Bound By Sin (A Cin Craven Novel)

by Jenna Maclaine

  “One room or two?” he asked.

  “My husband and I are the only ones who will be staying,” I replied. “And since we do have rather a lot of baggage to be delivered from the docks I would like the largest suite you have available.”

  “Certainly, ma’am,” he said, taking note of my accent and my expensive clothes, of the large ruby wedding ring on my finer and the ruby and diamond cross hanging around my neck. I wondered how much he was mentally raising the price of our room. I wouldn’t quibble, though. I had a feeling they would need whatever money they could get in the years to come.

  “Is there a bank nearby, sir?” Michael inquired.

  The clerk nodded. “The Merchants and Planters Bank is just down the street.”

  I smiled at him again, just to see if I could make his cheeks turn that charming shade of pink once more. After that it didn’t take any sort of vampire magic to gain his full cooperation. “If you would be so kind, would you have a messenger request that the manager of that fine establishment meet with my husband in our room tomorrow afternoon?”

  “I would be more than happy to assist you with that,” he assured me. Thankfully he was so flustered he didn’t inquire as to why I couldn’t simply walk down the street to the bank myself. Or perhaps he assumed I was a titled English lady who was used to having the world at my beck and call. Whatever the case, he was eager to please.

  “If you require anything else,” he insisted, “my name is Mr. Bennett.”

  Michael signed the guest book and took the key from Mr. Bennett. The helpful clerk asked if we’d like the porters to assist us in carrying the trunk to our room, but Michael and Devlin again declined the offer. We quickly found our suite on the second floor and the men deposited the heavy trunk at the foot of the bed.

  Michael glanced at the clock. “It shouldn’t take long to unload the ship,” he said. “And Captain Hines has made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t want to linger in port. We should eat and then return to the docks as soon as possible.”

  “I don’t understand why the captain won’t wait one more night,” I said, frustrated. “Tomorrow night we’ll go out to this island, get Claire, and be done with it.”

  “Because,” Devlin replied, “by tomorrow morning every Union ironclad patrolling these waters will know that a ship slipped past them tonight, and Hines won’t take the risk that they’ll be waiting at the mouth of the river for him to come out again.”

  “Devlin’s right,” Michael agreed. “We have a better chance of getting out of here if they go tonight and come back for us.”

  I reluctantly agreed and hoped they were right.

  CHAPTER 16

  Before we left the hotel, I laid a keep-away spell on the door. Designed to give humans a sense of dread and unease, I used it to deter would-be thieves. It was a small spell I’d learned from Aunt Maggie decades ago after my jewelry had been stolen from our hotel in Inverness, and one of the only bits of spellcraft I actually practiced.

  Since time was of the essence, the first order of business was to find a hot meal. The way Devlin and Michael had been complaining of hunger, that would have topped my list even if we hadn’t been short on time. One of the benefits of traveling on a Blood Cross ship was that the entire fleet was manned by sailors whose families had worked for the shipping line for decades, if not centuries. Though they willingly took turns feeding us, it was considered bad form to abuse their hospitality by drinking too deeply. Consequently, for the last several weeks we had all drunk just enough to survive. Now that we were free to hunt, our bodies yearned to finally be full and sated.

  I glanced down at my dark blue dress with its belled skirt and wished I could change into my breeches and boots. I didn’t want to do anything, though, that might attract attention to us in this new city. America wasn’t like Europe. It was relatively new territory for vampires and it had no kings, no regents, and no laws. The High King would have to take it under his control soon, but until he did we were not The Righteous here, we were simply a group of unknown vampires trespassing in the city. For all I knew we could be the only vampires in the area. However, since we hadn’t come all this way to waste time with territorial squabbles, we tried our best to pass as human. Unfortunately for me, that meant skirts and hoops and crinolines.

  “I think we should spilt up,” Devlin suggested. “We’ll attract less attention if we aren’t hunting in a pack.”

