Blood Secret (21 page)
Lucy studied the madam’s face. She wore a mild, agreeable expression, but she possessed sharp, intelligent gray eyes. Her lashes had been darkened, and kohl encircled her eyes to make them appear very large.
“I agree that women should be well versed in finances,” Lucy said, though to her own ears, her voice sounded rigid and tight. “It is fortunate you can trust her. But just because a person is a member of a family ... it does not mean they are definitely loyal.”
“I agree. That is quite true.” The madam waved toward a small table. A silver tray sat there, adorned with a gilt-rimmed teapot and two cups and saucers. “Now, you must have a seat so we can talk. Greystone spoke of your troubles, my dear.”
“Sin—the duke spoke to you?” She crossed her arms over her chest, fighting for pride, though she supposed she looked to be shielding herself. “About what troubles?”
The madam wore cream silk gloves. She tapped her index finger. “Your brother’s debts.” Then the next finger, to count the next trouble. “His nefarious plans for you.” More fingers. “Your poverty. The loss of your father. The threats to your life. Your worry over the duke’s poor nephew.”
“He told you ...” Lucy stared. “Everything?” It was an idiotic question. How could the woman know if she knew everything or not? But the madam merely sat, then poured tea, filling two cups close to the brim. After that, Mrs. Simpson withdrew a flask from her skirts and poured a generous tot in the cup. Balancing cup upon saucer, she held it up.
“You should take this, my dear. It will calm your nerves.”
Lucy took the cup but she carefully set it down. “At this point, I do not believe anything could possibly do that.”
“Keeping your hands busy will help. You will see.” Mrs. Simpson took a healthy swallow, and the bite of brandy filled the air. Holding her cup, the madam patted Lucy’s knee. “My dear, I wish to assure you that you can remain in this house as long as you wish.”
Another thought struck.
Payment
. Heavens, she had not even thought about that. Even if Jack had not been draining their money, she had no access to anything other than her modest allowance. “Thank you. His Grace did not mention what the cost is—”
Payment
. Heavens, she had not even thought about that. Even if Jack had not been draining their money, she had no access to anything other than her modest allowance. “Thank you. His Grace did not mention what the cost is—”
“Of course not, for he has taken it on himself.”
“He cannot!” Lucy gasped.
“Of course he can. He brought you here when you were unconscious. I assume it was quite a surprise to you to wake up in one of my bedchambers, with no memory of how you got here. I expect he did not ask you, or even tell you about his plan. He just did it. Thus, he should bear the expense. Besides, that is what men are for.”
But he should not. They did not have that kind of ... arrangement, or relationship? Lucy could not think of an appropriate word. She did not know what was between them. She had agreed to be his lover for a fortnight, but that was for debts, and the agreement must be meaningless now.
The woman’s friendliness was disarming—other than Sinjin, Lucy had no one to confide to anymore. She wouldn’t tell truthful things to her sisters; her duty was to reassure them. She had never really been able to talk to Jack. He would claim to be bored, or he would simply not listen. Even if he did, her admonitions never seemed to sink into his head.
“You may ask me anything,” the madam said. “For I suspect the duke did not tell you everything. In fact, it appears he told you little at all.”
She frowned. “You cannot read my mind, can you?”
“No. But I can read your eyes, my dear. I can see questions flitting through them. I can see worry. Perhaps I can help you with some answers.”
So tempting, but was she being lured into making a terrible mistake? On the other hand, she could possibly learn things, things Sinjin wouldn’t tell her. Did she think he would deliberately lie or keep information from her?
She didn’t know ... she didn’t yet know. “The duke told me this is a sanctuary for vampires,” Lucy said carefully. “What does that mean?”
“Yes, that is true.” Mrs. Simpson smiled. “It is a sanctuary for you and your sisters.”
“Do you think I am a vampire?”
“No, dear. I do know that you are a dragon. I had you brought to see me for another reason, Lady Lucinda. I suspect Greystone did not tell you very much about your brother this morning. He would not have wanted to trouble you. However, I know men never give women credit for the strength we obviously possess in spades. I felt it would be better for you to know the truth.”
