Flight of the Crow Read online

  “Sorry, Miss, it hits me sudden like, you know. The urge, I mean, to howl. I guess it be the dead lady.”

  Bryn scanned the room. “We must ignore her and search this place. It’s Priest’s lair. We have to find the dagger.”

  Together they began tossing the flat. Bryn took the kitchen, turning everything out of the cupboards, tapping on panels to listen for hollow places, examining the floor for loose boards. After half an hour of serious searching they met in the middle of the room. “I found nothing; how about you?” Bryn asked.

  “No dagger,” Fingle said. “I did find this rock and this skull.” He displayed the head and a red stone.

  “Fingle! That could be the skull of the Cardinal. Priest must have it to perform his ritual. And the stone is cinnabar. Have a care how you handle it. The stone can be poisonous. When crushed and processed it produces quicksilver. It’s made of mercury and can give you the shakes and even cause death.”

  “Lord, Miss,” he said, and dropped the rock onto the wood flood. “What’s Priest want with it?”

  “For some horrible purpose, I have no doubt.”

  Fingle found an empty carpet bag for the skull and the large red stone. “Think we should be going, Miss. I gets me a bad feeling in me stomach.”

  “You’re right.” She stood beside the dead woman. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to take care of Mistress Chat myself. I would prefer to give her a decent burial, but removing her body will cause an uproar we need to avoid. And we must find Fenix. There is no time to waste.”

  She held her hands in front of her and closed her eyes. A sudden tingle in her chest made her open them again. In front of her wavered the ghost of Mistress Chat. It was plain she was trying to tell Bryn something. “What is it, Chat? Speak to me.”

  The ghost whispered one word, “Priest.”

  Bryn nodded. “I know, he killed you.”

  The ghost violently shook her head.

  “Priest didn’t kill you?”

  Chat pointed to her throat and Bryn nodded. “I’ll look.”

  The ghost of Mistress Chat cried out. Fingle howled and the wind swirled. A brilliant light filled the room and Chat waved goodbye as she drifted toward the ceiling and into the golden glow.

  When the ghost was gone, Bryn knelt beside the body. She lifted Chat’s long black hair away from her neck and saw the puncture wounds. “How could we have missed this, Fingle? She was killed by a vampire. No wonder she’s so pale.” She stood up and thought aloud. “Could Lazarus have done this or some other vampire we know nothing about? Or, could this be a minion of Lazarus’s watching Priest’s rooms? There is much to consider.”

  “Yes, Miss,” Fingle answered. “I think we best be going if you don’t mind me sayin’ so.”

  “I agree, Bryn said. “But first, I must take care of poor Chat’s body. We can’t leave it here.”

  With Fenix’s wand in her right hand, she chanted in Egyptian. The body wavered and grew fainter as she passed the wand back and forth across it and chanted the prayer of the dead. When it was gone, Fingle howled again.

  “Goodbye Chat, you were a good friend. Now let’s get out of here, Fingle. We must find Fenix. See if you can pick up her scent outside.”

  Fingle was right about the church. Priest had taken Fenix to Saint Sulpice. The faithful hound picked up their scent and followed it to the front door of the church. A service was in progress so they were unable to search inside. “He must have some kind of secret chamber inside the church. Maybe that’s where he plans to hold his ritual.”

  Fingle’s nose was working. He sniffed around the edge of the church, his nose wiggling and moving with each deep inhalation. Bryn followed him with one eye on her surroundings. It wouldn’t do to get caught unawares by either Priest, Lazarus or the local law.

  Fingle finally seemed to come to some conclusion. He stood erect and sighed, his drooping eyes sad in his sagging face. “There’s something under this here church, Miss Bryn. Don’t know what, but I smells damp air escaping from the foundation and moldy bones.”

  “The catacombs,” Bryn exclaimed. “There might be an entrance to the catacombs inside the church.” She grabbed Fingle and kissed his huge nose. “You are a wonder. Priest must have Fenix down there in one of the chambers. Let’s go home. I’ll change and we can head for Denfert-Rochereau and the entrance.”

