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Rith took a deep breath then plunged into the delicate issue. “I called to request permission to secure the captive again.” He held his breath. He had little hope of having the request accepted—he knew Greaves was working his own plan—but he had to try. He had to.
Silence returned to him, not pressing, which was good, but silence nonetheless.
Finally, Greaves said, “You have need of this captive?”
Rith nodded, then became aware he hadn’t spoken aloud. “Yes, I do.”
“I realize that for you to place your request was no small thing, but I am sorry. I am waiting only for Parisa to open her voyeur window to begin utilizing the link. Though I am disappointed with the limitations of this link, I have great hopes of entrapping a warrior or two.”
“Yes, of course, master.”
“I will promise, however, to contact you the moment I have information of use to you where the blood donors are concerned. I also wish to thank you for how well you kept Parisa perfectly groomed, healthy, and compliant. I commend you, Rith.”
His heart softened, like pudding in his chest. “Thank you, master.”
“As for Madame Endelle and our blood donors, no doubt she’s been informed of our little operation and will want to disband it. I do expect the Warriors of the Blood to attempt to locate and assault your facility, and I suspect that they will try to do so through Parisa. With that in mind, I want you to choose among the death vampires at the Phoenix Estrella Complex, twenty of the very best, and bring them to your home in Toulouse. Then I want you to prepare to evacuate the facility upon my command. Do you understand?”
Rith was always surprised that anyone would interest themselves in his blood donors. The women involved had no particular value. Why would the warriors waste such critical time and energy on such a useless mission? But then he often found the actions of the warriors to be incomprehensible. Why, for instance, had they come as an entire unit to Parisa’s aid?
“I have no doubt they will attempt a rescue,” Greaves said. “Yes, yes, I already know your opinion. And I concur. Such a waste of military expertise on behalf of partially ascended mortal women—I am as incredulous as I’m sure you are. But we can use their absurd sense of chivalry to our advantage.”
Rith smiled. “Yes, master.”
True friendship bridges every terrible abyss.
—Collected Proverbs, Beatrice of Fourth
Chapter 12
Jean-Pierre thought the library was a sensible choice for Parisa. She was going to voyeur the woman Fiona, the death and resurrection slave, and since Parisa was a librarian by trade, she might feel more comfortable surrounded by books.
It had to be difficult for the dark-haired beauty to attempt contact with a woman she had met in such terrible circumstances. Who would want to be reminded of a captivity such as Parisa endured? But here she was, settling herself in the chair by the farthest wall, ready to do what she must.
Medichi had to be very proud of his woman. She was learning to battle with sword and dagger, and she was intent on rescuing those she had left behind. Oui, Medichi should be very proud.
Parisa now wore a loose white blouse that was gathered low on her hips.
Jean-Pierre remained in the doorway to give the young woman some space. He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. She had been humiliated by the earlier evidence of her interest in Medichi. The two of them were so clearly in the first throes of love, embarrassed and excited by turns. It was a beautiful thing to behold—especially to see Medichi caught, because he never allowed himself to love. To chase women at the Blood and Bite, bien sûr, but never to love. Seeing him now with Parisa, so kind and attentive, his eyes shining with affection, with desire, oui, very beautiful.
He wondered, though, what the breh-hedden might mean for the rest of the Warriors of the Blood. Three already had been caught by the fever—Kerrick, Marcus, and now Medichi. Was this portentous? Was there a chance he would fall next into Cupid’s lovely web?
A shudder went through him. He had been a lover of women his entire life, and every decade or so he enjoyed a deeper entanglement, an emotional one, but always the women were unable to handle the warrior’s life and commitments. But the women who had come to his three brothers were so very powerful. Could it be different if such a woman came to him? A world at war in this way was a horrible thing. He saw how Parisa suffered, how she was struggling to grow, to meet her challenges. Could he bear to see a woman he loved suffering in all these ways? He thought not.
He glanced around the room, looking for distraction. Medichi’s library was very tall, with bookshelves all the way to the fifteen-foot ceiling. He had been collecting since the printing press was invented. Most of the books were leather-bound. Jean-Pierre liked the fragrance in the room. Leather had a strong presence, a perfect binding for fragile pages and black print, very male and very female at the same time.
A tapestry hunting scene served as a valance over tall windows overlooking the front lawn. Wooden blinds kept the light at a minimum.
Medichi drew a chair close to Parisa’s. He was not convinced that he was needed, but Endelle had assigned him to assist both Medichi and Parisa as they shaped their plan to locate and extract the slaves.
As Parisa leaned back into the chair, her dark brown hair disappeared into the chocolate color of the leather. She took deep breaths. He tried to imagine what this must be like for her, so new to ascension, so recently freed from her captivity, so overwhelmed by the breh-hedden. He admired her courage and God help her but she would need courage to be bonded with a warrior, to live as his breh to whatever degree they chose to accept the breh-hedden into their lives. He wished her well, he wished her joy and every happiness but he did not think she understood yet just how hard life would be mated to a Warrior of the Blood.
He repressed a sigh.
“I see Fiona,” Parisa said.
So soon. Jean-Pierre was very impressed. Parisa had a soft voice, in the lower registers, very pretty, like velvet. Her cheeks bore a flush of excitement.
“Where is she?” Medichi asked. “Can you see her environment at all?”
“She’s walking outside, alone. There is a high wooden fence and beyond that, tall trees, but not the tamarind trees of Burma.”
“Try communicating with her telepathically.”
At that, Parisa opened her eyes and stared at Medichi. “Do you think I can?”
He smiled, so reassuring. He was gentle with her. Parisa did not need a heavy hand. Medichi was exactly the right man for her.