When women said something like that, like “it would be better for you to know the truth,” Lucy was unnerved. Sometimes women were not always honest—a young lady had said that to her to try to drive her away from a particular gentlemen. Of course, the lady had not needed to waste her breath—Lucy had known she could not fall in love with a normal gentleman. “What did the duke tell you that he did not tell me?” It was an odd way to ask the question, but she knew Mrs. Simpson would understand.
“While you slept, Greystone spoke with other dragon slayers who were here. He questioned them about your brother. You see, Greystone is in service to a demon that commands the dragon slayers. This man is an immortal and is many hundreds of years old.”
“He commands Sin—I mean, the duke.”
“Yes. He turned Greystone into a vampire. The duke is in his service for eternity. If the duke disobeys his orders, he would be destroyed. That is the vow all of the vampire dragon slayers make—service for eternity.”
Her stomach dropped. Sinjin had promised he would not hurt her but how could he not, if he was sworn to slay dragons forever? “Why ... why would Sinjin want to do this?” she whispered.
“I see he has explained nothing about himself. Why does any man make such a drastic choice?”
Lucy shook her head. She had no idea.
“For revenge.”
“Revenge?” she echoed, and she waited, barely able to draw breath. She waited for more, but the madam lifted her tea to her lips and sipped. Revenge. Why would a man become a dragon slayer for revenge? It had to mean that dragons had hurt him once. Or dragons had taken someone he loved ...
“What was it?” she whispered. “What did my kind take from him?”
The clink of cup and saucer made Lucy flinch as though someone had fired a pistol.
“His family,” the madam said coolly. “Each member of his family except his eldest sister. He lost his father and mother, his younger brother, his two littlest sisters.”
“Oh. Oh God.” Lucy’s hands went to her mouth. Imagined scenes rushed through her mind. Father had paintings ... paintings of battles between dragons and slayers. He had kept them hidden, but once she had found some. Pictures that showed dragons attacking villages, goring people with their claws and sharp wings, breathing fire. Father had told her such things were not real, that dragons were peaceful, that they had been painted for the slayers to justify the reason for having men to hunt dragons. But what if it were true ... what if that had been what had happened to his family?
Mrs. Simpson gently patted Lucy’s knee. “Now you understand what a struggle it has been for him to care so deeply for you. It is probably why he has not told you about your brother.”
“What about my brother? Please tell me. Stop hinting at horrible things, and tell me.”
“Your brother is being controlled by the prince.”
That made no sense. “By Prinny?” What on earth would the Prince Regent have to do with this?
“No, by the demon who commands the dragon slayers. He is called ‘the prince.’ ”
“My brother would not go to the prince of slayers—” Lucy began to protest, but the teacup was pushed back into her hands.
“Greystone fears your brother made a trade: his life in return for you. The duke fears your brother was going to give you to the prince, and in payment, your brother’s life would be spared.”
“Jack—” Horror numbed her lips. It made her choke on a small sip of tea. She sputtered. But it was possible, wasn’t it? To save his own skin, what would Jack be willing to do?
“Just me. Or my sisters also?”
The madam shook her head. “We do not know. The duke will want to find out.”
“What can he do? How can this ... be stopped?” For there was no way of stopping this, was there? The dragon slayers killed dragons. They had vowed not to stop until all dragons were dead.
“I have lived a long time, my dear. Much longer than you might think.
Centuries,
” the madam said, and she rose to her feet. “Come now, my dear, we will find a way. There is
always
a way. Now, let us take you to see your sisters.”
Centuries,
” the madam said, and she rose to her feet. “Come now, my dear, we will find a way. There is
always
a way. Now, let us take you to see your sisters.”
16
Ultimatum
“N
ot four times in a row! That is not
fair!
”
ot four times in a row! That is not
fair!
”
The feminine voice came through an open door as Lucy stepped into a small but exquisitely decorated sitting parlor. Four doors led off from the sitting room, and she recognized her sister Beatrix’s indignant cry. Mrs. Simpson smiled, and stayed back, letting her rush past. But Lucy stopped at the doorway to the bedroom.
