Corsets and Crossbows: A Drake Chronicles Novella in Letters (6 page)

It wasn’t his fault, you know. He is a victim, as surely as he is a monster.

The stake was heavy in my hand.

It might have helped if he were ugly in some way, if his mouth was cruel or he smelled like boiled cabbage. His mouth was wicked, sensual. And he smelled of sandalwood soap.

Most unfair.

You’ll think me dishonorable but I didn’t want to kill him, Evangeline. I am weak.

He lied to me. He prowls the night and drinks maidens dry and still I … love him. There is one way to cure such an affliction, such an illness. You must cut the disease from your body, like a parasite. It must not be allowed to sink into your flesh and your bones and alter your very self.

It must not.

I spent so long dithering and entranced by his dark beauty like a pea brain that I never noticed the setting of the sun. There was no change in the light, no lengthening of shadows to warn me. The room was too well secured for that.

There was only a sleeping vampire waking suddenly, near mad with hunger.

That is not an exaggeration, Evangeline. For a long moment I did not recognize him. His eyes went silver, his fangs sharpened and gleamed. He was famished and I was there in my pretty dress like a pastry on a dessert tray. He reared up off the bed and I stumbled back, finger on the crossbow trigger. There was the rattle of metal and the creak of the bed frame as it protested his weight. He flung himself at me, snarling.

But he never touched me.

The chains on his one wrist, hidden under the pillow’s edge so I hadn’t noticed, pinned him down like a moth to a board. And I was the flame.

He nearly whimpered with thirst. Tears burned my eyes. He was suffering, Evie, and suffering keenly. No one ever mentions that part. But I will not forget it. Could not, even if I tried. Some inner strength had him going still, as suddenly as he had exploded into motion. The change was dizzying. So was the hoarse, almost tender, tone of his voice. “Rosalind?”

I nodded jerkily.

“Rosalind, you fool, go home!”

I lifted my chin. “Certainly not.”

He snarled again and lunged for the side table, iron chains rattling. He lifted a jug with both hands and drank greedily. As you must know, it was not wine. The smell of blood was coppery, disturbing. He drank it like it was the finest brandy, the warmest mulled cider on the coldest day. Despite myself, I was intrigued and lit one of the candles. The hiss of the wick catching and the burst of light had him hunching his shoulders, like an animal protecting his kill. When he’d drunk his fill, the jug was empty and sticky. He tossed it aside, wiping his mouth. When he turned back to look at me standing in the pool of candlelight, there was self-hatred in his eyes, now merely gray and not silver.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.

“I know,” I agreed.

“You’ve come to kill me?” He spread his arms wide, exposing his bare chest. I could see the line of his ribs, the muscles moving under his skin. “Go on then.”

He was mocking me. Or himself. I wasn’t exactly sure which.

“What makes you think I
won’t
kill you where you stand?” I demanded softly.

He looked amused. “Rosalind, you’re not the sort to stake an unarmed man, vampire or not.”

Devil take it, he was right. I didn’t know what to do, though it should have been painfully clear. Instead it was just painful.

“Since you won’t stake me, you might unlock me.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I rather like you as you are.”

He half-smiled. “Please.”

I tilted my head, curious despite myself. “What would you do were I not here?”

“I knew you’d come,” he admitted. “But I chain myself every morning, just in case. I’ve warned the housekeeper and the maids not to disturb me, but I can’t rely on their discretion. Not when I first wake. I’m not … safe.”

“How do you set yourself free every night?”

“The key is there on the edge of the washstand.” I hadn’t noticed the second washstand, complete with shaving brush and mirror. “Once I’ve … drunk … I can reach it, but I’d rather not contort myself if I don’t have to. The landlord won’t be pleased if I break another bed.”

I eyed him warily and reached out to pluck the iron key off the nail. It swung on a white ribbon. I held it up, considering.

“I think not,” I said finally, sinking into a chair and crossing my ankles demurely. I wrapped the silk ribbon around my wrist. “I think, my lord”—I emphasized his title scathingly— “that I should rather like some answers from you.”

He watched me carefully, as if I was the dangerous one. “And would you believe those answers, Rosalind?”

