Blood Ties

by Jessica Marting

  Damn it! She jammed the icepick in the door’s keyhole and wiggled it around desperately, pushing against the knob with her other hand until the door swung open. She nearly fell into the room and slammed the door behind her.

  Lisette Babineaux looked up, her fangs still embedded in the Englishman’s throat. Judging from the look of terror on his face, he hadn’t been enthralled first, either. He fought against her, muscles straining in his well-cut coat, but even a young vampire was stronger than a grown man.

  The vampire snarled at Ada, blood running down her chin. Madame Babineaux gave a garbled scream, followed by, “Casse-toi!” The man staggered back, his hand reaching for his throat to staunch the flow of blood, and landed in an ornate overstuffed chair.

  Ada did not care for a vampire telling her to fuck off.

  Madame Babineaux hadn’t had time to seal the wound she’d opened on the man’s throat, and he pressed the vampire’s discarded shawl against it, his eyes never leaving Ada’s face. “Give me a minute,” Ada said.

  She sprang into action, splashing holy water in Madame Babineaux’s face. The vampire screamed as her skin sizzled, and Ada shoved the small vial back in her pocket. Madame Babineaux clawed at her smoking face, giving Ada the chance to leap the few inches separating them and plunge her stake into the vampire’s heart.

  Shock bloomed across her face, and she sank to her knees, heavy skirts bloodstained and in disarray. She turned hateful, ruined eyes to Ada. “Salope!” she growled. Her eyes rolled up in the back of her head, and she disintegrated into a pile of greasy dust and expensive fabric.

  The Englishman’s rapid, panicked breathing had Ada turning around. She took a few steps closer to him, but he shrank back in his chair, clutching the shawl against his throat. “Get away from me,” he croaked.

  “You should’ve said that to Lisette Babineaux back in Paris. Let me take a look at that.” She reached for the shawl, but he stumbled to his feet, eyes glued to the oily remains of the French vampire.

  “What the hell just happened?” he said.

  It was a shame that such a beautiful man had to be so dim. “Well, a vampire tried to eat you,” Ada said. “She was one I was stalking, following a trail of the bastards she killed through Europe. I followed both of you on the airship to London, and I just saved your life. You really should let me take a look at that. I’ve dealt with vampire bites before.” His eyes were bright, and he was talking and conscious, so maybe the bite wasn’t as bad as she originally suspected.

  He eyed the stake and mallet in her hands. “Put those down first.”

  Ada obediently dropped them to the floor, where they landed with muted thumps on the thick carpet. She removed the vial of holy water from her pocket, dampening her handkerchief with it. “Let me take a look,” she said again. This next part would hurt like hell, but she didn’t want to tell him that. She needed him to trust her, and then … well, she had to figure out a way to keep him from speaking about what he just witnessed, but that could wait until she treated his wound.

  He didn’t move the shawl away from his neck. “Who are you?”

  “Adaline Burgess,” she said. “May I take that peek now?”

  He gingerly lifted away the shawl, and Ada examined the puncture marks. It wasn’t as bad as it looked; Lisette Babineaux’s lack of thrall meant he fought back hard enough to keep her from ripping out his throat. She pressed her holy water-soaked handkerchief against the wound, wincing at his yelp of pain. “What the hell?” he asked again.

  “I have to use holy water to clean out a vampire bite,” she said. “It’ll pass soon, and heal the bite marks. Here, hold this.” She pulled his hand up to hold the handkerchief against his neck. “Keep it there until I tell you to let go.”

  Ada gathered up the greasy clothing lying on the floor and tossed it all in the fire the hotel prepared for Madame Babineaux’s arrival, followed by the blood-stained shawl. She opened the vampire’s valise and was pleased to find a few notes, totalling at least thirty-five pounds in notes and coins. It was enough to tide her over until she could get to a telegraph machine and send an update to the Searchers’ New York headquarters.

  “Are you stealing Lisette’s money?” the man asked incredulously.

  “She just tried to eat you for supper,” Ada said. “You’re worried about my petty theft? We can split it, if you like. Ten pounds.”

