Dark Deception (Vampire Royals of New York #1) - Sarah Piper Page 0,48
the man’s last words were much too terrifying to share.
Stark in their utter simplicity, as cold and cutting as the scalpel he’d wielded against his own flesh, night after night as he desperately chased his cure.
Your brothers… you must find… genetic…
Then, he went up in smoke.
There were answers to the riddles, Dorian suspected, encoded in those journals. But so far, Dorian hadn’t made head nor tail of them. All he knew was that his father, the most powerful immortal vampire in an age, had suffered and died of a human illness, and that illness—that weakness—allegedly ran through the blood of the four remaining Redthorne royals. Even a whisper of that knowledge would be a deadly weapon in enemy hands, and down here in the crypts of Ravenswood was an entire tomb filled with such secrets.
Just because Dorian hadn’t deciphered them yet didn’t mean they were undecipherable.
“Nothing, right?” Gabriel asked, head still tipped back, arms spread wide as if he were looking to the heavens for answers from their dead father.
Wrong direction, brother.
Testing the iron gate around his heart, Dorian said, “If you’re looking for deathbed confessions and an unburdening of regrets about what a terrible father he was, I’m sorry to disappoint you. He said nothing, Gabriel. He died empty, but for the secrets he carried with him to hell.”
A bitter laugh escaped Gabriel’s mouth. “You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but it never gets easier, does it?”
“Hearing of Father’s abject failings?”
“No.” Gabriel lowered his arms and turned to face him, his eyes as cold and black as the crypts themselves, a darkness that echoed for eternity. “Being disappointed by you.”
Chapter Twenty
There was a snake in Rudy’s living room. A snake with dull gray eyes and spiky, over-gelled hair who leered at Charley with a mix of lust and pure hatred.
Mental note: order a new Beyoncé later.
“Charley, Charley, Charley,” the snake said, running his tongue along his top teeth in a move he probably thought was sexy. “You’re looking fine as fuck.”
“Travis.” It was all she could give him—his name. It’d been more than a year since their last night together, but the sight of her ex still made her skin crawl. It probably always would.
“So glad you could finally join us.” Uncle Rudy stepped out from the kitchen and handed Charley a gin and tonic, gesturing for her to take the seat next to Travis on the couch, probably as punishment for being late. “Care to tell me about your evening?”
Charley sipped her drink—cheap gin for the guests, of course—buying herself a minute to think. Rudy was definitely angling for something. He hadn’t asked about the JHS, and none of the other crew members were here to talk shop. Only Travis, a freelancer they’d met the year after her father’s death. The others didn’t think much of him—in fact, Bones had never quite forgiven Charley for getting involved with such a lowlife—but Rudy still used him sometimes for fake passports and customs forms.
So what the fuck was he doing there now?
“Charlotte?” Rudy pressed. “I asked you a question.”
Charley shrugged her shoulders, downing another gulp. “I was about to call you when I got your text—I went to the JHS earlier to snoop around. The Whitfield was donated, like you said. The details are confidential, but everything seemed on the up-and-up.”
“Why would a man like Dorian Redthorne pay that much for a painting just to donate it?” Rudy asked, downing the last of his drink.
Charley hid the smile behind her glass, remembering what Dorian had said. “Maybe he’s just a nice chap.”
Rudy laughed, a machine-gun cackle that hurt her ears. “Oh, kiddo. Didn’t the old man ever teach you there’s no such thing?”
“Guess we didn’t get around to that lesson.”
“No, I suppose not.” Rudy turned back toward the kitchen. “I need another drink. Why don’t you two catch up?”
The moment he left the room, Travis was practically on top of her, stroking her arm with his cold fingers, sniffing her hair. “It’s good to see you, baby.”
She curled in on herself, shrugging him off.
“Aw, don’t be like that.” Travis trailed a finger along her cheek, tongue darting out between his lips like a damn reptile. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you. All those nasty things you used to say. You remember, don’t you?”
“Not really.” She slid as far as she could to the other end of the couch, feigning indifference. “Guess I’ve moved on.”