“Let’s see, shall we?”

“Answer my question first.” He sat on the edge of the bed, smiled wickedly. “Did they give you the Helios-Ra tattoo?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I beg your pardon, how do you know about the League? Or our markings for that matter?” It still rankled that because I was a woman they’d refused to give me the sun mark that every other hunter received when they took their oath.

He read my expression correctly. “They didn’t, did they? Of course not. Did they tell you why?”

“Some tripe about the dangers if I should marry someone outside the League,” I replied, disgusted.

He snorted, equally disgusted. “And it never occurred to anyone that Helios-Ra men marry women who aren’t from a League family all the bloody time?”

“Exactly!” Is it any wonder I love him, Evie? “But wives aren’t supposed to ask questions,” I added acidly. I arched a brow at him, trying to appear more collected than I really was. “Now I really must insist, sir, that you tell me how you know so much about us?”

He folded his arms, looking remote and aristocratic. The candlelight made daggers of his cheekbones. He might have been made of moonlight and marble. “I was born into a hunter family, Rosalind.”

I gaped at him. “Impossible. There aren’t so many families in London that we don’t at least know them by name.”

“I spent most of my youth with my mother’s people in Scotland,” he explained. “They are the hunters, not my father, the earl. He doesn’t know about any of it.”

I exhaled forcefully, mind spinning. “I can scarcely believe it. Why did you never come to London and join the society? They have a house here after all, for the members. Well, for the
male
members,” I added bitterly.

“I was going to do just that,” he confirmed. “I’d planned to come down to the city with all manner of pomp and circumstance.”

“What happened?”

“I went to France on my Grand Tour,” he answered drily. “And I chose a singularly bad alley to stumble down very late one night.”

“But you survived.”

“If you’d call it that.”

“That’s why you never took your oath.”

He nodded sharply. “And why my mother kicked me out of her house and bid me disappear.”

I was trying not to feel compassion and sympathy for him but failing miserably. I’d lowered my crossbow without even realizing it. “What did your father say?”

“My father thinks we had a quarrel. My mother remains in Scotland and refuses to visit town while I am here. My father is perplexed but finds life easier without my mother and so is not questioning either of us too closely. This family rift suits him.”

Compassion or not, I couldn’t lose my focus entirely. “I’m sad for you, of course,” I said. “But it can hardly excuse you for trying to kill Lord Winterson.”

He snorted. “I saved his miserable life.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He jerked a hand through his hair. “You must. You’re the only one who could.”

“Explain it to me then.” I wasn’t convinced but I needed to hear the rest of his story.

“One of the hunters is a turncoat.”

That much I could vouch for. I’d overheard as much during the ball as I crouched behind the armoire at the top of the stairs.

“You don’t look shocked,” he remarked.

“I’m not. Do go on.”

“That turncoat has hired a vampire to murder Winterson, thus scapegoating every vampire in the city and sending the League into chaos.” He smiled solemnly, without an ounce of humor. “It would be a bloodbath.”

“And who is this person?”

“I cannot say. He hides his face. I would recognize his scent I suppose, but I’ve yet to come across it in a singular setting. Balls and theaters are too … crowded. The smell of blood and warm skin is staggering.” His fangs lengthened and I’m not even certain he noticed.

I noticed. I lifted the crossbow again warningly. He bowed his head, like any noble at court.

“And the vampire he hired?” I prodded.

“I killed him,” he answered darkly. “I won’t let him, or the rogue hunter, start a war.”

“At Vauxhall,” I murmured. “You staked him at Vauxhall.”

He met my eyes. “So it
was
you.”

“Yes.”

“You are beyond reckless,” he said.

“As I am proving with every second I sit and listen to you.”

His smile was crooked this time, and intimate. Warmth tingled in my belly. I wagged the stake at him again. He chuckled before turning serious again. “I meant to lead the hunter into a trap, to reveal himself and still keep Winterson safe. I could only do that by pretending to at least try to assassinate Winterson. Even so, the traitor is more clever than I’d like. He sent someone else to do the same job.”

I stood up as regally and confidently as I could. “Then I must stop him.”

