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I stared past him at Moreau’s mansion, feeling a heavy dose of anger along with a rush of adrenaline. The building was very upper-class French, a classic limestone-block building with a wrought-iron fence and bushes that had been clipped within an inch of their life. From the outside, you’d never guess the depravity that occurred within its walls.
Ridley squeezed my hand, wordlessly reminding me to stay focused. I nodded and gave her a small smile, and she followed her father out of the limo.
On the seat opposite, Gabriel caught my eye and gave me a thumbs-up. A rush of love filled me. Gods, I’d missed him and Rafe.
I gave him a thumbs-up back. “Time to get even.”
His cheek creased. “You know it.”
I faded into the shadows and exited the limo. Gabriel followed a few seconds later, and we trailed Ridley and her father up the brick path to the tall blue door guarded by twin bronze griffins. I couldn’t see Gabriel, but I sensed him at my side.
The long-faced butler opened the door. “M’sieur Primus. Mademoiselle.”
“Aubin.” De Froulay acknowledged the butler with a small nod.
“We’re here to see Moreau,” Ridley said.
“Of course. Come in.” He bowed the two of them inside.
Gabriel and I slipped past the three of them and waited in the foyer for Aubin to unlock the door to Moreau’s underground lair.
My mouth was dry, but I wasn’t afraid. I just wanted to get to Moreau.
I glanced at the wall where Étan and Blaise had worked me over and smiled grimly. Apparently both vampires had been staked that night they’d captured Rafe. Too bad. I’d like to see them try messing with me now the odds were more even.
Aubin opened the door and we trooped down the stairs. “Is he alone?” de Froulay asked Aubin.
“A thrall is with him, m’sieur.”
“Bien. Wait at the door. No one is to enter.”
Moreau was seated on the same couch he’d been on the night we’d struck our bargain. This time, instead of regarding us from the couch in that lordly vampire way, he rose immediately. The thrall he was with scrambled to her feet and backed up a few steps, her gaze bouncing between the five of us.
“Leo,” Moreau said in French. “You honor me with your presence.” His eyes gave a telltale flick to Ridley.
With his broad shoulders and long blond hair, De Froulay loomed above the small, darker Moreau like a Viking. He jerked his chin at the thrall. “Leave.”
“Yes, m’sieur.” She hurried from the room, eyes down, shoulders hunched.
De Froulay waited until Aubin had closed the door behind her before turning back to Moreau. “I believe you know my daughter.”
“Yes.” Moreau gave Ridley a stiff nod.
Ridley stared back, unmoving. It wasn’t a comfortable stillness. It was the stillness of a predator preparing to attack.
Moreau licked his lips and glanced at his primus. “What is this about?”
De Froulay switched to English. “Charlotte Crawford.”
“My mother,” Ridley added.
“Charlotte Crawford?” Moreau’s gaze bounced from his primus to Ridley to me. If a vampire could sweat, his face would’ve been dripping. “A thrall?”
The mention of Charlotte was my and Gabriel’s cue. We stepped out of the shadows.
Moreau’s mouth dropped open. “You,” he hissed at me.
“Enough,” said de Froulay softly. “I know everything, Philippe. That ‘thrall’ was carrying my spawn, as you knew damn well.”
