The Secrets of Shadows Page 9

  He knew that he couldn’t remain as the wolf for much longer, for the sun’s rays were already causing his powers to fade. He was exhausted, but he vowed that he would cross the expanse of London one last time.

  Only he didn’t make it that far.

  The siren’s call that he’d been chasing all night finally came to a halt.

  He summoned Quinn who appeared moments later with the coach. Davien dissolved back into his human form and tapped an anxious finger on his thigh as he returned home to Shadowlawn. He bounded up the stairs, two at a time. He didn’t stop until he shoved open his bedchamber door.

  There, lying still and easy upon his bed, still dressed in her gray, serviceable gown, was Cosette.

  ~ ~ ~

  Cosette stretched, giving a yawn that caused her jaw to crack as her eyes fluttered open. She hadn’t slept so soundly in months. Years.

  With a pleasant smile on her face, she turned her head—to find Blackburn’s thunderous expression firmly fixated on her. He was seated in a chair not far from the bed; legs sprawled out, his arms folded across his midsection, his dark hair in disarray, as if he’d ran his hands through it countless times.

  Instantly, her contentment vanished, followed by a dread that found its way to the pit of her stomach. She sat up and clutched the counterpane on either side of her. “What’s wrong?”

  He answered her question with one of his own. “Where were you last night?”

  Cosette swallowed. “I went to The Lion’s Share. With you.” She abruptly frowned. “I didn’t appreciate you taking off with that tavern maid, by the way.”

  He seemed completely unmoved, his face an impenetrable mask. “Where did you go after I left?”

  She wondered why he seemed so angry and unforgiving. “I . . . didn’t feel well, so I stepped outside. When did you return?”

  Again, he ignored her. “And after that?”

  She sighed heavily. “I must have had another one of my blackouts, because all I remember is going outside the tavern, and then . . . waking up here.” She nervously fingered the chain of her locket. “Didn’t you bring me back?”

  His eyes darkened, swirled. “Is that all you care to tell me?”

  She felt her frown deepen. “Have I done something wrong?”

  Davien snorted. “Only that I was up all night searching for you when you were here, happily asleep and unaware of my inner turmoil.”

  Everything around her came to a screeching halt. Even her movements stilled. “What?”

  He pounded a fist on the arm of the chair. “Didn’t you hear me, Cosette?” His voice was harsh, unforgiving. “You disappeared last night!” He stood abruptly, and strode over to her. “And it’s all because of this!” He reached out and grasped her locket. He hissed, before giving it a hard yank, causing the chain to break. She gasped as he threw it against the wall.

  “Have you gone completely mad?” she shouted. She shoved him out of her way and went to retrieve the only memento she had of her life before the orphanage. Tears of frustration, mixed with raw emotion, started streaming down her face as she turned back to him. She held the locket in her palm and shook her fist at him. “This is all I have! Don’t you understand? This is the only key to my past!”

  “That,” he spat, pointing at where the broken clasp dangled from her fingers. “Is what brought you here last night. Not me, but some other apparition that is more dangerous than anything you might fear from me.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” she breathed, although bits and pieces from the night before started to trickle into her memory.

  “Is it?” he challenged. His eyes narrowed. “What aren’t you telling me, Cosette?”

  She recalled the strange sensation of magic, the sound of someone calling her name on the wind . . . “I . . . I don’t know.” She touched her forehead as it began to pound.

  Davien reached her in two strides and grabbed hold of her upper arms. He gave her a light shake, and demanded, “Tell me!”

  Her tears were falling freely now. “I thought it was a dream!” she sobbed. “It was the same the night you found me by the pond. I kept hearing this voice calling my name, over and over . . .”

  Davien gathered her into his arms, and let her cry on his shoulder without another word. He merely rubbed a comforting hand down her dark hair until the worst had passed. “Forgive me, Cosette,” he finally said. “I had to know the truth.”

  “What’s happening to me?” she asked in such a tortured whisper, that it didn’t even sound like her voice.

  “I’m not sure, but I intend to find out.” He pulled away from her and said in all seriousness. “I think the key to all of this is tied to your locket somehow. The magic is strong enough that I could feel it. Whatever, or whoever, is controlling it enjoyed mocking me, and leading me on a merry chase. I don’t want you to wear it anymore.”

  Cosette opened her palm and glanced at the simple, silver locket. It sat there as plainly as any other piece of jewelry, cold and inanimate. She rubbed her thumb across the inscription. “To Mine . . . Be Mine.” When she spoke, there was a decided lump in her throat. “I can’t believe something so . . . sentimental in nature would ever hurt me. I’ve always thought of it as something that . . . protected me.”

  He held out his hand to her, where a slight oval was burned into his palm. “I beg to differ. The last time I touched your locket it didn’t physically harm me.” He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I know it’s hard to let go of something that you’ve clung to for so long, but the power within it is growing. It’s dangerous, and I fear that it’s only a matter of time before it tries to consume you.”

