The Curator's Vampire

By Alexa Piper

After returning from France, Robyn wants nothing more than to snuggle in the arms of her vampire husband and lover, Maxim. When Maxim, New Amsterdam’s vampire hunter, is called to work, Robyn finds a mummy has been added to the art collection she manages. While Maxim follows his case, Robyn decides to dive headfirst into yet another mummy mystery.

Maxim has been working on a case that might involve a dark conspiracy, but more than anything, the case forces him to confront scars from the past. He can no longer hide how damaged he is from the woman he loves. He may have hidden the truth from her for too long already, and Maxim fears that Robyn will find him unworthy of her love and desire.

In the aftermath of Maxim’s tumultuous case and the emotions it’s forced him to confront, the mummy turns out to be more murderous than anyone expected. It’s not a mummy’s curse that’s been triggered, but the beginnings of a conspiracy Maxim fears he and those he loves may not easily be rid of.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Changeling Press
• Release date: Jul 3, 2021

Book preview

Introduction

Hundreds of years ago, Werewolves, Fae, and Vampires collectively decided to step out of the murky depths of myth and fairy tale and reveal themselves to human society, preferring to live next to, rather than apart from, humans. This event is known as the Year of Revelation. Yet, while supernaturals might seem united among themselves to those outside their cultures, the reality of coexisting is not as peaceful as one might hope -- and the supernaturals themselves are not as united as they may appear. Not all agree that coexistence is the best path forward.

Chapter One

Niccolo and Sibylla sat in the lounge area of the Paris airport. Sibylla kept tugging her hair back behind her ears -- when she wasn’t stirring her cappuccino or rearranging the packets of sweetener in their holder on the table.

Stop fussing, Niccolo told his sister in flawless French. It makes you look suspicious.

Sibylla jerked her hand back from the sweetener packets and stopped her hands from going to her hair again by folding them in front of her as if in prayer. She took a deep breath, but Niccolo could tell it wasn’t doing much to calm her. He understood that all too well.

Do you see her yet? Sibylla asked. She wanted to look over her shoulder. Niccolo could tell.

Niccolo let his gaze drift to the terminal beyond, the stores advertising high-end brands or selling overpriced gifts to travelers who forgot to pick something up for a loved one in Paris. Tourists and business travelers alike brought color and voices from halfway around the world to the scene, but Niccolo couldn’t see the woman they were here for. Not yet, Niccolo told his sister.

Sibylla nodded. I’m scared, Nico. She’d been skeptical about coming here, and she still was.

I know. I am too, but we have to do this. He said the words to her, but also to himself. Certainty was always fleeting and had been so all their lives.

Sibylla nodded. Her knuckles turned white as she forced her hands to remain still.

Niccolo looked over Sibylla’s shoulder again. His eyes fell on the woman from his visions. She was running and awkwardly dragging a bag behind her, which she then dropped in order to hug a dark-haired, olive-skinned man who hugged her back eagerly. They almost seemed like family, and if it weren’t for their obviously different features, Niccolo would have thought this man her brother. And he wasn’t alone. Niccolo knew who his companion was.

Don’t turn. That’s her, and her husband’s assistant, he told Sibylla.

Sibylla bit her lip. The vampire hunter’s assistant?

Niccolo nodded. It hadn’t been easy to find out things about Maxim Vallois and his new wife, Robyn Somerton, but thanks to his visions, Niccolo had known what to look for, and the Internet had delivered at least some insights.

Merde, Sibylla said. Do we still talk to her before the flight?

The woman had now moved on to hug the taller of the two men, the one with the sandy-blond hair Niccolo had recognized as Vallois’s assistant. The man with the darker hair whom Somerton had greeted like a brother had picked up her bag, and his wide smile distracted from the wet sheen of presumably happy tears in his eyes. They didn’t seem like they were going on a different flight or going their separate ways, flying off to different countries.

Niccolo shook his head. I think it’s better if we wait. In my vision, it was just us and her, so we’ll have to find another time. We should head to the gate, but don’t stare.

Sibylla snorted. That’s just his assistant, but I really don’t want his attention. And I may be nervous, but I’m not stupid.

Niccolo shrugged. I never said that. But that other guy seems very protective. Almost like close family.

Eyes down. Got it, Sibylla said, her tone bitter enough to hide the desperation.

Before she got up, Niccolo reached out to take his sister’s hand in his. New Amsterdam will be good for us. You have to trust me, Siby.

She looked at him with her dark brown eyes that mirrored his own. I trust you, Nico. That doesn’t mean I can’t be scared at the same time.

Nico knew how that felt. Every other vision he had these days scared him. Following them got increasingly harder as a result.

