"Why are you examining things?" That was Jema's job.
"James was interested in an old legend he thought might be a true story," Meryl told her. "I'm still pursuing the proof he never found."
Jema felt troubled by the confirmation. They had always handled the museum's collection with the utmost care and precautions. What Meryl was doing was highly irregular and unethical. "Does the head curator know about this?"
"Of course he does. What did you think I was doing, Jema?" Her mother's voice grew shrill. "Stealing from my own husband's museum?"
"No, of course not." She winced. "I will need that crate back so I can catalog the items and include them in the final inventory."
"I'll need them for only a few more days," Meryl told her. "Then it will be finished."
As Jema hung up the phone, she felt puzzled. What was her mother doing, and why was she trying to hide it from her? She took a deep breath and frowned. Tom was right: Her office did smell like, apples—a whole barrel of them—but there was something else under the scent.
Gardenias.
Michael had run out of time, and so had John Keller. If he was going to keep Alexandra's brother alive, he would have to bargain with Tremayne, which required careful thought and planning. The high lord was within his rights to demand Keller's execution. He could also ignore whatever Michael wanted and send his own team of assassins to America to manage the task for him.
Somehow Michael had to make letting Keller live more attractive than killing him.
"You've got that someone's-going-to-suffer-for-this look in your eyes." Alexandra came into the bathroom and put her arms around him from behind. "If it's me, we'd better put away the breakable stuff in the bedroom. I'm not afraid to bite back now."
Michael still could not believe Alex was his sygkenis. She was so petite and vibrant and sizzling with unseen energy. He wanted to take her away to a remote island where they could be alone and he could paint her and walk with her and love her without the rest of the world trying to tear her from his arms.
"Suffer?" He turned around and hauled her off her feet, holding her in a tight embrace. "Is that what I make you do?"
"Not a good question, considering our history." She wrapped her arms around his neck. "It's okay. I like how you make me suffer now as opposed to then. How about we take a walk down by the water first?"
"You saw Jema Shaw at the hospital?" She nodded, and he set her down to put on his shirt. "Should Valentin hear this?"
"Not right now." Alex took a clip and used it to pull her hair back from her face. "He's in love with her. She doesn't know. You are not to say a word."
"I will not." Michael frowned. "How did you discover this?"
"He needed a sympathetic ear, and mine was available. Why don't you guys fall in love with lady vampires?" Alex asked him. "Not that I believe in that whole arranged-marriage crap they used to do in your day, but at least if you did your relationships would last a little longer."
Michael thought of Angelica, but decided not to mention her. Alexandra still had nightmares about killing Thierry's wife. "There aren't very many women who rise to walk as Darkyn. At the most, only one for every fifty men."
He checked to see that the sun had set before walking out of their room and down to the back entrance of the house. On the way he dismissed his guards and left word with Falco for Valentin, so he would know where they were. The lakeshore was not as beautiful to him as Lake Pontchartrain, but the stark appeal of Lake Michigan suited Valentin.
"Fifty to one," he heard Alex muttering.
"It was rare for a woman to rise from the grave. Most were turned by male Darkyn in the early days, when that was still possible." Michael took her hand in his. "You don't realize how special you truly are."
"I'll try to act snottier," Alex said. "You've got women in your jardin, right?"
"Only two. Liliette, Thierry's aunt, and Marcella, Arnaud Evareaux's cousin." He smiled down at her. She always had to collect facts and statistics about everything. "You must meet Cella when we return. She sculpts in stone and metal. You would like her."
"Maybe we could introduce her to Val. He's going to need someone a little healthier in his life." Alex frowned and looked up at the house. "I saw Jema Shaw at the hospital today. She's not in good shape, although she seemed pretty happy. There's something very wrong with her…" Alex's eyes widened, and a moment later she pushed him with both hands, knocking him down to the sand.
Michael heard a whisper of wind, felt it pass his neck, and watched in horror as a long copper bolt divided the air between them before it struck Alex in the chest.
"Alexandra." He was up and caught her in his arms, lifting her off her feet and running for cover. Two of Valentin's guards came to flank him. "Over there," he snarled, jerking his head in the direction the bolt had come. "Bring him to me alive."
