He pulled out a chair, forcing himself to feign interest, though this idiot mortal could do nothing for him unless she was on the menu. What he really needed was to interrogate Amauberge. “Is that so? I thought you were rather committed to the Brotherhood.”
“I was.” Her eyes glistened with tears. “But there was no role for me there. My obnoxious little brother will be the next leader. And when they tried to burn my date at the stake, that kind of sealed the deal for me.”
“Ah, yes. I do remember Tobias roasting for a while. Well, it was an unpleasant evening for all involved.”
Munroe narrowed her eyes. “I’m just a little confused about what my former art teacher is doing here, tied to a chair.”
“She can be a little rambunctious,” said George. “She’s still learning to love me.”
Anger contorted Munroe’s face. “You disappeared from Mather Academy right after someone cursed my boyfriend to death. I don’t suppose you had anything to do with that?”
The succubus’s smile was both cruel and beautiful. “I disappeared when that little bastard Tobias murdered me. Then he had the balls to bring me back to life and send me on an errand to drain Jack. But I’m not supposed to talk about that.”
“So did you curse my boyfriend?” Munroe demanded.
“I didn’t curse him. I fed off him until there was nothing left but a husk. Not that there was much more to him before. A boring, stupid little boy. But awfully eager for my touch. I guess yours wasn’t enough.”
Munroe flushed. “You’re disgusting. No wonder your husband has you tied up like a dog.”
If only George would leave the room, Jack and his former classmate could torture the succubus’s secrets from her. It would be a charming way to get to know his new bride.
Amauberge arched an eyebrow. “I’m glad your life is working out so well. I understand you were exiled from your blood-drinking cult. What did they call you—a demon’s whore?”
George clapped his hands. “Let us not dwell on unpleasantness. Munroe has a new home here, now. Tonight is a night for enjoyment.”
“Right. My new home.” Munroe drained the red wine from her glass.
Desperation ate at Jack. He wanted to slam the succubus’s face into the table and demand answers about the Holy Grail, but he would have to maintain his mask of politeness.
He glanced around the room. A mahogany china cabinet held jars of herbs, labeled in a spidery script. Paintings hung on the walls: Tudor-era women in jeweled gowns, with high, white foreheads. In some of them, George stood with the women, holding their hands. The creep must have commissioned portraits of himself with a selection of imaginary wives.
In one portrait beyond the head of the table, a young woman wore a plain, brown gown and stared forlornly out latticed windows. She was different than the others, missing the pearls and rubies. She had a fearful look in her eyes.
Jack’s stomach rumbled. “I’ve been looking forward to dinner. And of course, I’ve been looking forward to asking Amauberge about a little item of mine.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she sighed.
George shifted in his chair, tucking his feet below him. “Oh, your grail project. I don’t know why you want to change things, Jack. I’m perfectly happy with things as they are. My beautiful wife, my closest friend, and his young bride already have eternal life, as long as we keep to our diet. I think you should leave things as they are, and live with us.” He lifted his wineglass. “A toast. To friendship.”
“To friendship,” Jack repeated, sipping the dry C?tes de Provence. George wanted to keep him here. Forever, possibly. “I hope at least to reclaim my athame. To draw power from Druloch, in order to heal my scars.”
“Oh, that,” George said flatly. “You’re not ready yet. Anyway, I like things the way they are. Rebecca’s keeping your athame for you, and perhaps she needs it more.”
“And who is Rebecca?” asked Jack.
“Don’t say her name!” George roared, his eyes darkening. The room fell silent, and a damp chill filled the air.
Jack’s mouth went dry. Druloch, give me strength.
The old devil’s face brightened again, and he grinned. “Well, let’s have fun. You’ll enjoy what I have on the menu for this evening. Eva!”
A young woman in a black dress sauntered into the room, a glazed look in her large, green eyes. Jack’s mouth watered at the sight of her, and he inhaled her scent: nectarines with just a hint of sweat. But live human wouldn’t be on the menu tonight—not in front of the mortal. The servant carried a tray of canapés: meatballs and tenderloin. By their smell, Jack knew that some of the hors d’oeuvres were human flesh, but the servant placed a small plate of beef before Munroe. Clever on George’s part. Avoid any awkward scenes during dinner.
Amauberge tossed her hair behind her shoulder. “Darling, what am I to eat? I wouldn’t mind a bit of variety. Jack was so delicious the last time we met, and I’m awfully peckish.”