waiting. Please, please say yes or I will be bored to death.

  Your best friend in Italy (I know this must be true, as you do not know anyone else),

  Emily Farnsworth

  Abigail laughed. She had planned to continue her surveillance of the De Luca house this morning, but it could wait a couple of hours. After the drive she might have a better idea of the layout of the countryside, and this would be another chance to quiz Emily about Andreas and how to approach his household. She nodded at the serving girl, emphasized her answer with “Si, tell her I said si.” The girl smiled and left.

  Abigail checked the other contents of the tray. Espresso, a bowl of sugar, and three kinds of rolls and pastry with butter and jam. Breakfast brought to her bed. This was even better than the coffee waiting in the kitchen at home. She chuckled to herself. What would Samuel or Lilith say if she asked them to serve her breakfast in bed?

  The thought of her friends brought on a wave of apprehension. What was happening in her world? Was Andreas all right? What time was it there? Had the meeting with the O-Seven taken place? Time was so warped between the dimensions that no matter how long she stayed in 1813, only two days would pass at home. But a lot could happen in forty-eight hours, especially when the O-Seven possessed powers that could enslave or kill instantly. Without her psychic link to Andreas, how could she be certain he was still alive? She dropped the bread she’d been nibbling, the thought sharp as a knife in her gut. She’d lost her appetite.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Andreas stepped outside the Toronto vampire compound, threw back his head, and took a deep breath. The discussion among the local leaders had gotten heated with a subtle underlying sense of panic after the elders left. They resented Bastian’s orders to exclude them from further discussions. Their fears of attacks without warning and without any chance of heading off certain death wer
e not just vampire paranoia.

  Andreas shared their unease. Porbius’s words haunted him. You have been… What? Declared a rogue court? Sentenced to death? It had to be something along those lines. So why had he and Bastian come to Toronto under the pretense of talking? To gloat? Why hadn’t they made an attempt to carry out the sentence? Perhaps that is what Porbius intended to do when Bastian cut him off.

  He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked toward the end of the block. He had no destination in mind, he just wanted to get away from the desperation running rampant in that room. Two men should not have the power to turn so many lives into chaos.

  If only Arianna were here… He shook his head before he finished the thought. No. However much he longed to talk to her, to touch her, he was relieved she out of the elders’ reach.

  Perhaps the O-Seven would be content with taking out their vengeance on him and spare her life. An ironic smile curved his lips, and he lengthened his stride. She’d never leave it alone. If the elders succeeded in killing him, Arianna would go after them no matter how great the odds.

  Was there a way he could prevent that? Perhaps he could make a deal.

  He stopped at the corner and looked up at the dark sky in thought. Would Bastian agree to spare her, or even protect her, if Andreas submitted to their sentence?

  Would Arianna stay away from the elders if he made it his final request of her?

  He stiffened, feeling a power surge behind him, and his own magic flared. Bastian. Without hurry, he turned to face the elder. “Out for an evening stroll?”

  “You too, I see. I hope you will allow me to join you.” Bastian appeared out of the shadows of the building, his manner relaxed, almost convivial.

  “Have I a choice?” Andreas’s kept his voice even and leisurely proceeded across the intersection.

  Bastian fell into step beside him. “Do you not fear me, Andreas?”

  “Should I?”

  “Most do. It is what keeps me from spending all my time fighting enemies…like young Bolivar.” Bastian turned his head to study Andreas’s face.

  Looking for what? Did he want Andreas to cower? Was Andreas’s submission his goal?

  Bastian continued. “I could nearly taste his hatred. Are the old ways so repugnant to modern vampires?”

  “It is domination that is repugnant.” Andreas stifled his impatience at the elder’s failure to understand, but he spoke plainly. “Humans immigrated to the New World to be free of European authority, to make their own rules, their own fortune. Vampires have done much the same. We do not want to be under the thumb of the European court.”

  Andreas’s skin prickled with the vampiric power that Bastian was leaking. It was irritating. The elder could shut it down if he chose, but he was making a statement. Andreas strengthened his shields to keep his own power contained and Bastian’s out. Andreas’s instincts were eager to respond. It would be suicidal, of course. He and Bastian were far from evenly matched.

  “So you would defy us?” Bastian bristled, his energy expanding, threatening.

  Andreas kept his own magical response leashed, waiting to see what Bastian intended. “We want to be left to our own destinies.”

  The elder threw up a hand in a sharp gesture.

  Andreas instinctively drew back from the potential threat, then he froze. A flash of wild energy broke loose and flared through his body ready to lash out in his defense. His warlock magic. He hummed with it, his skin vibrating with a thousand electric currents. He hadn’t felt its full strength before, not like this. Tempted to set it free and see what it could do, he fought instead to gain control, to restrain it from initiating an attack.

  His lips slowly parted in a smile. This is what Arianna had described, the oneness with an incredible power. His warlock magic had fully awoken.

  “What is wrong with you? Surely you do not think I would strike you with my bare hands.” Bastian peered at him with a frown, as if he sensed a difference he couldn’t identify. “Are you hiding something?”