  Michael and I agreed and the two of us began walking east, while Devlin and Justine faded into the night in the opposite direction. We were moving back toward the docks and I recognized many of the buildings. During the ride to the hotel I’d overheard Michael’s whispered inquiry to our driver about the location of any brothels in the city. The old man had not commented but he had nodded discreetly in the general direction of the waterfront. Before long Michael and I found ourselves standing in the shadows across the street from one such establishment. We watched as a group of soldiers walked in and several came out.

  “What do you think?” Michael asked.

  “I think it’s either a whorehouse or Confederate headquarters,” I said dryly.

  Though I hated to watch my husband walk into a brothel, it was expedient. I knew he would pay for an hour of some girl’s time, take her blood, and leave her with only a pleasant memory. The bite marks would heal and fade before she saw her next customer.

  “I think if you were to go in, and I were to take a walk, we could wrap this up quickly,” I observed.

  He pulled me close and I looked into his eyes, then down to his sensual, kissable lips.

  “Be careful,” he said.

  “Behave,” I replied.

  “Always,” he murmured, and his lips met mine.

  “Go,” I said, pulling away before I wanted to. “And we can finish that kiss in bed.”

  He grinned down at me wickedly, kissed me swiftly, and walked away. I sighed and looked up and down the street. Now, what dark corner of Savannah do you suppose a girl has to linger in to get assaulted? I wondered.

  There were reasons Michael wasn’t loitering with me on the darkened city streets. For one, taking some-one’s blood is an intimate act, whether you want it to be or not. That was why Michael and Devlin were so hungry. Onboard ship, the only available blood was from other men and Michael and Devlin’s sexual preferences in no way ran toward the same sex. Even though none of us had taken much blood from the sailors, the men had taken even less than Justine and me.

  Also, hunting is different for men and women. None of us has a taste for taking the blood of innocent humans. When I bit someone, it was usually because he deserved it. Justine and I often hunted together, finding that there’s a never-ending supply of criminals in the less savory districts of any city. For the men, though, it was not so easy. You rarely found a female out at night, committing nefarious deeds. So I didn’t begrudge Michael his whores. I would much rather he drink from a woman who made her living selling her body, than from a mother hurrying home to her family after a hard day’s work in some factory.

  Normally the hunting would be plentiful for both of us after a long sea voyage, but now I found that our situations were reversed. In Savannah, a good portion of the population’s males were either enlisted in the city’s militia or off at war. Since I refused to consider any male in uniform as prey, I began to wonder if I would end up having to feed from someone I normally wouldn’t. Fortunately for me and my growing hunger, if there was one thing that was true about the human race the world over, it was this: if you’re a female out by yourself at night, some man will hassle you. It didn’t take long before my next meal found me.

  I was wandering down a quiet side street, somewhere near the waterfront. Several soldiers in gray Confederate uniforms passed at the end of the street, and I fell back into the shadows as they went by. They seemed so young, little more than boys fighting a man’s war. Before I had time to dwell on that, I heard footsteps coming down the street. I turned and watched the man walk towa
rd me.

  He appeared to be a gentleman, at least until he moved closer. The clothes that hung loosely on his thin frame were of a good cut and quality, but it was obvious they had not been made for him. I wondered if they had been given to him as charity, or if he’d stolen them. His graying hair was unkempt, as was the stubble upon his chin and cheeks. In one hand he swung a silver-tipped walking stick. I turned my head and ignored him, giving him the opportunity to pass me by. But he didn’t.

  “My, my,” he drawled. “Would you lookit all that red hair. Sure wouldn’t mind a taste of cherry pie tonight.”

  I arched a brow at him. “I am not a whore, sir. I’m merely waiting for my husband. Good evening to you,” I said sharply.

