She turned those incredible eyes on me then. "Monsieur," she said," your reputation precedes you. "I saw her gaze run over me, taking in my size, my weapons, my warlike attitude, my hair and beard nearly as flame red as hers; as you know, I present quite an impressive picture, and I felt certain that she was sizing me up as a potential ally. Her next words proved me right.
"Could I beg you, Monsieur, to assist us? I have done little but tremble in fear and worry during the past six months, ever since my dear husband disappeared. I know that he would not have deserted me, and even if my judgment is wrong, he would not have left his thriving business behind. You have in the past exposed many evils and righted many wrongs, Monsieur Dragonov. Will you not have pity on me and on the other poor wives, families, and sweethearts who have been left lonely and distraught by these disappearances?"
Well, I mean, what was there to say? How could I refuse such a beautifully phrased — and flattering — entreaty? So I gave a little bow, feeling silly as I did it, and said I'd be happy to do whatever I could to help find her husband.
We were all colleagues then, and I think Jacques was also pleased that I would be trying to help find his brother as well. The four of us sat there for nearly an hour. Gabrielle and I drank tea, Jacques nursed a glass of wine, and Henri fell into a drunken sleep.
Gabrielle told me about her husband's disappearance. She said he had ridden toward town one morning from their country house near the mill, and was not seen again. No one reported meeting him on the road, but many hours after he vanished, a soldier found his horse roaming in the fields halfway between the town and the Faures'home. There was no trace of blood on the saddle, no signs of violence at all.
Then Jacques told me as much as was known about the other missing townspeople. Quite simply, they had gone off on errands at different times of the day and night, and never reappeared. The mounts of those who rode away were always found, but with never a trace of evidence that suggested violence.
"And then they assigned my brother to find the men, or their bodies. . you'll pardon me, Madame. He meticulously interviewed families, friends, fellow workers, but learned little. Then one night he told me he had some new evidence to gather, but would say no more, and rode off. I have not seen him since."
"But they found his horse?" I guessed.
"They did," said Jacques. He excused himself then; he had to go back to his barracks.
I felt uncomfortable left alone with Gabrielle. Although my manner is rough, I seldom feel ill at ease with either man or woman; they can take me or leave me as it suits them. But this woman was different, as I say. Beyond doubt I was drawn to her, but she showed no sign that she had conquered me. Instead, she asked me if there was anything she could do to help in my investigation.
I thought that, since her husband had vanished somewhere between his house and the town, it might be worth my while to look around the mill and see if I could find anything. Oh, not the kind of evidence that the law and soldiery look for on their hands and knees, but signs of monstrous habitation — the spoor of cursed night-creatures who might be swooping down and plucking men out of their saddles, then flying away to devour them at their leisure — or worse. I've found more than one hellspawn lurking in a remote mill.
She seemed agreeable enough and promised to show me over the grounds of the house as well. So we rode out together. By the time we got there, it was nearly time for the three men who were crushing grain to leave for the day, and Gabrielle dismissed them early. I couldn't help but notice the looks that they gave her as they left, as though they dreaded leaving the glory of her sight. And these were men with wedding rings on, too. She just had that effect on anything in trousers.
I got my attention off her long enough to prowl around the mill. The grounds didn't have many places for creatures to skulk. I found a dry well, but she told me that they used it for garbage, and after I got a whiff of the stench coming from down there, I believed her.
We looked in the mill then. "The only place within that is not in constant use is the cellar," she said. So I told her to stay upstairs while I went down with a lantern in one hand and the hilt of my sword in the other. I needn't have been so cautious. There wasn't a thing down there except for some staved-in barrels and some empty wooden boxes, none of which was long enough to harbor a vampire. Even the dirt floor had been long undisturbed.
I used the time alone down there to think about my situation. My emotions, really. I hadn't come into close contact with a woman since my blood was profaned by lycanthropy, so naturally I started to think that this. . baser feeling toward her might be the result of it. If this were true, then the best thing I could do would be to avoid Gabrielle now that I'd gotten as much information from her as she could give.
I was just about to bid her good-bye, as much as it hurt me to do it, when she asked me if I'd be willing to come and dine with her, that she had a few more things she wanted to tell me about her husband — "things hard to say," as she put it.
I should have refused. I should have gotten on my horse and ridden back to Chateaufaux and never seen her again. That was what I wanted to do, for I feared for this woman to whom I was so attracted, this woman whom I feared I was actually starting to love. Imagine that: me, who had never known love except for the concepts of goodness and purity. But what if that love for her grew into a passion that bore away Dragonov the good man, the slayer of evil, and the beastly side of my nature took over?
But I could not say no to her, no matter how much I wanted to. I believe I would have done anything to remain by her side. So I agreed to dine with her.
As we rode the short distance toward the house, I suddenly drew up my mount and raised a hand for Gabrielle to do the same. She did, looking at me curiously, but I only listened.
Finally she asked, "What is it? "
"Nothing, I guess," I said. "Just thought I heard something. "What I did not tell her was that it was not hearing as much as sensing. My years of hunting and being hunted by foul beings has given me a sixth sense, in most cases at least, and my lycanthropic blood has increased the sensation. I can feel the presence of a stalker, and I knew that there was something watching us from the thick trees that surrounded the open space in which we rode. I did not want to alarm Gabrielle, however, and since I couldn't tell where the watcher was hiding, I rode on. After a moment I thought that maybe there was nothing there at all, that my sensing an unseen enemy was just a manifestation of my own unease at being alone with Gabrielle.
At the house, she ushered me to a large dining hall and told a servant that there would be two at dinner that evening. I was placed at the end of the large table in the middle of the hall, and she at my right, a very intimate setting in spite of the size of the room. The ceiling was a good thirty feet high, and richly embroidered tapestries hung from nearly every wall.
Two servants brought the dinner and waited on us as we ate. The food was plentiful and delicious, though I could scarcely take my eyes from the woman long enough to eat. We talked of this and that, and she didn't bring up her husband until after she had dismissed the servants for the night, and we were alone in the room, lit by firelight and candles.
Then she walked toward the fireplace, turned, and stood there looking at me. Her gaze might just as well have turned me to stone. During dinner, she had looked at me politely, and reacted with interest when I spoke, but now the look she gave me was that of a lover, intimate and searching.
"Monsieur," she said huskily, "I have told you that there is more to the story, and there is. My husband Roger and I did not share the happy marriage you might have imagined. I do wish to find him, that is true, for he is my husband, and for that I owe him the loyalty of a wife. But when I saw you and spoke to you, I knew that you were. . different from other men."