  Fingle followed her back to the house on rue Danville. Bryn knew the minute she walked in Fenix was there. So did Fingle. “Miss Fenix done returned to us.” He intoned mournfully.

  Bryn clapped him on the back. “Yes, I feel her.”

  “She ain’t alone,” he added in the same funeral tone.

  Bryn stopped dead. “Who’s with her?”

  “That man what ain’t dead, but ain’t alive neither.”

  “Lazarus! Oh my. He must have killed Chat. Or why else would he be here?”

  Fingle nodded. “Yup, Lazarus, that be the gentleman.”

  Bryn rushed into the morning room. Fenix sat in a chair with Lazarus pacing back and forth, his dark robes swishing with each turn. “Fenix! Where have you been?”

  Her sister threw herself into Bryn’s arms. “I’m so sorry. I only wanted to be of help. Priest found me and Mistress Chat searching his rooms. Oh, Bryn,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry. She’s dead!”

  Fenix dissolved into tears in Bryn’s arm, crying like the baby she’d just been. Bryn patted her on the back for a few moments, allowing her sister to cry herself out, and then pushed her away to speak to Lazarus. “Did you kill Chat?”

  Lazarus appeared to be stunned by her question. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Why would you think such a thing?”

  “She had two puncture wounds on her throat.”

  “Maybe it was a snake,” Fenix said. “I was dizzy and scared but I may have seen a big black snake.”

  Fingle shook his head. “Didn’t smell me no snake.”

  “It wasn’t a snake,” Bryn snarled. “It was a vampire.”

  Lazarus shook his head. “I know nothing about this.”

  Bryn tilted her head and stared at Lazarus out of narrowed eyes. Did she trust him to be truthful? “Where did you find my sister?”

  “I found Draak Priest. He had her in a cage deep in the catacombs. Fenix was locked inside the cage.”

  Bryn tried to absorb this. “Why did you bring her home?”

  Lazarus chuckled, a dry rasping sound as though it was something he rarely did and his vocal chords were unused to that form of exercise. “I may be what you consider an evil and disgusting creature, but I was once human. A human worthy of our Lord’s notice. He did not see what a hold the evil one had on me. Or maybe he did and my creation was his intention. In any event, even creatures such as I have honor. I will take Fenix only if you fail to procure the dagger.”

  For a moment, hope blossomed in Bryn’s breast, but Lazarus soon shot it down. “If you think I will give her back to you unharmed if you fail to provide me with the dagger, do not be so deceived. I will have her then and you won’t be able to stop me.”

  Bryn bowed curtly. “Are you quite sure you had nothing to do with Mistress Chat’s death? She was drained of all her blood through those puncture wounds.”

  Lazarus’s eyelids fluttered down and then he opened his eyes. “No, I know nothing of this woman. If she was truly drained and it was one of the undead who killed her, I will discover the creature’s identity. He’s poaching on my territory without my knowledge. This I cannot allow.”

  “Will you tell me who did it when you find out?”

  Lazarus’s enigmatic smile didn’t spread any hope in Bryn’s breast. The ancient vampire would do what served his own purposes.

  “Perhaps, if I see you before your deadline.”

  Bryn knew she could ask no more of him. He’d done as much for her as he was willing to do. “Then I will thank you for returning my beloved sister and cordially ask you to leave.”

  His grin revealed sharp canines. “I
was only awaiting your return. Au revoir, until we meet again.”

  Bryn held Fenix by the shoulder as he swept out of the room. When he was gone, she spun her sister around to face her. “Chat was drained by a vampire. I saw the marks on her neck myself. There was no snake.”

  Fenix’s face reflected complete confusion and Bryn recoiled. “I thought I saw one,” Fenix cried. “It bit her and she fell down and lay still as death.”

  Bryn’s brain reeled with this declaration by her sister. “I was just there and Chat’s ghost spoke to me. She pointed to her throat and when I checked the body, there were puncture wounds under her hair high on her neck. She was truly drained. It couldn’t have been a snake.”

  Tears poured down Fenix’s face. “Maybe I was mistaken. Do you really think a vampire killed her? Was it Lazarus?”

