Her Billionaire, Her Wolf--The Novel(15)

Despite the fire, Sara felt a chill slide across her skin.

“The explanation for the deaths at the time ranged the gamut from a madman to that of an entire pack of wolves, and even included the theory of a werewolf sent to punish the region, a message from God Himself.

“And while many attempted to hunt down whatever was responsible for the murders, the resolution of the affair remained murky and most of these so-called hunters were disgraced in their failure to stop the rampage.”

Braze lifted his arms up as if to encompass the château surrounding them and said, “The Marquis de Morangias numbered among the unsuccessful. Which is why I procured all of this...his very bones must be rolling in his tomb at the irony of it.”

Then he came to Sara and crouching down before her he looked into her eyes with undisguised earnestness and asked, “What do you think of that, Sara? Can stories like these have anything real about them? Is there a place for such things in the world?

“Or, is it all too far-fetched, these stories of creatures capable of such horrors..?”

Sara, her thoughts filled with the faceless visage of the Journeyman, the nightmare that still haunted her, said, “Not really, no. I think there is probably something to it. I think there is more to the world than what most people are willing to believe...amazing things...terrible things.”

Her voice trailed off.

“What did you just say?” Braze’s tone was sharp as he stood then and Sara looked quickly up at him. Even in the soft glow coming from the candlelight behind them, his eyes burned fiercely as he studied her.

“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s just that maybe people close their eyes to what they don’t understand. They’d rather write it off and file it away among other unexplained mysteries. They’d rather forget all about it.

“Because the alternative scares them.”

His focus upon her was frightening her.

“Go on,” he said, his voice low, his eyes unblinking.

“Well, if things like that werewolf, your beast of Gévaudan, were real, men couldn’t pretend anymore that they alone rule the world. They’d be forced to admit that our control is all just an illusion.”

She fell quiet, unwilling to say more, yet desperate to tell him everything. That she knew with certainty that monsters walk the earth. That they are real.

And that they are capable of forcing people into impossible situations where, with one word, all would fall to ruin as her betrayal destroyed what little trust Braze had placed in her so far.

He nodded slowly, then said, “I don’t know how you keep doing that, Sara, but I must admit that I find it perfectly delightful.”

She looked at him, searching for what he really meant, but the enigma that was Brazier Abraxis remained.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand,” she replied.

Each time I think I have this man figured out, I discover that I know even less than I thought.

Then his lips turned up in a smile that broke like a dawning sun.

“I mean that you keep surprising me, Sara. And no one ever does...except you.”

He held his hand out to her and she took it, standing as he pulled her up and to him.

“Which is why I have prepared something for you...for us. You will have to trust me, and I, you. But, I believe you have the courage this will require, Sara.

“I am almost sure of it.”

