The Scarlet Dagger (The Red Sector Chronicles, #1)

Chapter 17

She didn't tell me when she started stitching, which was probably wise on her part. There was a prick, and I tried to focus on something else. All along the walls of the kitchen were more photos of her and the handsome man.

"Who is he?"

She paused, following my gaze. Her face warmed, and I latched on to the feelings of love and affection pouring through me. I had become good at using glamour, thanks to Angel's meditation tip. I could practically control it on a whim now. Almost subconsciously, I reached out with my glamour, coaxing her to tell me. Gradually, I felt the walls around Paris' mind and heart start to crumble. "My husband... my Emile," she said with a sad, wistful smile. "I keep photos of him around so I won't forget him."

I shivered. The way she said his name – kind of breathy, combined with her accent – made it sound so... romantic.

"Where is he?" None of my business, I know, but the wine was making me a tad bolder than normal.

She trembled slightly, her voice barely audible. "He's dead."

I paused mid-sip. "I'm so sorry." I might not like Paris very much, but I wouldn't wish the death of a spouse on anyone.

As she sewed, her eyes misted over. Glamour freely poured out of me and pulled the past from her. "We met at medical school, in Paris, my home city." A warm glow lit up her face. "It was love at first sight. We courted for only a few months before we were engaged, later eloping because we were so eager to be married."

I listened in silence, enthralled. "On our wedding night," Paris continued, "he told me what he truly was – a vampire." She paused with a wicked smile. "He asked me to join him, and I said yes without hesitation. He changed me that night and taught me how to live amongst humans, how to behave civilly and not as a monster. We were very happy."

She swallowed hard. "He was killed by vampire hunters on our one year anniversary. He pushed me out of the way, taking the bullets that were meant for me. I tried to save him, but it was too late. He died in my arms on the very spot where he proposed to me."

I felt like a lead weight had been dropped in my stomach. No wonder she hated me. I was guilty by association, so to speak. I was a hunter, just like the ones who had killed the love of her life. I wanted to say "sorry" again, but it seemed inadequate. Instead, I placed my good hand over hers and squeezed.

Poor Paris.

She gave me a small, tight smile and pulled her hand free to brush away a tear. Tense silence filled the small space between us as she finished stitching up my arm. I laid my head against my good arm – which was draped across the table – and closed my eyes, exhaustion threatening to take me under.

Paris went to the sink, washed out the glass, and then stored away her medical supplies. "Let's get you to the couch before you fall asleep at my kitchen table."

Drowsy from the wine, I staggered to my feet and managed to follow her into the living room before settling onto the couch. In a more motherly manner than I would have guessed possible from her, Paris removed my boots and brought me a fluffy pillow and a blanket. She disappeared into the kitchen and came back a moment later with two red pills and a half glass of water. "For the pain," she said, holding them out to me.

I took the pills and downed them with the water, handing her the empty glass. Before I could even say "thank you," I was fast asleep.

***

Something woke me up, a rustling in the dead of night. Groggily, I pried my eyes open enough to see Paris standing by the door, pulling on a jacket. Rose scented perfume wafted toward me. Her hair had been combed and secured with a clip, her eyes alert and...

I tasted it, the acidity of fear and anxiety. Now that I was starting to wake up, I noticed how truly uneasy she looked.

Where is she going? Did Aden call? It must be two or three in the morning. Maybe someone got hurt, and she's been summoned to the hospital.

When Paris started to glance my way, I hastily snapped my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. A moment later, the door opened and gently clicked shut. I listened to Paris' footsteps as she walked away before throwing aside the blanket and quickly pulling on my boots. The blood-laced wine had helped immensely, and my shoulder didn't seem nearly so sore with the pain killers.

Riding a hunch I couldn't deny, I opened the door and quietly let myself out.

If they won't give me any answers, then I'll have to sleuth some out for myself.

I paused. Damn! I forgot about the tracking chip.

Would Frost be watching me? Though my probation had been lifted, someone could still be keeping tabs.

Paris' footsteps were growing more distant.

It's now or never.

Making up my mind, I picked up the faint trail of rose perfume and used it to guide me as I followed Paris into the night.