Belle Morte Bites (Belle Morte 4.3)

Lingering Problems

Modern Day

Ysanne Moreau's high heels clicked on the parquet floor of the dining hall, loud in the empty space. It was 3 a.m. and everyone else was in bed – the rest of Belle Morte was silent and still.

She walked through the parlour at the end of the dining hall, and into the vestibule, where she nodded at the black-uniformed security guard standing by the front door.

These days, security was tighter than ever at Belle Morte.

Ysanne paused at the foot of the staircase, gazing up. In the south and north wings of the mansion, the vampires and donors under her care slept quietly. In the year and a half that had passed since the failure of Etienne and Jemima's revolution, and life had mostly returned to normal. Donors once again filled Belle Morte. The mansion's hallways were bright with voices and laughter, the clatter of cutlery from the dining hall, the sounds of instruments drifting out from the music room.

In a few months, the world would see the first vampire/human wedding since vampires had revealed themselves, when Gideon and Jason tied the knot.

Life was good. Mostly.

But Ysanne would never forget the lives that Etienne and Jemima had taken, or the lingering scars from what they'd done.

Most days, the responsibility of ruling Belle Morte was a burden that Ysanne gladly bore. But sometimes, she was reminded of how heavy that burden could be.

She climbed the stairs and headed into the north wing. Her footsteps were quieter now, muffled by the thick carpet. When she reached her bedroom, she paused again, outside the door.

For so long, this room had only been hers, waiting emptily for her at the end of each day. Now, when she carefully opened the door, it was to the sight of Isabeau curled up in bed, her chestnut curls spilling across the pillow.

No one could ever describe Ysanne as sentimental. She kept her emotions locked away, presenting a cool front to the world, but the sight of Isabeau sleeping in what had once been just Ysanne's bed, brought a flutter of raw emotion to Ysanne's heart. Isabeau completed her in a way that Ysanne would probably never publicly admit.

As if she sensed Ysanne watching her, Isabeau stirred and rolled over, her eyes opening. She waggled her fingers in a sleepy wave.

"I was starting to think you weren't coming to bed," she said.

Ysanne slipped off her heels and lined them up against the wall. The carpet was cloud-soft against her toes.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she said.

"I like being woken by you." Isabeau leaned on one elbow, and a tiny frown appeared between her eyebrows. "You look tired."

"I am."

Isabeau pulled back the covers. "Come here."

Ysanne climbed into bed, fully clothed, and Isabeau pulled the covers around her. She unclasped the diamond pendant that Ysanne wore, and reached across Ysanne to drop it onto the nightstand.

"Is this still about the children?" she asked.

Ysanne nodded.

Even before the creation of the Council and the official rules that vampires in the modern world were supposed to live by, it had been an unwritten rule among vampirekind that children were not ever to be turned. But almost two years ago, when Etienne had turned people to use as soldiers, he'd inadvertently given immortality to a child predator, who in turn had abducted and turned nine teenage children.

Currently those children were living at Lamia, a vampire house in Bristol, a little over ninety miles away.

"They can't stay there forever," Ysanne said.