Be Mine Tonight by Kathryn Smith Page A

him. Dreux’s scent would be faint on him, but it was there—low enough that he couldn’t identify it, but strong enough that it appealed to a part of him.
    Dreux never knew his son. He was born after Dreux became a vampire, and Dreux, having seen the consequences of Chapel’s return to Marie, allowed his wife to believe him dead.
    If Dreux hadn’t killed himself, he might have been here to meet this young man. Would family not have been a reason to go on?
    Not for Dreux, no.
    Aware that he had been silent too long, Chapel cleared his throat. “Is that why you hunt the Grail, because your ancestor did?”
    “No.” Marcus spared him the slightest of glances as he focused on the buggy path ahead. “Because I think he found it. Or at least what he thought was the Holy Grail.”
    The churning in Chapel’s gut worsened. “What do you mean?”
    “There is some dispute among my research sources as to just what Beauvrai and his companions found during their plunder of the Templar base.” Marcus shot him another glance, as though he were hoping Chapel might have something toadd. Chapel remained silent. “Some believe it was the Holy Grail. Others believe it was an artifact of dark power.”
    Oh. God. Chapel’s fingers gripped the seat, biting into the bench so hard that the polished wood groaned. “Is that what you hope to find, this dark object?”
    “It doesn’t matter, not to me. For Pru’s sake, I hope to find the Holy Grail, but that is not the true treasure I expect to find in that cellar.”
    That he hadn’t said he wanted the Blood Grail was the only thing keeping Grey alive at this moment. It would not be a task Chapel relished, but if he had to, he would kill to keep the Grail out of the wrong hands—it was why he was there. Even if if meant killing one of Dreux’s blood, he would do it.
    “And what treasure do you hope to find?” His tone was even, calm, nothing in it belying his panic.
    “I believe there is something in that cellar that will tell me what really happened to Dreux Beauvrai and his companions.”
    “You talk as though you believe there to be some great mystery. They all died shortly after the Templar raid.” It came out more hotly than he intended.
    Grey shook his head. “I have reason to believe that they did not die. I have documents—written accounts that Beauvrai was spotted alive after he was supposed to have died. There is even a story in my family that he went to the funeral of hisfirstborn and was spotted by his widow. She supposedly fainted at the sight of him.”
    She had. Sweet Jesus, she had. How did Grey know this? “Really, Mr. Grey.” He forced a chuckle. “Such tales. Are you sure you are not related to Bram Stoker?”
    “You believe in something as fantastic as the Holy Grail, but not in vampires, Mr. Chapel? I’d thought you a man open to the possibilities of those things which we cannot prove.”
    Vampires. Grey had actually said it aloud.
    “I have traveled extensively, Mr. Grey. I have seen a great many things, but I have seen no evidence that can prove the existence of Dracula or his kind.” That wasn’t a lie. He hadn’t seen any evidence. He was evidence.
    “What do you know of Severian de Foncé?”
    Chapel’s heart fell to his stomach. “He was one of Beauvrai’s companions.”
    “There are accounts that he became a vampire as well. Supposedly he killed his own fiancée.”
    Closing his eyes against the pain that he knew would glow there like a beacon, Chapel drew his strength. He would not think of Marie. He would not.
    “De Foncé is dead.” It was a low growl, uttered from between clenched teeth. “I have seen his grave for myself.”
    “Yes,” Grey replied. “I would imagine you have.”
    What the hell? Chapel stared at him.
    Grey’s eyes left the dark path ahead for but asplit second. “Being the historian that you are, I mean.”
    That wasn’t it at all. Regardless, Marcus Grey was no threat to him—not physically. Perhaps it