Fate's Kiss Read online

  3

  Anne meandered through the rooms of Holland’s League, inspecting each one before the auction. She marveled at the idiocy of men willing to toss away a fortune to bed a woman they would condemn the next day. Although, she and the women didn’t complain. Male lust had made her and the courtesans very wealthy women. Since she and Bella established Holland’s League it had quickly became one of the most exclusive and sought after brothels in London. Tonight’s auction was no exception.

  She had received nearly one hundred requests. Because only twelve invitations were issued, many of the seekers had become quite inventive. Most offered bribes, a few threatened to report her to the constables. None of the threats came to fruition and most of the men who had threatened her slunk away, tails between their legs and Holland’s League barred to them.

  As she wandered into each of the courtesan’s private rooms, Anne inspected the small tables next to the bed. The table’s surface held a variety of instruments, including condoms, to enhance a man’s pleasure. She blushed at what the courtesans called the tools of their trade. She’d fallen far from the aristocratic world in which she’d been born.

  She knew the purpose of each toy, from the leather ring for the man’s penis to the smooth silver balls linked by a thin chain to be inserted in his anus. The least embarrassing toy was the black domino used as a blindfold. Feathers, oils, and silk ribbons were also part of the erotic play the courtesans designed for their clients.

  Anne removed one of the condoms and examined it before returning it to the table. She and Bella had the specially designed protective sheaths made for the women’s use. Any client who refused to wear one was banned from Holland’s League. No man refused. In fact, a few clients asked where they might purchase them. To further protect the women from disease, each room held a bathing pool where the clients were treated to a sensuous bath while the women carefully examined them for diseases. It was good to be supernatural.

  When she finished inspecting the final bedchamber, she went to the kitchen. Her cook Emile looked up and grinned at her. “The feast will be magnificent, madam.”

  “Your meals are always magnificent, Emile. What are the dishes?”

  She listened as he described in great detail each dish he would prepare, from the cold cucumber soup to the saffron infused sweet custard. Taking her hand, he tugged her into the specially designed cellar that held both the kitchen’s cold room and a storage space for wines and brandies.

  “These are the wines to be served with dinner,” Emile stated, pointing at a small stack of wine bottles. “Since the men are English, I refuse to waste our best vintages on their barbaric tongues.”

  “I doubt they’d even notice since Bella chose the costumes the women will be wearing.”

  Emile slapped his forehead. “My talents are wasted here. No one will take notice of my food when the ladies will be naked.”

  “You know that’s not true,” Anne said with a laugh. “Besides, the women won’t be naked, Emile. Just lightly garbed.”

  He chided her in French as he escorted her back to the kitchen. “They will be naked if ma petite Bella is in charge. Go, I have preparations to oversee.”

  “To think I pay an exorbitant sum for you to insult and order me about.” She kissed his cheek and left.

  Emile was incorrect about one thing. Without him, Holland’s League’s reputation would be no better than any of the other brothels in London. It was the reason men like Demon Gabriel frequented her establishment.

  Despite telling herself not to give the man another thought, she wondered what he would make of the auction. A flicker of excitement went through her as she anticipated his reaction only to be displaced by worry. That niggling doubt, the one that scratched at both her conscience and emotions, warned she might have made a grave error.

  Anne entered her bedroom. For now, she would ignore her worries. She needed Demon’s skills to protect the witches sheltered in Holland’s League. You’ve already put in place a plan to thwart his intentions, she reminded herself.

  She grinned at the memory of the stunned look on his face when he received her note. She had taken the shape of a fly and rested on a nearby table as he sat in The Mare’s Folly tavern. O’Brien had tracked him there and without uttering a single word handed him her letter.

  Had she been in her true body, she would have laughed uproariously. Astonishment then anger marched across his face. It was obvious he hadn’t expected her to create an obstacle to his plan. Yet, to her surprise, he had stared at O’Brien and said, “Inform Mistress Holland this change means nothing.”

