All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [300]
It was a childish dream that she could love again or that her family could ever be whole.
She sighed.
A pity she had not the courage to cut Louis from her heart. Had that been selfishness or foolishness?
She looked across the walkway and saw moonlight flicker like a thousand fish upon the waters of the Canal Grande of Venice. Lovers strolled arm in arm by the sidewalk café. A breeze ruffled the jasmine in their planter boxes and filled the air with their cloying scent.
She was surrounded by people in love in the most romantic city on Earth . . . ironic, because she was alone.
This was the spot where she and the then-masked Louis Piper had talked all night, waxed poetic about life and longings and how only simpletons fell in love. As the dawn had broken upon the canal and tinged the silver waters red, they had lifted one another’s masks—and she had felt the piercing of her heart, and known that she was a simpleton, too.
Love.
Cornelius had told her even the Primordial Ones had loved after a fashion, although it had been a savage thing compared with the refined emotions of their Age.
The waiter came and refreshed her cup of minted Turkish coffee. “Still waiting, madam?”
She nodded.
Indeed, what a simpleton she was then and now. She rose from her seat and straightened her silver silk gown. She had dressed for the opera with matching arm-length gloves, pearls, and heels—all courtesy of Madame Cobweb. Her effort wasted.
She was about to turn and walk away, when she spotted him.
Louis, the Grand Deceiver, and the only man who could so irritate her, hurried through the crowds. When he saw her, his face lit with all the passion and intensity she remembered from their first morning together. He wore a tuxedo with tails and diamond studs—and turned every woman’s head.
“Audrey, beloved,” he said, and reached for her hands (which she pulled away). “I would have rather died than be late, but there was something of the utmost importance that required my personal attention.”
He implored her to sit, and she reluctantly did so.
“Really?” She mustered as much icy sarcasm as she could, and yet Atropos, Cutter of all Things, and Death incarnate, felt her heart flutter and her pulse race with warmth she thought she would never feel again.
A black cat leaped onto the linen-covered table between them—its tail fluffing into Louis’s face.
Louis stiffened and grabbed the animal by the scruff of the neck. In response, the cat’s claws extended and dimpled into the tablecloth, dragging it with him.
“Don’t, Louis.” She gently took the animal and set in the seat next to her.
The waiter stared at the cat, frowning—but Audrey stopped any protest from him with a single glance.
She stroked Amberflaxus and the cat turned and turned and nuzzled her hand for more. “I’m surprised more people haven’t noticed this poor creature by now, and drowned it in a well.”
Louis shrugged. “That might be for the best.”
“You don’t mean that.”
He thought about it a moment. “No.” He narrowed his eyes at the cat, then his gaze roamed over her gown, and his mood brightened. “You look absolutely radiant tonight, my dear.”
Audrey stopped petting Amberflaxus and held up her hand. “Let me make it clear that I came only because you said you wanted to talk about the children.”
His smile flickered to life. “Do you think you can lie to me? About this? Your coquettishness flatters me.”
Audrey closed her eyes. How could she forget? Louis, the Father of Lies, of course, would hear the false words spilling from her lips.
She exhaled. “Yes,” she admitted, “I came for the children and to deal with you once and for all—but mainly for the children.”
His smile turned mischievous, and he reached into his tuxedo and pulled out a folded manila envelope. He pushed it across the table.
Audrey opened the flap. Inside were two sheets of curling vellum that felt rough and cold even through her gloves. She unrolled them and read along the top:
WARRANT OF DEATH
Her breath caught as she scanned the bottom of the page,