Free The Devil & Lillian Holmes by Ciar Cullen Page A

is hounding us, Chauncey. She’s killed Annaluisa Pelosi and takes direct aim at George. We don’t know why, but there’s a rumor she’s put a price on his head. Perhaps she’s taken this long to want to destroy her maker.”
    Chauncey’s expression did not change. “Always liked you, Phillip. Never much liked your brother.”
    “He liked you, though. After all, you are as a grandchild to him. George is a tough one to—”
    “Of course I’ll help you.”
    What? Just like that, Chauncey was willing to go up against his maker? No protests, no conditions? Phillip had been ready to offer Chauncey leadership of a Baltimore House with allegiance from the Orleans brothers; a small prize, but something. Now he blew out a deep breath and kept silent.
    “Just keep Georgy at a distance. He gets under my skin.”
    Why? Why would you do this? But aloud: “Of course. We’ll talk more about it…when you come to Baltimore.”
    Chauncey reached into his coat and clutched something close to his chest. For a moment, Phillip thought the vampire might pull out a dagger, so he slid away a few feet and stood. “Right. Wonderful, then! My home is—”
    “I wondered where she was, and how I’d hear about it.” Chauncey shook his head. “I’ll find you. Say nothing of this to Phoebe. She doesn’t know about Marie. About us.”
    “What doesn’t she know? That she is your maker?”
    Chauncey glared and arched a brow. “Phoebe might give up on rescuing my soul if she knew who turned me.”
    Phillip shuddered. “Oh. No, of course I’ll say nothing.” He paused. “Well, then, I’ll be on my way and leave you to your prayers.”
    “Prayers?” Chauncey chuckled. “I simply like the stained glass. The images. They help me think. To plan.”
    Phillip nodded, wondering if the man had evaded insanity after all.
    He rushed to the back of the church and grabbed Kitty by the hand. She protested, “I’m not finished praying.”
    “You can pray on the train home, dear.”
    “Whatever is wrong? Did you find your man? You look like you saw a ghost!”
    Phillip nodded. “I feel like I saw a ghost.”

CHAPTER TEN
    Miss Holmes’s nighttime rendezvous.
    George lit his pipe, knowing that neither the smell nor flicker of the match would be seen or smelled from two stories below.
    He’d sat like a gargoyle throughout the night, feet hanging over the edge of Lillian’s roof, watching for activity below. A cab had pulled in front of her house and the driver spoke briefly with the maid, Aileen, but then left whistling happily. That was curious, but surely not the work of Marie de Bourbon. No one had died, at least not as far as George could tell.
    Hunger gnawed at him, but he wouldn’t leave Lillian alone with that she-devil running loose in the city. As Lil had noted, rather coldly, there might not be much he could do to protect her, but she was a target because of her love for him and he wouldn’t abandon her. At least, not until she ordered him to.
    He’d relived the scene over and over: how dismissive she’d sounded, how willing to be without him. They’d not been apart since the night he saved her mortal life and gave her his own blood as sustenance. Well, except for a few nights before, when he’d felt her slip out of bed and heard her tiptoe out of the room. He’d thought to let her hunt alone for the first time, to give her the gift of confidence. Surely she hadn’t gone to another man?
    He couldn’t imagine being apart from her ever again, but evidently she could. He had been a fool, so used to women falling at his feet—literally and figuratively—that he’d assumed Lil would feel the same.
    Phillip had chided him earlier in the night when he returned home, tail between his legs. “You speak as if you’ve never known a woman’s temper, George. I know damn well you’ve angered legions of them. Perhaps Lillian is simply tired. It happens. Not every acerbic tone means the end of things. You’d last five minutes