  Anne walked over the mirror and peered at her face. Irritated by Demon’s smug assumptions, she had tossed down a glove and he had picked it up. Now because of him, she was going to break one of her cardinal rules. Her body would be on the auction block for sale to the highest bidder.

  “Something stirs,” Bella announced as she walked through Anne’s open door.

  “Will you ever knock? I might have been entertaining a lover,” Anne chided.

  Bella’s laughter erupted as she shut the door. “That is not likely, Mistress Innocence. The only lover you’d entertain is Demon Gabriel, and you’re far too timid to even imagine the possibility, let alone take action. Besides, you left the door open. Is everything in order for tonight?”

  “Of course.” Anne’s expression became serious. “I was followed this morning on my way to the apothecary.”

  Bella crossed the room and made herself comfortable on Anne’s bed. “From the house?”

  “Near Meg’s rag shop, which I discovered offers an excellent view of the brothel’s front door.”

  “I assume the demon is dead.”

  Anne’s fists clenched. “It was an undead, and yes he’s no longer among the living. Sometimes I wonder how Mephistopheles manages to remain a threat with creatures so stupid.”

  “How goes the investigation?” Bella asked.

  “Demon Gabriel agreed. Of course he wasn’t satisfied with just an invitation to the auction.” Her attempt to hide her irritation failed and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “He insisted on a condition. One night in his bed. I had to agree but I did add a condition of my own.”

  Her sigh came from deep in her chest. “I will be on the auction block tomorrow and he must bid for the night like the others. He will not succeed since I have no intentions of sharing Demon Gabriel’s bed.”

  Bella’s laughter only worsened her mood. “It’s not a laughing matter, Bella.”

  “Oh yes it is. You have no idea how many men would beggar themselves to bid on a night with you. And you put yourself up for information.” Her laughter finally contained, Bella’s mood became sober. “What will you do if Betsy is the danger to Holland’s League?”

  “Whatever is required. If she is a demon’s pawn, she dies along with her master when I learn his name,” Anne stated fiercely. “I won’t allow anyone or anything to harm these women, Bella. No one. Fate has placed them under my protection.”

  Bella walked over and wrapped her arm around Anne’s shoulder. “I will guard your back, Tamahaq. As always.”

  With a giggle, she tugged Anne over to her wardrobe and flung open the doors. She peeked inside before she pursed her lips and eyed her friend.“ What will you wear for the auction? He’s expecting Anne Holland so you can’t wear the costume of a harem dancer.”

  “Oh but I can. I will not attend as Anne Holland but as myself. The costume you’ve chosen will suit my plans quite nicely. Demon Gabriel’s only purpose is to get me into his bed. What I’m wearing hardly matters.”

  “Oh but it does, Tamahaq. He will be expecting the mistress of Holland’s League. If it were any other man, the less you wear, the more he’ll pay to see you naked. Demon Gabriel doesn’t strike me as that kind of man. Will you trust me to dress you?”

  Anne hesitated, wondering if she’d flung herself into the proverbial fire. Admitting she had little choice if she wanted information about Betsy,
she shrugged. “Of course, as long it’s similar to what the other ladies wear.”

  “It will be,” Bella grinned. “Only better.”

  Anne looked up when someone pounded on her door. She walked over and opened it. Her heart skipped a beat as she stared openmouthed at a bloodied O’Brien.

  “It’s not mine,” he reassured her. “You need to come quick before she dies.”

  Anne and Bella followed him to a small room at the rear of the house. Anne halted. For a brief moment she was unable to take another step into the room. Death was everywhere in the small space. She forced the bile back down her throat and walked over to the cot, looking down at what was left of the human the woman had once been.

  The woman’s throat and chest had been torn almost to shreds. Her body lay contorted on the bed and Anne knew not a single bone remained unbroken. Whoever committed this atrocity was sending a message. “Where did you find her?”

  “She was dumped outside the kitchen door. One of cook’s helpers stumbled over her when he took the slops out. Is she one of us?”

  Anne swallowed heavily and laid her hand on the woman’s damaged wrist. Her pulse was faint but Anne was certain she’d be able to see the woman’s life thread.