  “I don’t know if it was Lazarus. I just know no snake could have drained her of blood. Only vampires do that. Damn!” Bryn swore. She wanted to know who killed Chat. If for no other reason than to discover if Lazarus was lying about killing the older woman or about no longer needing to feed.

  “You do realize someone must open the club tonight and run it,” she snapped at her sister, furious with Fenix and frustrated by the growing list of mysteries she couldn’t seem to solve. “Since you are the reason Chat was there, in danger and killed, it will be you who takes her place.”

  Fenix nodded somberly. “I understand. I’m fully prepared to do what I must to make amends. I can’t begin to express how sorry I am, dearest Bryn. I will try to mend my ways and be a more dutiful and obedient sister.” She paused. “Will you be aiding me or am I on my own?”

  “I must find Chat’s replacement. From what I understand there are two likely candidates among her employees. I will be there to observe them and as support for you.”

  Fenix glared at Bryn from under lowered brows. “And what will your darling Quinn think of that?”

  Bryn strode to the window to stare at the street below. “I don’t know. I guess we will find out.”

  What Quinn thought about her taking over as the chief dominatrix in a sex club was quickly revealed upon his return. She was in her room dressing in the same outfit she had recently worn to give him pleasure. His eyebrows were thunderous and his gray eyes smoldered. “You will not do this!” His voice was sharp and rang with authority.

  She pulled on one thigh-high leather boot with Babbette’s aid and ignored his outburst. “Babbette, lace up this infernal corset.” She turned her back on the maid and stared into Quinn’s angry eyes.

  “You are mine,” he hissed. “I won’t have other men pawing you.”

  Her laugh was a tinkling waterfall of mirth. “Oh Quinn, believe you me, I will not be touched by anyone.” She sucked her breath in as Babbette yanked hard on the strings of her corset.

  Quinn grabbed her shoulders. “This is dangerous. You’ll be in jeopardy.”

  “I can protect myself,” she said in a breathless voice as the corset drew tighter.

  He touched her breasts. “You’re spilling out of this thing. Men will see.” He was practically crying.

  Bryn had trouble controlling laughter. He didn’t want to share her breasts with others. It was a touching sentiment but there was no time for it. “I must. My manager is dead. There is only me. I will only be there long enough to make sure her replacement can run the club successfully.”

  “Close it down,” he demanded. “You don’t need the money.”

  Bryn had to think about that. It was an idea she hadn’t considered. “I will think about it. But in the meantime, there are clients who will come there tonight and expect to receive their pleasure. We have always provided. This club has been open for many years. I would not like to have to shut it down.”

  When Babbette had tied the corset strings, Bryn drew a rich purple velvet cloak around her and picked up her riding whip. “I must leave now.” She pulled Quinn close and kissed him lightly on his frowning mouth. “Do not come down there and cause trouble. I’m begging you.”

  He allowed the kiss but stood stiffly with his arms crossed in front of him.

  “Promise me,” she said.

  He took a deep breath and growled. “If you insist.”

  She laughed and passed by him into the hall. “I do.”

  Chapter 11

  Fenix followed Bryn through the red front door and into the club. Over the door, lettered in gold script, were the words Le Rouge Derriere. It was a discreet sign for a very discreet club.

  She led the way down the long hallway to the office. Once inside Chat’s lair, she stopped. It felt wrong to be here. Chat should be here still in the place she had commanded for so many years. She stood for a moment staring at the huge roll-top desk filled with neatly organized papers, then she took a deep breath, turned and stared at her sister. Fenix was dressed as usual in gold. Her golden skin glowed. Bryn took her sister’s cloak and examined her costume. Fenix wore fishnet stockings, shiny red, high-heeled boots that buttoned to her ankles, a diaphanous gold chemise over a red corset and bustier. Her nipples stuck out over the top of the bustier, two pert pink points thrusting for the ceiling. Under the see-through fabric of the chemise, below the edge of the corset, the red-gold curls covering her mons were clearly visible. She looked like a flame.

  “Go prepare your rooms. Any of the girls who come in send to me and of course, Henri and Grégoire.”

