Vintage Pride (6 page)

“And what about your partner, Jean-Luc?” Kim asked. “When we first spoke, you said you might be able to persuade him to get involved.”

“I’ve spoken to him and I’m afraid he really doesn’t want to appear on the show. Jean-Luc’s had…a difficult time recently and he’s hoping you’ll respect his privacy.”

Ethan sensed Marcus was holding something back but reckoned now wasn’t the time to pry. They were guests in this man’s home, after all.

“That won’t be a problem,” he assured Marcus. “We always need to have someone’s consent to appear in the finished program before we film them, and if he doesn’t want to give it, that’s fair enough. We’re most interested in speaking to those people who’ve actually experienced any kind of paranormal activity in the château.”

“Well, then you’ll be wanting to talk to Agathe and the kitchen staff.”

Ethan glanced over to where the housekeeper had been standing, only to realize she’d left the room.

“What did they see?” Kim, as always, was the most keen to cut to the chase.

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll fill you on all the details later, but let’s just say people don’t like to be alone in the scullery any longer.” Marcus reached over and helped himself to a sandwich.

“Okay, so we’ll need to set up monitors in that room,” Dex said, obviously beginning to create a checklist for himself. “Where else have there been sightings?”

“Most of what’s been seen and heard has been down on the lower levels of the château,” Marcus replied. “We’ve had a couple of instances of things being left in the cellar for safekeeping, and when someone’s gone to retrieve them, they’ve been found in a different position.”

“And no one could have been down there and moved them?” Ethan asked. He’d looked into supposed poltergeist activity before and found that most of the time it was nothing more than someone playing a clever prank. On one occasion, the owner of the house had actually moved items around while sleepwalking and woken in the morning with no idea of what she’d done. Only when Ethan and Dex had shown her the evidence on camera had the woman’s bizarre nocturnal activities become clear to her.

Marcus shook his head emphatically. “I’ll show you that part of the cellar, Mr. Wayne. You wouldn’t want to go down there after dark unless you absolutely had to—or during the daytime, come to that.”

“One other thing,” Dex cut in. “We’d also like to place some of our recording equipment in the château’s grounds.”

“Really?” Marcus said. “Whatever for?”

“We’d like to look into the tales of the big cat that roars in the night,” Kim said.

To Ethan, it seemed Marcus’ genial smile slipped for a moment. But the Englishman quickly recovered his composure.

“Ah, you’re talking about the mythical savior of the LeBlancs.” He glanced round, clearly sensing he had the attention of everyone in the room. “Ever since the château escaped being overrun during the Revolution, the legend has stated that if the family is ever threatened again, the lion will arise to protect them. It’s a great story, and it’s all down to the LeBlanc crest.”

Marcus rose from his seat then walked over to where the harpsichord stood. He took down a plaque from the wall above it before passing it round so all the crew could get a look at it. “As you can see, the lion is nothing more than a symbol.”

Ethan took the crest from Kim and examined it. It bore the image of a stylized golden beast raised up on its hind legs, against a quartered black-and-white background. Beneath it were the words ‘
fort comme un lion
’. Even with his rusty French, he understood this to mean ‘strong as a lion’.

“Nevertheless,” Dex said, “we’d still like to see if we can pick anything up. I wouldn’t consider we’d done a professional job if we didn’t try.”

Marcus nodded. “Of course. We’ll be happy to give you whatever access you need. And even if you don’t capture anything unusual, I understand there’s going to be a total lunar eclipse on the night of the full moon. That should give you some interesting footage for your program, if nothing else.”

Ethan still couldn’t shake the feeling Marcus knew more than he was letting on. Or maybe his sleep-fuddled brain saw half-truths and evasion where none was intended.

Without Ethan noticing, Agathe had re-entered the room. For the first time, he paid attention to the dark smudges beneath the housekeeper’s eyes and the paleness of her skin. He wondered just exactly what she thought she’d seen that made her so afraid to spend time on her own in a certain part of the château.

“The guest rooms are ready if you would like to follow me upstairs,” she announced.

“If I don’t see you before, I’ll join you for dinner,” Marcus said. “And tomorrow I’ll arrange for you all to have a tour of the vineyard—and sample our Champagne, of course.”