  “She is ready to die, Tamahaq,” Bella said softly.

  “I know but I need to learn who did this to her and why.”

  Heat warmed Anne’s belly and she focused her awareness on the dying woman. The internal damage was extensive and Anne had to work her way through a tangled skein of nerves and muscle. Then she saw it. The faint flickering of orange. She sent a healing compulsion to the thread and it became a solid light. She entered the woman’s mind. What is your name?

  Abigail. Please release me, it hurts too much.

  Anne’s thumb gently stroked the woman’s wrist. I need to see who did this to you. Will you share your memories with me?

  Will you let me die?

  I will release you and you may choose.

  The woman’s memories suddenly flooded into Anne’s mind and she gasped sharply as she fell to her knees. Her fingers went to her throat as she struggled to breathe. What had been done to Abigail was beyond comprehension since she possessed no magic. She had been violated simply because she worked in a brothel.

  Sorting through the tortured chaos of Abigail’s mind, Anne organized the mnemonic fragments until they formed a picture of what happened to the woman. Abigail had been taken from her bed before dawn. The demon transported her to St. Saviour’s churchyard and cruelly abused her. When the demon tired of his game, he summoned an undead and told him to feed as he wished, then he was to deliver Abigail to Holland’s League and the constables summoned.

  Abigail’s torment lasted for hours. The undead’s sharp fangs and nails slicing strips of flesh from her torso the way a butcher stripped cattle hide to make rope. The undead took pleasure in puncturing her body, carefully avoiding Abigail’s heart and lungs, and feeding on the blood from her wounds. When she slipped into unconsciousness, the creature tossed her body over his shoulder and brought the dying women to Holland’s League. A malevolent smile on his face, he carved a sign on her thigh and disappeared.

  Be at peace, Abigail. I will avenge you.

  Abigail’s eyelids fluttered for several seconds and a faint twist of her lips acknowledged Anne’s promise. Once Abigail’s life thread stilled, Anne rose to her feet. “Leave us.”

  Both Bella and O’Brien started to protest. Anne turned to face them. “The constables are on their way. The demon behind this will be among them. He can’t enter but he controls them. I will join you as soon as I can.”

  Bella nodded and followed O’Brien from the room. Anne returned her gaze to the lifeless body on the cot. The peaceful look on the woman’s face was in stark contrast to the devastation Mephistopheles’ creatures had done to her body. The demon made sure the woman knew his name. Arion.

  Anne inhaled slowly and assumed the form of a dragon. A single tear rolled down the dragon’s cheek as it immolated Abigail’s body and the cot. The fire burned steady, with the pure incandescence of a supernatural’s power. No other object in the room was touched by the blaze. When nothing of Abigail remained, not even ash, Anne shifted back to her human body and departed, sealing the room against intruders.

  4

  Gabriel cursed loudly. He had informed all members of his household he didn’t want to be disturbed. He had ignored Martin’s gentle knocking on the library door. The rapid thumps belonged to Jonas who appeared to have no regard for his well-being. When the door hinges creaked and the one person foolish enough to walk in uninvited entered, Gabriel snarled. “Before I am forced to remind you exactly what I am, what do you want, Jonas?”

  The long-time friend and servant ignored his ill-tempered employer and strolled into the room, shutting the door behind him. Jonas’ brown eyes flashed with amusement. “Rumor has it you and Mistress Holland have an arrangement of sorts. Since you’ve not given any woman much of your time, I thought I’d make sure you weren’t suffering brain fever or something.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my brain, though my temper should make you hesitate to pursue the matter.”

  Jonas ignored him as if he hadn’t spoken. “Must admit my surprise when I heard the rumor. She’s not your usual type, my lord.”

  He walked over to the desk and, pushing his sleeve past his elbow, extended his arm. Gabriel felt the slight discomfort as his canines lengthened, forcing his lips to part. His sharp teeth punctured Jonas’ wrist and the soft sound of suckling filled the air as rich, warm blood flooded his veins. He slowly retracted his fangs and swiped his tongue across the tiny pricks. In an hour’s time, the marks would no longer be visible.

