“He asked for a kiss in return for not harming the people I loved,” I continued. “He … was angry that we’d …”
“Made love?” Andre finished for me. His face went soft, like it had been doing every time the subject crossed his mind.
I nodded and bit the inside of my cheek, my body and my conscience feeling sick at the falsehood.
“He asked for a kiss?”
I nodded, averting my eyes.
Andre stood suddenly, his presence filling the room. “You’re lying. I can see it, I can smell it.” A muscle ticked in Andre’s jaw. “There should be no lies between us, no secrets, soulmate. I’d die for you. I deserve the truth.”
Now I stood, my fear morphing into anger. “No lies? No secrets? You are seven centuries old! You have more of them than the desert has sand. I don’t demand you tell me yours—not the names of all the women before me, not the number of people you’ve killed, nor your plans for the coven. Give me mine.”
Andre crossed the distance between us and clutched my jaw. “I can’t, my little mate. I can’t.” Anguish slipped into his voice. “Not when your body wastes away and the devil cleaves to you like a second shadow. If I am to save you, all must be known.” He searched my eyes, as if they would give up my secrets.
Before I had a chance to respond, someone rapped on the door, saving me.
“Come in—” “Give us a moment—” we said in unison.
Whoever stood outside our door lingered, uncertain which voice to listen to.
I pushed past Andre and opened the door, eager for the excuse to leave my soulmate and his questions.
“A seer arrived looking for Miss Fiori,” the servant said to Andre, ignoring me completely.
Andre growled, running a hand over his jaw. He pointed at me. “Soulmate, this conversation is not over.” I shivered at the determined note in his voice. He would wheedle the truth out of me; it was only a matter of time.
“Where is this seer?” Andre asked.
“We detained her in the tearoom.” Only a vampire would have a room as frivolous and outdated as a tearoom. They didn’t even drink the stuff.
I followed the servant to the room, ignoring the brooding vampire king that strode behind me. He was full of pent up frustration. I could feel it like a hot breath on my back.
The man stopped in front of one of many closed doors that lined the halls of Bishopcourt, and with a final glance at Andre and me, he opened the door.
I’d been so distracted by my confrontation with Andre that I hadn’t thought about this visitor—that she’d been detained. But when the door swung open and revealed a red-eyed Leanne, I quickly forgot my own issues.
Leanne stumbled towards me. “Nona,” she said. She fell into my arms and I held her close as she wept, her own tears coaxing mine back to the surface.
I didn’t ask her how she knew.
Behind me I heard Andre whisper to the servant. “She is a friend of my soulmate. Leave them here, and tell the servants that no one is to bother them.” Then the door closed behind us.
Even amidst our fight, my heart swelled for that man. He only ever had my best interest at heart. Even if his delivery could suck balls.
I ran my hand over Leanne’s hair. She had worked closely with Cecilia only months ago, and for all I knew, they still kept in touch.
I held her for a long time, until her cries became quiet whimpers, and then sniffles.
“It’s my fault. He killed her because of me,” I whispered into her ear as we held each other.
I bit my lip after I spoke. I hadn’t meant to confess this. It felt selfish to draw attention to myself in the wake of someone else’s death, but guilt was riding me hard.
She shook her head, pulling back and wiping her tears away. “No, Gabrielle, it’s not. He killed her—not you.”
Leanne placed a hand on my shoulder, then it was her turn to hug me. We’d both witnessed the devil’s horrors. She knew better than most how perverse and frightening he was.
I pulled away. “Can I ask you a strange question?”
“Shoot.”
“Have you ever heard of Jericho Aquinas?”
She started at the name.
“You have.” I so needed to read up on important people of the supernatural world. I was clearly lagging behind.
“What do you want to know about him?” Leanne asked.
“Cecilia had asked me to find him.”
She cocked her head. “Why?”
“She thought he might be able to save me.” Before I bartered away my life, that was.
Leanne’s eyes brightened, bringing me back to the present.
“He owns a shop in Douglas—Jericho’s Emporium,” she said. “It’s less than an hour’s drive from here. But …” She bit the cuticle near her thumb, “before you visit him, there’s something you should know.”
I hadn’t planned on seeking him out, but I didn’t bother correcting Leanne. “And what’s that?”
“Jericho Aquinas is not of this world.”
Chapter 23
We hung out in that tearoom for another hour before Leanne had to go. I led her out to the car someone had called for her.
“You sure you’re going to be okay?” I asked, eyeing the vehicle and the driver. She and Oliver had given up so much on my behalf. Each one of these excursions put her more at risk for being discovered. If authorities knew my friends were helping me, the anti-Christ—cringe—there was no telling what kind of punishment they’d receive.
But it would be bad.
Leanne gave me a watery smile. “I think I cried out the worst of my emotions.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Though the reminder of Cecilia had my eyes stinging all over again.
She blew out a breath, the smile drooping. “I know. And I wasn’t going to tell you this, but the Politia already talked to me and Oliver.”
That drew me up short. “What?” I stiffened. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Leanne leaned against the car. “Because you already have enough to worry about, and it wasn’t a big deal.”