Night Novellas - Lisa Kessler Page 0,1

of golden hair, made his pulse jump, but it was her hands that piqued his curiosity.

He was almost certain he’d seen her pick a man’s pocket while he chatted with her. But as quickly as Kane realized what he had witnessed, she moved into the mass of people, swallowed by the crowd.

A crease marred his forehead. Had that fair creature just robbed a man?

He milled through the ocean of Parisians and allowed the thoughts of the mortals around him to fill his mind. He noticed a police officer and smiled when he realized that they both searched for the same woman.

The officer called her Le Voleur D’or. The golden thief.

Interesting.

Kane gripped his gold-tipped cane and walked away from the noise. The streets would be filled with malice before long. Hunger flared at the thought, an automatic response to the suggestion of cutthroats—his primary sustenance since he’d arrived in France.

Lifetimes ago.

This city suited him. His light coloring blended with the French people. He had stood out among the Maya, where his appearance only helped to distinguish him as a god, but here in France, he lived among mortals without any suspicion of his origins.

A blessing and a curse. Part of him longed for the days when mortals recognized him for who and what he was.

Often, he stared at the stars and wondered about the fate of his homeland.

The following evening, Kane awoke with an unfamiliar eagerness to face the night. His sole purpose in this world was protecting the innocent from those that would do them harm.

The woman’s face, especially her smile when she tucked the stolen purse into her dress, puzzled him. Usually men were the predators in Paris.

He made his way up through the secret passage under his château. Using his inhuman strength, he pushed up the large stone that opened to the floor in the center of his bedroom. After replacing the stone, he covered the seam with the tapestry rug and went to his dressing room.

One part of living in the modern world that still tried his patience was the clothing. His skin chafed, suffocating under the European frock coats, trousers, and ties.

In spite of the current fashion, he refused to wear a tie, leaving the tops of his shirts unfastened. Occasionally, his lack of perceived tidiness raised a brow, but he truly didn’t give a damn what others thought of him.

After tying his hair back with a leather thong, he reached for his cane. The mahogany base was capped off at the top with a finely hand-carved golden jaguar. One of a kind. A reminder of his true identity, despite his Parisian veneer and his ability to blend into the city’s crowds at night.

It didn’t take him long to locate the Commissionnaire de Policia strolling down one of the narrow alleyways.

“Officer.” He waited for the Commissionnaire to turn his way. “Might I inquire about Le Voleur D’or?”

The officer’s moustache shifted as if just the mention of her name reeked of filth, and Kane wondered if he would refuse. Not that it mattered. Kane could mesmerize him and get the information he sought.

But the uniformed man eyed him and nodded. “Beware of that one. She tempts with her golden hair and blue eyes, but behind her beauty lies a cunning thief. She entrances men and walks away with their valuables while they admire her.”

“How charming.” He frowned and shifted his cane, hoping he appeared concerned.

The officer shook his head. “She will not be so charming in prison.”

“Perhaps not.” He gave the officer a slight bow. “Thank you.”

He walked away into the shadows, amused. Not only was she beautiful, but his golden thief was also clever. So few challenges remained for him in this mortal world, he would relish finding her again.

It took nearly three weeks.

Kane accepted the invitations he normally ignored, and attended influential dinner parties with the wealthy elite in Paris. Judging by the gown she wore at Napoleon’s funeral, Kane supposed the golden thief would most likely frequent these same circles. Each night, he opened himself to the thoughts of the other guests and his hosts, but after two weeks had passed, he found no sign of her. In spite of the centuries he’d watched over this world, he still hadn’t mastered the art of patience.

He was about to give up this plan and return to searching the city streets when he finally found her.

He knew the second she entered the ballroom. The sound of her laughter floated over the string quartet that played in