Chris saw a well-dressed couple standing outside the locked entrance, and set aside the ten thousand other questions she had. "Here we go."
Helen Moran usually didn't like the boys her daughter, Jane, brought home, but for once she'd found herself a nice, quiet boyfriend. He wore the most unusual cologne—it reminded Helen of the pomfrey cakes her aunt used to send her from England—and it seemed to fill the air whenever he came near her. Jane explained that she'd met him at the shelter where she'd been working off her community-service sentence.
He was so thin and tired he could speak only in a whisper, and Helen felt so bad about his being homeless that she had immediately offered to let him stay as long as he liked in their spare room.
Later she'd seen Jane go into the spare room, but Helen didn't mind. Her daughter was almost an adult, and certainly mature enough to have an intimate relationship with a man. She'd listened outside the door, but the sounds of pleasure Janey made reassured her. Her new boyfriend was obviously a very skillful lover: something every girl should have at least once in her life.
Helen had been a little startled when he'd come into her bedroom late that night, but then he'd whispered what he needed into her ear, and she'd moved over to make room for him. That he wanted to have sex with her didn't bother Helen at all. Janey was very young, of course, and she didn't have the experience her mother did with men. That and Helen hadn't been to bed with any man since her ex-husband had left her for a twenty-two-year-old bookkeeper's assistant at his accounting firm.
The sex she had with Jane's new boyfriend had blown Helen's mind. She'd done things with him that she'd never imagined, much less tried. She was still a little sore from the long hours he'd used her.
If only they had time to do it again before they left.
Jane did look a little pale as they got ready to go out, but Helen put that down to her daughter's endless obsession with dieting. She was so happy that was all over. From now on things were going to be so good for her and Jane. Her new boyfriend would take care of them. He'd take care of everything.
"You remember where he wants you to park the car?" Helen asked. She would be busy watching the side door for him, and she worried that Jane might forget his instructions.
"Sure, Mom. Right next to the emergency exit." Jane's smile widened as he came into Helen's bedroom. "Did you sleep okay?"
He nodded.
"That suit never looked that good on my ex-husband." Helen wanted to hug him, but settled for a touch on his arm. "Can I get you anything before we go?"
He curled his hand around her neck and drew her closer. Helen's eyes closed as he kissed her neck, and she moaned when she felt his teeth pierce her skin. It was over too soon for her, and she clutched at him until he removed her hands and reached for Jane.
Once he had been satisfied, Helen drove them all to the boutique downtown where she worked. She closed the shop at five, but as the manager, she had the alarm codes and the master keys to the building, so there was no problem getting back in through the service entrance. The old basement door had been painted over, but he was so strong it opened for him the first time he pushed on it. Once he had walked through the old underground passage that ran the length of the street, he came back up into the shop.
"Move the car to the side of the building," he whispered to Jane. "Keep the engine running."
After her daughter left, Helen went to stand with him by the windows and watched the people going into the gallery next to the boutique. "Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?"
"You will wait here." As he spoke, the sweet smell of pomfrey cakes intensified. "When Jane returns from the airport, you will forget everything that has happened between us."
"Wait. Jane. Forget." Helen's eyes teared as part of her, the part that loved him, fought the need to obey. "But can't Janey and I come with you?"
"No, madam." He looked through the window. "I leave your country tonight."
As all of the seigneurs had not yet arrived for le conseil supérieur, Geoffrey invited Michael and Alex to join him that evening for an informal get-together with the ones who had.
"Gilanden will wish to play billiards, and Tristan will mope until someone plays a song on the pianoforte that he can sing to. Which would be none of those that have been written since music was invented." Geoff laughed at his own joke and turned to Alex. "Are you musical, my lady?"
"Sorry, I can't even whistle in tune." Alex glanced through the window and spotted Braxtyn out in the gardens. "If you boys don't mind, I think I'll go hang out with Brax. She promised to show me how not to get lost." When Michael gave her a puzzled look, she added, "Walking through Geoff's labyrinth."
Michael kissed her brow. "Enjoy yourself."
Braxtyn and several of her maids were gathering flowers in baskets, but as soon as she saw Alex coming toward her she handed hers to one of the women. "Good evening, my lady. I see you successfully evaded the men."
