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Thus, the nouveau style embraced the simplicity of the Greeks and Romans along with symbolizing the rise of the bourgeoisie and their own seal on the city.
The scent of spring roses and lilies caught in the breeze as he walked past neatly trimmed gardens around to the next block. There was a small alley between two of the houses that abutted Moldavi's, and he turned into it, still carrying his package.
The alley was deserted and he walked purposely along toward the rear side of Moldavi's house. If anyone saw him, he was delivering a package to Monsieur Tournedo-and could someone not direct him to whichever of these houses belonged to the gentleman, s'il vous plait? If no one did, he'd have the chance to explore the rear of the house.
During sunlight was the best time to attempt to break into a vampir residence, for a good portion of the household would be asleep. He just had to find the right time.
And then as luck would have it, an opportunity presented itself. Looking back, Chas knew he couldn't have planned anything better.
All at once, he heard a loud crash and clatter coming from the street in front of Moldavi's house. The horrified whinny of a horse, followed by a scream and lots of shouting. More whinnies and even a terrible, agonized shriek from one of the beasts. Whatever had occurred, it wasn't good-likely an animal would have to be put down-but it was also a guaranteed distraction to anyone in the vicinity.
Sure enough, as Chas peered around the corner toward the mess on the narrow street, he saw crowds gathering. Like executions, accidents drew the morbid as well as the curious. Which included, more often than not, everyone in the vicinity.
"It was a cat! She ran in front of me and I could not stop!" a driver was shouting.
"But you should have been looking!" raged another. "Now see what you've done!"
People were streaming from their houses, shouting encouragement and orders, crying out in shock and horror. Dogs barked and whined, and warning bells began to ring. Even a gunshot sounded, momentarily tempting even Chas to investigate further.
But, no...he had much more important and satisfying things to attend to. Bloody damned child-bleeder. He was looking forward to seeing the man cower in fear for his life, knowing that only the thrust of a stake was between him and eternal damnation.
His lips settled in a feral grin that no one could see, he eased back behind the house. If anyone in the Moldavi household was awake, it was certain they'd be either looking out the front windows or standing on the front porch. Chas had the perfect opportunity and had to work quickly.
As trees gave shade, and thus provided shadow from the sun streaming inside the house through a window, he avoided the windows near the large oak that grew on the north side of the building. Best to find entry through a chamber that was less likely to house a Dracule. And the higher the chamber, the less likely it would be occupied when the master lived belowground. He eyed a window on the third floor and noted the sturdy brick edging around its gabled roof.
Just then, a streak of blonde shot around the corner of the house. It was a light-colored cat, and it appeared to be the one that had caused the ruckus out front. Once safely under a yew against the house, the feline stopped and looked up at him with unblinking gray-blue eyes.
"Merci," Chas murmured to the creature as he slipped his package, coat and cap behind the bush and pulled a rope from inside his pocket. "You've given me an exceptional opportunity." He swung the rope up onto one of the window gables and pulled tight when its hook caught around the lip of the peak.
The cat meowed, and to his amusement seemed to nod and then preen in acknowledgment, then ducked under the bushes and out of sight. The rope safely in place, Chas tested it and then began to climb.
He was quick and efficient, his movements smooth and sleek, and moments later, he pulled himself onto the ledge of the window to peer in carefully. Empty of everything but a rug and a single chair. He smiled, but there was also a nudge of disappointment that no one was waiting to try to stop him. It had been some time since he'd been in a good fight.
Gathering up the rope, he looped it out of sight onto the top of the little roof so that it would be accessible on his way out.
Then, grateful for the continued chaos from the street beyond, he climbed into the chamber and walked silently to the door. Before opening it, he waited for the familiar sensation to come over him...the sort of itching in his belly that told him a vampir was near. The closer one came to him, the deeper and more violent the odd feeling he had in his gut.
There was a time not so long ago when Chas would have sneaked through the home of a Dracule and staked any vampir he encountered-often while in their beds, sleeping away the daylight. Even after he met the earl, and learned that at least one of Lucifer's stewards was not quite the evil being his granny's stories had made them out to be, he hadn't become any less discriminating in his work.
But in the last few years, since he'd come to know Corvindale's friends and realized that despite the fact that they had all tied their souls to the Devil, there were various degrees of immorality and violence, Chas had become less rigid in his choices. In his mind, every vampir could be a threat to mortals, but there was a divide between those who truly were, and those who simply tried to live and let live.
He heard nothing alarming and went out the door into the corridor on silent feet. A little twinge in his belly told him a Dracule was near, but it was so subtle that he knew it wasn't in close proximity.
As he made his way through the house, mentally reviewing the rough sketch of a map Cale had made for him, it became obvious that the top floors of the house were empty and unused. That made his job even easier, for he'd be less likely to encounter anyone as he made his way to Moldavi's private quarters below the ground.
Nevertheless, he utilized the servants' stairs down through the back of the house, noting to himself that there were no enticing smells coming from this kitchen. Draculean households didn't really need to cook much.
The twitch in his gut was getting stronger, and he slipped a stake from one of his inside pockets. But as he passed silently by the main foyer of the home, which was furnished so as to impress any casual visitors, he saw that a cluster of people still gathered in front of the house and glimpsed the gleam of shiny black paint on the side of an upended Landau.
It was safe to say that everyone awake in this house was out in the street.
As he made his way toward the staircase Cale had told him led to the underground apartments, Chas couldn't resist thinking: Could it simply be this easy? This Providential?
Sonia would say, yes, if he was doing God's work, the Hand of the Almighty would arrange things so that it would happen. But Chas didn't fully believe that such blatant miracles occurred like chess pieces being rearranged on their board.