The guards took off, while more came to help Michael with his burden. He wouldn't let them touch Alex, and carried her into Derabend Hall, shouting as he ran for Valentin.
The suzerain appeared and sized up the situation in a glance. He directed Michael to a small bedchamber on the first floor.
"Who shot her?" he demanded as he stripped the bed linens out of the way.
"Someone in the trees beyond the house. He was aiming for me; she pushed me out of the way at the last second." Michael placed her carefully on the bed and examined the wound. The copper shaft had buried itself in her shoulder, a few inches above her heart. "I want him."
"You will have him." Jaus touched the blood on Alex's shirt. "She yet bleeds, Michael."
"She doesn't heal as quickly as we do." He used his dagger to cut her shirt away from the wound and gently tested the set of the shaft in her flesh. "It is barbed copper. God damn him."
Alex opened her eyes. "Mike."
"Shhhh." He forced himself to smile down at her. "I am here, ma belle. Don't move."
"Not so belle now." She looked him over, checking him for wounds before tucking her chin to look at the shaft. "It wasn't the same one who tried at the hospital. This guy was…" A groan escaped her, and her body arched. "God this fucking thing burns."
"We have to get it out of her," Valentin told him. "The copper is too close to her heart."
Michael knew, just as Jaus did, of Kyn who had been killed by the presence of the poisonous metal in their bodies, especially in close vicinity to the heart. Through movies, Hollywood had generated the myth that a stake through the heart would kill a vampire. In truth it took only a sliver of copper.
Sacher came in carrying Alex's medical bag. The old man looked ill but his voice was steady when he said, "Master, I have sent for Garomen."
"Garomen has some experience with treating the wounded in battle," Valentin explained. He turned to his tresora. "Did he go on the hunt tonight?"
"Yes, but we should be able to find him soon."
"No one else from the jardin," Alex said, her voice thin with pain. "I didn't see this guy's face, but I heard him in my head before he shot me." She looked directly at Jaus. "I only pushed Mike out of the way when I saw the crossbow through this jerk's eyes. I couldn't understand his thoughts because he was thinking in German."
Valentin swore in the same language. Cyprien uttered his own thoughts in French.
"Hold it together, now, boys," she warned them. "I've still got this thing in my chest. We need to get it out."
"It will not be easy, Alexandra," Cyprien told her. "The shaft is copper, and it is barbed on the end that is lodged inside you. It cannot be pulled out."
"Terrific." She shifted, trying to elevate her upper body. "I need some pillows to prop me up and some towels to soak up the blood. There's going to be a lot of it."
"The anesthetic you created," Michael said. "We can give it to you so you will feel no pain."
"No. I need to supervise, and I can't do that if I'm doped." She glanced at Valentin. "You're my surgeon tonight."
Michael wasn't letting anyone else touch her. "I will do what needs to be done."
"You? You are shaking too much." She flinched as Valentin placed two more pillows behind her. "Sacher, we need a scalpel and some antiseptic. You know the bottle."
"Indeed, I do." The tresora brought them to the bed.
She glanced at the scalpel. "Val, sterilize the blade by pouring some of the antiseptic over it. Soak it good. Michael, you have to turn me on my right side now."
Once Alex was lying as she directed, Val picked up the scalpel and looked at the smooth curve of her shoulder. "Tell me what to do, Alexandra."
She swallowed and gripped the bed with her hands. "Make a three-inch lateral incision in my shoulder, directly parallel to the tip of the bolt."
"No," Michael said at once. "You will not cut her."
"Babe, it's the only way we're going to get this thing out of me with minimum damage. Come here and hold my hands." When he did, she gave him an encouraging smile. "This is going to hurt and I'm going to get noisy. Don't panic. We've been through worse."
She was worried about him. She was lying there with a shaft through her body, the body she had used to shield him from it, and still she cared more for what he felt
He was a Darkyn seigneur, master of seventy-nine jardins, thousands of immortals, and presently was as helpless and terrified as a child. "I love you."
"Say it in French. I love when you talk Euro to me." She took in a deep breath. "You ready to do this, Valentin?"
"You have but to give me the word, my lady."
