Dismounting, he tethered the horse to the fence. Lifting his bag from the saddle horn, he made his way through the wrought-iron gates and into the cemetery beyond. A heavy stillness lay over the graveyard, broken only by the sound of his own footsteps.
He felt the hair prickle along the back of his neck as he went on, searching for the sepulcher that held Antoinette's body.
The crypt was located in the far corner of the cemetery, overgrown with vines. Taking a deep breath, he slung his bag over his shoulder, and then put his hand on the latch.
The door opened with a rusty creak, and he smiled in spite of himself. Perfect, he thought.
Standing in the open doorway, he saw Antoinette. She was lying on the floor. A wooden stake had been plunged into her heart. He knew, somehow, that it was the same one she had used on Alexi.
He stared at her for a long time, glad that half of his job had already been done. Left as she was, she would not rise again, but should someone come upon the body and remove the stake... He could not let that happen.
Taking-a deep, calming breath, he withdrew the cleaver from his bag. One swift blow would do it. She was a newly made vampire. Unlike older vampires, who did not sleep so deeply, who sometimes awoke when they sensed his presence, she was helpless, vulnerable. Totally immersed in the dark sleep, she would be unfeeling, unaware.
Bowing his head, he pressed his crucifix to his lips and uttered the ritual prayers that his father had taught him. The ancient words filled him with a sense of power, of peace. He felt the rightness of what he was about to do flow through him, strengthening him.
Crossing the floor, he stared down at her for a moment, and then he covered her face with a piece of cloth.
"May your soul find peace," he murmured, and lifted the cleaver.
Grigori came awake with a strangled cry of pain and grief and knew, in his heart, that Antoinette had been destroyed. As though it were happening to him, he felt the blade sever her jugular. He felt her soul depart her body, glimpsed the joy that would be forever denied him as her spirit was welcomed into paradise, where she would be reunited with their children. Unlike him, Antoinette had not sought the Dark Gift. She had not traded her soul for vengeance. Ever a loyal and devoted wife and mother, she would now reap the eternal blessings of having lived a righteous life.
With a sigh, he stared into the darkness that surrounded him. Tonight, he would go to her grave and bid her and his children a final farewell.
Chapter Twenty-one
Marisa felt her breath catch in her throat when she looked up to find Grigori standing in front of her.
Vampire.
She met his eyes, wondering if he was remembering that she had once told him he didn't look like one of the undead.
"Nice cape," she murmured.
He lifted one brow in a familiar expression of wry amusement. "Do I look the part now?"
She nodded. He was dressed all in black save for a white shirt that looked like silk. A long cape hung from his shoulders. He wore soft leather boots that reached his knees. He looked just like Frank Langella in Dracula.
Grigori's lips curved in a sardonic smile. "Let us hope I don't meet the same fate."
"Stop that," Marisa said. It was disconcerting, having him know her every thought.
He bowed, the gesture innately graceful. "Forgive me." His gaze ran over her in blatant admiration. The dress fit perfectly, showing off every slender curve. The rich green color made her eyes shine like emeralds. "You look lovely."
"Thank you." She smoothed her hands over the skirt's silky material. "I've never worn anything quite so fine. Wherever did you find it?"
"Paris."
"Paris! When were you in Paris?"
"Last night. Where's Ramsey?"
"He's looking after the horse." She grinned at him. "Did you find the horse in Paris, too?"
He laughed softly, and she thought how seldom she had heard him laugh. "No, he's a native Italian. I borrowed him from my neighbor."
"You must have had a busy night."
"Indeed. Where would you like to go for dinner?"
"I don't know."
"Paris? Venice? London?"
"Are you serious?"
He nodded. "You have only to name it."
She was trying to make up her mind when Ramsey entered the house.
"Well, the horse is bedded down," Edward said. "Damn, I'm starving. Where the devil is... oh," he said, his voice trailing off when