The Falls (The Searchers Book 3)

by Jessica Marting

  “It’s worse closer to the border,” Tremblay said. “Toronto usually sees the most of them, since there are so many people there, but it’s still manageable. Maybe two or three bloodsuckers a week. It’s just too goddamn cold for them to go anywhere else.”

  “Vampires don’t usually care about the weather,” Samuel said.

  “True, but living people do,” Tremblay said. “I’m not sure what the winter’s like in England, but this time of year is so cold no one leaves the house if they can help it.” He took a forkful of steak pie and swallowed it before speaking again. “If no one leaves the house…”

  Samuel finished for him. “And no one invites them in, vampires can’t eat anyone.”

  “You got it. We have Searchers still hunting in the cities, but we really needed help here. They’re coming over the border in record numbers. Staked three in as many days. Three! I’d usually get three over six or seven weeks in Montreal.”

  “They’re running out of places to feed without fear in America,” Violet said. “They know we’re after them.”

  Tremblay nodded. “That’s what we guessed. Damned stupid of us that we never thought they might run out of places to hide, but…” Once again, he held out his hands as if in defeat. “Here we are.”

  “So where should Mr. Seecombe and I start looking?” Violet asked. “All we need is a decent sleep this afternoon and some territory. We’re both experienced hunters with the sense, we should be able to put a big dent in the problem.” She lowered her voice as a well-dressed man walked past their table.

  “That’s the thing,” Tremblay said. “It’s too difficult to hunt discreetly here. Niagara Falls never really sleeps.”

  Samuel gave him a look that clearly questioned his intelligence, and Violet knew she wore a matching expression. “Mr. Tremblay…”

  “Fred.”

  “Fred, then. With all due respect, Miss Singer is from New York. I’m from London. Both are cities in states of perpetual wakefulness.”

  Now it was Tremblay’s turn to look irritated. “Montreal isn’t that rural.”

  The last thing—all right, the second to last thing, after being bitten by a vampire—that Violet wanted was to deal with a pissing match between Samuel and Tremblay.

  The two stared daggers at each other, and Violet sighed. She was lieutenant of the New York branch; defusing tension was part of her job now. “Comparisons between our respective cities’ nightlife won’t get us anywhere,” she said. “Fred, please continue.”

  If Samuel’s feathers were ruffled at this, the Englishman didn’t let on.

  “As I was saying, Niagara Falls is a big city in a small town,” Tremblay said. “Especially with the hot air balloon show in town and that house that’s supposed to be haunted. Big crowds in a small space. And everyone knows each other, and the vampires know that.”

  “So others notice when someone goes missing,” Samuel said.

  “Now you’re getting it. You can’t live in a town with a population this size and not have friends and acquaintances who would notice you missing. And that’s one of the reasons we sent New York a cable about this.”

  “Missing persons?” Violet asked.

  “No, they turned up. Two frozen bodies left on Goat Island a month ago, before I arrived. Did you hear about that, Violet? Goat Island is technically in the New York branch’s jurisdiction.”

  It pained Violet to admit that she didn’t know about that incident, even though Fred Tremblay was incorrect about it being part of her territory. “I work with the New York City limits,” she said. “Niagara Falls is under the New York State territory. Vampires aren’t as plentiful in the rural areas as they are in the boroughs.”

  “Well, they weren’t like the bodies vampires usually leave behind,” Tremblay said. “Two men, later identified as being brothers from Niagara Falls, reported missing by their sister two weeks before. One had his throat ripped out. The other was burned-up ash beside him inside his clothes. There was a two man flying machine, crashed near the bodies. That’s the only way someone’s getting to Goat Island this time of year.”

  “One was a vampire, the other tried to eat him,” Samuel said.

  “That’s what it looks like. One brother turned, lures him out to eat his brother. Or the brother wants to be turned, who the hell knows. They were walking around in daylight just fine before they went missing, so the vampire brother was obviously recently turned. He wouldn’t have been out past dawn if that wasn’t the case. That flying machine was a recent model, too. Expensive. He still had the bill of sale crumpled up in his coat pocket.

  “Two drained bodies showed up a couple of miles north of here,” Tremblay continued. “That’s when some of us from the major cities decided to investigate, and by some of us, I mean me. And this is more than I know what to handle. Like I said, I deal with three vampire attacks in six weeks in Montreal. There are only so many places I can think of to look for these bastards without asking for help.”

  “What about your sense?” Samuel asked.

  “That’s the thing,” Tremblay said. “It’s giving me a hell of a headache nearly every time the sun goes down, stronger than I’ve ever felt at home. Niagara Falls may very well be crawling with vampires for all I know, and I can hardly track all them down on my own.”

  ****

  Samuel kept his admittedly low opinion of the Canadian Searcher to himself until he and Violet returned to their room.

  “This is unbelievable,” he said, looking out the window at the snowy street outside. “How can you sense vampires and be unable to find them? That’s why we become Searchers in the first place.”

  “I’m as confused as you are,” Violet said. “And I think we should be grateful that they asked for help. If Fred Tremblay is only staking a vampire or two each month, it explains why he and the rest of his countrymen are so befuddled. We’re both used to staking at least a couple every week.” She looked around the room. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to get some sleep before we start working tonight.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  She fixed her green eyes on him. “I prefer to sleep in a night dress,” she said.