  He moved even closer to me. “Fancy cherries, at that. Now, ain’t that interesting? I hear you English girls are as frigid as a Yankee winter but I reckon you’d be a hot piece, wouldn’t you? You know what they say, red on the head, fire in the—”

  “Sir!” I exclaimed, feigning shocked indignation. “You company is not welcome.”

  I turned to walk away, unhappy with my close proximity to the busier road at the end of the block. I should have stayed farther down the street where it was less likely someone would see me drinking. Hopefully, this obnoxious man would follow. I’d barely taken a step when the end of his walking stick slammed into the brick wall, mere inches away from my face.

  “Little bit of a thing like you shouldn’t be out by yourself at night,” he whispered in my ear. “Lawless times like these, some man’s liable to take it into his head to do no tellin’ what to that pretty body.” I stood perfectly still as he leaned farther into me, bracing his hand on the wall behind my head, trapping me on all sides. “And if you didn’t please him just right, well, he might even take it into his head to kill you.”

  He was so aroused I could almost feel the blood hammering through his veins. My canines lengthened and sharpened in response and I turned my head, smiling as his eyes widened in fear.

  “Then it’s a good thing I’m already dead,” I replied before I snatched the walking stick out of his hand, jerked his head back, and sank my teeth into his neck.

  CHAPTER 17

  “How long have you lived in Savannah?” I asked as I wiped the blood from my lips.

  The man huddled on the ground, sobbing. He’d been so repulsive that I hadn’t bothered to bespell him before I drank. I’d wager his neck hurt like hell right about now. Disgusted, I sank down before him, my skirts making a soft whoosh that caused him to look up.

  “Stop sniveling,” I said and locked my gaze with his. When he was in thrall, I repeated my question.

  “Lived here all my life,” he answered readily.

  “Good,” I said. “I have some questions and you will answer them fully and honestly, do you understand?”

  He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Do you know of a man named Adrien Boucher?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I want you to tell me everything you know about him.”

  “Damned uppity Cajun is what he is,” he replied, with more candor than I had expected. “Came here about fifteen years ago from Louisiana. Said his father owned a big plantation down by New Orleans, but I never believed it. He sure managed to charm the skirts right off Miss Evangeline Peyton, though. Tongue like a viper, that girl, but damned if she wasn’t the prettiest thing in Savannah or the islands. I don’t know what she ever saw in Adrien Boucher but he married her just as quick as he could get her to the altar.”

  “Boucher is married?” I asked, surprised. I wondered what his wife had to say about him bringing Claire back from England with him.

  The man shrugged. “Ain’t no one seen her in years. She’s rarely left that island since her daddy died. Old man Peyton had all the money, see, and that’s all Boucher was after. Miss Evangeline, she came and went as she pleased while her daddy was alive but as soon as the old man dropped dead, her trips into Savannah became few and far between. Personally, I think Boucher’s killed her.”

  I frowned. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because her daddy never trusted banks,” he stated firmly, as if that explained it all. I must have looked confused because he began to elaborate. “Hell, old Peyton never trusted anybody. They say that in his youth he was run out of England on a rail for being part of something called a hellfire club.”

  Interesting, I thought. There had been a number of so-called hellfire clubs in England over the years, some more notorious than others. They were secret gentlemen’s clubs formed by the aristocracy’s most profligate rakes and scoundrels. Their activities were said to range widely from common pranks on the local populace to wild orgies or even devil worship.

  Obviously such rumors had followed Peyton to America because the man added, “Don’t know what manner of perversions he was practicing, but it must have been something awful ‘cause his family’s title and money couldn’t protect him. So he came here, bought Devil’s Island and a whole passel of slaves, and built himself a fine plantation.”

  I shook my head. “What does that have to do with banks, or why you think Boucher has murdered his wife?”

  He leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “Because whatever money he used to do all that, no bank in Savannah’s ever seen. They say he’s got chests of gold buried out on that island. Maybe Miss Evangeline told Boucher where they was buried and now he don’t need her anymore. Or maybe he asked and she refused to say. A man might kill a woman for that. All I know is that Boucher comes and goes, but ain’t no one laid eyes on Miss Evangeline in over two years.”

