"Julius Notte?"
Julius came to an abrupt halt halfway across his study as the doorway was suddenly crowded with men. The Argeneaus.
"I'm sorry, Julius." Vita moved to his side. "I did ask them to wait and said that I would bring you right along."
He waved her apology away, knowing it wasn't her fault, and then arched an eyebrow at the men still crowded in the doorway.
The man at the front of the group moved forward, a hand extended.
"Bastien Argeneau," he introduced himself.
Julius nodded and accepted the hand in greeting.
"I apologize for not waiting as requested." His gaze encompassed both Julius and Vita, and then he smiled wryly and added, "But we couldn't. We're all a bit worried about Mother. She was calling home everyday for the first three weeks she was in England, and then the calls suddenly stopped. Thomas flew to England to look for her and we were tracking her cell phone to try to find her, but it turned out we were tracking someone who mugged her and stole her purse and the cell phone with it."
"She was mugged outside the Dorchester the night we moved from there to Claridge's," Julius said wearily, thinking it seemed so long ago now, though it had barely been a week since it had happened.
"Ah." Bastien nodded. "Well, when Thomas was able to find her, the rest of us flew over to help. We were scouring York when we found out she'd called our Aunt Martine and left this number. I managed to use the phone number to get this address. Is she here?"
Julius hesitated, wishing he could reassure the younger immortal, and wishing he didn't have to tell him what he did, but finally blew his breath out and admitted, "She and our son were kidnapped off the street earlier tonight."
There was a stunned silence, and then one of the men behind Bastien said, "Kidnapped?"
Another said, "Our son?"
Julius opened his mouth to explain the "our son" part, but such a long and convoluted explanation was beyond him at the moment, so, he merely nodded and said, "Yes. Kidnapped. I have men out looking for the van that took them, as well as any sign of Je--the man we think is behind it," he said, avoiding mentioning their father for now. "I have had to stay here waiting in case there is a ransom demand."
Bastien's eyes narrowed and Julius felt a slight ruffling in his thoughts. Mouth tightening as he realized the immortal was trying to read him, he immediately slammed his guards up into place to block him out.
"You said 'our son'?"
Julius turned to glance at the speaker, his eyebrows raising in question.
"I'm sorry," Bastien said quietly. "This is my brother, Lucern."
Julius nodded, and offered his hand, saying, "Marguerite's oldest son. The writer."
And the one he'd never got to meet back when he'd first found Marguerite and married her.
"And this is our cousin Vincent," Bastien introduced the next man.
Julius raised an eyebrow. He'd expected the man to be the youngest son, Etienne, but he supposed that must be the man standing glowering behind the others. They all looked like their father, or at least their father's twin brother since he'd never met Jean Claude himself. But while the rest of the men were dark-haired and the resemblance to their father could be seen, the blonde at the back bore the most striking resemblance.
Vincent held his hand out, recapturing his attention and Julius accepted it, saying, "You're Marguerite's nephew. The one who produces and acts in plays. My own nephews Neil and Stephano work for you."
Vincent's eyes widened. "I thought you must be related to them when I heard the last name."
"Yes. I'm Christian's father," he said.
"Christian's father?" His eyebrows went up and then he frowned with concern. "Christian isn't the one kidnapped, is he?"
"Yes," Julius admitted unhappily.
"But you said 'our son,'" Lucern growled with confusion. "Yours and who's?"
Julius ran a weary hand through his hair as he realized he simply couldn't avoid explanations. "Mine and your mother's."
There was a dead silence as three pairs of male eyes all widened in shock. Only the man at the back of the group didn't react so. Instead, his eyes narrowed and that made Julius's eyes narrow on him and he suddenly got the feeling this was not Etienne Argeneau, the youngest son. In fact, he realized, this man was much older than the others. He could sense his power and strength and he carried himself like a king.
"Yours and our mother's?" Bastien echoed slowly. "I'm sorry, you seem to have us at a slight disadvantage here. What--?"
"Your mother and I are true lifemates. We have a son together," Julius muttered with distraction, his eyes still on the man at the back of the group. Finally, his voice cold and flat, he asked, "Who are you?"
The man arched one arrogant eyebrow and growled. "It's been a long time, but I'm still surprised you've forgotten me. I didn't think you'd forget our talk."