  “I imagine it’s more comfortable that way.”

  She sighed, but there was a ghost of a smile on her lips. “Samuel, I have to get undressed.”

  It finally hit him. “Oh! Shall I leave the room?”

  “And let the hotel staff know we’re not married? No, just turn around, please.” There was a teasing note to her voice, one he rarely heard from others. He liked it.

  “Our wandering about in the middle of the night won’t rouse suspicions?” He turned around and fussed with the heavy window draperies, pulling them closed. Darkness descended on the room, and Samuel blinked at the change.

  “If anyone asks, we’re out to look at that haunted house Mr. Tremblay mentioned.”

  “How will you explain the differences in our accents?” He heard the rustle of fabric as she changed into her nightclothes. An image popped into his mind of what she might look like undressed, and he closed his eyes, willing it away. This was a situation that was already awkward without adding that to the mix.

  “It’s simple. You took a trip to New York for some reason or another, fell in love with the city and me, and stayed.”

  Samuel didn’t know how to describe how he felt hearing those words. He was fairly certain he’d never been in love before, and the idea of that happening seemed so farfetched as to be impossible, let alone with a woman like Violet Singer. But that was the last thing he would tell her. Instead, he said, “You didn’t take a holiday to London and become enamoured with it and me?”

  “Well, no. I’ve never been, so I couldn’t describe it as well as you could New York. You can turn around now.”

  He did, and through the darkness saw she had changed into a plain nightdress and was now braiding her long silver hair. “I’d offer to sleep on the divan, but there isn’t one,” she said. “I don’t m
ind sharing the bed. I’ve had to do it on missions before.”

  For some reason, it rankled Samuel that she’d done that, and he had no right to feel that way.

  “Are you going to get some sleep, too?” she asked.

  He nodded stiffly. “Yes.”

  She turned on her side, away from him, offering some privacy. Samuel quickly shucked his clothes and changed into a set of nightclothes, something he never wore at home but knew was appropriate here.

  “I wish I’d thought to bring a bottle of whisky with me,” he said. He remembered the horrible hot toddy he’d choked down on the dirigible to New York and suppressed a shudder. “I could use a nightcap right now.”

  “Me, too.” She turned over to face him. “I really do appreciate your taking the time to come here, you know. You could have just returned to London after Max and Ada’s wedding.”

  “And miss the opportunity to stake vampires in another country? Not to mention another stamp on my passport?”

  He heard the smile in her voice. “You really aren’t as bad as Ada made you out to be.”

  A twinge of shame and embarrassment washed over Samuel, not for the first time since he’d landed on this side of the Atlantic. “I was an ass when we met,” he said. “I’m actively working on not being an ass now.”

  There was also the matter of what happened with Radcliffe last autumn. It wasn’t something he wanted to discuss yet, even with someone as understanding as Violet.

  “You haven’t been one at all since I met you at the airfield.”

  “It isn’t much of an excuse, but when I met her and Mr. Sterling at the railway station, I was just so surprised to see her,” he said. “I’ve told you that the British branches haven’t been very modern in allowing women to work with us, and it’s to our detriment. It was a surprise to see an unmarried American woman traveling alone, working as a Searcher, and then to find out she’s actually very good at the job. It was a shock.”

  “You really need to catch up on modern times, Sam. Can I call you Sam?”

  “I don’t see the harm.”

  “Good.” She snuggled in deeper under the blankets, fluffing the pillow under her head. “Can your camera take good photographs in the dark? I saw you had some trouble at the wedding.”

  “I need as much light as possible for the best photographs, but it can still be done. I can experiment when I get my camera back from the Kodak plant.” He would be able to retrieve it when they returned to New York. He wished now that he’d known about this trip in advance so he could take some more photographs.

  “Have you ever taken a photograph of a vampire?”

  Samuel stilled. “No.”

  “Do you know if the rumors are true that they can’t be photographed? As far as I know, no one’s tried in New York.”

  “Well, they don’t tend to stay put in one place very long.”

  “I’d like to see if that’s true,” Violet said.

  “Are you proposing that I approach a vampire and explain that I would like to try to take his photograph before I stake him?”

  “No.” There was that smile again. “But suppose you sense one in a crowd before he senses you. It wouldn’t hurt to try.”

  “Subjects have to remain perfectly still,” he said. Her face fell. “But I still would have liked to have taken some of the falls themselves. When will I get another chance to?”

  And one of Violet, to remember her by.

  “All right. Good night, Sam,” she said.

  He envied her ability to fall asleep in the middle of the afternoon with so little difficulty. He was all too aware of the warmth of her next to him, something he so rarely experienced. He wasn’t sure if he liked it.

  Samuel was used to being on his own; he wasn’t even especially close to his Searcher colleagues. Or his parents. When it came down to it, he had no one.

  He looked over at Violet’s bundled-up form. From what he’d seen in New York, she appeared to have a circle of friends and acquaintances around her. She didn’t bear the aura of a lonely woman. That was something else he could add to the list of things he envied about her.

