The Beautiful and the Cursed by Page Morgan

Author:Page Morgan [Morgan, Page]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2013-05-14T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The interior of Lennier’s suite looked as though it had been frozen in time from the days when Hôtel du Maurier had been a luxurious home.

The vines that ran rampant throughout the rest of the mansion had never entered the fourth-story rooms where Lennier resided. Instead of crumbling, water-stained plaster, the walls were smooth and papered in a print of green foliage. There were throw rugs and cushioned Louis XVI chairs, a sofa and console, candles and books, and a tall case clock softly ticking between two intact casement windows.

The chandeliers hanging in the center of the main room and in the two adjoining rooms were polished and fitted with wax candles. The lack of electricity was the only hint that this was not a suite in a posh Paris residence.

That and the enormous albino gargoyle standing before the flickering hearth.

Luc, wearing his human skin, stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Yann and René were there, along with Marco, all in human form. Marco was lounging in one of the silk Louis XVI chairs by the draped windows. He looked like a bored monarch, Luc thought, with one leg thrown over the curved arm, his opposite knee bouncing impatiently.

“You need a watch, brother,” Marco said.

“I was keeping an eye on my charges,” Luc replied, not divulging that they had been ferried off to the bookshop where the Alliance Seer lived.

When Ingrid had been walking with Vander Burke in the vineyard, Luc, eavesdropping on her emotions from his place in the stables, had felt an effervescence in her pulse. Again that morning, Luc had felt it bubbling when she entered the bookshop. Something sour and heavy had sunk into Luc’s stomach and stayed put.

Ingrid was fond of the Seer.

He took a step farther into Lennier’s rooms and saw, with another heavy stone settling in his stomach, that Gaston was also present. So he’d gone to Lennier after all. Luc wasn’t surprised. When the summons to the common grounds had arrived that morning, he’d suspected Gaston was behind it. He was only relieved that not all of the Dispossessed in Paris were present this time.

Lennier’s white-scaled form shifted slowly back into his stooped human frame. It was like watching candle wax melt. Seeing something hard and resilient turning to a soft, malleable substance. An old man once again, Lennier lifted his black robe from the fluted arm of the sofa and wrapped himself in it.

“It’s not often that I’m required to shift.” Lennier’s husky voice rattled like a reed in the wind. “I like to keep myself primed in the event I’m needed.”

He shuffled over to the console table and the hard wooden chair before it. Only after he’d seated himself did he look at Luc and acknowledge him with a short nod.

“Gaston has told us what occurred at Clos du Vie,” Lennier said.

Gaston stood straight-backed next to the tall case clock. He looked every bit the servant.

“Hellhounds don’t usually emerge during daylight,” Yann said. He stood in the opening to the next room, arms crossed over his embroidered velvet waistcoat.

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