It was so good to see her sisters, see they were both safe, and utterly oblivious to her. Lucy hugged herself in the doorway and sniffled. Taking a minute to compose herself—it would do her two sisters no good to see her teary—she watched Helena triumphantly slap down a playing card, obviously delighted to win the game. Helena was curled in a wing chair with a woolen shawl around her shoulders and golden-haired Beatrix was stretched on a chaise, with a blanket spread over her feet. Beatrix tossed her cards down on a small table in disgust. “I think you are cheating, Helena.”
“I am not! I am just very good at cards. You never pay attention!”
They were behaving like normal girls, having a dramatic and meaningless argument. And Lucy had Sinjin to thank for her safety, not her brother. The world felt as if it was tilting beneath her every time she tried to take a step. Mocking her for thinking she could be normal.
Sinjin, the dragon slayer, had promised to protect her from his “prince.” He was the one she could trust to protect her sisters. Her brother wanted to drag her to the demon, not caring if she died. She had no idea what he would do to Helena and Beatrix, all she knew was that she could not trust him.
“Helena, Beatrix, I—I want you to both play fairly.”
At the sound of her voice, Helena turned in the wing chair. Beatrix kicked off her blanket and leapt from the chaise. “Lucy!” Beatrix cried. Her blue eyes widened, her hands waved dramatically. “We thought you would never wake up. I was afraid you were going to
die.
Helena was so afraid, too—at first she told me not to be foolish, then she started to cry!”
die.
Helena was so afraid, too—at first she told me not to be foolish, then she started to cry!”
Beatrix rushed forward and launched at Lucy. Lucy found herself wrapped in a hug, and she embraced her sister back, stroking her hair.
Helena flushed. “I shouldn’t have done that. As the next oldest, I was supposed to take care of Beatrix—”
“Helena, you are not
supposed
to do anything but be ... be normal,” Lucy whispered. “If you need to cry, don’t try to stoically stop the tears. You are not supposed to bear the weight of so much responsibility.”
supposed
to do anything but be ... be normal,” Lucy whispered. “If you need to cry, don’t try to stoically stop the tears. You are not supposed to bear the weight of so much responsibility.”
“You do,” Helena pointed out. She slowly stood. “Because Jack will not.”
“I—” She was about to say
I have to.
But that was what Helena had felt: that she must take charge of the family because there was no one else. Now she had to warn them about Jack. If she did not tell them the truth, to spare their feelings, to keep from hurting them more, they would still trust Jack, which meant he could approach them and capture them. She had not even asked the madam if Sinjin had told her sisters why they were here.
I have to.
But that was what Helena had felt: that she must take charge of the family because there was no one else. Now she had to warn them about Jack. If she did not tell them the truth, to spare their feelings, to keep from hurting them more, they would still trust Jack, which meant he could approach them and capture them. She had not even asked the madam if Sinjin had told her sisters why they were here.
“What happened, Lucy?” Beatrix asked. “Why did you go to the house on the moors? The duke came for us and told us we must go with him, and he would bring us to you, and keep us safe.”
“He told us we must not speak to Jack,” Helena added. Deep lines creased her forehead. “The duke told us that Jack had hurt you, and that, to pay his debts, he was willing to do something dangerous to us all. I didn’t know what to do. Creadmore tried to have the duke thrown out of the house. He did not want to even let me speak to the duke. When I refused to obey, he became furious. He tried to have the footmen drag Beatrix and me upstairs. I didn’t understand—Creadmore has never acted in such a way before.”
“I don’t know. Perhaps he thought he was protecting you. Perhaps he thought the duke had hurt me, not Jack. I was hurt in a carriage accident, but it was one that was caused because of Jack.”
Gently, carefully, she explained everything she knew. She told them about James, about the fact Father had taken the boy, and she told them about the duke, who had ruined Jack to get his nephew back. She told them how she had decided it was not right for her family to hold James, and how she had taken Sinjin to the house on the moors to retrieve the boy. And she told them about Jack—the conversation Sinjin had overheard, the fact Jack’s lackey had shot Sinjin, and the fact her own brother was going to haul her off and give her to some mysterious, dangerous man.
