Carpathian 17 - Dark Celebration

laughing. Even with Raven, who constantly amused him, he rarely gave a deep, roaring belly laugh, but the sight of his usually grim-faced brother covered in flour and sweating bullets was too much even for him.
    Jacques spun around, eyes glittering with warning menace—a fierce scowl, which should have intimidated the strongest and most courageous of warriors, on his face. A thin white scar circled his throat and marred his jaw and one cheek, bearing evidence of his past. It was extremely rare for a Carpathian body to scar, as they healed so easily, but Jacques's body bore evidence of brutal torture and probably always would, the thin scar around his throat and the jagged round hole in his chest marking where a stake had been driven deep into his body. "It is not funny."
    "It is very funny," Mikhail insisted. It was the first time Mikhail could recall his brother ever looking so disconcerted. Shea had not only saved his life and his sanity, but had brought Jacques back to life with her joy and humor. Mikhail shared the image of his brother with Raven. Her soft laughter filled his mind and poured over him with love woven deep in the rich tones. There was such intimacy with Raven, an intimacy he knew his brother shared with Shea—and it had saved Jacques's life. For that alone Mikhail would always treasure his sister-in-law. "Even Raven finds the situation amusing."
    " Raven . Do not say her name to me right now. She's the one who got me into this."
    Jacques blew upward in the hope of clearing the flour from his lashes.

    "I believe it is Shea you are helping," Mikhail pointed out, the grin refusing to leave his face.
    "Shea was in here crying. Crying , Mikhail. She sat in the middle of the floor and wept over a stupid loaf of bread." Jacques scowled and looked around him, lowering his voice. "I could not bear to see her like that."
    For one moment, Jacques looked utterly helpless, rather than the dangerous hunter Mikhail knew him to be.
    "Who would have ever thought bread could explode? The dough rose up over the top of the bowl and became a volcano, crawling down the sides and across the counter until I thought it was alive." Jacques shook a flour-covered piece of paper. "This is the recipe and it says cover with a tea towel. The tea towel did not have a prayer of containing that horrific bubbling brew."
    Mikhail pressed a hand to his side. He hadn't laughed so much in a hundred years. "I can only say I am glad I did not see it."
    "Quit laughing and get in here and help me." There was an edge of desperation to Jacques's voice. "For some reason that makes no sense to me at all, Shea is determined to make this bread for the party. She wants it braided and made into loaves and put in the oven. This is my third attempt. I thought people went to stores and bought this stuff."
    "You hunt vampires, Jacques," Mikhail said. "Making a loaf of bread cannot be that difficult."
    "You say that now, only because you have not tried it. Come in here and close the door."
    Jacques rubbed his arm across his face, smearing more white flour everywhere. "I need to talk to you anyway." He touched Shea's mind to ensure she was a distance away. His gaze shifted back to the dough, avoiding his brother's piercing eyes. "Shea's been corresponding with a woman who thinks she may be a distant relative."
    The smile faded from Mikhail's face. "How long?"
    "About a year. The woman found photographs in her attic and apparently is into genealogy. She wrote Shea asking if they could be related. She thinks Shea is Maggie's granddaughter rather than her actual daughter. Shea wanted the pictures of her mother and wrote back to her."
    Mikhail stifled the groan that threatened. "Jacques. You know better. How could she have tracked Shea in the first place? We are careful not to leave a trail."
    "It is not so easy now with computers, Mikhail, and Shea needs them to do research. The path takes her many places."
    "She should never have answered the contact."

    "I know. I know. I shouldn't have allowed it, but she's given up so much to be with me.
    I'm not like the rest of you and I never will be. You know that." Jacques's gaze shifted from his brother and pain rippled in the air between them. "She deserves better and I wanted to give her one small gift. Corresponding with someone who may be a relative and who claimed to have pictures of her mother—how could she possibly resist? And I could not bring myself to deny her."
    "You know it is dangerous. You know