Blackrose - Souls Collide: Book 1 of The Soul Wars

H oly Mother of God, muttered Adelaide Beauchamp (ne Rochon), using the strongest language she ever allowed herself. Thatthatvampire thinks he can buy my land, my familys land? Hes too big for his britches. She sliced a piece of pecan pie and nicked her left thumb, her hands unsteady with age and anger. She sucked her bleeding thumb and abandoned the pie .

She continued to talk to the ghosts in the house. I may be the last of our line, she said, walking through the mansion, caressing the priceless antique furniture, but no perversion of nature is getting his hands on Rochon or Beauchamp property. The house ghosts rattled the chandeliers in agreement. Stop that! Adelaide admonished, hurrying to the dining room to check on a crystal light fixture from the 1800s. They may not stay up .

At eighty, she stooped over with a widows hump and a belly pooch that looked as if all the fat in her body had either traveled up or fallen down to her midsection. She lived with a Creole woman a short ten years younger than her employer, who now stood at the entrance to the kitchen. Maam, a few more wall tiles fell, and the paint is peeling badly. Should I call the repairman ?

Too expensive, Mathilde. Lets make do for now .

When Mr. Beauchamp was alive, we kept the house in pristine condition .

That was twenty-five years ago, Mathilde. Louis has been gone for over two decades .

But with the house falling into disrepair like this, we cannot have any parties or teas. It just wouldnt do. You have a reputation to protect .

My days as a society lady are long gone. Do what we always dohide it with a painting .

Yesm. Mathilde sniffed, turned her back, and exited in precise, crisp steps .

Adelaide studied the womans back as Mathilde exited, and then she extracted a parchment envelope from her pocket, running her uninjured thumb over the wax seal, and read the contents for the umpteenth time. The message was delivered by a human, of that she was sure, since it was dropped off in the middle of the day. The deliveryman had exquisite manners and spoke in a lyrical Old-World French. She fumed at the memory. Employing formal etiquette made it impossible for her to refuse the envelope. That Gaspard Bessette had out- maneuvered her .

Adelaide sat at an old escritoire, an antique writing desk that she still used, and compared Bessettes note to another from the Historical Society. The Historical Society had agreed to consider the home and its trappings as a Louisiana Heritage Site .

The photos of her ancestors rattled in their frames. Hush, she said to pictures on the desk. That creature is not getting this land or this house for a long time, hopefully never. She pounded her walking stick on the hardwood, picked up the receiver of her antique phone, and called for her driver. She was going to meet the lion in his own den. She patted her hair, straightened her pearls, and took measured strides to the car, concentrating on keeping her breath steady. Rochons and Beauchamps dont show fear .

The main entryway of Gaspard Bessettes mansion was heavily guarded, and cameras recorded activity from every angle. The tall, blond Nordic woman who drove that monster truck was most likely responsible for the extra security, Adelaide thought .

The guard at the gate stopped the car, and her driver, Noel, the eighteen-year-old son of her first driver, handed the guard her greeting card. The guard motioned for her to roll her window down as well .

Sorry, maam, but I need you to exit the vehicle so we can inspect it and check you for weapons .

You must be kidding, young man. Im not getting out of my own car so you can pat me down like a common criminal! The whip crack of her voice made the guard step back and mutter sorry, maam, a reflex programmed into children of the South from birth. He hurried into the guard box and placed a call. Meanwhile, the other guards swept the underside of the black Town Car for bombs. She seethed. Who did he think he was, this vampire ?

The guard on the phone gave a thumbs - up .

The other guards did a visual inspection of the interior of the vehicle and completed the scan of the external body. Then, the head guard said, You can go in, Mrs. Beauchamp. Monsieur Bessette is expecting you .

As she and Noel waited for the gate to slide open, she heard the head guard say, Kara is not going to like this breach in protocol .

A second guard replied, Well, Im not going to be the one to tell her. Shed kick my ass .

Can you believe she carries an actual sword ?

She has a shield , too .

I dont think shes human .

The drive up to the house took another ten minutes .

Noel, Adelaide said, did you know that this house originally belonged to the Leroux family? They died out years ago .

No, maam, but Im sure my pa remembers .

They had the most extravagant balls held in this house. I can still recall kissing the Leroux boy in the rose garden .

The teenager swallowed and willed that mental image away. Sounds fun, maam .

She knew the houses electricity and plumbing had been completely replaced, and she assumed the kitchen was re-done. The exterior and the gardens were returned to their former glory, but the statues had been replaced with more security-friendly low stone walkways and benches. Adelaide felt like she was moving into a beautiful bunker .

Noel opened the car door for her, and she exited the vehicle holding his hand. He walked her to the entrance, where a butler and more security greeted them. A suited man with a crew-cut held Noel back. Im sorry, son, but you cant come in with Mrs. Beauchamp .

Noel raised his eyebrows and glanced at Adelaide. She patted his hand. It will be all right, Noel. I wont be long, so please stay with the car. Noel nodded .

Reminding herself that she was a Rochon and a Beauchamp, Adelaide entered the vampires lair. The entryway was illuminated by lights that somehow mimicked both the warmth of the sun and the elegance of the stars. The ceiling soared, revealing an arched staircase leading on both sides to the second floor balcony. The floor tile was a white and black pattern, and the walls were painted a light blush. Ornate mirrors graced both sides of the entrance to further refract the light, creating an experience of floating through the mid- day sky .

A voice said, Welcome to my home, Madame Beauchamp .

Adelaide turned her head toward the voice, which emanated from the entrance of the sitting room .

His baritone was silky smooth with a slight edge, like whisky on ice. The man who addressed her wore a custom blue pinstriped suit with a lighter blue tie and matching pocket square. His long dark hair, marred only by a white streak from his left temple, was pulled back into a queue held by a blue ribbon. The last time she had seen him, his hair had been cut short. She wondered how a dead person grew hair .

His eyes matched his tie, a sparkly blue that had undoubtedly charmed many ladies in the past. His mouth was quirked into an amused smile as he walked toward her with his arm out as a signal that he would escort her into the sitting room .