  There were two men working at le Rouge. Henri had been employed at the club for many years. Chat had trusted him implicitly. He could be counted on to keep a level head even though he enjoyed his work. If needed, he was a bouncer and he also inflicted punishment on both women and men. Some men preferred to be punished by a man and many women did. Grégoire was younger and a very pretty man. When some of the men and women wished to punish instead of receiving punishment, Grégoire was there for those who wished a man as a subject. Pain was a heady aphrodisiac for Grégoire, and in private, preferred sex with men. He could perform with women as long as there was pain. Bryn shook her head. Pain was no aphrodisiac for her. She had no need to be humiliated and punished and God protect any man who tried to do so.

  She took Chat’s seat at the desk and scanned the various bills and receipts. The ledger was easy to read. Le Rouge made plenty of money. A scratching at the door announced her first employees. She invited them in and waited until she had the full complement of six, including the two men. When she told them Chat was dead, they were shocked and horrified.

  A tall athletic woman dressed in black velvet with red lace stepped forward. “Miss Bryn, who is going to run the club? You?”

  The woman was Victoire, known at the club as Miss Vicky. She was Bryn’s first choice to take over and run the club. Her second choice was Henri. “I am here to oversee and perhaps choose a successor,” Bryn said. “For now, please carry on as usual. Mistress Fenix will take the special clients usually handled by Mistress Chat until I make a decision.”

  Fenix was overcome with guilt for the part she’d played in Mistress Chat’s death. She swallowed her grief and guilt as she prepared herself to assume Chat’s duties. It would not be right for her to be absorbed in herself when she was supposed to be punishing the club’s willing clients and by so doing, giving them pleasure.

  The special room reserved for certain select members of the club’s client list was ready for the evening. She strode through the room, touched the short stool covered with horse hair, the spanking bench, and the velvet fainting couch. On the wall hung shackles of leather lined with red velvet. Brilliant gold and scarlet flocked paper covered the walls. A gold filigree railing edged the circular stairway leading to the ornately decorated bedroom above her. Various paddles, long-handled brushes, whips, crops, feather dusters hung on a rack on one wall. On another, a shelf held steam-powered equipment invented to cure female hysteria through vulvar stimulation and massage. The assorted attachments for the implement were arrayed on a tray covered with a red-velvet cloth and included several di
ldos of various sizes.

  Ten life-sized sexually explicit statues of men and women in all stages of arousal were placed randomly around the large room. Paintings of naked women in gilt edged frames hung on the wall. A huge mural of a Roman orgy was painted on another. The room was well-lighted with candelabras and gold wall sconces.

  The door opened and Grégoire entered. He wore a black cloak which covered him from head to toe. “Mistress Bryn said the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Monsieur Begnoche, is in the lobby. He was one of Mistress Chat’s special customers. I always help with him.” Grégoire smiled. “He likes to touch me.” He removed the cloak revealing a slim body with swirling black tattoos on his well-muscled arms and chest. His pubic hair had been removed. His long cock swung across clean-shaven testicles to touch smooth boyish thighs.

  “Grégoire, what kind of services does Begnoche require?”

  He cleared his throat. “Uh, Mistress Chat made him strip, tied him to the spanking chair and used the steam thing on his, uh, behind after she whipped him with the number-two paddle.”

  “Thank you, my dear. Please don’t be afraid of me. I’m here to make the clients happy.”

  “I know,” he said in a small voice. “But you are so young and beautiful. I’m afraid I will betray myself.”

  She laughed. “I will consider it a compliment and I doubt if Monsieur Begnoche will have time to worry about it.”

  A scratch at the door announced their client. Fenix opened the door to admit a very young woman dressed in black stockings, high heeled boots and a black corset. Her mound was covered with dark curls and her pink nipples were constricted into long points by brass clips. She ushered in a tall man with broad shoulders, long legs encased in form-hugging buckskins, thick blond hair, side whiskers and the face of a Greek god. His hot eyes absorbed Grégoire and glowed.

  “Thank you, Nina,” Fenix said to the girl. “Please return to your post.”

  The girl left and Fenix slapped the number-two paddle against her leg. “I will be punishing you, Pierre. Your list of transgressions is long and disturbing. Strip!”