  She hesitated for a moment and then nodded. “I promise.”

  Davien smiled in obvious relief, and then went over to his dressing table. He opened the top drawer and pulled out a small box. He brought it over to Cosette and opened the lid to reveal a black velvet lining. “It will be safe in here. You can even keep it in your room, if you wish.”

  She placed the locket inside and closed the lid. She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Davien.”

  It was the first time she’d spoken his name when she wasn’t under duress.

  Cosette looked into his eyes, and could have sworn that she heard the beast purr in satisfaction. “I’ll go put this away.” She started for the door, but paused and turned back to him. “In light of certain circumstances—” She held up the box that contained the necklace. “—I nearly forgot to ask if you found out anything helpful regarding Charlotte.”

  “I regret that my instincts were wrong this time.”

  Cosette gave a brief nod filled with disappointment, and then slipped out of the room.

  ~ ~ ~

  Davien didn’t like lying to Cosette, but he told himself he didn’t have a choice. To tell her what he’d found out about Charlotte right after he’d ripped away the only constant thing in her life would likely snap her belief in him. In them.

  After Davien had gotten the serving wench alone, he ignored her advances by slipping inside her mind, and coaxing her in other ways. It turned out she was rather forthcoming with information. She told him that she was a new hire, but that a girl fitting Charlotte’s description had last been seen in the company of a jurist with the promise of more ‘gainful employment.’ When Davien asked for a description of the man Charlotte had been seen with, he had felt his stomach sink, for it perfectly fit the description of Robert Vansittart, a long-standing member of the Hellfire Club. It also meant that Charlotte had likely been chosen as one of the possible spring inductees.

  Now that the threat from the locket had been temporarily dispelled, Davien wasn’t even sure he wanted Cosette to know about her friend’s fate, for she had surely been condemned to a life worse than death. But there was still time. Unti
l initiation day, she would be treated as little more than chattel in a single cell within the heavily guarded tunnels, but she wouldn’t be harmed. The members of the Club were very strict about their new inductees. They wanted them in the best shape - so that they might break them afterward.

  That gave Davien six weeks in which to rescue Charlotte.

  Six weeks in which he had to hide the truth from Cosette.

  And he would keep his secrets—in order to keep them both safe.

  ~ ~ ~

  You have forsaken me, Cosette.

  The beast must be dealt with.

  The Duke of Blackburn must not live to see another day.

  Kill it. Kill him. Now is your chance. They are sleeping.

  Then you will be free to come to me. In Paris . . .

  Don’t you remember?

  The voice from her dreams was angry. She had displeased it, so now she must make amends. She would be free, it promised, if only she did as it asked.

  Cosette had fallen asleep reading in her rooms, but now she stood before her dressing table. She reached into the drawer that held her locket and withdrew the box. Again, the voice called to her, murmured in her ear, so she opened the lid. The clasp was repaired, and when she put it on, the chain grew strong, and she knew that the bond was complete and wouldn’t be so easily broken again.

  She walked downstairs and went into the kitchens where she withdrew a carving knife from its stand. She held the handle tightly in her grasp as she walked to the duke’s bedchamber with a slow, gentle tread. The door didn’t make a sound as she pushed it open. The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn against the sunshine trying to stream in beyond the windows.

  She walked toward the bed where a shape was outlined. She raised the knife above her head and—

  Cosette . . .

  Her arm trembled above her as a new voice entered her subconscious. She knew this voice. It was Davien, and yet it wasn’t. That deep timbre was mixed with a gentle hum, as if the beast itself was addressing her.

  Listen to me . . .

  She waited.

  Control your mind.

  Perspiration began to trail down Cosette’s temples as she fought an inner battle.

  You don’t have to do this. Follow my voice . . .

  Her breathing was rapid, shallow.

  Suddenly, the knife clattered to the floor.

  The sound was loud enough that she woke up—and met Davien’s dark, swirling gaze. “What are you doing here?” she asked hoarsely.

  “You’re in my chamber.” He bent down and picked up the weapon. “You arrived with malicious intent.”

  She shook her head in horror at the knife. “No . . . I . . .” She glanced around and realized that he spoke the truth. She covered her face. “Oh, God. The blackouts . . . they’re getting worse . . .”

  “They’re not blackouts caused by an overactive imagination, or even brought on by sleepwalking. I saw your eyes just now. They were pure white.” He paused meaningfully. “You’re being hypnotized by some unseen source.” He twirled the knife in his hand before he shoved it in the back of his trousers. “Someone who apparently wants to see me dead. The question that remains is who, and for what purpose.”

  She sank onto the edge of his bed, her legs unable to support her any longer. “I have to leave.”

  “You know that’s not an option,” he returned briskly.

  “But I nearly murdered you,” she whispered brokenly.

  “Hardly,” Davien snorted. “I knew what was happening the moment you walked in the door. I sleep very lightly.”

  “Then why didn’t you just wake me up?”