“You can’t stop him alone, Rosalind. Not even you.”

I hated that he was probably right.

“If you unlock me, I can help you.” His eyes glinted like iron.

I titled my head. “You might drain me dry right here on your fine rug.”

“You might put an arrow through my heart before the shackles are loose.”

“I might.”

But I knew I wouldn’t. I trusted him, despite everything. Don’t judge me too harshly, Evie.

I approached him cautiously, the key swinging from the ribbon at my wrist. “When do we go?”

“Tonight.”

Dearest Evangeline,

This is the last letter I will write.

You will scarcely believe what I am about to tell you. And hopefully, you shan’t believe any of the rumors you are sure to hear. I do not think you would ever believe me to be a traitor but I should hate to chance such a thing. Too many will curse my name as it is. No one would believe the truth even were they to hear it. Except you. No one must ever know what I am about to divulge. Not the League, not my friends, and not my family.

The annual summer hunters’ ball was held last night at the Helios-Ra town house headquarters. You will have heard all about it by now. It started as quite the lavish celebration. Dante and I were dressed in our finest. No one would ever have thought us anything but another fashionable couple courting through waltzes and champagne. Even at a hunters’ ball, no one suspected that the hairpins I wore were ebony and sharpened to perfect killing points. They will insist on seeing me as a willful child and nothing else, I see that now.

The ball went on as balls do until everyone was flushed from too much drink. Dante and I prowled the outskirts of the dance floor and eventually made our way outside. I shan’t tell you how many couples were in a shocking state in the back gardens. No one noticed us at all.

However,
we
noticed a single light burning in the attic.

It was odd enough to have us investigating. The house was so crowded, the orchestra and the chatter so loud one could hardly hear one’s own thoughts, never mind a scuffle in the farther reaches of the town house. We took the back stairs as fast as we could. The door at the top of the landing was locked. Footsteps tracked through the thick dust at our feet. I couldn’t hear any sound at all but Dante seemed certain we were in the right part of the attic. He snapped the lock with a single sharp twist. The door swung open and we crept inside. We needn’t have bothered with the subterfuge.

Lord Winterson stood in the middle of the room, hands clasped together. He turned to look at us, nodding graciously. The door shut behind us and when I whirled at the sound, a hugely muscled guard stood there glowering. The back wall was painted with crosses and hung
with garlic, as if they were evergreen boughs at Christmas time. I admit I was baffled. This hardly looked like an assassination attempt on Winterson.

Dante’s nostrils flared as he sniffed the air. “You.”

Lord Winterson smiled coldly.

“You,” Dante repeated. “You hired me to kill you?”

Now I was even more confused.

“What on earth is this about?” I demanded.

“Miss Wild, I regret that you have become involved in this matter. I assume you are the one who wrote that touching letter warning me of deceit and violence against my person?”

“Er … yes.”

“And yet now you stand with a vampire.”

“Let her go,” Dante hissed.

“I don’t understand,” I said crossly. I supposed I ought to have been more frightened but to be honest, I only felt great vexation. As if everyone knew the plot of the story but me. And you know how I feel about being made to look foolish.

“No, you wouldn’t, would you?” Winterson said dismissively. “I knew there was a vampire in our midst, you see. I hired him to murder me that I might flush him out. But every time I got close, something scared him away. You.” He looked sorrowful. The light glinted off the diamond on his gold Helios-Ra ring. “You had such potential and now you’ve let yourself be seduced.”

I wanted to hit him over the head with his own walking stick. “Dante has done nothing wrong,” I declared in ringing tones.

“He’s a vampire, you silly girl.”

“One who thought he was saving your life.”

“Nonsense, he would have ended me had he the chance. And now he will be the night’s entertainment, a sad cautionary tale to dazzle the younger generation.” There was a pile of chains in the corner.

“I bloody well don’t think so,” Dante snapped.

“But you must die, surely you see that. You’re an abomination, boy.”

“You’re the abomination,” I said hotly.

Winterson glanced at his bodyguard. “Gag her.”

He took one step toward me but I was already leaping into the air. I landed some distance away, hairpin in my hand.