The Collector of Dying Breaths

Chapter 46

“I was looking for you, dear,” Melinoe said as she entered the kitchen. She was wearing a white tunic and white leggings and had pearls in her ears, on her fingers and twisted around her wrists and throat. Iridescent and gleaming, the jewels made her seem to glow in the dark.

Carrying a lit candelabra, she cast a long, twisted shadow on the wall. Her eyes had an almost unearthly glint.

A she-devil, Jac thought, with those white wings on either temple and her wild Medusa hair fanning out and falling below her shoulders.

“Serge and I are waiting for you in the living room for cocktails. It’s a shame about the electricity, but we can dine by candlelight.”

With the most gracious of gestures, Melinoe hooked her arm through Jac’s and led her from the kitchen. At the door she looked back at the cook. “Lisette, we will dine at seven thirty as planned.”

“Oui, madame.”

Melinoe didn’t say anything to Jac as she escorted her out of the kitchen, down the hallway and into the living room, where a crackling fire and several wall sconces fitted with candles served to enliven the room. It was as if nothing were wrong here at all. The scene was no different than when Jac had first come to the château except for all the knowledge she now possessed.

Serge was standing at the bar, mixing a pitcher of what Jac knew were martinis, and the stirrer tinkled against the shaker with the same tiddlywink noise it had every night. So normal except… except… nothing was the same.

He turned, pitcher in one hand, glass in another, and poured. Then he offered the glass to Melinoe. As he did, Jac noticed that his hand shook just a little. He was worried. Stealing a hunk of ambergris was one thing. But now they were involved in a murder and kidnapping. He poured another glass for Jac and handed it to her.

She met his eyes and noticed they were slightly glassy.

“Do you feel all right, Serge?” Jac asked.

“I think it’s just a head cold coming on. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? You look like you feel worse than that.”

“He’ll be fine,” Melinoe said with slightly too much emphasis on the last word.

“Of course I will,” Serge said as he poured himself one of the cold drinks and then sat down beside his stepsister on the couch. Melinoe reached out and stroked his hand. Soothing him as Jac had seen her do before. Then Melinoe leaned over and kissed him on the lips. She was a monster of seduction calming her pet. Jac could smell the sultry perfume she was wearing even halfway across the room. Serge’s eyes half closed. His hand faltered. A tiny bit of the liquor sloshed out of the glass and soaked into his slacks. Melinoe whispered in his ear. He straightened. Took a sip of his drink.

“Aren’t you going to taste it?” Melinoe asked Jac.

She took a sip.

“Is something wrong?” Serge asked Jac.

It was crazy. How could he ask? Didn’t he know? Everything was wrong. How could she sit here and drink this drink and pretend that things were normal? That her lover wasn’t being held hostage two stories below them? She wanted to scream. To take a chair and try to break one of the windows. She stood up. The glass fell on the antique Aubusson rug.

“Oh dear,” Melinoe said, looking down.

The glass hadn’t shattered. The rug had prevented that. But the stem had broken off.

Jac reached for it, but Melinoe got to it before her. She gave her an odd look-as if trying to gauge whether Jac had been planning to use it as a weapon.

“What a shame,” Melinoe said as she carefully picked up the other half of the glass. “These are Baccarat from the 1920s and very hard to find. I only have a dozen… only had a dozen… now I only have eleven. There’s really no reason to be nervous, dear. After dinner you’ll put the final touches on the formula and all will be well.”

But how could it? Would Melinoe let them go when Jac suspected Melinoe of stealing, of murdering Bruge? Or did Melinoe have alibis and explanations? What would she say? That locking Griffin in the stocks was a misunderstanding? That Bruge’s death was an accident and she’d only taken the ingredients to protect them? No, Melinoe wasn’t going to just let Jac and Griffin walk out of here. It was up to Jac to figure out a way to save them.

Serge coughed, and Jac glanced over.

