Wicked Love - Michelle Dare Page 0,317

moved with her as she tilted her head to the side. “Is it? Like the one you met?”

“I don’t know... maybe... you believe me?”

Colleen looked forward again. She nodded. “Do you know the de Blancheforts?”

“Sure. They own half the land along River Road and a bunch in New Orleans, too. Richer than God, Mom says.”

Colleen smiled at that. “What I’m going to tell you, I would ordinarily reserve for the knowledge of the Council alone. But you, Kelley, have had a most unique experience. One I can say that only a few others in this family have ever had. You deserve to understand it.” She kept gazing straight ahead. “Vincenc told you what he was? Dhampir?”

Kelley nodded, still dazed by her easy acceptance of his claim.

“Many of the de Blancheforts are, as well. Their patriarch, Etienne, had one come to him with an offer. There are only so many dhampir, as you may know, and to make one, you must undo one. A trade of the gift that only The Master can offer. And the one who came to Etienne—Childeric they call him, claiming to have been a Merovingian king, of all things—had with him hundreds ready to lay down their gift and sleep eternal. He bade Etienne to carry this message to his own brood and convince them, over the years, to take the places of Childeric and his own tired creatures. And they did. Not all de Blancheforts are vampires, of course, but the ones who are live in the many old plantations Etienne and his descendants purchased over the years. A resting place where they can have seclusion and safety.”

“Wow,” was all Kelley could say.

“It was my own daughter, Amelia, who learned this and shared it with me. She had an encounter with one. As did my niece, Olivia. A Victor de Blanchefort, grandson of Etienne. He is still around, searching for something he will never find.”

“If you know about them, why haven’t you killed them?” Kelley asked.

“Killed them? I’d be no better than a dhampir if I did that, Kelley. They don’t wish to harm us any more than we wish to harm them. There’s a reason they stay away from New Orleans and live as hermits. And the de Blancheforts are family.”

“We’re related to them?”

“Going back to our days in France. But I digress, as you did not come here for a history lesson. I tell you all this only so you understand that I do believe you, and you are not losing your mind for believing you’ve had an encounter with a vampire. You have. And it is quite possible your brother has, as well, if your vision proves true. If he has, then the de Blancheforts have broken the unspoken truce between us, and that cannot go unanswered.”

“How do I know if my vision is true? There has to be a way to be certain.”

“I can sense you wish for me to consult the Deschanel seers for validation, but that is not how a seer learns to cull his visions into action. A seer learns by trusting his own self, and by listening to the words within him that bring thought to image. If you rely on others to interpret your visions, you will lose your faith in yourself, and for a seer, that is all you have. So I ask you again, tell me what you saw.”

Kelley took a deep breath and recounted the strange flashes of blood at the carnival. Of the vampire—this one, female, and beautiful—looking up with her radiant blue eyes, crimson dripping from her chin. It was not Kieran she feasted upon, but someone who had been with Kieran.

Kieran, then, in a trunk. Alive, still, but the reason was unclear. Bayou. A boat. Kieran trussed but unharmed. Afraid, but also exhilarated. Curious.

“Right then. I’ll have Aria cancel my next appointment. I am no seer myself, but I will try to instruct you in how to turn vague impressions into useful details. I don’t know if we can save your brother, but I know we can find him. How quickly is up to you. Are you ready?”

Kelley nodded so fast his vision blurred.

10

Elisabeth

Elisabeth shoved handfuls of blackberries into her Birkin, creating a deep purple mush in the lining of the expensive bag her aunt insisted she needed. Victorine would lose her mind when she saw the growing stains, but she had nowhere else to put the stupid berries. She hadn’t risen that morning intending to kill an innocent college

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