  “Interesting,” I murmured. “And if I wanted to go to this Devil’s Island, how would I get there?”

  “There’s only one dock on Devil’s Island. If you try to fetch up anywhere else, you gonna have to trek through forests or salt marshes. Last man to go out there uninvited came back with an ass full of buckshot. I don’t know anyone who’d be crazy enough to take you out there, except maybe Ben Hennessey. But he won’t do it for money.”

  “What will he do it for?” I asked.

  “White lightning,” he replied.

  I stared at him blankly. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Moonshine,” he elaborated. I shook my head again. “Corn whiskey, ma’am!”

  Ah, whisky was something I understood. “I have Scotch whisky,” I offered.

  “A bottle of that should buy a boat ride to Devil’s Island. But Hennessey only likes the cheap stuff.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t have any cheap stuff.”

  He shrugged. “I guess it’ll do, then, what with the shortage of liquor these days.”

  Oh, the thoughts of one of my lovely bottles of fifteen-year-old Glenlivet in the hands of a—I gritted my teeth. If that’s what it took to get to Claire, then it was a small price to pay. I stood and looked down at the man, realizing I’d never even asked his name. Not that it mattered. I had what I came for and there was only one thing left to do.

  “Look at me,” I said and his eyes snapped up to mine. “You won’t remember any of this. The last thing you’ll be able to recall is turning onto this street. And you won’t ever behave to another woman the way you did to me tonight, will you?” I asked, my voice harsh with implied violence.

  “No, ma’am,” he quickly assured me. “I can damned sure guarantee you that.”

  Because I’d drunk from him, he would be compelled to obey any direct order from me. It was one of the powers that vampires acquire shortly after their turning, along with the ability to bespell a human and the rapid healing rate of a bite wound. If I didn’t feed from him regularly, though, my control would fade in a few days. Then again, who really knew what lingered in the shadowy depths of our minds? Perhaps that voice that lives inside us all—the one that reminds us that there are things in the dark that will hurt us—would keep him from harming another woman. Perhaps not. But it was the best I could do.

  CHAPTER 18
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  I lay on the bed on my stomach, once again studying the map we’d purchased of Savannah and its islands before Devlin and Justine had left on the Wraith. Devil’s Island was easy to find, exactly where Raina’s location spell had said it would be, but it was difficult to determine how long it would take to get there. I had no idea what sort of boat this man Hennessey owned. If it wasn’t steam powered we’d never make it that far down the coast and back to Savannah by dawn. Not for the first time, I cursed the fact that I could no longer walk in the sun as a human. It was going to look a trifle odd, us showing up on someone’s private island in the middle of the night. Then again, the bastard had kidnapped my cousin. If that didn’t warrant two vampires knocking on your door in the dead of night, I didn’t know what did.

  Michael got out of bed and crossed the room to retrieve a bottle of whisky from the dressing table. I glanced up, admiring the sleek, powerful lines of his naked body. The only thing that marred the view was those horrid curtains. Since hotels often frown on their patrons boarding up the windows or painting over them, one of the essentials we always travelled with were several sets of thick, black canvas curtains. There were not the least bit aesthetically pleasing, but they did a marvelous job of keeping out the sun.

  Michael returned to bed with the whisky, taking a long draw and then offering me the bottle. I took a sip, handed it back to him, and returned to studying my map. I felt the mattress dip under his weight and seconds later cool liquid ran down my spine to pool at the small of my back. I shivered as Michael licked the whisky from my skin, then continued trailing kisses up my back.

  “Haven’t you had enough?” I asked, laughing.

  “I’ll never have enough of you,” he said hotly as he slid his body against mine and peered over my shoulder. “What are you looking at?”

  “Just trying to get my bearings,” I replied, tapping the map with one finger. “This is where we’re going.”