  “I’m not stupid. There was more than that in there.”

  “Fine, fifteen.”

  “I don’t want any of her money, damn it! I want to know what just happened!” He looked at the fireplace, at the burning pile of clothes. But his gaze remained steady when his eyes met Ada’s, and she was assured he wasn’t going to swoon or whatever the English did when they were nearly eaten by a vampire. “This didn’t just happen.”

  “It did,” Ada said. “Vampires are real, and you just had a very narrow miss with one. I’ve been tracking her. I do it for a living.” She looked back in the valise and removed a pair of kid leather gloves, far nicer than anything she could have afforded. “I’m keeping these, too.” She considered it divine payment after her own gloves were ruined by that vampire in Bern. “Are you sure you don’t want to split the money she had in here?”

  “I have enough money,” he said. His eyebrows knit together, and she guessed he wasn’t just thinking about Madame Babineaux. “I’ve inherited quite a bit.”

  Unless he was going to offer her enough for a first class airship ticket home, she didn’t care. Ada slid the gloves into her bag, along with the money. The question of what to do about the man in front of her still loomed in her mind.

  But who would believe him when he started babbling about vampires? Ada would hopefully be far away from England by that point and wouldn’t have to worry about it. She could go back to hunting vampires on American soil. So much for my trip to Dresden.

  “Let me take a look at that,” she said, lifting the handkerchief off his neck. He cringed but didn’t say anything, letting her inspect the damage.

  The wound was sealed, the skin already pinkening as it healed. Ada couldn’t help but notice the way his pulse fluttered in his throat, full of life and vitality, and she saw why Lisette Babineaux was so attracted to this man. He smelled of fresh air and sunshine, the picture of health.

  “How is it?” he asked.

  “You’ll live, and you probably won’t even have a scar.” She sat down opposite him in a matching chair. “What’s your name?”

  “Maximilian Sterling.”

  “Maximilian? Really? Do people call you that?”

  “Do people call you Adaline?” he countered.

  “Ada, actually.” She looked around the room, taking in the sheer amount of stuff the vampire saw fit to have sent to London. “How long did she rent this room for, Maximilian?”

  “It’s just Max, and I don’t know. I don’t know how long she was supposed to be in London. We never got to that part of the conversation.”

  “Well, we still need to leave.” The fire had nearly consumed all of Lisette Babineaux’s clothing, which pleased Ada. “Do you have somewhere else to stay?”

  “I have a flat in Marylebone. I can stay there.”

  “Let’s get you there. Are you all right to walk?”

  He stood up and picked up his overcoat, draping it over his arm. His dark eyes caught hers, and despite the possibility that there was more trouble ahead of them, Ada couldn’t help but swallow. He really didn’t have the right to be so attractive, and she didn’t have the right to notice it. Not when she had vampires to kill.

  “I can walk,” he said. “But I’m a little dizzy.”

  “You’ve lost some blood and you saw me kill a vampire,” Ada said. “I’d be more worried if you weren’t.”

  ****

  Max was faced with a terrible decision: follow the strange, russet-haired American who just stabbed his would-be lover to death, or stay in the room where her greasy earthly remains were currently being incinerated.


  He was fairly certain the American wouldn’t try to rip out his throat, and she seemed to have an idea of what just happened. He took one last look at the burning clothes in the fireplace.

  The American it was.

  They slipped out of the room and took the stairs. Halfway down the interminable number of flights, Max’s dizziness increased and he had to stop, white-knuckling the banister for balance. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t look down and see how much farther they had to go.

  Ada’s brow furrowed. “We have to keep moving. There’s at least one other vampire in the building.”

  “Oh, no.” Nausea churned in his gut, and he thought he might vomit. “How can you tell?”

  “It’s a special talent I have,” she said, but didn’t elaborate further on it. “They might be connected to Lisette Babineaux, and if they are, they’re going to find that she’s really dead now. They’ll probably still be able to smell us in that room, so we need to go. Hang on to me if you have to.”

