From Fear to Eternity: An Immortality Bites Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page B

right?”
    Thierry shook his head. “No, I don’t believe Atticus would choose a method like this. He would prefer a much more direct attack.”
    I put the glass down and gave Thierry every ounce of my attention. “Then who was it?”
    When he didn’t answer, I drew close enough to touch his arm. He flinched away from me. “Please, Sarah. You need to keep your distance from me until I fully regain my control. I might not be able to stop next time.”
    Before I could say anything in reply to thatchilling warning, he turned and left the library, headed back toward the parlor. I followed after him, trying not to get too close. For now.
    Thomas, the butler, walked past us and Thierry stopped him.
    “Yes, sir?”
    “I need to know the identity of the host of this party.”
    “That will be revealed very shortly, sir, I assure you.”
    Thierry scanned the room. “Suddenly I’m not all that patient. I need to know who the host is, and I insist on knowing right now.” He raised his voice enough to catch the attention of the others in the room. Conversation hushed. Atticus Kincade watched us curiously from his position next to Tasha Evans.
    “I suppose it is finally time we get this party started.” A deep voice cut through the silence. A man in a black tuxedo entered the room and moved toward us. He had light brown hair and green eyes. A smile curled the corners of his mouth.
    Thierry stared at him with shock on his normally hard-to-read face.
    “You—” he began.
    “Long time no see,” the man said. “Hi,Dad.”

Chapter 3
    M aybe it was all in my imagination, but I swear the entire room went deathly silent as that word echoed all around, bouncing off the walls covered in tasteful paintings with gilded frames and threading through the crowd of invited guests.
    Dad?
    Excuse me?
    “Sarah,” Thierry said. All expression had left his face. All tone or emotion had left his voice. He’d suddenly become the Thierry who wore an impenetrable mask of icy composure, rather than the passionate yet dangerous Thierry I’d just been alone with. “This is Sebastien Lavelle.”
    “Sarah Dearly.” Sebastien turned to me and thrust out his hand. I shook it automatically. “I’ve heard all about you.”
    I just stared at him. “Sorry I can’t say the same. Did you call Thierry
Dad?
”
    “I did. Thierry and I go way back.”
    “He’s your . . . father?”
    “No,” Thierry said. “I’m his sire.”
    Sebastien smiled. “Same difference.”
    “No, it isn’t.”
    I tried to rein myself in and appear as calm asThierry did. I was still busy processing the information about Atticus, as well as the disturbing idea that someone had spiked Thierry’s drink with blood, so I had to shuffle both troublesome subjects off to the side in my mind to make space for this. My brain was getting as crowded as this room.
    I needed time to deal with this. Unfortunately, calling a time-out wasn’t exactly an option right now.
    And I felt like there was something else, too. Wasn’t there? Something important that I’d managed to forget . . .
    Whatever. If I’d forgotten it, it couldn’t have been all that important.
    Sebastien crossed his arms over his chest. “Thierry didn’t sire enough fledglings to warrant a full-scale reunion. I think we could be counted on one hand. A few fingers, actually. He didn’t care for the responsibility a good sire is required to take for a fledgling. He preferred to—how would you put it, Thierry?—forget about us?”
    There was more than an edge of contempt in that statement.
    Call me crazy, but I thought I had a good idea who might have spiked Thierry’s drinks. The waves of animosity rolling off this guy were nearly surfable.
    “
Mon dieu!
Sebastien, my darling!” Veronique made her way through the swell of guests now elbow to elbow in the parlor, her Louboutins clicking noisily against the floor.
    “Veronique,” he said warmly.
    She beamed at him before kissing him on both cheeks.