  “You must feed, my lord,” Jonas urged. “What you took wasn’t enough.”

  “I will before the auction. Given Mistress Holland’s plump white throat, I might not be able to contain myself if we’re left alone. Speaking of the brothel, how did you hear about my arrangement with the lovely bawd?”

  “O’Brien, who else? Seems Mistress Holland don’t entirely trust you, or men in general despite getting wealthy off our cocks. He boasted that whatever you had planned wouldn’t happen.”

  Jonas walked over to a cushioned chair and lowered himself on the seat. “Care to tell me what’s between you and Mistress Holland?”

  “Just an amusing little game we’re playing.”

  Jonas snorted. “Little game my arse. She’s hired you for something. You might as well spill the porridge or I’ll nag you to death.”

  Gabriel laughed. “At times you’re worse than having a wife or a mistress.” His smile faded. “It seems the newest addition to her stable, Betsy, is a bit of a puzzle to Anne Holland.”

  Jonas stretched his legs out. Rubbing his chin, he frowned. “Mistress Holland isn’t the only one who finds Betsy a conundrum. From what I hear, none of the serving girls are fond of her. Two of ‘em refuse to have anything to do with her. Says she thinks she’s above ‘em. Always ordering ‘em about as if she were running Holland’s League.”

  “I assume Cassie is as reliable as ever.”

  Jonas nodded. “Says Betsy’s demon-spawned.”

  “What do you think it is?”

  “Since you’re the only demon-spawn I know hard to say. You’ve met the girl, my lord. Do you think Cassie has the right of it?”

  “I’ve seen her just once. If she is demonic or supernatural she hides it well.”

  Gabriel placed his elbows on his desk and templed his fingers. He leaned his chin on his thumbs, his forehead furrowed in thought.

  “Something is amiss with Holland’s League, Jonas. The house draws me as strongly as the scent of blood, which is strange since Mistress Holland and her ladies aren’t demons or appear to be controlled by them.”

  “Are you sure, my lord? Our search for Anselmo brought us to her door. I’ve caught sight of a few undead over near St. Saviour’s. Hear O’Brien’s been finding dead women near Holland
’s League; their bodies all tore up and marked. Yesterday, a woman landed on the back step of the brothel. Hours later an undead was found in St Saviour’s churchyard.”

  “How did he die?”

  “Couldn’t get much out of O’Brien but Cassie said he was mumbling about piles of ashes and beheading. Something is afoot and Holland’s League is the lodestone.”

  Gabriel rose and walked over to the door. “I agree. I do hope Mephistopheles’ creatures are at fault. It’s been some time since I’ve tasted blood that wasn’t human.”

  A clock chimed eight notes as Gabriel sauntered into Holland’s League. The entrance hall was brightly lit and voices, all male, rubbed against his sensitive hearing. Anne Holland will earn a pretty fortune before the night ends.

  He recognized the nasal tones of several men who didn’t belong in the brothel. Men willing to wager what little fortune they possessed. Stoddard, Clare, and Hays were the loudest and the poorest of the lot. Were he endowed with a heart, which he wasn’t, Gabriel might have pitied the wives and families whose financial well-being was suddenly in jeopardy.

  He halted when Ishmael came toward him and bowed his head. “Lord Elstone. Mistress Holland informed us you received an invitation to tonight’s auction.”

  “I suspect she intends to corrupt me and wishes an audience.”

  Ishmael chuckled and waved toward a door. “I doubt you can be corrupted, my lord. Although if there is a woman who might do so, it will be my mistress. Enjoy your night and may your bid be successful.”

  “It will,” Gabriel drawled as he strolled toward the room where Malcolm stood guard.

  Gabriel heard laughter and the clink of glasses. With a wave of his hand, the Scot directed him inside and closed the door. He glanced around before he made his way to an empty chair. Ten men were sprawled on chairs or stood nervously waiting for the spectacle to begin. The room, which usually served as the Hazard room, had been recast as a fanciful incarnation of an Englishman’s vision of a Turkish harem.