  Max opened one eye, unable to keep himself from gawking at her. She had to be half a foot shorter than him.

  “I’m stronger than I look,” she insisted. “Come on.”

  An unearthly squeal from above had them looking up. Something small and dark circled above overhead. A bird? Had a bird taken up residence in one of London’s finest hotels?

  “Shit.” Ada paled. “We have to move faster, Max.”

  “It’s just a bird.” Max gripped the banister. “Isn’t it?”

  “It’s a bat,” she said, hustling down the next flight of stairs. “Or rather, it’s a vampire who shifted into its bat form, which means we have to keep moving.”

  Another screech had Max’s head ringing, but he stumbled down the rest of the flight. He let Ada grab his hand, and she pushed a door on to the closest floor, hurrying down the corridor. They stopped at the lift, Ada tossing worried glances over her shoulder.

  “You have to get away from here,” she said quietly. The lift doors opened, and the operator barely raised an eyebrow when they nearly fell in. “Close the door!” she commanded. The operator gave only the slightest of eye rolls but obeyed.

  “I’m putting you in a steam cab,” she said.

  The lift stopped in the lobby, and Ada grabbed Max’s arm again and led him out of the hotel. The cool night air helped clear his head, and he felt a little of his strength restored, but he didn’t shake off Ada’s hand. She seemed to know where she was going.

  A group of idling cabs waited around the corner, steam issuing from their vents. She led him to one. “Are you going to be all right on your own?” she asked.

  “You’re leaving me?”

  “I have to take care of the rest of that unpleasantness back at the hotel,” she said simply. “Before it tracks you down.” She didn’t add and bleeds you dry, but the words hung in the air, unspoken.

  “I can’t leave you on your own,” he said.

  “You can and you will.” She stepped back, and her eyes raked his form appreciatively. “I’ll be honest, Max, I wish I could’ve spent a little more time with you while in London.”

  Even though he’d lost a fair amount of blood, Max couldn’t help but preen a little at that remark. A woman after my own heart. He pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket and wrote down his address in Euston Road, and on second thought, his late uncle’s estate in Mayfair. Which is my estate now.

  “I’ll be at either of these places,” he said. “You’re likelier to find me at the first one, though. Are you quite sure you’ll be all right?”

  She nodded.

  It wasn’t just that she saved his life tonight. Perhaps it was the way the street lamps shone on her, making her look like some kind of rough-and-tumble angel.

  Tumble. Even in his injured state, his mind could still drift in that direction.

  Impulsively, he kissed her. She stiffened in surprise for a second, then responded, her arms sliding around his shoulders to bring him nearer to her. She opened her mouth and his tongue eagerly swept inside, drawing a gasp from her.

  They were likely inviting attention from passers-by, but he didn’t care. The taste of her mouth, the feel of her body through her threadbare coat and heavy dress, was as charged as the electric lamps illuminating the hotel’s entrance. There was nothing like a near-death experience to set his blood running high.

  She broke it off, pushing him into the waiting cab. The driver looked at them, an amused expression on his face, before flicking away the remains of the cheroot he was smoking. “Ready?” he asked, in a distinctive Cockney drawl.

  “Yes.” He slid across the battered seat, injecting as much meaning into his next words as he could. “I will be very disappointed if you do not call on me during your time here, Ada.”

  “No monster could stop me,” she said. “Have a safe trip, Max.” She closed the cab door before the driver could, and he watched her retreating figure walk back to the Langham Hotel.

  ****

  Ada slipped back into the lobby and immediately headed for the first doorway to the stairs she could find. Already she felt a twinge that meant a vampire was close by, and she looked up, half-expecting to see a bat. All she saw were scarred walls and banisters at odds with the elegant decor in the rest of the hotel. She listened, but didn’t hear any screams or snarls that indicated a vampire attack was occurring.

  Yet.