Right, he said. We can do this.

We can do this, she agreed. Then, she tugged her hair back behind her ear and flinched when she noticed. I hope they have plenty of booze on that plane. It’s a twelve-goddamn-hour flight.

And they’d have to ignore the hunter’s bride for every minute of those twelve hours. Niccolo sighed. Maybe we should get a drink before we head to the gate and board.

A drink would be so much better than coffee right about now, Sibylla agreed. She pushed her cappuccino away. The frothy top had already considerably deflated, leaving just a half-full cup of brownish liquid with the odd bubble showing.

They went to buy overpriced liquor to calm their over-stressed nerves. It only helped so much, but it was better than trying not to stare at Robyn Somerton while they waited to board.

* * *

After over half a day spent in the relative comfort of first class, Robyn watched the baggage claim carousel in New Amsterdam’s City Airport, slowly, slowly spewing bags and suitcases. What she wanted was a shower, sleep, and decent food, but only after she’d had a chance to hug and kiss Maxim. She stood next to Brian and Heath, who were holding hands, almost unconsciously.

I am really glad to be almost home again, Brian said. He’d said it about once an hour since Robyn had met them in Paris.

Right, Robyn said.

Heath gave her an amused look. Maxim will be so distracted when he has you back. And so much less of a pain. He’ll be just too busy with you. The dhampire stressed that with a grin and a wink, which was very unlike him. Probably honeymoon hormones or something, Robyn thought.

She nodded. I’m looking forward to keeping him busy. Oh, and thanks, guys, for changing your flight so we could head back together. I would have hated dragging Ravelle and Yanis all the way across the Atlantic just to drop me all pretty and prim before they head wherever they’re going.

Brian nodded. You never know when you might run into some random Lar. It was important that someone minds that. He narrowed his brown eyes at Robyn. You already run into too many strange Lares, and I don’t like it.

Heath glanced at his husband. What he means is, he should be the only Lar in your life.

Obviously, Brian said, crossing his arms.

Robyn nodded. Obviously.

Heath giggled. Then he pulled his phone out, and Robyn remembered that hers was still in flight mode. She turned it back on and found a text from Maxim. Waiting, was all it said.

Judging by that giddy grin, the old bat is already expecting us, Heath said. He looked at her with his dark blue eyes.

He is, Robyn said. Movement from the carousel caught her attention. Hah, mine, she said, and snatched one bag from the several that had finally come up.

"Oh, excusez moi," said a woman Robyn had nearly barreled into in her eagerness to get her luggage and get going.

So sorry, Robyn said. She picked up her bag, and the woman -- glossy black curls hiding a fine-boned face -- just nodded, got her own bag, and quickly walked away.

Here, let me take that, Heath said and took Robyn’s bag from her. When Robyn turned back to the woman, she was already gone.

I hear that some Lares work at airports and make sure bags don’t go astray, Brian said. He reached for their suitcases. I prefer 43 Ruthaven. Nothing ever gets lost there on my watch.

Someone can’t wait to get home, Heath said. In an unusual display of public affection, he kissed his Lar, who dropped one of the bags he was holding.

Make that all of us, Robyn said. She couldn’t wait to do some kissing of her own. So do we have everything?

We do, but can I ask a favor before we go meet the old bat? Heath asked.

Robyn put her hands on her hips. I can’t wait to hear this.

Heath ran a hand through his hair. Don’t be like that. Just -- tell him you made me do all the research for you and Ravelle, please?

I’m too tired for this, Robyn thought. Why is that a problem? I mean, I’m sorry you had to work during your honeymoon, but --

No, no. Heath shook his head. That’s not it.

It kind of is, Brian threw in. People do not take work on their honeymoon.

Heath ignored his husband. It’s just that Maxim might object to me not telling him you and grandma went mummy hunting. Which, by the way, did you really have to?

We didn’t go mummy hunting. Heavens. I just unwrapped one, and it wasn’t even a real mummy. And I got to go through the storerooms of the mummy murder museum and into those old, abandoned parts of the chateau, Robyn said. Then she considered her words. Okay, fine. I can see how that is not the wine sampling vacation we had planned.

Exactly, Heath said and gave Robyn his most winning smile. So, tell him you made me. And as a thank-you, that bachelorette party I still owe you will be the awesomest ever.

Robyn groaned. You don’t owe me a party, Heath. The first one had been somewhat cut short because of a creatively assembled corpse, and Heath had never quite gotten over his flawlessly planned event getting ruined like that.

He hasn’t been able to let that one go, so let him give you that makeup party, Brian added. And Clement is not coming.