"Lucian Argeneau," he growled, fury rising within him along with the realization. Julius had no idea who the third person must have been in the three-on-one, but he was positive Lucian must have been one of them... which made him one of only three suspects involved in the attacks on Marguerite. He hadn't given up on Jean Claude being the culprit behind this whole affair, but didn't doubt Lucian knew something about it. The pair were twins.
"Yes." Lucian arched one arrogant eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak, but never got a word out. Instead, he snapped his mouth closed with amazement as Julius launched himself at him with fury.
Julius didn't land a blow. The moment he rushed forward to attack, the other three men moved to stop him. Bastien and Lucern were quicker than their cousin, and he suddenly found himself being held before Lucian by the brothers, his arms out at his side crucifixion style. The two men weren't hurting him, but he couldn't move... except for his mouth. Struggling against the men holding him, he spat, "What have you and that stinking no good brother of yours done with Marguerite and Christian?"
Lucian's eyebrows flew up with apparent bewilderment. "What?"
"You heard me," Julius snarled, renewing his efforts to shake off Marguerite's sons. He nearly managed it in his fury, but Vincent moved around in front of him and braced his chest, standing as much to the side as he could so that Lucian and Julius still faced each other.
Lucian nodded at the man, then glanced at Julius and said, "I haven't a clue what you're talking about."
"The hell you don't," Julius snarled. "You know something. He's your twin."
"Who is?" Vincent asked with confusion.
"Jean Claude," he said through teeth that were grinding in frustration and fury.
There was silence as the men glanced at each other with confusion and then at their uncle. Julius could have gnashed his teeth. The man had to know something. It was his only hope. Otherwise he'd have no idea where to look. He'd lose her, lose them both. "God dammit. You have to know something. I can't lose her again."
"Lose who? Our mother? What do you mean again?" Bastien asked. "And what does Uncle Lucian's being our father's twin have to do with this?"
Julius snarled with frustration, his gaze sliding over the faces of the men around him. Bastien and Vincent looked thoroughly confused; Lucern, however, was now looking thoughtful, but Lucian was stone-faced.
"I'm afraid we aren't following you," Vincent admitted quietly. "Who has Aunt Marguerite."
"Ask him!" Julius nodded his head toward Lucian. "He and his brother are behind this."
"What is he talking about, Uncle?" Bastien asked with some frustration of his own.
Lucian Argeneau was silent and then gave a slight shrug. "I don't know."
Julius snorted bitterly. "Just like you didn't know that Jean Claude was really alive when he went missing for those twenty years?"
"What? Father was missing?" Bastien asked with a start and then glanced at his brother. "Do you know what he's talking about, Luc?"
"It was before you were born, Bastien," Lucern said. "He was missing for twenty years. Morgan said he was dead, beheaded in battle."
Julius nodded toward the head of the Argeneau clan.
"Lucian knew better. He knew he was still alive."
When the men all turned to Lucian, he shook his head. "I thought he was dead too. Jean Claude didn't even let me know he was still alive during those twenty years he was missing. And he would never discuss it. He just said he'd needed time to himself."
"Right," Julius said sarcastically. "And next you'll say you had nothing to do with stealing Marguerite from me and wiping her memory?"
"What?" The head of the Argeneau clan peered at him sharply.
"The three-on-one. You, Jean Claude, and someone else wiped her memory," Julius said. "We've figured it out. We know she didn't really order our child killed. She must have been controlled and that's easy to do after a three-on-one, isn't it. We've figured out everything."
"I was told Marguerite lost your child and you left her because of it. I was told you said she must be poor stock if she couldn't produce a living child."
"That's a lie."
"Then why did you leave her?" Lucian asked.
"I didn't leave her," he said furiously. "I had to go to court. When I returned Marguerite was gone. And our child didn't die, but it's no thanks to your brother. Jean Claude controlled her and made her order the maid to kill him, but the woman brought him to me instead."
"Christian?" Vincent asked, his expression still confused.
Julius nodded. "He is my son with Marguerite."
"Let go of my son!"
Julius glanced past Lucian's shoulder, his eyes widening on his father's furious face. Nicodemus Notte was noted for his calm. Julius didn't think he'd ever even seen him lose his temper... before this. The man was definitely not calm now. At least, his expression wasn't and his eyes were flaming silver black, but his voice still sounded steely calm as he said, "If you gentlemen wish to see Marguerite again I suggest you release my son, cooperate, and talk. You need to work together, otherwise we will lose both her and Christian."
There was a moment of silence, as the men holding him glanced at each other. When they then glanced to their uncle, he nodded. Julius was immediately released.