  “Because I wanted to see if I could command you. It seems to have worked. This time, at least.”

  “And the next?” she asked apprehensively.

  “Hopefully there won’t be a next time. Then again . . .” He walked forward and touched the outline of her locket through her gown. The material between them lit on fire and disintegrated into ash. “This presence is more powerful than I.”

  Cosette glanced down at the space between her breasts that was now exposed, but her skin was completely unchanged, the locket cool to the touch. But when she glanced at Davien, she gasped at the red blister on the tip of his finger. “I don’t remember any of it.”

  “I believe you.” He tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. “I suppose if nothing else can convince me to keep my distance, then this is a good way of ensuring that I keep my hands to myself.”

  Cosette sighed. “How can you make light of the fact I nearly pierced your heart with the tip of a metal blade?”

  “Because I know it wasn’t really you,” he whispered. “But something else entirely that wishes to harm me. It’s my mission to find out what.”

  She could feel her eyes fill with moisture. “But what if—”

  He kissed her lightly on the lips. “Don’t worry about what might happen. Just live in the moment. Right now.”

  So she did.

  Cosette pulled Davien back to her, moaning lightly when he deepened the embrace. His arms came around her waist to pull her closer, and she could feel the slight scratch of a beast’s claws as he did so. But it didn’t frighten her as it might have before. This time, she relished the fact that he was alive. That he was holding her in his arms and caressing her. Whether it was the beast, or the man, she was growing to care for them both. In such a short amount of time, they had effectively stolen her heart.

  After today, the tragedy that had nearly transpired, they had become one.

  Cosette pulled Davien’s shirt out of his trousers. “I want to feel you against me. Your skin against mine.”

  Davien’s grip tightened around her waist. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Her dark eyes held his. “I’m ready to be your mistress.” She amended, “I want to be your mistress.”

  His eyes instantly lit with that unholy glow, and for the first time, Cosette relished in the sight. She did this to him. She was the one who brought the beast to life.

  She could control the beast.

  Abruptly, something clicked in Cosette’s memory. It was the first time she had ever recalled anything from one of her blackouts. She stumbled out of Davien’s grasp. “It said I could control the beast.”

  He stilled. “What?”

  “The voice.” She waved her hand in the air. “It said I could control the beast, and that I would be free to join it.” She looked at him, feeling her blood drain out of her face. “In Paris.”

  “Then to Paris,” Davien said grimly, “we shall go.”

  Chapter 11

  Paris, France

  One Week Later

  It had been seven years since Cosette had last seen the winding waters of the Seine, the day she’d crossed the arched bridge of the Le Pont Neuf to leave the city for a better life in England. As she sat in a hired carriage across from Davien and looked out across the river, she had to give a shudder. She had finally returned to the city of her birth. Although many of the nobles had moved into the Faubourg Saint-Germain district to be closer to the king and the lavish entertainments provided at court—it had still been difficult to pass through the gateway of the Porte Saint-Martin and see that the city hadn’t changed that much in the intervening years.

  “A rather disheartening scene, isn’t it?”

  Cosette didn’t turn to face Blackburn, but felt tears well in her eyes as the church bells across the city at Notre-Dame marked the noon hour, while in the distance, the cannons from the Palais Royal of King Louis XV were fired.

  The poor still littered the dark, overcrowded streets in the heart of the city, forced to travel by foot to sell their wares in the central market at Les Halles, and relied on the charity of the church in order to survi
ve the harsh conditions brought about by their low wages and high taxes. The blue uniforms of the Parisian police could be found on every corner, but with a new flood of immigrants breeching the city walls every day, it was nearly impossible to keep up with the constant threat of crime, which ran rampant.

  Clean drinking water was still fought over at the public fountains, and laundry and bathing was done in a barge on the banks of the river where waste flowed freely. Bread, meat, and wine were high commodities for every Parisian, but the best cuts went to the upper classes. Any uneaten meat from their tables was sold to the highest bidder.

  “I remember when the king’s father died,” Cosette said softly. “The people gave thanks to God. They had hope that his son would free them from a life of poverty.” She waved a hand at the window. “But . . . it’s all the same.”

  “It will change,” Davien returned, his tone confident. “The lower classes outnumber the nobility. They will eventually grow tired of this way of life and form a rebellion. It’s already begun with the Age of Enlightenment and the Encyclopedie, which has challenged the people to consider human reason, instead of relying on the church and country to provide for them. The expenditure of the war in the British colonies hasn’t helped matters, not to mention the costly excesses from the king and his court.”

  “Parisians have always prided themselves on fashion and the arts,” Cosette pointed out.

  “An error that will cost lives,” Davien added. “The royals can not continue with such excesses as fine Sevres porcelain, and costly amusements like masked balls and the theatre without expecting a backlash from a people that are suffering starvation and maltreatment.” He snorted. “But Louis is too busy preening in front of his mistress, Madame de Pompadour, to notice the unrest in his own city.”