Blood Sisters_ Vampire Stories by Women - Paula Guran Page 0,74

if you please. That is a good beginning.”

Dazed, James did as he was told, letting her instruct him as if he were a boy of fourteen. At first he could not get the memory of the long nights with Madelaine out of his thoughts, but then, as his passion grew in answer to Mirelle’s, he responded to her, and only to her, and this time, though he did not love her as he had supposed he would, he had no reason to apologize.

Roger escorted Madame Kunst to her room, and listened quietly to her protestations that she was reluctant to remain at Montalia. “I have those I wish to meet. It isn’t wise for me to remain here.”

“But there is fighting, Madame, and you would not be safe, should you venture out into the world as it is now.” Roger had received Saint-Germain’s instructions several hours before to be solicitous of the Austrian woman.

“They said that there would be a boat at Nice that would take me to Scotland. I must reach that boat. I must.”

“My master will make inquiries on your behalf, Madame. It would not be pleasant for you to suffer any more mishaps.” Roger was unfailingly polite and slightly deferent, but gave no indication that he would accommodate her.

“He has some influence, this Comte? Could he help me?” Her voice pleaded but her wary eyes were hard.

“That is for him to decide, Madame Kunst. I will mention what you have told me.” The hallway was dark where the glow of the lantern did not shine. “You have enough candles in your room?”

“There are plenty, thank you,” she answered abruptly. Again she grasped the handle. “I must leave. I must go to Scotland. Can you explain that?”

“I will tell my master what you have said.”

Her hands came up to her chin in fists. “Oh, you stupid man!” she shouted in her frustration, and then was at once quiet and restrained. “Forgive me. I must be more … tired than I realize.”

“Of course, Madame Kunst.” He lifted the lantern higher. “You can see your way?”

She did not entirely take the hint. “That woman,” she said as she paused on the threshold. “I suppose she is necessary?”

Roger gave her no response whatever and there was a subtle sternness about his mouth that indicated he would not indulge in speculation about his master or Mirelle Bec.

“Well, such things happen, I suppose.” She gave a polite shrug to show it made no difference to her if those in the house wanted to be immoral. “The highborn live by their own rules, do they not?”

“Good night, Madame Kunst,” Roger said, and stepped back from her doorway. When he was satisfied that the door was firmly closed, he turned away from it and made his way back toward the sitting room where he knew that Saint-Germain waited for him. His sandy head was bent in thought and his face was not readable.

Shortly before sunrise, Saint-Germain found James walking in the overgrown garden. He came up to the American silently and fell into step beside him, letting James choose the path they were to take.

“She showed me,” James said after a long while.

“Ah.”

Their feet as they walked crunched on the unraked gravel that led between the abandoned flower beds. James reached out and pulled a cluster of dried, faded blossoms off a trailing branch as it brushed his shoulder. “It wasn’t what I expected.” The paper-crisp husks of the flowers ran between his fingers and fell.

“But tolerable?” Saint-Germain inquired as if they were discussing nothing more important than the temperature of bath water.

“Oh, yeah. Tolerable.” He laughed once, self-consciously. “Tolerable.”

Saint-Germain continued his unhurried stroll, but pointed out that the sun would be up in half an hour. “You are not used to the sun yet, Mister Tree. Until you are, it might be wisest to spend the day indoors, if not asleep.”

“Unhuh.” He turned back toward the chateau, saying with some awkwardness, “Mirelle told me she’d be back in three or four days. But she didn’t … Oh, Christ! This is difficult.”

“She will be here for you, Mister Tree. My need is not great just now.” He answered the unasked question easily, and sensed James’ relief.

“That’s what she hinted.” James looked sharply at the shorter man. “Why? Is it because you’re after that Austrian woman?”

“What an appalling notion! No, of course I’m not.” He expressed his indignation lightly, but decided he had better explain. “Oh, if I were determined to … use her, I could