"Son," Nicodemus growled in warning when he tensed, preparing to attack Lucian and beat the information he wanted out of him.
Julius ground his teeth, but forced his muscles to relax.
Bastien glanced from Nicodemus Notte, to Julius, and then finally to Lucian before saying. "Do you three want to fill the rest of us in on what the hell's going on? Who has our mother? And what is this about our father being missing, and--" He waved a hand with frustration. "All the rest of it."
Julius glared at Lucian, daring him to speak and start sprouting lies, but the man was staring back, narrow eyed. It was his father who said, "I think we should all sit down. Julius you will explain everything from the beginning, and then these gentlemen can tell us what they know and, hopefully, between the six of us we can come up with something to help us find Marguerite and Christian." He glanced past Julius and said, "Vita, tell my driver I won't be leaving right away after all."
Julius glanced around with surprise. He'd forgotten his sister was even there, but now saw her nod and move dutifully to do as his father asked.
"And make some coffee, please," his father added as she headed out of the room. "These gentlemen eat and drink mortal food."
"How did you know?" Vincent asked with surprise.
"I can smell it," Nicodemus said calmly, and then glanced at Julius. "The living room?"
Sighing, he nodded and led the way out of his study.
"It isn't working."
Marguerite released her end of the chain and dropped back to sit, leaning against the wall beside Christian. They'd talked for quite awhile as they'd waited for the worst of the healing to be over. But once they could both move without terrible pain shooting through them, they'd taken stock of their situation and begun to try to see if together they could break the chains that bound them. It wasn't working, however. They were both weak and Marguerite was now suffering the gnawing pain of blood hunger. She knew Christian would be too. They were wasting their strength on the endeavor.
"We'll have to think of something else," Christian muttered, his gaze shifting around the small, dingy cell. There were no windows, but a barred one in the thick door. Light from the hall beyond was spilling into the room through the small embrasure, and he frowned at the opening. "This place looks familiar."
"It looks like every dungeon I have ever been in."
Marguerite muttered with disgust. There was a time when they had slept in such dark, dank dungeons to avoid the sunlight that crept through small cracks and fissures in old homes. "Perhaps we should come up with a plan to overtake our captors when they return."
"Why haven't they returned?" Christian muttered.
She'd wondered that herself. In truth when she'd been dragged into the van, she'd expected to be killed right away, not left to wait in a dingy little cell. She was grateful for the extra time. It had given her and Christian a chance to bond. There was nothing like a crisis for bonding, Marguerite thought wryly. She was no longer uncomfortable with him and had even called him son a time or two without feeling awkward about it. But she'd give that up in a heartbeat to have him somewhere else and safe.
"You should have run when I told you to," she said on a sigh.
Christian glanced at her, and then reached out hesitantly to cover her hand with his and squeeze it briefly before quickly releasing it as if afraid of offending her. His voice was husky as he said, "I'm glad I didn't. I finally got to know my mother."
"That's hardly worth dying for," Marguerite muttered, her eyes on the hand he'd touched. She wanted to take his hand back and hold it. She wanted to wrap her arms around him as if he were still a boy and rock him gently as she assured him they would be fine, but she wasn't quite that comfortable with him yet, and wasn't at all sure they were going to be fine. It made her sad. Not for herself so much. While Marguerite regretted not getting to be with Julius to enjoy their love and bear children with him, she had at least had children, and experienced some of the beauty of a lifemate. Christian, however, had not. She could die more peacefully knowing that he would live to do those things.
Of the three of them, however, Marguerite was most concerned for Julius. He would lose her again, but more importantly, he would lose his son, and she didn't think the double loss was something he would recover from easily.
"What does Jean Claude want?" Christian muttered suddenly with frustration. "First he was trying to kill you and now he has taken us both."
"I don't think it is Jean Claude," Marguerite said with a frown. When he glanced at her, she shrugged helplessly. "I just don't. He's dead. He has to be dead."
A look of pity crossed Christian's face at the desperate sound to the words and she sighed and tried for reason.
"Why would he kill me?"
"Perhaps he was trying to stop all this from coming out. Grandfather says that the three-on-one was outlawed some time in the sixteenth century. It's a dying offense now. Perhaps he was trying to keep what he'd done from being discovered."
"But it wasn't outlawed when it was actually done to me and I don't think they can punish him for it. Besides, killing me now isn't going to stop that from coming out. Your father knows, Marcus knows, your grandfather..." She shrugged. "He'd pretty much have to kill your whole family to keep it from coming to light."
