The Devil & Lillian Holmes by Ciar Cullen

Author:Ciar Cullen
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781941260326
Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group
Published: 2014-09-05T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINETEEN

An unusual love.

Sullivan sat while Phoebe tied his cravat. He knew how to do it, but she simply loved to fuss over him. He would deny her nothing. Except the truth.

“When can we go home, love? I’m tired of these hitey-titey vampires. Shoulda never come here. I can feel your anger at them brothers coming outta your pores. Let’s quit this town, Chauncey.”

She sat in his lap and pressed a pleading kiss on his lips. He shouldn’t have brought her. Another selfish move, another sin added to an endless list.

“I can’t quit it yet, Phoebe. Soon, though. Very soon.” God, I hope, he didn’t add. The vial of Elder blood kept him awake during the day, made him restless all night. He wandered the city when Phoebe slept, hoping for a glimpse of Vasil, terrified also that the Elder would reappear.

He’d tried to find his maker on his own, as these bickering Orleans fools seemed to have no plan at all except to bring him into the battle. Now they had started talk of a child when they didn’t think he was around, and he was certain there was more to this story than they said. He could easily wring the truth from them, but he just wanted to finish the task and ensure Phoebe’s safety.

“Where you going now? Take me. Why do you go without me? Tell me, Chauncey.”

The fear in her eyes made him nauseated, but it was better that she suspected him of infidelity than know the truth. And it felt like infidelity. Would Vasil come tonight? Demand to know why Marie still lived?

He quickly pressed a kiss on Phoebe’s forehead and left. Clutching the vial under his coat, he now relished its burn on his palm. One drop would kill Marie, Vasil had said. So why did Chauncey so badly crave one drop for himself? The Elders were demons, for sure. Tricksters.

After walking only a few yards down the street, the burn on his hand grew stronger and he released it. Here I am, he heard, and he looked up. Vasil held out his arms in mock greeting, his long cape flapping in the night breeze, his hair swirling into a confusing halo of gold around him.

Chauncey leapt up on to the roof and rested his back against the water cistern several yards away from Vasil. “I am trying, Elder. I will find her soon.”

“She righta under your nose, ya no see it?”

Chauncey winced at his imitation of Phoebe, a reminder of what was at risk. “Tell me where she is, then, to make this better for us both.”

“The Frenchmen are close.” Vasil shrugged. “A day or so and you’ll see her. That is not why I’m here.”

“Why, then?” Chauncey could barely speak, and he couldn’t take his eyes off Vasil. Is this what it is to worship a God, to feel the love that Phoebe feels for her Jesus?

“You keep calling me. It’s annoying, profoundly annoying. I hear it day and night. Your voice is strong, Mr.

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