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I heard her heavy sigh. “I’m not a prude, Tynan, as you well know. He wants her in his bed, and it sounds like she is only too willing to oblige. For a price! But marriage? No. That price is too high. We both know, my dearest, that Eddie is just not strong enough to resist the lures she must have cast his way. And there is also the future of the Athal line to be considered.”
He laughed. “Listen to yourself, Lucy-love! You sound like Demelza in her heyday.” I heard her mutter an outraged protest, and then there was silence. When Tynan spoke again, his voice was muffled and I sensed he had drawn his wife into a soothing embrace. “The Jago name is not untainted, as we both know only too well. This girl cannot do more harm than that which past generations have already inflicted. My God, remember the days when we’d have counted ourselves blessed to escape from Tenebris with our lives, and be known forever as plain Mr and Mrs Smith? Eddie is twenty-eight years old, and we have indulged his wild whims for long enough. I cannot forbid this marriage, so we must make the best of it. The important thing now is to make him face his responsibilities.”
I decided it was time to make my presence known. I tiptoed a little distance away and then, making sure my footsteps echoed on the wooden strip of floor that was not covered by carpet, approached the open door again. Their conversation ended abruptly and they both turned to look at me. Tynan’s eyes were warm on my face, but Lucy’s attempt at a welcoming smile was strained.
“Yours seems to have been a whirlwind romance,” Lucy remarked as I retrieved my purse. She had an unusual knack of managing to convey volumes, without any added inflection in her voice or change in her expression. “How did you meet Eddie?”
“We were introduced by a friend,” I said quietly. She regarded me steadily, and I felt an unaccustomed blush tinge my cheeks. It was true. In a way. A mutual acquaintance, one of the artistic community, had told Eddie my name as I slipped off my robe and applied a touch of rouge to my nipples.
Chapter Three
Is this a dream? Or a memory? He already knows the truth, but is afraid to hear it spoken, even inside his own head.
Haunting the narrowest lanes and alleys, he blends into the night streets. No one suspects his intention. How can they when he can deceive even himself? Watching. Brooding. Waiting just beyond the circle of the lamplight. He is a nightmare unseen but not unknown. Life is his gift for the taking. Lovingly, his fingers caress the blade.
Splinters of ice are scattered carelessly over the ground. His warm breath sends clouds billowing into the glassy air. The only sounds are the hushed whispers of clandestine lust. When her latest customer gives a final grunt, she lowers her skirts and her heels ring out on cobbled stones. In spite of him, she is still plying her nighttime trade, seeking a coin for bread—or absinthe. Daring him to come for her. He thought he had dealt with her, but it seems she will never learn. He will have to show her all over again. The thought excites and repulses him.
“All women are whores,” his master states conversationally. “They all have their price. Some have yet to discover what theirs is, that’s all.”
She giggles when he beckons her. Business is good tonight. The last one’s seed still trickles down her thighs. His kiss is tender and melting. One hand claims the slender pulsing column of her throat while the other tangles itself in the abundant softness of her fair hair. She opens her eyes as he raises the knife. Her mouth forms a silent O of surprise. Without a struggle, she allows the night to engulf her. This is the best part, the moment when the lifeblood drains and the light fades from her eyes. Now nothing human remains of either of them.
* * *
Eleanor Jago was dainty and fair, a younger, mirror image of her mother. She regarded me with wide-eyed curiosity and another expression that I could not read, before turning to greet Eddie. There was an awkwardness about the embrace they shared that struck a discordant note. Perhaps it was because they had not seen each other for so long.
Eddie’s eyes were warm as he released her and studied her upturned face. “As beautiful as ever, sis,” he said softly and she shook her head, a becoming blush staining her pale cheeks. She turned back to me as Lucy introduced us. I couldn’t help noticing the way Eddie’s eyes stayed on her face, with a tender expression in their depths. Although he spoke of his brother with distrust, it seemed he was fond of his sister.
