Darius went back inside and picked up the hairbrush. Fine strands of pale hair were caught in the stiff bristles. Not a surprise, as both of the parents were fair.
The question was, what caused a female of worth to bolt out of her family's house right before dawn, leaving nothing in her wake... and taking nothing with her?
One answer came to mind: a male.
Fathers didn't necessarily know all of their daughters' lives, did they.
Darius stared out into the night, tracing the grounds and the trees... and the mansion next door. Threads... there were threads to the mystery herein.
The answer he was searching for was here somewhere. He just had to stitch it all together.
"Where to?" Tohrment asked.
"We shall confer with the servants. Privately."
For the most part, in houses such as this one, the doggen would never dream of speaking anything out of turn. But these were not normal circumstances and it was entirely possible that pity and compassion for the poor female would override the staff 's reticence.
And sometimes the back of the house knew things the front did not.
Darius turned away and strode for the door. "We shall become lost now."
"Lost?"
They stepped out together and Darius looked up and down the hallway. "Indeed. Come this way."
He chose the left because, in the opposite direction, there was a set of double doors that led out onto another second-story terrace--so it was obvious the staff stairwell wasn't down there. As they walked along, passing many well-appointed rooms, his heart ached such that his breath became tight. After two decades, his losses registered still, his fall from his station echoing as yet along the bones of his body. His mother he missed the most, 'twas true. And behind that pain was the demise of the civilized life he had once lived.
He did what he was trained and born to do for the race, and he fed certain... indulgences, and he had earned a respect from his comrades at war. But there was no joy for him in this existence of his. No wonder. No captivation.
Had it all just been about pretty things to him? Was he that shallow? If he someday had a big, lovely house with countless rooms filled with fine things, would he be light of heart?
No, he thought. Not if there was no one under the lofty ceilings.
He missed people of like minds living together, a community held within stout walls, a group that was family both by blood and choice. Indeed, the Brotherhood did not live together, as it was viewed by Wrath the Fair as a risk to the race--if their position was compromised to the enemy in some way, all of them would be exposed.
Darius could understand the thinking, but he wasn't sure he agreed with it. If humans could live in fortified castles among their own battlefields, vampires could do the same.
Although the Lessening Society was a far more dangerous foe, to be accurate.
After going along the corridor for some time, they finally encountered what he had hoped to find: a flap panel to a back stairwell that was utterly unadorned.
Following the pine steps downward, they went into a small kitchen and their emergence stopped the meal that was in progress at the long oak table across the way. The assembled doggen dropped their mugs of ale and chunks of bread and shot to their feet.
"Verily, resume your imbibing," Darius said, urging them with his hands to sit back down. "We should wish to speak to the second-floor steward and the daughter's personal maid."
All resumed their places along the benches save for two, a female with white hair, and a young male with a kind face.
"If you could suggest a place of some privacy?" Darius said to the steward.
"We have a sitting room through there." He nodded toward a door by the hearth. "You shall have what you seek therein."
Darius nodded and addressed the maid, who was pale and shaky, as if she were in trouble. "You have done naught wrong, dear one. Come, this shall be quick and painless, I assure you."
Better to start with her. He wasn't sure whether she would make it through waiting for them to finish with the steward.
Tohrment opened the way and in the three of them went, to a parlor with as much character as a blank sheaf of parchment.
As was always true in big estates, the family's rooms were done up to luxurious effect. And the staff's were nothing but utility.
Chapter Twenty-one
As Rehv's Bentley pulled off Route 149 North and eased onto a narrow dirt road, John leaned forward toward the windshield. The headlights hit bare tree trunks as the sedan snaked closer and closer to the river, the landscape overgrown and unwelcoming.
The small hunting cabin that was revealed was absolutely, positively nothing worth noticing. Small, dark, and unassuming, with a detached garage, it was rustic, but in perfect condition.
He had the car door open before the Bentley was in park and he was walking for the front entrance before Rehv was out from behind the wheel. The overriding sense of dread he got was actually a good sign. He'd felt the same thing up at the symphath camp and it made sense that she would protect her private quarters with a similar force field.
The sound of his boots was loud in his ears as he crossed the packed earth of the drive and then all went quiet as he hit the scruffy brown grass of the shallow lawn. He didn't knock, but reached for the knob and willed the lock free.
Except... it didn't budge.
"You're not going to be able to get in there with your head." Rehv came up with a copper key, put the thing to use, and opened the way.
As the stout, solid door was pushed aside, John frowned into the darkness and cocked his head, expecting an alarm to go off.
"She doesn't believe in them," Rehv said quietly--before catching John as he went to rush in. On a louder note, the male called out, "Xhex? Xhex? Put the gun down --it's me and John."
His voice didn't sound right somehow, John thought.
And there was no reply.
Rehv hit the lights and released John's arm as they both went inside. The kitchen was nothing but a stretch of galley with the bare essentials: gas oven, older refrigerator, stainless-steel sink that was functional, not chic. But everything was spotless and there was no clutter at all. No mail, no magazines. No weapons left out.
Musty. The air was still and musty.
Across the way, there was a single large room with a bank of windows that faced the water. Furniture was minimal: nothing but two wicker chairs, a rattan couch, and a short table.
Rehv walked right through, heading for a single closed door to the right. "Xhex?"
Again with that voice. And then the male put his palm on the jamb and leaned in to the panels, closing his eyes.
On a shudder, Rehv's huge shoulders lowered.
She wasn't there.
John strode forward, and went for the handle, pushing his way into her bedroom. Empty. And so was the bathroom beyond.
"Goddamn it." Rehv turned on his heel and strode off. When a door slammed on the river side of the cabin, John figured the guy had gone out onto the porch and was staring at the water.
John cursed in his head as he looked around. Everything was neat and tidy. Nothing out of place. No windows cracked for fresh air or doors that had been recently opened.
The fine dust on the knobs and the fastenings told him that.
She might have been here, but she was gone now. And if she had come, she hadn't stayed long or done much, because he could detect nothing of her scent.
He felt like he'd lost her all over again.
Christ, he'd thought that her being alive would be enough to carry him through--but the idea she was somewhere on the planet and yet not with him was strangely crippling. Plus he felt blinded by the situation; he still didn't know the hows and whats and wheres of any of it.
Flat out sucked, to be honest.
Eventually, he went out to join Rehv on the little porch. Grabbing his pad, he scribbled quickly and prayed to hell the symphath could understand where he was coming from.
Rehv looked over his shoulder and read what John held up. After a moment, he said, "Yeah. Sure. I'll just tell them she wasn't here and you came with me to go eat at iAm's place. It'll buy you a good three, four hours of space minimum."
John put his palm over his pec and bowed deeply.
"Just don't go out fighting. I don't need to know where you're going, that's your biz. But if you get yourself killed, I got ninety- nine problems and you're the biggest one of them." Rehv looked back out to the river. "And don't worry about her. She's done this once before. This is the second time she's been... taken away like that."
John's hand snatched out and grabbed hard onto the male's forearm. Rehv didn't even flinch... then again, there were rumors he couldn't feel anything because of what he did to control his symphath side.