“Fah. You are no more than willing chattel to the Great Council. You have become as meek and obedient as well-pampered dogs. And like all leashed dogs you no longer realize you are mere captives. You have forgotten the thrill of the hunt.”
Gideon smoothly stepped back as his features hardened. “You believe it better to wallow in bloodlust like a savage? You are no better than humans.”
“I am free,” Tristan grated in angry tones. “I am out of that prison and I will soon rule this world.”
His hand instinctively tightened upon the dagger. As repulsive as the thought of harming another vampire might be, he would never allow the Veil to be destroyed.
Or Simone be hurt, a renegade voice whispered in the back of his mind.
“You will return to the Veil, or you will die,” he stated without emotion.
“You think you can challenge me?” There was a low growl before the mist flicked out to slice the other side of his face. “You have become soft ... a mere puppet for the Great Council to toy with as they please. I can destroy you whenever I choose.”
Gideon ignored the stinging pain that lanced through his cheek. He could not afford to be distracted. Poised for another attack, he held the dagger before him.
“Another will take my place,” he said grimly. “Do you think to battle every vampire?”
As if satisfied he had made his point, the mist settled back in the shadows.
“A simple matter once I possess the Medallion.”
“Nefri has ensured you will never gain command of the Medallion.”
The antagonism that lay heavy in the air abruptly lightened with a near smug amusement.
“You believe I cannot lure that golden-haired harlot to my will? It is only a matter of time before she gives me the amulet. And then ...” Tristan paused as if to savor his words. “Ah, then I will teach her a lesson in daring to defy me.”
Gideon struggled to disguise the fierce fury that flared through him. He would not give Tristan the satisfaction of knowing just how vulnerable he was becoming.
It might very well be a fatal mistake.
“Your spells and powers cannot work upon Lady Gilbert as long as she is protected by Nefri.”
“I have no need of spells to seduce a mere mortal,” the vampire sneered, his voice echoing through the darkened alley. “Very soon she will be anxious to offer me whatever I desire. And if you ask very, very nicely I might even allow you to watch as I feast upon her.”
Gideon took a step forward before he could halt the revealing movement. It was all too easy to imagine the slender woman broken and bloodied by the vengeful renegade. Without the Medallion she would be helpless against a vampire.
“You will die,” he growled in rough tones.
A taunting laugh came from the swirl of mist. “How very delicious. The aloof, oh so superior Gideon, lusting after a disgusting human. It really is priceless.”
“I lust to bring an end to the traitors who have turned their backs on their own people,” he rasped, his fury nearly overwhelming him.
“I would suggest that you take your pleasure with Lady Gilbert swiftly. When I have finished with her I fear that she will not be nearly so lovely.”
Clenching the dagger Gideon stepped forward, his features taut with simmering danger.
“Face me, Tristan,” he growled.
Just down the alley a piercing scream split the night air, making Gideon stiffen with warning. Surprisingly he heard a low chuckle come from the mist before it was drifting toward the street.
“Enjoy my present, Gideon.”
For a moment Gideon hesitated, seething with the need to follow the traitor and finish their business one way or another. Only the knowledge that Tristan might very well be leading him into yet another ambush made him check in his impatience.
He had recklessly allowed himself to be lured once this evening. He would not be goaded again. On the next occasion their confrontation would be a time and place of his choosing.
Replacing the dagger Gideon moved down the alley toward the screams that still echoed through the air. He already suspected what he would find. Tristan had deliberately led him here for a purpose other than taunting him.
The elder woman stood in a pool of light that came from the open door to the lodging house.
“What is the matter?” he demanded as he stepped beside her.
“Molly. She’s ...”
“Where?” he impatiently cut into her shuddering words.
She pointed toward the open door. “There.”
With a thick reluctance Gideon stepped forward, his gaze discovering the crumpled form of a young woman. It took only a moment to realize that she had been savagely attacked. He could still smell the death and terror that lingered in the air.
His lips tightened as his gaze traveled over the long golden hair that shimmered in the flickering candlelight.
Tristan.
Abruptly he turned toward the woman silently weeping for the dead maiden.
“Find the Watch.”
Cutting the last thread upon the hem, Simone held up the shimmering lilac gown that she had just completed.
“Oh, ’tis beautiful, my lady.” The maid sighed as she ran her hands over the smooth satin skirt.
Simone could not deny a measure of pride.
The floating concoction of satin and lace was indeed beautiful and highly unusual with its clever flounced hem that revealed the ivory underskirt and the bodice of spidery lace. As with all of her gowns, however, it possessed a high back that cupped the back of her neck. She could not afford to allow a sudden shift in the shimmering material to reveal the scars that she hid.
“Yes, I am quite pleased with the material,” she murmured in satisfaction. “No doubt it has been smuggled into London, but it is far too lovely to go to waste.”
“Will you trim it with the satin roses you purchased last week?” the maid demanded.
Simone briefly considered the delicate gown, then gave a firm shake of her head.
“No, they are too heavy for such a gown. I believe the seed pearls will be the best.”
“A wise choice, my dear,” a darkly familiar voice complimented from the open French doors.
Spinning about, Simone confronted the intruder with an exasperated frown. Attired yet again in black with a smoke-gray waistcoat and snowy white cravat and with his ebony hair tied at the nape of his neck he appeared annoyingly refreshed—while she knew that she was pale and her eyes shadowed from a sleepless night.
The disturbance of having Mr. Soltern in her home, combined with Gideon’s abrupt departure had been unnerving enough without risking a return of the nightmares that had begun to plague her. She had spent most of the long night pacing the floor of her chamber, or peering out of her window with a disturbing sense that she was being watched by unseen eyes.