Scholar of Decay (33 page)

“I’m not sure I should give you my hand.” Louise peered at Dmitri through lush lashes, her fingers held back just out of his reach. “You look as though you’d like to bite it off.”

“Not your hand!” Dmitri objected vehemently, capturing it and covering the back with heated and enthusiastic kisses. “I worship this hand. I adore this hand. This is the hand of the most beautiful woman in the world, to whom I have lost my heart.”

“Yes, yes.” With a toss of her head Louise dismissed his continuing vows of infatuation. While approving of the content, she was beginning to find the boy’s extreme moods a tad tedious. “Whose hand would you like to devour then?”

“My arrogant brother’s!”

“Of course.” Lowering herself gracefully to the settee, she patted the red velvet cushions beside her. “Sit down and tell me all about it.”

“All about it? That’s just it.” He sat where she indicated and turned an indignant face to hers. “I don’t know anything about it
because Aurek doesn’t see fit to tell me. Edik knows what’s going on. Edik can go into Aurek’s precious study. But not me!”

“Who,” Louise asked, “is Edik?”

“Aurek’s servant. Been with him for years.”

Louise frowned. She supposed that the servants at the chateau had names, but even those who’d survived with the family for years had never presumed to burden her with them.

“Take today,” Dmitri went on, pleased by his companion’s interest and completely unaware she expected to hear about Lucien’s untimely death. “He went out as he always does, looking for magical junk, and something went really wrong. He ended up in the sewers, and then went rolling through ashes, and it turns out that something really important he went to get was destroyed. But did he tell me, his brother, all this? No. He told a servant. I’m not good enough for him.”

“Ashes?”

“Yeah, there was ash smeared all over his clothes.”

“Did this … Edik, did he tell you what had been destroyed?”

“No.” His voice rose. “Nobody tells me anything!”

“Don’t shout.” She laid a finger against his mouth. He began to nibble on it, then up her arm, then across her shoulder to her lips. Distracted by her thoughts, she responded absently. Had the workshop been destroyed? It certainly sounded as if it had. While continuing the estrangement between Dmitri and his brother was still her best path, it did leave holes in the information she received. Curiosity finally got the better of her, and she pushed Dmitri aside.

Surprised to find himself suddenly thrown into the far corner of the settee, Dmitri pulled himself back into a sitting position and stared at Louise in astonishment. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Rising, she smiled down at him. “I just
remembered I had plans for this evening. Can you show yourself out?”

“Louise …” Mouth open, he watched her leave the library, certain of only one thing—stopping her would not be a good idea. “Oh, plans for this evening,” he repeated in hurt disbelief. Snatching up hat, gloves, and coat, he headed despondently for the door. “I’m sure.”

As he crossed in front of a crimson, wingback chair, he stepped on a large, dark stain in the carpet that squelched under his boot. The smell rising up from it was vaguely familiar, sweetish and not entirely unpleasant. On any other evening, he’d have mentioned the wet area to someone, but tonight he didn’t see why he should.

Because he never looked behind him, he never saw that the single footprint he left was a sticky red-brown.

Safely hidden in the shadows, Jean Renier watched Dmitri Nuikin leave the chateau and scuff his way toward the northeast bridge. It seemed that cousin Louise was finished with him early tonight. Ears pricked forward, eyes glittering in the starlight, the wererat followed close behind, disdainful of human senses. Good. He’ll have more time for me.

Aurek Nuikin had killed his brother. So he would kill the brother of Aurek Nuikin.

All afternoon, his fear of Louise had fought with his growing rage over Lucien’s death. It wasn’t right that a human should kill a member of the family. He gnawed at the problem, chewing it over from every angle, and he finally came up with a solution he felt even Lucien would’ve been proud of.

Jacqueline would be angry when she discovered a member of the family had been killed—her protection would not extend to cover
the killer. She would, as head of the family, want revenge. But Jacqueline was in Mortigny; no one knew when she’d be back, so he’d take revenge for her. Then he’d run to Jacqueline’s side, and she’d protect him from Louise.

Tail tucked tight to his body for warmth, he crept closer. He would do it on the bridge, attacking from behind, throw the body in the water, and be safe with the Lord of Richemulot before the scavengers finished eating.