“Now you’re talking,” Leon said with a grin.

Ethan snatched up another sandwich—goat’s cheese and sun-dried tomato this time—and allowed Agathe to lead the way. She took them up the wide, curving main staircase and down a narrow corridor. She paused before the first door she came to.

“
Mademoiselle
Kim, this is your room.” Agathe opened the door.

Ethan caught a glimpse of a four-poster bed, with a gauzy, draped canopy. Kim’s little squeal of delight let him know just what she thought of her accommodation.

“Next door to you is the
salle de bain
, the bathroom,” Agathe went on. “I am afraid you will have to share it with whichever of the gentlemen take the adjoining bedroom. When the château was built, the concept of
en suite
bathing had not yet become common.” She gave a small smile. “Now, as
Monsieur
Marcus neglected to tell me that there would be five people staying with us, I cannot give each of you a room of your own. Even a house as grand as this only has a certain amount of living space.”

“Oh, that’s not a problem,” Dex assured her. “We’ve shared rooms before. And anyway, most of the time we’re busy with our investigative work.”

“But I’m not bunking with Pete again,” Leon piped up. “Not the way he snores.”

“Hey!” Pete sounded offended. “I do
not
snore.”

“You oughta hear yourself, man,” Leon retorted. “It’s like sleeping with a buzz saw when you get going.”

“Guys…” Dex stepped in to keep the peace. “I’ll go in with Pete. When I lived in Oakland, we had an earthquake one morning that measured five point four on the Richter scale. The condo shook so hard all the paintings fell off the wall, the china in the cabinet broke. I slept through the whole thing. So a little snoring ain’t gonna bother me none.”

“Looks like it’s you and me, Ethan,” Leon said, picking up his carry-on bag.

“Fine by me,” he replied. By now, Ethan was so tired he could have happily slept on a pallet of straw on the floor.

Pete and Dex took the room alongside the bathroom. Agathe led Ethan and Leon up a more steeply winding staircase. The windows here were narrow slits, and Ethan realized they must be in one of the château’s turrets.

“Here we are,” Agathe said. She opened a door and led them into a small room, simply furnished in contrast to the opulence downstairs. A comfortable-looking double bed was piled high with pillows, and a chest of drawers offered the two men space to store their clothes.

“This looks nice,” Leon said, nodding in obvious approval of his surroundings.

“The bathroom is just across the way,” Agathe told them. “There are plenty of towels but if you need anything else, just ask.”

“Is this the top level, or is there anything above us?” Ethan didn’t know what prompted him to ask.

“There is another bedroom,
oui
, but that won’t be of any interest to you. Now, I shall leave you to rest.”

Agathe withdrew from the room, leaving Ethan wondering why she’d dealt with his question so abruptly.

Leon threw himself on the bed. “Nice, firm mattress.” He pressed it with his palms as if to emphasize the point. Then he sat up to unlace his boots.

Ethan busied himself stowing his possessions in one of the drawers. When he looked over to the bed again, Leon was pulling off his T-shirt, revealing a wiry torso with a liberal covering of chest hair. Even though the lanky, highly strung sound man wasn’t his type, he caught himself staring for a moment longer than he ought to have as Leon started to undo his jeans.

He snapped back to attention, aware of a growing fullness in his bladder. “I’m gonna use the bathroom, if that’s okay by you.”

“Sure, man,” Leon replied.

Ethan grabbed his wash bag. He crossed the hall, finding himself in a compact bathroom that had a shower stall but no tub. Having relieved himself, he ran water into the basin and washed his face and hands. Glancing at his reflection in the mirror, he pushed his fingers through his hair. He couldn’t help thinking he should have gotten a trim before they’d left LA.

Though you should try growing it a little. Go for a new look. Maybe see if you can rock some facial hair…

Laughing at his sudden attack of vanity, he let himself out of the bathroom.

Chapter Six

Jean-Luc hurried down the stairs. His bare feet slapped on the stone steps but he didn’t feel the cold. All he intended to do was grab some bread and cheese from the pantry, then return to his room and his reading.

