“Yes, and because he has taken human life he is extremely powerful.”
Her stomach quivered in horror, for the moment she could not think of the poor victims Tristan had murdered; her concern was only for Gideon and the risk he was about to take.
“More powerful than you?”
“In some regards,” he admitted, then, shifting his hand from her own, he reached beneath his coat to remove a small dagger. “I do, however, have a weapon he fears above all others.”
Simone was not overly impressed with the dagger. It hardly appeared to be a weapon suitable of disposing of a vampire.
“What will it do?” she demanded in puzzlement.
There was a pause before his elegant features abruptly tightened with distaste.
“It will kill him.”
Simone was swift to sense the reluctance in his words. Whatever Tristan had done, he was a vampire and it was obvious that Gideon would take no pleasure in his death.
“You do not wish to use it?” she asked gently.
“No.” His gaze shifted to the shabby brewery, a frown marring his brow. “Killing another vampire is like killing a father or brother. I would prefer he return behind the Veil.”
“Do you think that likely?”
“No.” There was a pause before he abruptly turned to leap from the carriage. Rounding the horses he helped her to alight. “We must wait no longer.”
She grasped his arm in a firm grip. “You will remember to be careful?”
He gazed down at her with dark, unreadable eyes. “Yes, but I will have a promise from you before we enter.”
There was an edge to his voice that warned her she was not going to like what he was about to demand.
“What is that?”
“If anything happens to me, you are to flee as swiftly as you are able and seek out my cousins. They will protect you.”
“I ...” She swallowed heavily, unable to even consider the possibility that Gideon might be harmed. “Very well.”
“Your promise, Simone,” he demanded, easily seeing through her attempt to avoid a direct pledge. “You cannot battle Tristan. If he cannot possess the Medallion he will destroy you.”
She bit her lip, disliking the thought of running out and leaving Gideon. She had waited her entire life to find someone who made her content to be herself. Someone who did not judge her upon who she was, or care if she possessed unblemished bloodlines. Someone who could love her as Lady Gilbert or Sally Jenkins.
Still, she knew he was right.
If he was overtaken by Tristan, she could not possibly face the vampire alone. And while she might not care if she lived or died if Gideon was taken from her, she could not allow the Medallion to fall into the traitor’s hands.
She owed Gideon that much.
“I promise,” she reluctantly conceded.
“Thank you.” Taking her hand he pulled her into the shadows. “This way.”
Unable to match Gideon’s silent tread, Simone stumbled behind him, coming to a startled halt as he paused before the open door.
Turning, he bent close to her ear. “Tristan is inside. Remember your promise.”
Simone battled her rising panic as she gave a slow nod of her head. For all that she had endured in her life, she knew that nothing could prepare her for this. She could only hope that she was strong enough.
Gripping his hand tightly she walked at his side as they entered the brewery, when there was a sudden flare of light as Tristan lit a lantern. Like Gideon she had already sensed the presence of the vampire, and had no doubt he was well aware of their arrival.
Attired in a bloodred coat and gray pantaloons the vampire might have been just another flamboyant dandy if not for the gaunt hollowness of his countenance and lethal glitter in his eyes. Even in the flickering light there was something unearthly about his presence.
The cold smell of him filled the air, but not completely enough to disguise the wretched stench of a rotting corpse. Simone shuddered, a tangible sense of danger crawling over her skin.
Seeming to flow to the center of the large room, the vampire regarded Simone with a mocking smile.
“Ah, the delicious Lady Gilbert, at last,” he purred softly. “And, of course, the ever faithful Gideon.”
Gideon gave a slight incline of his head. “Tristan.”
“I must say that I am rather surprised at you, Simone,” the vampire continued, his awful gaze taking a slow survey of her tense form. “I did not believe you would be willing to confess your rather sordid secret to anyone. You did tell him of your little secret, did you not?”
Attempting to disguise her raging fear, Simone tilted her chin to a defiant angle.
“Yes.”
Tristan’s lips twisted with ugly amusement, as if fully aware of her inner panic.
“Pretending to be your dead sister, very naughty,” he chided. “How do you think the Ton will react when they discover you are no more than a common bastard masquerading as one of your betters?”
Feeling Gideon softly squeeze her fingers in encouragement, Simone shockingly realized that the threat no longer had the power to terrify her. She could face anything, she acknowledged in amazement, even exposure and the inevitable condemnation from society, as long as Gideon was at her side.
“I no longer care,” she said in proud tones.
The vampire briefly faltered as his eyes narrowed. “Liar. You will do anything not to be exposed.”
She managed to meet his gaze without flinching. “I have already confessed the truth to the one person who matters.”
Gideon pulled her closer as Tristan angrily stepped closer, his hands clenched at his sides.
“Do not be a fool, Simone. I will have the Medallion.”
With a smooth step Gideon was moving to stand between her and the advancing vampire.
“No, I think not, Tristan.”
Peering around Gideon’s large form, Simone watched as Tristan swiftly regained command of his temper and returned to his image of mocking nonchalance.
“I am weary of your interference,” the vampire drawled, waving a thin hand in dismissal. “Once I have dealt with Lady Gilbert, I will ensure you are properly punished.”
“You already failed once to be rid of me,” Gideon retorted without the slightest trace of fear.
Without warning the vampire gave a short laugh. “Did you enjoy my little surprise?”
“It convinced me that you must be halted—even if it means I must kill you.”
“Fah, what a pathetic wretch you have become, Gideon,” Tristan taunted even as his lean form tensed to strike. “Soon this mortal woman will have a leash about your neck so that she can prance you about town like a lapdog. Do you have no pride left?”