  Taking care not to disturb her, he rolled over on his side and tried to fall asleep.

  Chapter Three

  It was nearly eight o’clock when Samuel and Violet left the hotel, and so cold outside that even she felt it. She was pleased that Samuel had taken her advice and bundled up as much as he could, but knew the chill had to be bothering him.

  Niagara Falls at night was just as alive and vibrant as it was during the day. The town’s streets were illuminated by tall electric lampposts that spilled warm yellow light across the snow, and despite the incredible, bone-deep chill and lateness of the evening, vendors still sold hot drinks, including toddies. But when she offered to buy one for Samuel, he scrunched his face up like he smelled something bad and declined.

  Snob, she thought, and purchased one for herself instead. But she couldn’t be mad at him. Thus far, he had proven to be far less of an ingrate than Max Sterling led her to believe.

  “Tennessee bourbon,” Samuel said, breaking her out of her thoughts.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I don’t care for what Tennessee distilleries produce. I tried a hot toddy on the dirigible to New York. It did not sit well with me.”

  Violet stared at him. “Bless you, Sam.”

  Now it was Samuel’s turn to look puzzled.

  “Did you really think they would be serving American bourbon in a Canadian town? This is made with Club Whisky. You should bring a bottle back to London to show your friends.” She took an appreciative swallow, enjoying the pleasant burn down her throat.

  “Are you implying that Canadian whisky can hold its own over Scottish?”

  She looked at him archly. “I wasn’t implying anything, but I’ll state it outright that Club Whisky is at least equal to Sheep Dip.”

  Surprise flitted across his face at her words. She hoped he wouldn’t press her further. Her whisky knowledge was gleaned from her uncle’s discussions about it, no more than that. For the most part, it all tasted the same to her.

  He didn’t. She held the cup out to him. “Want to taste?”

  He accepted it from her, took a tentative sip. His expression remained neutral. “It’s drinkable, although I’m obligated to point out that it’s isn’t on the same plane as a single malt. My apologies to the Canadian whisky distillers.”

  She took the drink back. “I’m sure they accept.”

  Samuel changed the subject. “What are the chances that we run into our friend Mr. Tremblay tonight?”

  “I couldn’t tell you. He’s hunting closer to the edge of town. We’re supposed to stay with the living and try to track down any undead here.”

  “I gathered that before, but just how far does this town’s limits extend?”

  She looked up at one of the street lamps. Was that a bat she spied? No, just the light flickering. She and Samuel would have sensed a shifted vampire before they saw it, and besides, regular people would notice a bat flying through a winter night. “Are you trying to avoid him?”

  “No.”

  There was something in his tone of voice that didn’t convince Violet. “Sam, you can tell me,” she said.

  He was quiet for a moment, and they walked past a vendor selling something hot and savory. Violet’s mouth watered, but she didn’t stop. “It’s not him, exactly,” Samuel finally said.

  “Then what is it?”

  He was quiet again. Thinking, Violet knew. “It’s so unorganized here,” he said.

  Violet wanted to laugh but knew it would be unappreciated. “I believe Ada said something to the same effect of the London branch.”

  “And while disorganization is one of the many problems that plagues the Searchers in that part of the world, it isn’t quite as bad as this. Where are the headquarters?”

  “There are two offices in Ontario, in Toronto and Ottawa. Others in Montreal, Victoria. Vampires like to
travel by air, you know.”

  “Four headquarters for a country of this size.” He sounded incredulous.

  “A country of this size, climate, and population that doesn’t see vampire activity anywhere close to the level that we do in America, or England.” She sighed. “Sam, I like you, but I think Ada’s right about some things. You’re a little…” She searched for the right words. She wasn’t worried about offending or insulting him, exactly, as what she wanted to say was neither offensive nor an insult, but her words still required care.

  But Samuel was the one to help her out. “Naive?”

  She thought for a few seconds. “Naive, yes. That works.”

  “Believe it or not, I haven’t traveled much in my life. I’ve left England a handful of times, for either France or Scotland. That’s it.”

  Violet was genuinely surprised to hear that. “Really?”

  “There wasn’t much opportunity for me to travel. There were too many vampires and not enough Searchers, and my father insisted I attend university in London and live at his home.”

  “What did you study?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “What are you, by trade? Besides a Searcher.”

  “Given that I’m the son of a second son, I do have a trade, actually.” It took Violet a few seconds to realize her gaffe. Samuel was part of the upper classes; there was bound to be a few noble titles in his family tree. “I’m a barrister.”

  “So do you handle the estates of the vampires you stake?”

  “Very amusing, and no, I don’t. I’ve only practiced law among my colleagues in the Searchers.” There was a stiffness to his voice as he admitted that, and Violet knew his profession touched on a nerve.

  She dared to prod further. “You don’t like being a lawyer?” She quickly corrected herself. “Barrister.”

  “I haven’t had the opportunity to practice as I trained to do, so I don’t know. This has been my life since I was fifteen years old.” He looked around the cold street, as if expecting a vampire to pop out of nowhere and start mauling people.

  “And you’re a photographer,” she said. “How did you become interested in that?”