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When he finally left for his own penthouse, Rafe was on the phone. He was cajoling and prodding Winter into new action. He redirected his brother from research about the Arsenaults to who could be potential threats. Rafe already knew all he needed about Philippe and his people. It was more important to learn who wanted to dismantle Philippe’s clan. Was this a personal attack on Philippe? Or did someone see the Arsenaults as an actual threat?
The one persistent thought itching in his brain was that these murders were being orchestrated by someone within the clan itself. Someone had to know the schedules and preferred hunting grounds of the Arsenault clan members, particularly if they’d only recently moved to the Hartford area.
Rafe didn’t know how he was going to suggest this new theory to Philippe. He was afraid the clan leader wouldn’t listen, and that would only put him and the rest of his clan in even more danger.
As it was, Winter was still digging around, and Rafe wasn’t done with his own contacts. It had taken him a bit of searching, but he’d found one in particular now making her home in Boston. Less than two hours away under good traffic conditions, it was the closest they’d been together in nearly a century, and Rafe was willing to take it as a sign that maybe fate hadn’t given up on him yet. It was even better when she agreed to meet with him.
Unexpectedly, the hardest part was getting Philippe to agree to travel to Boston for the meeting. He probably shouldn’t have been surprised. After the discovery of Piper, Philippe would naturally want to stay close to his people, but it was more important to get information on who might want to see his clan destroyed than to wait around for yet another attack.
Besides, getting a meeting with Zelda was no easy thing.
Rafe straightened from where he was leaning against the wall of the café and started to reach for his cell phone to check if maybe he’d missed a text from Philippe. But he stopped at the first hint that there was another vampire in the area. This wasn’t a nondescript feeling of power; it was warmth and strength. The feeling didn’t prickle along his skin, but it wrapped around his heart as if trying to protect him.
Philippe was close. He’d not noticed that his sense of Philippe had changed recently. It had become as distinct as his sense of his brothers. Rafe didn’t want to look too closely at this change, didn’t want to think of the reasons. There was no time for it.
He allowed himself to relish the feeling for a moment but shut down any thoughts on why Philippe was different to him.
The blond vampire in question stepped into view across the street a couple of minutes later and hurried over to Rafe’s side. He was dressed all in black, making Rafe frown. In the short time he’d known Philippe, black had not been a color to dominate the vampire’s wardrobe. His clothing choices tended to be warm and almost cozy, as if he were subtly inviting Rafe to snuggle with him. But tonight, his look was cold and distant. Far too austere for his pale, golden looks. While still handsome, black made him look tired.
“I apologize for being late,” Philippe said as soon as he was close to Rafe.
“It’s okay. Did you drive?” he asked, knowing how much Philippe seemed to hate being behind the wheel.
Philippe shook his head. “I hired a car.”
It was on the tip of Rafe’s tongue to admonish him for not accepting his offer to ride together, but the hired car likely gave Philippe some valuable time alone to think.
“We can ride back to Hartford together if you’d like,” he offered instead.
“I would like that very much.”
Rafe smiled at him. “I won’t even be hurt if you change your mind after talking to Zelda.” He turned and led the way toward the front door of the coffee house.
“While I doubt that’s possible, I must admit I don’t know who this Zelda is. You just seemed adamant that we had to speak to her tonight.”
Rafe grabbed the old brass handle on the door and pulled it open, smiling at Philippe over his shoulder. “There isn’t much I can say that would explain anything useful other than she’s very old and sees a lot.”
A low chuckle shook Philippe’s shoulders. “That really doesn’t help.”
“No, but I think she can.”
Philippe stepped past him and into the warmth of the old coffee house that smelled absolutely delicious. Swirling hints of roasted coffee beans mixed with sugar and cinnamon.
Since Philippe had come into his life, Rafe’s consumption had largely been limited to blood and alcohol, but there was a decadence that came with eating food as a vampire. Since it was utterly unnecessary, he could limit himself to just those things that gave him the most pleasure. Chocolate. An excellent steak. A nice, rich coffee. Maybe he would treat himself while they met with Zelda.