“Jac?” Melinoe said her name softly, kindly. “Let’s not wait any longer for dinner. I know you’re impatient to retire to the laboratory.”

Jac tried to stall. “There is no reason to finish mixing the formula. Now that we know about the pathologist’s report from Paris-”

The stubbornness shone in Melinoe’s eyes as she interrupted Jac. “You are drawing conclusions without proof. The formula will work,” she said with unwavering determination in her voice. Melinoe was surveying the room. There was lust in her eyes, and her painted lips had parted slightly. She looked at her collection as if she were gazing on a lover.

Her glance caressed each Renaissance painting and sculpture, the rare jade and cinnabar carvings from Japan, and each piece of fine French Louis XIV furniture. Melinoe picked up a Fabergé frame that held a photograph of her with her father and stroked the smooth turquoise enamel, running her finger up and down one side.

“We can return. I know we can. And with René’s method we can arrange to return when and where we want. I need to come back so I can stay with my beautiful things.”

Serge coughed again. “Jac, what pathologist’s report from Paris? Is this about your brother?”

Melinoe stood up quickly, still holding the frame. For the first time since Jac had arrived at the château, Melinoe seemed flustered.

“Enough conversation about nothing,” she said. “Jac, perhaps it would be better if I had your dinner brought to your room. And then afterward you can go to the laboratory.”

“So I’m a prisoner too? What will you do to me if I don’t agree?”

“Prisoner?” Serge asked. “What the hell is going on here?”

“You don’t know?” Jac turned to Serge. There was no question he was ill. A fine film of perspiration slicked his face. His eyes were glazed.

He shook his head.

“Melinoe has Griffin locked up in the dungeon. It’s my incentive to finish mixing the formula.”

Serge coughed. “And why do you need incentive?”

“Because Griffin got some results back in Paris. It seems Robbie was poisoned. He died from a rare and ancient toxin-a kind that has not been known-”

“No!” Melinoe shouted. “The report is wrong. I can prove it.”

Serge looked at Melinoe. “I want to hear what Jac has to say.”

“No! It’s all a story she’s made up so that she can keep the elixir for herself and not share it with us.”

“That’s ludicrous-why would she do that?” Serge asked.

“For money of course!” Melinoe said.

“The elixir has no value. It turns the breaths to poison.” Jac turned to Melinoe. “Please, release Griffin and let us go.”

“Once you finish what you started.”

“But the breaths in the bottles are lethal,” Jac said. “When René added the elixir to them they became-”

“Enough talk.” Melinoe stood up. “Jac, I need you to come with me now. We’ll go to your room. Lisette will bring up a plate of food. I insist. And Serge, please don’t interfere.” Melinoe’s face was white with rage.

“Jac, don’t go anywhere,” Serge said and turned to Melinoe. “We’ve made terrible mistakes chasing your dreams, and we can’t make any more. I’ve helped you. Been part of it. But this has to stop.”

He coughed again. And again. “Let’s go to the library,” he said and took Jac’s arm. “I want to hear what you have to say.”

“No.” Melinoe ran at them, pushing between Serge and Jac, using her body like a missile. Serge grabbed her and held her at bay. It was the first time Jac realized just how small and fragile Melinoe really was. Her energy and charisma had made her seem so much bigger. But now, even sick as Serge was, she was powerless against him as he pushed her back into a chair.

“What is it that you think happened to your brother?” Serge asked Jac.

“Griffin said the forensic team believes the breath and elixir mixture is somehow active. Trying to use it to reanimate a soul will only result in someone else dying. It’s not a solution-it’s a weapon.”

Serge turned to Melinoe. “You knew this?”

She didn’t respond. He looked back at Jac.

“My stepsister knows about this?”

“She overheard me and Griffin talking about it.”

“When?”

“This afternoon.”

“Are the doctors sure that-”

Before Serge could finish his question, Melinoe was on her feet, shouting no and then again no.

Jac and Serge turned in time to see Melinoe, the candelabra in her hand, her arm lifting into the air.