"Maybe he plans to," Christian said, his expression turning grim at the possibility.
Marguerite shook her head. "I just don't think it's Jean Claude. We buried him."
"Did you see the body?" Christian asked.
Marguerite frowned and reluctantly shook her head. "They said it was too destroyed for an open casket."
Christian arched an eyebrow, and then stiffened and glanced toward the door as they heard the clang of keys twisting in the lock. They both shifted and began to get warily to their feet.
"It looks like we're about to find out who it is," Marguerite said grimly.
"It isn't Jean Claude."
Julius peered at Lucian suspiciously when he made that comment. He was the first to speak after Julius had finished explaining the events of the past, and what had occurred since Marguerite had stayed at the Dorchester in London.
"Are you sure, Uncle?" Vincent asked solemnly.
"He's dead," Lucian insisted.
"But everyone apparently thought he was dead before," Vincent pointed out dryly and shook his head. "I never liked the way the old bastard treated Aunt Marguerite, but I never thought he'd sink that low; wiping her memory, ordering a child killed, and making Aunt Marguerite kill the maid? If he wanted the maid dead, he should have at least had the balls to do it himself."
"He is dead," Lucian repeated firmly. "And he couldn't have made Marguerite kill the maid without being able to see her to control her."
"He made Marguerite walk out of the townhouse and wasn't in there when that happened."
Julius glanced around with a start at Tiny's voice and stood abruptly, but paused when the detective shook his head in answer to the question on his face. The mortal and Marcus had teamed up to join the hunt for the van that Marguerite and Christian had been taken in. Apparently, without success.
"I'm sorry. It's like trying to find a needle in a haystack, Julius," Tiny said with frustration as Marcus entered the room behind him with a tray with coffee, cream, and sugar in his hands. "We're all out there just driving aimlessly around, checking every van when the one they were taken in may not even be on the streets anymore. Marcus and I came back to brainstorm with you and see if we couldn't think of a better way to pursue this."
"Vita gave me this to bring in," Marcus said as he set the tray on the coffee table.
Julius nodded, but his attention was on Lucian as the man said, "If Marguerite was controlled and made to walk out of the townhouse in York, then the person doing the controlling must have been looking in a window, or otherwise able to see her. They can control her mind, but cannot see through her eyes, it would be like trying to steer a car blind."
"Yes," Nicodemus said with a nod, "that is what I thought, but when they said there was no one around, I wondered if I'd been mistaken."
"So Jean Claude must have been at a window or something to be watching her while he steered her out of the house?" Vincent asked, apparently thoroughly convinced of the man's culpability. Bastien and Lucern on the other hand were remaining silent. Bastien appeared troubled. Lucern just grim.
"It wasn't Jean Claude," Lucian insisted. No one paid him attention.
"Are you sure you didn't see anyone outside the townhouse when you went out after Marguerite?" Tiny asked Julius.
He shook his head. "There was no one there. And no one saw Jean Claude near the townhouse back when Marguerite killed the maid, Magda."
"There are curtains on the windows of the townhouse in York, but not on the door," Vincent said suddenly, and when Julius peered at him with surprise for knowing this, he explained, "We've been staying there the last couple of days. When Thomas came looking for Aunt Marguerite, he and Inez found out that a townhouse was rented under the name Notte in York." He shrugged. "We thought it was Christian. They rented the place to stay there while they looked for more information. We've all been staying there."
Julius nodded and said, "You're right, there are no curtains on the window on the front door, but Jean Claude couldn't have got away from the window that quickly. I didn't see him on the street when I went out, and I did look around. All there was were rather horrified mortals."
"Julius was naked," Tiny explained.
"Perhaps Jean Claude was watching from a building across the street," Vincent suggested. "Binoculars would have allowed him to keep his distance and see her at the same time."
"Jean Claude is dead," Lucian repeated.
Julius ignored him and pointed out, "But he couldn't have seen up into our room where she was sleeping and made her come below."
"But she wasn't in bed," Tiny reminded him. "Marguerite said she got up to get more blood and then the next thing she remembered was waking up on the couch."
"She would have had to walk up the hall to get to the kitchen, that's when Jean Claude must have got control of her. He must have been watching the house. When he saw her through the window, he took control and made her turn and head out the door," Vincent decided, not knowing that they'd kept the blood in the mini-fridge in the living room. It didn't matter, though, Julius supposed. Marguerite would have had to walk through the hall to get to the living room as well.