  Stake and mallet in hand, she started up the stairs. Come out and show yourself, you undead bastard. I have a very important meeting with a fancy-pants Englishman that I’d like to get to as soon as I can. She was sure she’d even heard his name before, but she quickly shook aside that notion. All English names sounded the same. He probably had far-flung relatives in America who’d helped found major cities or something like that. Still, she didn’t entirely discount the idea that she heard the name Maximilian Sterling before she arrived in London.

  The twinge grew stronger, but when she looked up, she still didn’t see a bat. She patted her pocket, feeling the reassuring lump the vial of holy water made, and gripped her stake and mallet a little more tightly as she crept up the stairs.

  At the seventh floor, the pulsing behind her eyes told her to stop and take a look around. She was at the end of the corridor, doors lining either side. Frustratingly, she couldn’t sense which door the vampire might be hiding behind. Fool, she told herself. You should have bribed a clerk downstairs for a list of room numbers and occupants.

  She took small, careful steps on the carpet. “I know you know I’m here,” she whispered. “Come out and let’s get this over with.”

  A door on the left was wrenched open, about six feet from where she stood. A tall, black-clad vampire, his fangs bared over snarling lips, flew in her direction with lightning speed.

  Ada was ready when he lunged at her, and raised her stake in time. Throwing all of her strength behind it, she slammed the mallet into it, landing squarely in the center of his chest.

  Surprise bloomed across his pale features. They’re always surprised, she thought, then closed her eyes as he crumbled into greasy ash in front of her. Irritation colored her sense of victory. Now her only good dress for traipsing around England was ruined.

  Fucking vampires. She shook ash from her dress and hair as much as she could, and looked at the empty clothes on the floor. The hotel’s cleaning staff could puzzle over the pile of ash in the corridor, but the clothing had to go.

  Of course he’d been wearing black. The newly turned ones always did.

  She paused for half a second, greasy coat in her hands.

  If he had just shifted back into his human form from a bat, he would still be naked. There were too many clothes on the floor for him to have dressed in the bare few minutes she saw that bat. Which meant…

  A piercing screech sounded far too close to her ear, followed by the flap of wings. “Shit!” She yelped, forgetting about the human guests on this floor. The huge bat swooped down, grazing her ear, before retreating into the room the dead
vampire emerged from.

  She tucked her stake and mallet under arm and whipped the holy water from her pocket, uncorking the stopper. She slipped into the room, closing the door behind her.

  The room’s gas lamps were lit, lending a warm glow to the room. The window was pushed open, and Ada’s heart sank. Maybe her quarry already escaped.

  The bat whipping across the room, aiming for her head, dispelled her of that notion. She felt wings graze her face, and she closed her eyes, blindly splashing holy water on the awful thing. She heard another shriek of pain that had her ears ringing, and the scent of burning flesh filled her nostrils.

  She rubbed holy water out of her own eyes and tossed aside her now-empty vial. She readied her stake and mallet as the bat shifted into a pale, very naked man whose hands kept scrubbing at his burned face. “You bitch!” he snarled. Face still smoking, he jumped at her, knocking her against the walls and forcing all the breath from her lungs.

  Ada couldn’t be enthralled, and she guessed by the way his eyes bulged and tried to bore into hers that he might have guessed that already. She slipped away from him when he snapped at her, teeth clacking, and ignored the painful throb in her side that meant she’d probably broken a rib again. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “Why are you the third vampire I’ve come across in the last hour?”

  She knew receiving an answer was unlikely, but she still liked to ask.

  The vampire surprised her by answering. “Visitors.” Then he sniffed the air. “Dhampir!”

  It wasn’t the first time Ada or another Searcher was falsely accused of being a half-human, half-vampire hybrid, although it wasn’t too far from the truth. “Not quite,” she said. She lunged for the vampire, but only managed to scratch his side. “Shit,” she said. She hated missing her targets.

  It still hurt like hell, and he howled, doubling over. Ada raced for him again, stake raised to plunge into his back, but he suddenly snapped to attention, fangs extended.

  Oh, fuck. This was going to be bad.

  Ice-blue eyes met hers. She moved away, but he grabbed her arm, bony fingers locking into it with an iron grip. Fangs sank into her neck, and she bit back a scream.