To Vanquish Darkness (Le Sombre #1)

Chapter 48

48

1836 COUNTRYSIDE BEYOND MORDELLES, FRANCE

A malie stumbled back, clutching the dress and her satchel to her chest as his cool, sharp scent washed over her. "How did you find me?" She took short, purposeful breaths, fighting back the sudden urge to smile at him.

Marx dropped the fabric on her writing desk, keeping his other hand behind his back. "I told you, I'm not going to hurt you."

Amalie's heart jumped against her ribs. "And yet you're standing in my childhood bedroom refusing to show both of your hands." She wanted to scream, to call for Theo, but she knew how fast vampires could move when they wanted to. It was true that Marx hadn't hurt her, had barely touched her, during both of their encounters.

But perhaps he hadn't know what she was. Did he know now?

Marx pulled his hand from behind his back, and Amalie sucked in a breath.

"Where did you find that?" She stared at the blade in his hands. It was exactly as she remembered it. Its blade was long and narrow, shimmering with a silver hue even in the golden glow of the candlelight. The hilt was encrusted with black opals and white diamonds, and the grip wrapped in faded leather. The sword’s crossguard curved upward like outstretched wings.

Marx lay the sword on the floor between them. "Consider this a gift."

"Where did you find it?" Amalie repeated, her hands beginning to shake. She'd seen it in her dream, she'd felt a pull to the south. How was it here, and how was Marx the one to bring it to her?

"I know someone who's quite interested to meet you." Marx's eyes flicked to her arm, and Amalie turned it toward her body, hiding her runes.

Amalie's throat worked. "It's her, isn't it? Helena. Have you worked for her all along?"

Marx raised an eyebrow. "Not going to pretend you're studying botany, then?" She paled, and Marx's lips pulled into a wide grin. "What have they told you? All terrible things, I'm sure." He sat, throwing his arm over the back of her chair.

"I don't want anything to do with her."

He chuckled. "First impressions can be misleading. You of all people should know that by now." He glanced lazily at the armoire, then back to the bed.

Amalie's cheeks flushed. "You don't get to talk about Theo."

"Ah, but he's the reason we're here, isn't he? Wasn't this what he was after?" Marx nodded to the sword on the ground. "So desperate to find it, he was willing to risk your life."

Risk her life? That was the last thing Theo had done. She wanted to tell Marx to take the sword and leave her room, but . . . he was right about one thing. Theo had been hunting for the sword. Her heart twinged in her chest. I want the relic for the same reason you do. You can vanquish me yourself. And then I don’t care what you do with it. Kill them all if you want.

" Ah, Amalie, you look so conflicted. Are you having second thoughts? This was what you wanted, was it not?" Marx dropped his arm and leaned forward on the chair, resting his arms on his knees.

"Yes." Her tone was clipped. You can vanquish me yourself. Why had Theo said that? If he'd gone to all this trouble to find her, if he'd waited sixteen hundred years, why would he want a sword? Why would he want Amalie to take his life, to release him permanently from the world?

She glanced at the armoire, imagining his hands on her hips, his lips pressed against hers. Had he been lying about that? Had he only been trying to find common ground?

"Theo and I haven't known each other for long. But Helena . . . well, she's known him since he was bitten, and trust me. She knows him almost as well as he knows himself."

Amalie's grip tightened around her satchel. "Why are you telling me this?" She glanced at the door, wondering when Oren or Theo would get worried and come looking for her.

"Because I think it's only fair you get both sides of the story." Marx's expression was suddenly deadly serious.

"I need to help my family."

Marx shook his head. "You can't help them. Not like this."

"Then what do you suggest?" she hissed.

Marx stood, straightening the fine shirt he wore tucked into his trousers. "Have a conversation with her. She'll make sure nobody touches your family. They can remain here in their home, and you don't have to promise us anything. Just a talk."

Theo. Amalie silently pleaded for him to climb the stairs.

Marx glanced toward the door. "I'll give you time to think it over. Personally, I can't wait to see what Theo thinks of this." He nudged the handle of the sword with his boot. "Delivered right into his hands." Marx crossed the room, giving her a wide berth, then paused at the open window. "One last thing, did you know it was possible to make replicas of jewelry?" He glanced down at his hand, twisting a ring on his finger. "It's quite simple with a talented silversmith." He grinned. "But under certain circumstances, it’s embarrassingly easy to spot the original."

Amalie's pulse pounded in her ears. "How is that?"

Marx's eyes glittered. "When a silversmith dies, his signature dies with him. The small number inscribed in the back of his pieces. It makes his work truly one of a kind."