"It wasn't Jean Claude," Lucian growled.
"It must have been something similar when Magda was killed," Lucern announced suddenly joining the conversation. "Because I guarantee mother would not have killed the maid. She adored her. Father must have been at the townhouse that day too."
Julius peered at the man. He'd thought from his silence that Lucern hadn't believed what he had told them, but now recalled Lucern had known about his father being missing, and had received a letter from his mother about their plans to marry, though he knew she hadn't mentioned being with child in it. Julius now wondered what the eldest Argeneau boy had been told when he arrived in York back in 1491 to find his father returned from the dead and his mother back with him.
Leaving the matter for now, he considered Lucern's words and frowned as he said, "Vita didn't mention seeing Jean Claude at the time."
"Vita?" his father asked with a start.
"She was the one who told me Marguerite was at the townhouse. She said she saw her go upstairs and wondered if we'd got back together. She didn't mention Jean Claude, however, and I'm sure she would have if she'd seen him there."
"God dammit! It wasn't Jean Claude!" Lucian roared, and when everyone turned his way, he scowled and admitted more calmly, "I cannot say for sure it was not him in 1491, but he certainly isn't behind what is happening now. He is dead."
"You don't know that for sure," Vincent said quietly. "None of us can be sure. The funeral was closed casket."
"Uncle Lucian is the one Morgan called when he woke up to find the house in flames and father dead," Bastien said quietly. "He went and handled the firemen and police and retrieved father's body. He would have seen it."
"Yes, but Jean Claude's body was destroyed in the fire. He was nothing but ashes. That is why it was closed casket. There was nothing to see," Vincent pointed out. "Even Lucian can't be sure it really was him."
"Yes, I can," the head of the Argeneau clan insisted.
"How?" Julius asked suspiciously. "If he was only ashes--"
"He wasn't ashes," Lucian admitted, his mouth twisting.
Vincent's eyes widened. "Then he could have survived. You might have buried an empty casket."
"No we didn't."
"You can't be sure," Julius insisted.
"Yes, I can."
"How?" Julius demanded again.
Lucian hesitated, and then propped his elbows on his knees, dropped his head into his hands and began to rub his forehead as if it were paining him.
"If you have some proof that Jean Claude is dead, you best share it," Nicodemus said quietly. "Because if he is dead, then we are looking to the wrong person and wasting time."
Lucian nodded in resignation and said, "I know he is dead, because... I beheaded him myself."
No one moved. No one spoke. Julius wouldn't have been surprised to be told that no one breathed. They all simply sat staring at Lucian with wide, stunned eyes.
"As Bastien said, Morgan called me that night," Lucian said wearily. "Jean Claude was badly burned but he wasn't dead. He was a blackened and charred mess and wasn't healing quickly. His system was full of a drunk's useless blood and he refused the blood I brought with me. Instead he asked me to kill him and end his suffering. He said he loathed himself for hurting Marguerite and everyone else around him, but he couldn't seem to help himself. He said he had nothing left inside him and he begged me to give him peace."
"So you killed him?" Julius asked with disbelief.
Lucian shook his head. "I couldn't... until he admitted that he had been feeding on mortals and had actually set fire to the house. He'd intended to die in the fire, but Morgan had dragged him out."
Sighing, Lucian lifted a haggard face to look at Julius. "Feeding off mortals is against our council laws in North America. It is a killing offense that has to be taken before the council for pronouncement. Feeding on them unto death, however, gains instant death and the hunter doesn't have to take them before the council for pronouncement." He shook his head. "But Jean Claude was my brother. I would have taken him before the council and had someone else commit the deed, but he begged me to kill him and then pointed out that if this mess was put before the council, everyone would know. He said he'd done enough to hurt Marguerite and the children and asked me again to kill him and then to arrange a closed casket funeral so no one would ever know." Lucian shrugged helplessly. "And so I honored his wishes."
Julius sank back with horror, not at what Lucian had done, but because he believed him. The expression on his face as he confessed to taking his twin brother's life had been too stark with pain and guilt for him not to believe him. Jean Claude was dead... and now Julius had no idea who could be behind the attacks and taking of Marguerite and Christian.
Bastien cleared his throat, "Then it has to be one of the other two who has mother and Christian now."
They all looked to Lucian and then Vincent asked what they were all wondering. "Uncle, do you have any idea who the other two could have been?"