  “Your paranoia is showing.” Andreas gave a short laugh and clamped down harder on his shields. If he could keep his warlock side hidden, he would. At least until he had achieved greater control. But he had made significant progress tonight. He flexed his shoulders, getting used to the feel of the witch magic coursing through his veins and grabbed at an excuse for his strange behavior. “I have remembered an important issue I must discuss with Prince Daron before dawn.” He started back toward the compound. Bastian’s gaze bore into his back. He sensed the elder was bristling with suspicion and clearly taken aback by his abrupt departure.

  “Do you not want to know why I have sought your company tonight?”

  Andreas paused and glanced back. “To deliver more threats? I do not need to hear them. But if you have a purpose that would avoid a war between us, I am more than willing to delay my errand.” He made direct eye contact.

  Bastian’s anger shimmered in the air as seconds ticked by. “You are arrogant and foolishly combative. I am tempted to change my mind.” He took a step toward Andreas. “But I will offer you a final chance. Honor your oath. Give your allegiance to me.”

  “To what purpose? I am not so naive as to believe there is no agenda behind your offer. Do you aspire to gain control of the O-Seven? Or perhaps that is not enough and you want the world?”

  “You think I would confide in you?” Bastian’s laugh grated against Andreas’s skin. “Let me make myself clear. You would answer to me, and not as an equal.”

  “What would I get in return for this servitude?” Andreas bit off the last word.

  “I will protect you…and the witch.”

  Andreas’s nostrils flared. He would do almost anything for Arianna, but enslaving himself to Bastian was something she would never forgive…nor would he forgive himself. On the other hand, as long as they were alive they had the opportunity to change fate. He must tread lightly.

  “I imagine you consider that a generous offer, but I prefer answering to my own conscience. What I do not understand is why you wish for this. Why me in particular? There are hundreds of vampire princes who are older and more experienced than I.” He straightened, a sudden chill in his chest. “Unless it is Arianna you are after… Or perhaps you have knowledge you have not shared.” Was it possible Bastian knew of Zylla’s vision? Or one like it? The vampiress did not have a monopoly on visions of the future. Others might have foreseen the same events. Perhaps more clearly. Was that the reason the O-Seven had singled them out?

  “My reasons are not your concern. But you would be foolish to turn me down. Consider what you would gain. The bounty hunters would disappear. You could return to Italy whenever you wish. Most importantly, you could keep the witch at your side and escape certain death.”

  Tempting. Yet what did Bastian gain? That was the part Andreas didn’t understand. He tried a new approach. “You have heard the prophecies. Perhaps your seers have told you more than ours have. What did they say, Bastian?” He lifted a brow. “Did someone prophesy your death?”

  Bastian eyes darkened. “If anyone is to die, it is you. An oracle has foreseen a confrontation, it is true. A challenge coming from the west, the new world. But no one envisioned an outcome that would concern me. No more than annoying, empty threats.”

  Andreas allowed his own rising temper to show. “If you are not concerned by the visions, then I ask you once again…why are you here? Why me?”

  The two men locked gazes, the air around them sizzling with invisible energy.

  A shock wave of alarm spiked through Andreas’s blood. He made a swift half turn, keeping Bastian in sight. But Bastian was no longer paying attention to Andreas. He stared at a dark figure who had dropped from a nearby rooftop.

  “Porbius.” Bastian’s quiet word of warning told Andreas the other elder had not been expected.

  “Well, well.” Porbius swaggered up to them. “What have I discovered? A secret meeting? How intriguing. Perhaps you would be so good as to explai
n, Bastian.” His outward demeanor was conversational, even playful, but his eyes failed to conceal his rampant suspicions.

  Bastian relaxed his stance. “Do not be tiresome. Since when must I advise you of my actions?”

  “Since you chose to hold a clandestine meeting with the enemy.” Porbius’s sharp glance did not match his feigned nonchalance.

  “If you must know, I was making a last attempt to talk young Andreas into seeing reason.” Bastian turned his attention back to Andreas as if continuing an on-going discussion. “There are many advantages to having the favor of the elders’ court. Why, even Porbius would forget your earlier conduct…eventually.”

  “Do not be so certain of that.” Porbius glowered at Andreas. “I do not trust you.” His gaze flitted to Bastian. “After finding you here, I am also wondering about you.”

  Bastian laughed it off. “What do you think I would be doing? Conspiring against the council? With an inexperienced minor prince? I hope you give me more credit than that.”

  Andreas watched the exchange, poised to defend himself if necessary. A muscle in his jaw tightened. Despite the civil talk, tension swirled around them, threatening to blow like a powder keg.

  “Then why make this contact on your own?” Porbius demanded, dropping his amiable facade.

  “Because you are so blasted aggressive.” Bastian threw up an impatient hand. “We have no chance of success if you continue to alienate everyone.” His temper boiled over in a loud hiss of breath.

  Andreas wasn’t buying it. Bastian’s anger was too calculated.

  But uncertainty flitted through Porbius’s eyes. He broke off his quarrel with Bastian and targeted Andreas instead. “You should know I didn’t approve of offering you immunity. You have already broken the pledge you made to Bastian.”

  “A pledge forced from a captive and never written in blood.” Andreas’s voice held a distinct chill.

  Porbius eyes widened, and he smirked at the other elder. “Were you so careless, Bastian? The oath was not sealed?” He sounded delighted to have discovered what he considered a gross mistake by the other vampire.