And, without bothering to take the oil lamp with them, or even a candle from the dinner table, Brazier Abraxis led her from the room and into darkness.



~~~



Sara heard and smelled more than saw the path they took through the old château. Floorboards that grated underfoot gave way to cold stone. There were several flights of stairs and while Braze never let go Sara's hand, she felt the air become cooler and dank.

The sounds of being enclosed by spaces meant for the living turned to hollow echoes and vague sounds of dripping water.

Once, she thought she might have heard the squealing of mice in the distance and not much further along, she set her foot down in a small puddle before being briskly swept along in Braze's wake.

More stairs, ever downward, although for the last ones he had placed himself at her side as they descended, an arm firmly around her. Sara could tell that the steps were much more worn than those within the château and, in places, broken.

After the near ruined stairs, they walked upon a surface that was barely level. Dips and bumps made Sara stumble several times, but Braze was always there to steady her in a darkness that had taken a turn into pitch black.

They came to a stop and Sara smelled rust in the air. Braze left her and she heard the sounds of chains clinking before the squeal of hinges broke the silence. He led her past the sounds of the chains still slightly squeaking and Sara could imagine their links swinging slowly back and forth long after they had gone.

A short corridor followed before they stopped again. She heard another metallic sound, although instead of chains it sounded like metal on metal, then a series of clicks with a whining screech.

That was a key turning inside a very old lock, she thought to herself, wondering if she had made a very bad decision getting into the car with Flair and embarking on a plane, its destination unknown.

Again, there was the sound of hinges protesting in the darkness accompanied by the feeling of something massive swinging close by her.

"Don't move," Braze said, then she felt him disappear.

Sara heard a hissing click, once, twice, then a flame appeared across from her, burning in Braze's hand. He held a cigarette lighter to a long taper that had been lying on a table before him. Then, with the taper he went about lighting an elaborate candelabra, studded with at least twenty candles.

The warm light made Sara's eyes sting but it was welcome as the details of the room lifted into view.

The walls were stone, in some places covered with tapestries, but largely bare.

And except for the table upon which the candelabra stood, the room was empty but for one object that held Sara's attention.

An enormous baldaquin bed dominated the room. It was richly made up in deep red silks embroidered in fine gold thread.

"You can understand, I am sure, when I tell you that I take precaution quite seriously,” he said.

“I am a man surrounded daily by predators. Even among my trusted staff, good people like Flair, all of them go about their duty but always with an eye turned toward the least weakness.

"A man in my position learns quickly that being careful is not enough. One must be extravagant in caution.

"So it was that I voyaged here alone, and why you followed after me, separately. Basic precautions, nothing more.”

Braze walked across the room, appearing to survey the thick stone walls, before turning back to face her.

"You can well imagine, however, that my staff is the least of the difficulties that assail me.

"There are outside influences who search endlessly to gain a foothold in the company. Predators, one and all, who circle around me, intent on finding a fault line or fissure, anything that might aid them to gain an advantage, whether it be in my professional...or personal life."

With a gesture of his hand, he indicated the bed.

"You have already shown me confidence with the leap of faith it must have taken to leave for parts unknown.

"Now, I shall oblige you to show the true measure of the trust you place in me.

"On the bed, Sara."

She moved slowly toward the baldaquin. Something tickled at her, a sense of imminent danger.

"Why the hesitation, Sara? You did not come all this way for only a fireside chat and dinner."

He grinned then, and she could not help but think that it was a carnivorous smile, one that smelled its prey very near.

"I know I did not," Braze said.

She went to the bed then hopped up to sit upon its edge. The bedding was so thick and piled high that she had to jump a little to perch herself there.

"That's better," he said, "But really, you must lie down in the middle, Sara. That is where your comfort is assured."

She slid herself backward then toward the head of the bed. The silk pillowed around her as she moved and she imagined it would be like lying upon a cloud.

Once squarely in the middle, she let herself lie back upon the luxurious coverlet. Despite their surroundings, surely somewhere deep beneath the seaside château, the scent of fresh, clean bed linens was reassuring.

Braze cast her an appraising look and nodded.

"That's better." His words were edgy as if seeing her in the middle of all that blood red silk whetted his appetite.

He stepped away from her, then Sara heard the sounds of chains clinking. She looked to the side to see Braze drawing a thick chain through a metal loop fastened directly to the stone wall running behind the bed. But what chilled her more than the chain itself was that it terminated in something that resembled a handcuff, only far more massive.

That's no handcuff...that's a manacle.

In an instant, he had joined her upon the bed, kneeling at her side. With exaggerated slowness, he took her wrist and lifted it into the air.

"Trust me, Sara...trust me so that I can trust you." His eyes implored her.

Instead of screaming for help that would never come, she nodded. There was the metallic sound of a latch closing, then the cold of the manacle embraced her arm in its rusted grasp.

Before she could change her mind, Braze walked quickly to the other side of the bed to where the twin of the first manacle and chain awaited. Its hold was just as frigid as it went round Sara's forearm, locking into place.