The latest issue of the mediaeval history newsletter to which he subscribed had arrived in his inbox an hour ago, and he’d been engrossed in an article about a number of skeletons which had been discovered in an unmarked grave in Bulgaria. The bodies were believed to date back to the thirteenth century and each had been discovered with an iron ploughshare thrust through its chest, supposedly in an attempt to prevent it rising from the dead. This anti-vampire ritual made him think of the many ways his own kind had been persecuted over the centuries and the fear and suspicion with which they had been viewed. No wonder his ancestors had built a stronghold for themselves here at the château, protected by stone walls and iron gates. Even as the LeBlancs had become respected members of society, they had never lost sight of the fact that humans instinctively treated shifters as their enemies.

He stopped for a moment to sniff the air. Was his body playing tricks on him? For the briefest moment, he’d caught an aroma that caused the hairs on the back of his neck to prickle and his cock to stir. The last time he’d had such an instant, visceral reaction to a scent was the day Benoît had walked into his life.

Jean-Luc shook his head. He had to be imagining this. Nothing would ever smell as delicious to him as Benoît had. Wrapped up in fantasies of his mate and the long and happy life they should have had together, he’d merely conjured up an illusion that would surely fade as all the others did.

But the scent didn’t disappear. If anything, it grew stronger the closer he came to the bottom of the stairs.

Perhaps Marcus is right and I really am losing it…

A door opened in front of him and a man stepped out into the hallway. In that instant, Jean-Luc knew this stranger to be the source of the intoxicating spoor.

Who the fuck are you?
And why do you smell so good, so…right?

He couldn’t be having this reaction to a human. Yet the longer he stared at the man, with his dirty-blond hair and his soft gray eyes, the more aroused Jean-Luc grew. He thanked fortune that he wore baggy black sweatpants for if he’d had on anything that fit more tightly, the hard bulge at his groin would have been all too apparent.

The look of surprise on the stranger’s face faded, and his open, handsome features broke into a smile. “Oh, hey, you must be Jean-Luc. Nice to meet you.”

Still struggling to compose his thoughts, Jean-Luc did not return the pleasantry. He merely snapped, “And you are…?”

“Ethan Wayne. I’m part of the
Spirits Seekers
team. We just arrived about half an hour ago.”

That stupid television show. The one he’d fought so hard to convince Marcus it would be a bad idea to get involved with. He’d foreseen so many ways in which inviting paranormal investigators into the château might bring misfortune. He’d never dreamed one of those investigators would be a man who affected him in entirely the same manner Benoît had.

“And you’ve spoken to Marcus?”

“Yes. He’s been very welcoming.”

“I hope he’s told you that I wanted nothing to do with any of it.” His tone was sharp.

“He made it abundantly clear, yes. And I’m sorry if I’m intruding on your private space. It’s just that Agathe put me in the guest room here.”

Merde
. Things had just become a thousand times worse. How was he expected to sleep knowing Ethan was on the floor below him, so close his scent would permeate the whole of this tower? He’d go to Agathe, tell her that he absolutely could not have this man so close to him.

“You must understand that this really is not convenient for me,” Jean-Luc said.

“Well, the way we conduct our investigations, you’re not going to see much of me or my team, unless you’re in any way nocturnal,” Ethan replied.

Was he being mocked? On the verge of telling Ethan to take his equipment and his colleagues and get the fuck out of his home, Jean-Luc salvaged his composure. This man couldn’t have a clue about his true nature. Jean-Luc couldn’t let his paranoid thoughts about the centuries-old distrust between shifters and humans get the better of him.

“As long as you appreciate that the topmost level of this turret is out of bounds at all times, then I think we may be able to reach some kind of accord.”

“Hey, man, we know we’re guests in your house and we’re really grateful for the access we’ve been given. None of us wants to do anything to abuse your hospitality.” Ethan started to yawn and quickly put his palm over his mouth. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to excuse me. My body clock’s shot to hell and I really need to get some sleep.”

As Ethan made to go into his room, Jean-Luc put a hand out to stop him. “Just one last thing. What do you hope to achieve here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Say you find the evidence you’re looking for and you manage to prove whatever’s been happening in this château is the result of some…otherworldly entity.”