Of course not, Heath agreed. You are the only Lar who’ll get to stare at the werewolf strippers.

Robyn sighed and rubbed her eyes. Heavens, she was tired. The trip to France had been far less draining than the trip home, and she was ready to agree with Ravelle about long distance travel and the pain in the butt it was. You know what? Fine. We can have a formerly bachelorette party, I’ll tell my husband I forced you to use your computer skills in that mummy mystery, and you get to carry my bags. Sound good?

Heath picked up her bag and carry-on and flashed her a smile. Sounds excellent.

* * *

Maxim watched the small trickle of people going through the Forum security zone and being swallowed by the much larger stream of human people going through the regular human security check. He was looking for waves of ebony dark hair and storm-gray eyes, and he hated that time was moving too slowly and keeping him away from Y Robyn. He had missed her, had missed coming home to her and being able to make sure she’d slept contently through the absences his hunter errands demanded.

An older lady was wheeling her suitcase past Maxim. The jacket she’d slung over it dropped to the floor almost in front of Maxim’s feet, and he quickly bent, managed to catch it halfway to the floor.

Miss, you dropped this, he said to the woman.

Thank you! What a gentleman, she said, then took him in. Maxim knew the look, the evaluation, the readjustment when the human realized he wasn’t like them, was a vampire. The lady smiled at him. Waiting for someone, are you?

Yes, my wife, he told her. He loved telling people about his Y Robyn, and if his Y Robyn knew only half of the fantasies he had about taking her to places just to introduce her as his wife, she might demand he hand over all his old manuscripts to her for safekeeping and proper storage as punishment for fantasizing about it. My wife is fierce like that.

Aw, I remember the days when my Donnie would wait for me, the woman said. A faraway smile stole onto her wrinkled face. I would tell you to cherish the time, but your kind has all the time. You’re lucky.

Only if both of us are vampires, and my Y Robyn is human, Maxim thought, but he didn’t tell the woman that. I know I am, and I am grateful every day that she has chosen me. Have a safe trip, he told the woman.

Before she had even fully left his line of sight, he smelled crushed cardamom pods, and as soon as he turned his head, Robyn practically leaped at him. It was the best attack directed at him in a good long while, and it functioned perfectly as a greeting. Perhaps I can make her greet me like this always. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he wanted to crush her in his, though he was mindful of his strength.

My heart is whole once more, he whispered into her hair. Then he deeply breathed in her scent. The way he’d missed it, missed it in their bedroom and their marriage bed and in every corner of their home, had hit him quite unawares.

Robyn chuckled. I just saw you flirting with a random stranger.

Yes, old bat, we all saw it. Heath and Brian had taken charge of their combined luggage, and Brian didn’t look at all like the honeymoon had done him well. The Lar looked like the household guardian he was, only too long removed from the house and hearth he guarded. Heath looked well, however, almost as if he’d had a real vacation. There was no product in his son’s hair that Maxim could detect.

Hush, Heath, Maxim said, allowing Robyn to pull back a little. Humility is a hard-earned art, and you should practice it.

Aww, you missed each other, Y Robyn commented. Maxim could still feel her thinness. He was glad he’d arranged for food to be waiting at the penthouse. I thought the French put butter in everything, he thought. They should have put some in her.

Maxim shrugged. Hardly, honey, he said, punctuating that with a kiss to her cheek. Without the worrisome warden of my purchasing liberties, I had quite a time acquiring new things for our collection.

Her storm eyes lightened like a post-blizzard sky. Oh, you bought more art?

Heath groaned, and Brian patted him on the shoulder. Are you fucking kidding me? You didn’t have enough clutter already?

It’s not clutter, Heath, Robyn said. It’s historically relevant art, so stop complaining.

Do you intentionally give me more reasons to love you, Robyn, every time you speak? Or do you speak just to wreak havoc on my heart with the ardor in your words? Maxim said, pulling her to him again.

Oh, fuck. I really didn’t miss the damn rhyming, Heath said.

Sure you did, Robyn said, her giggle echoing through Maxim’s every bone.

Can we please go home now? Brian asked. The poor Lar really wanted his hearth. And his fruit bowl, Maxim was sure.

Maxim let one arm drop away from his Y Robyn. Of course. Brian, Carol has been taking ever such good care of the front desk, and Clement has found the bar to be quite a nice home for a homeless Lar. He looked at Robyn as the four of them started walking toward the car. He’s a bar Lar now, and he’s been missing you, Robyn, you know.

That… polter-Lar! Brian said, and he was only half wrong, for Clement had indeed been a rabid poltergeist rather than a well-behaved Lar, but Maxim was willing to not judge him for