"They're going to shoot pool and gossip," she told her. "And someone named Tristan is probably going to sing."
"Perhaps we should call it a most fortunate escape." She winked. "I had intended to come in search of you. Geoff and I were hoping we could persuade you to look in on some of our patients in the hospital."
Alex perked up. "You have a hospital? Here?"
Braxtyn nodded. " 'Twas necessary to convert the basement level into a ward for the burn victims. Lord Gabriel and Lady Nicola have been bringing survivors of Brethren attacks to us from France, Spain, and Italy for some months now."
"Michael told me," she said. "Are you having any problems with the patients?"
"To be frank, yes." Braxtyn's smile faded. "Many come to us with wounds that do not heal. Geoffrey told me today that you were once a surgeon who specialized in repairing humans with such wounds. I do not know if you can do anything for our patients, but I would be grateful if you would examine them."
Alex agreed, stopping only to retrieve her medical case and one of her white lab coats to wear over her dress. She didn't need the coat, but felt it gave her an appearance of authority—something she always needed when dealing with injured Kyn. She found a clip in one of her coat pockets and put the end of it in her mouth as she began dragging back her curls and twisting them with both hands.
"How many have you got down there?" she asked around the clip.
Braxtyn thought for a moment. "Twenty at present, I believe. Lord Gabriel and his lady are tracking a cell in Portugal that is attacking Kyn strongholds there, so I expect at least a dozen more will be brought to us before the end of le conseil supérieur."
Alex secured the bundle she'd made of her curls with the slide, and picked up her case. "Who's been treating the patients who are here now?"
"Geoff and I do what we can." Braxtyn spread her hands out. "Under the circumstances, bringing human physicians here is dangerous, and we have no doctors among the Kyn, my lady. At least, not until you came to us."
Alex nodded. Because of their unique physiologies, the Kyn couldn't go to hospitals or have any sort of conventional medical treatment. "How serious are their injuries?"
"Very grave, but it is their mental state that concerns me." The other woman's expression grew sad. "Two lost limbs during the attacks on their strongholds, and chose to end their lives. Another, Lady Blanche, was so badly burned that she is permanently disfigured. I fear she is on the brink of suicide."
"We'll just see about that." Alex headed for the door.
Two of Geoffrey's men stood guard on either side of a wide elevator in an unoccupied section of the house. They bowed to the women but remained silent and alert.
Once they were inside and the doors closed, Alex saw multiple lights on the control panel. "How far down is this basement?"
"Geoff had Sir Robert put in four lower levels, and about a dozen escape tunnels," Braxtyn said. "He's never trusted the stability of the human government, not since Cromwell banned Christmas. That, and he never forgot what happened to the families who were left behind during the jardin wars."
"That was a long time ago," Alex said. "Do you really need to post guards inside the house?"
Braxtyn nodded. "In these times, with the way the Brethren have been attacking us… I think you will understand better when you see what the zealots have done to our people. It is why our seigneurs are prepared to take drastic measures."
"How drastic?"
"Most of the Kyn are in favor of war," Braxtyn said. "Geoff and I do not support counterattacks on the Brethren, as they would surely expose our kind to the world. But so many have died, and their blood kin are very angry."
"Michael and I are on your side." Alex wondered what the other woman would say if she knew that Alex's brother had once been a Catholic priest, used by the order to get to her and Michael. "We'll do what we can to keep the peace."
The "hospital" was more like a barracks, if a luxury hotelier had designed and furnished it. Crystal chandeliers cast sparkling light over two rows of large antique beds. Fine lace draperies cascading down from carved posts and canopies gave the beds' occupants a measure of privacy. Bowls of pretty potpourri occupied three-legged tea tables between each bed. Dozens of Persian rugs covered the floor, making an expensive patchwork under Alex's feet. At the end of the makeshift ward, classical music played soft and low from an elaborate, high-tech stereo system.
Nowhere did Alex see nurses, orderlies, medical supplies, or anything useful in treating patients. Then she breathed in and realized why Braxtyn had set so many bowls of potpourri next to the beds.
"Are you keeping any dead bodies down here?" Alex asked as she went to the first bed.
Braxtyn was breathing through her mouth. "Not unless someone has died since this morning."