His mood black, Dmitri raised the collar of his greatcoat and stepped out onto the bridge. While Aurek’s preference for a servant’s company over his own hadn’t surprised him, Louise’s sudden departure had. He’d thought he was important to her. Obviously, he’d been wrong.

“No one in this entire city cares if I live or die,” he muttered dramatically, cresting the slight arc and staring down at the esplanade on Craindre Island. Although it was nearly full dark and a chill wind swept down the river from the north, he could see clumps of people moving about under the lamps.

Back in Borca, the middle and lower classes would be readying for bed, but in Pont-a-Museau the shops and cafés opened late and stayed open into the night. The family preferred it that way.

“Isn’t that the little Nuikin?”

“Where?”

“There. On the bridge.”

Chantel peered along the path of Henri’s—suddenly unsure, she checked the scent—no, Aubert’s pointing finger. “I wonder what’s wrong?”

“Now, why do you think something’s wrong?” Yves asked with exaggerated concern. “Surely even you can’t read his expression from here.”

“Just look at him!” Chantel snapped, becoming increasingly tired of Yves’s attitude. “He’s walking as if he just lost his best friend.”

“Perhaps Cousin Louise kicked him out,” Georges offered.

Yves shook his head at the sudden light in Chantel’s eyes. “Don’t get your hopes up,” he said sarcastically. “Even if she has kicked him out, that wouldn’t necessarily mean she’s finished with him.”

“She’s toying with him.” Annette slid her hands into the velvet muff hanging around her neck and cocked her head appreciatively in Dmitri’s direction. “Toying with him like a rat with a bug.”

“And here’s poor Chantel—” Yves took Annette’s arm and rubbed his cheek over the top of her head “—still stupidly hoping to toy with him herself.”

Slowly, Chantel turned. “Who did you just call stupid?”

Annette prudently disentangled herself from Yves’s caresses. He’d used her as a shield before when he wanted to get a rise out of Chantel, but not this time. Her gaze drawn past Chantel’s shoulder, she frowned. “There’s someone on the bridge behind the little Nuikin. Family … not Cousin Louise. It’s a male and he’s hunting!”

Yves snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. Louise has claimed him and no one in the family, except possibly you,” he directed pointedly at Chantel, “would be stupidly suicidal enough to challenge that.”

“Not everyone in the family is as terrified of Louise as you are,” Chantel snarled.

Georges stepped cautiously between them. When they fought, the whole group took sides, and he still had a half-healed bite on his leg from the last time. “You’ve both forgotten that Herself is protecting him.”

“Jacqueline isn’t here!” Chantel pushed by him, shoving him so
hard he slammed into Yves, who jerked aside and let him crash to the cobblestones. Skirts whipping around her ankles, Chantel raced for the bridge.

“You don’t actually think she’d ever challenge Louise over the little Nuikin, do you?” Henri asked as Georges picked himself up.

Yves snorted again. “Don’t ask me. I stay well out of anything the women in this family are doing.”

“Very wise,” Annette murmured quietly.

Dmitri jerked back as Chantel seemingly appeared out of nowhere at his side. “Where did you come from?”

“Down there.” Her other hand tucked snugly into the crook of his elbow, she pointed to the esplanade. “I didn’t exactly sneak up on you, but I guess you were thinking about other things.”

“Yeah,” he muttered despondently, “I guess I was.”

“Were you on your way to join us?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t even know you were there.”

“Oh.”

Her tone of hurt disappointment was so obvious it cut through his own misery. “I’m sorry, Chantel. But I wouldn’t be very good company even if I did join you.”

“Please. It’s like something’s missing now when you’re not there.” Pressed close to his side, she smiled hopefully up at him, wondering if she were laying it on just a bit thick.

Apparently not.

Well, at least someone wanted him. He smiled back at her. “I didn’t really have anything else to do.”

As they started to walk toward the others, Chantel turned her head and showed her teeth at the humped shadow nearly on Dmitri’s heels.

Although Chantel’s warning was clear, Jean did not consider Chantel herself a threat. She was young; he could beat her easily, especially now, when layers of fashionable clothing would hinder her change. But because she was young, she still kept a group of friends close about her, and he had no intention of finding himself in the midst of six-to-one odds.