“Jack did this?” Helena echoed. “And Father kidnapped a child?”
“Yes, this is how it appears to be. The young boy, James, is a dragon and he can already shift shape—”
“The Duke of Greystone is a dragon slayer!” gasped Beatrix. “Was he going to hurt his own nephew, though, Lucy?”
She shook her head. “He would never do such a thing—I am sure of it. He wants to protect his nephew. He was willing to risk his life to try to rescue James.”
“He is a dragon slayer, Lucy,” Helena said, softly. Deep concern showed in her eyes.
“I know. He has never hurt me, but it is true that he is a dragon slayer. We have to be careful—we must also protect ourselves around the duke.”
“It is like Romeo and Juliet,” Beatrix breathed. Ingenuously, she coiled a black curl around her finger and gave a romantic sigh.
“It most certainly is not,” Lucy said sharply. “They both ended up dead.” However, both her clan and Sinjin’s prince were threatening his life. Sinjin’s clan and her brother threatened hers. Sinjin was duty-bound to kill her and also her sisters. How could she keep her family safe? How could she hope to survive? Or would Sinjin be killed? She must push those thoughts away. She could not show fear in front of her sisters. For them, she must put on a brave front—
“You do care about him, don’t you?” Helena asked. “Are you in love with him?”
“I—No, I am not in love with him. I would not do anything to risk our lives. But we are safe while we are in this house. Mrs. Simpson has promised me that.”
“You believe her?” Helena looked startled. “You never trust anyone, Lucy.”
It was true—why should she trust a madam? “I do trust her. She seemed to be speaking the truth. However, she did point out that she cannot protect us outside of this house. You two will have to stay here, and you are to stay to your rooms. This house is not the sort of place you can run around in—”
“I know,” Beatrix said. “It’s a brothel. Though I long to see what happens in such places. This morning, I saw two of the most handsome men ever, and they were identical in every way—”
“Exactly where did you see them?” Lucy broke in.
“Oh, I was looking out the window, and I saw them alight from a carriage,” Beatrix answered, her eyes wide and innocent.
“Indeed.” Lucy did not believe her sister’s exaggerated guileless expression. “Make sure looking out of the window is all that you do. You cannot go anywhere in here, not even to satisfy your curiosity, or to gawk at men. This place is
dangerous.
”
dangerous.
”
Beatrix’s lower lip wobbled. “Then what are we to do? We cannot go home—that is too dangerous! We cannot trust our own brother, because you have told us he is desperate and therefore,
dangerous.
This house is dangerous, and the man you are trusting, the Duke of Greystone, is a dragon slayer. Therefore, dangerous!”
dangerous.
This house is dangerous, and the man you are trusting, the Duke of Greystone, is a dragon slayer. Therefore, dangerous!”
The truth of it all struck Lucy. She had no safe sanctuary for her family. She had promised her dying mother to take care of them all—and she was failing miserably.
But Helena shot Lucy a look: a firm, no-nonsense look. She went to Beatrix and put her arm around the girl. “We are dragons, Beatrix. Unfortunately that means there are many dangers in our lives. We are together, all three of us, and because of that, I am not afraid.”
“I’m not scared,” Beatrix mumbled. “I’m frustrated and bored. Shouldn’t it be exciting to be in so much danger?”
“It’s not exciting,” Lucy said firmly. “It is just exhausting.”
But a rap on the door made them all start and turn around. A footman bowed. “I beg your pardon, Lady Lucinda, but you are needed at once in the bedchamber of Master James, the nephew of the duke.”
The moment Lucy hurried into James’s bedroom, Mrs. Simpson surged forward and clasped her by the arm. The woman’s hair was falling out of its elaborate style and her face was distraught with worry. “Good heavens, my dear,” Mrs. Simpson cried. “I have no idea what happened to the boy! I came to see him, and he suddenly began to writhe on the bed.”
Lucy moved past the woman, quickly asking, “Did he change his form?”