Lucian straightened abruptly, his expression turning cold as he forced himself to consider the problem at hand. The change was almost shocking, though it shouldn't have been, Julius supposed. The man was a warrior, a hunter and did what had to be done.
"Morgan would have been one," he announced abruptly. "While I had no idea Jean Claude was still alive when he went missing for those twenty years, Morgan did. He was the one who carried back the tale that Jean Claude had been beheaded in battle."
When Julius sat up, hope on his face, Bastien frowned and told him, "Morgan is dead. He went rogue and Uncle Lucian had to hunt him down. He was captured and put to death by the council."
"Who else then?" Vincent asked, settling on the arm of the sofa beside his uncle and awkwardly patting his back.
Lucian didn't seem to notice the attempt to comfort him, his face was taut with concentration. Finally he shook his head. "There is no one else I can think of that he would trust with this type of thing."
The words made everyone in the room sag with disappointment.
"All right," Tiny said firmly. "Then we have to think of people who would want Marguerite dead and could have been around back then."
"No one would want mother dead," Lucern said firmly. "She never had the opportunity to make enemies. She was always forced to remain at home."
Tiny shook his head with disgust and then suddenly paused.
"What are you thinking?" Julius asked, desperate for any suggestion.
Tiny hesitated and then admitted, "It just occurred to me that perhaps we are thinking about this wrong."
"How do you mean?" Vincent asked the detective.
Tiny pursed his lips and then said tentatively, "Maybe Marguerite hasn't been the target here."
"What?" Julius asked with bewilderment. "But she is the one who has been attacked each time."
"Not each time. She was made to order your son's death back at the beginning," he pointed out and then asked, "Why?"
Julius stared at him blankly.
"Think," he said grimly. "There was no reason for Jean Claude to want Christian's death. He had wiped Marguerite's memory of the baby. Why not just give Christian to you along with the message that she wanted nothing more to do with you both? Or even dump him with a band of Gypsies?"
"Perhaps he was jealous of Julius," Vincent suggested, but didn't sound as if he believed.
Tiny shook his head. "It couldn't have been jealousy. He wandered off and let everyone, including Marguerite think he was dead. He would hardly be jealous if she then started a new life with Julius."
"Then why did he come back?" Vincent asked. "He was gone for twenty years. Why suddenly come back?"
Tiny shook his head again. "I don't know, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't to reclaim Marguerite. They weren't lifemates. They were miserable together, and he didn't even love her if you judge by the way he treated her. Something else must have caused his return."
When no one commented, he added, "And now Christian has been involved again. The kidnappers could have just left him there on the sidewalk and taken Marguerite if they'd wanted, but they took him as well."
Julius was frowning at the truth of this when Tiny glanced at him solemnly and said, "And if Marguerite wasn't the true target, that leaves you."
"Me?" he asked with surprise. "They haven't done anything to me."
"Yes, they have," the detective said solemnly. "Marguerite's being wiped and taken away by Jean Claude hurt you, not her. She didn't remember you... just as she didn't remember Christian. His death would only have hurt you. And now Marguerite and Christian's being taken is hurting you again."
"You're saying all of this has been done to hurt Julius?" Nicodemus asked slowly. "That Marguerite and Christian are just the vehicles to do so?"
Tiny shrugged helplessly, "I know it's hard to imagine, but if Marguerite has no enemies and Jean Claude is dead, she can't be the real target. Julius is the only other person being hurt in all this."
"And us," Bastien said staunchly.
"But you weren't alive back then," he pointed out.
"Lucern was," Vincent pointed out.
"But Christian's kidnapping wouldn't affect him at all," Lucian said slowly and then glanced to Julius. "Who are your enemies? Ones who would have been around back then as well as now."
"Wait a minute," Julius said. "If someone wanted to hurt me, why wait five hundred years? Why not attack or try to kill Christian before this? And why not attack me outright? Why go the circuitous route and attack Marguerite and Christian?"
"Perhaps it's someone who couldn't attack you outright without revealing themselves," Marcus suggested, jumping on the band wagon. "And perhaps your misery and unhappiness was enough for them all these centuries."
Julius was shaking his head in disbelief when he heard his father sigh. He glanced toward the man with a frown. Nicodemus Notte was standing at the window, separate from the group, a troubled expression on his face as he peered out into the night.
"What is it, Father?" he asked with trepidation. "Have you thought of someone who would want to hurt me and was around back then?"
"Yes, I'm afraid I have," he said wearily.