“To strengthen my power base.”
He studied the creature who’d given birth to him for a long minute. For the first time he wasn’t overwhelmed by her ginormous power. Or cringing beneath the crushing disapproval of his lack of mass.
She was still huge. Still scary. And still filled with hatred toward him.
But seeing her clearly, she appeared . . . diminished.
“You know, I thought I hated you,” he said slowly. “Now I realize that I pity you.”
His mother gave a genuine huff, as if outraged by his words. “I am the doyenne of this nest,” she hissed. “The most feared gargoyle in all of Europe.”
“Non.” Levet gave a shake of his head. “You are a lonely, bitter old woman who has nothing but an empty title and the delusion that it makes you important.”
Fury flared through her eyes before the cunning expression made a return. “If you care nothing for me then why are you here?”
“Chasing shadows, it would seem.”
“Then release me.”
Levet rolled his eyes. “Nice try.”
“I will give you a ten-minute head start before I track you down and kill you.”
“Tempting, but . . . I think not.”
“Very well.” Her lips stretched into a tight line. Was that supposed to be a smile? Sacrebleu. “I’ll give you an hour.”
Levet considered. Really and truly considered. Perhaps for the first time in his long life.
What did he want?
Clearly he would never earn his mother’s approval. Or repair the wounds of the past. Or find . . . what did the humans call it? Closure.
But he could have something that had been stolen from him.
“I want what is rightfully mine,” he stated in clear, dignified tones.
The gray eyes narrowed. “An empty title?”
“Of course not,” Levet said in confusion. Only females were allowed to inherit the place of doyenne. “Claudine is your heir.”
“But you could be a prince.”
Once, he would have given anything to reclaim his royal title. Now he gave a shrug of indifference.
“Not if I’m dead.”
Berthe silently weighed her options, her crafty brain searching for a way to convince him to release her from his spell without actually having to offer something of value.
“We could perhaps negotiate a truce,” she grudgingly conceded.
Levet folded his arms over his chest. “The only thing I desire to have is my place restored among the Guild.”
Berthe made a choked sound, genuinely shocked by his demand.
“Don’t be an idiot. They would never accept you.”
“They will once you add my name to the Wall.”
The Wall of Memories was hidden beneath the sewers of Paris. Who had built it or why it was located in the sewers had been lost in the mists of time, but a gargoyle’s names magically appeared there when they were born, officially giving them their place in the Guild. The same magic wiped out their names when they died.
Or, like him, were stripped of their place within the Guild.
It was rare, but a doyenne or elder could return a name to the Wall.
“Never,” she rasped.
Levet squared his shoulders. “Oh, make no mistake. You will personally inscribe the letters.”
“You cannot compel me to write your name,” his mother blustered. “It must be done willingly.”
“I am aware of how it works.”
She pressed against the wall, her expression wary as Levet raised his hands.
“Then how do you intend to force me to return you to the Guild?”
Levet squashed the unworthy sense of pleasure at having power over his mother.
This was not supposed to be revenge.
It was justice.
“Allow me to show you,” he murmured, sending his memories of his battle with the Dark Lord directly into her brain.
Her claws dug into the floor, her skin fading to a sickly shade of ash.
“Sacrebleu.”
CHAPTER 5
Valla had finished washing the tea plates and was wiping down the counter when she noticed the elegant Waterford crystal dish was empty.
“Oh, damn,” she breathed just as a prickle of awareness feathered over her skin.
How was it possible that the icy brush of Elijah’s power could send a rush of searing heat through her?
It was like explaining how photons could be in two places at the same time. A mystery.
“Valla.” With a speed that continued to astonish her, Elijah was standing at her side, his presence a sexy, tangible force that wrapped around her. “What is it?”
She fiercely tried to control the leap of her heart and the quiver of excitement that clenched her stomach. A vampire could sense arousal at a hundred paces.
“Where is Levet?”
Elijah tilted back his head, allowing his senses to flow through the neighborhood.
“He’s gone.”
“And so is my amulet.”
A frown marred the strikingly beautiful face. “You lost it, or it was stolen?”
“Not stolen . . . borrowed,” she corrected. “Or at least that’s my guess.”
The vampire wasn’t impressed; his dark eyes filled with fury.