“No. No, he did not. But he lifted off the covers and he hovered over the bed. At once, he stopped moving, and he stayed perfectly still, floating.”
Heavens. Lucy had never heard of a dragon doing such a thing. “Did he say anything?”
“No. He did not speak at all.”
As she reached the bed, Lucy looked to the window. The curtains were partly open and some sunshine fell into the room. Sinjin could not come yet. Looking after James, helping the boy, was something she must do.
Bother, she could not summon Sinjin, anyway. Now that she knew he was searching for revenge, shouldn’t she accept that he wanted to kill her? That he had to?
Before, she had argued with him. Before she had known why he hunted dragons. Deep in her heart, she still wanted to believe in him. But then, she had been so very wrong about Alan��she had thought she could marry him because he was kind, charming, and good. In truth, he had been none of those things.
She knelt in front of James and clasped one of his hands in hers. Surprise and worry spiked: his hand was as cold as ice, yet he was bundled in a blanket and a good fire burned only a few feet from him. What was wrong?
Lucy lifted his hand and gave it a kiss. Then she turned over his palm and sucked it, which tickled madly, she knew. A smile flickered at the boy’s small, cupid’s bow lips.
“Aha,” she said, with cheer that was false but hopefully convincing. “You are teasing me. You know I am here, and I will tickle you until you greet me.”
She released his hand and snaked her fingers into his armpits. He squeaked, jumped on the chair, and clamped his arms against him. Almost against his will, a giggle escaped, then another.
She tickled and tickled him until he was slapping at her, and gasping, “Stop, stop, stop, Lucy! I don’t want to be tickled!”
She did stop, drawing her hands out from his underarms. She gave him a long cuddle instead. “There. Now you are speaking to me again. I was so afraid you would not. Your uncle is safe, you know. He was not hurt and I don’t want you to think of what you saw. You are safe now, and you are with your uncle Sinjin again.”
He nodded solemnly. “I know Uncle is alive. He took me when the carriage crashed. It was very exciting. The carriage was all smashed to bits.”
“Well, we were both all right, and that is the most important thing.”
“The horses galloped very fast. Were they running away from my uncle? Where were we going?”
That she did not know—though the madam had told her Jack was working for Sinjin’s prince, which meant they were probably being taken to him. “I don’t know, but I did not want to go and I know you did not either. But you are not going to be taken away from your uncle again.”
He nodded. “I love Uncle,” he said, with a deep seriousness that fractured Lucy’s heart.
The poor boy. It must have been the shock of seeing Sinjin shot that had made the boy so cold, so wild, and had sent him back into his own world. But ... why had he lifted above the bed? She had never heard of a dragon doing such a thing, but since dragons could fly, wasn’t it possible that they could levitate?
She let go of James, went to the door, and asked Mrs. Simpson to bring food for the boy. Once she was alone with James, Lucy sat with him. She sang him cheery songs, but her heart was not in them.
What was she going to do to protect Helena and Beatrix? She should take her sisters and they should run. But to where? Could they really escape both Sinjin and Jack?
Should she not at least try, rather than wait like a fool to be killed? Should they not run in the day?
Yes. They would have to.
He knew he was dreaming. Knew it wasn’t real, what he could see and feel. He knew it in the way that dreamers did. He was standing at the precipice of a cliff and the sea pounded below. His sword was gripped in his two hands and he slashed it at the chest and stomach of an enormous dragon.
Flames flew out of the beast’s mouth and licked at him. By dodging, jumping, somersaulting in the air, he managed to avoid being burned. Roaring, the dragon sent a burst of flame that ignited bushes around him. While they burned, the beast attacked again. Claws slashed. Its teeth gnashed toward him. It caught his shirt and tore it. He tried to jump back, but the beast had him against the cliff edge and he had nowhere to go. A slash of claws brought a row of wounds to his chest. Pain lanced him and blood poured. A fresh stream of flame came and caught his arm and the side of his face. The stench of burning skin filled the air. The pain was incredible, but he was a vampire, and he could survive what mortals could not.
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