by Christine Warren, Marjorie Liu, Caitlin Kittredge, Jenna Maclaine
I blew out a breath, trying to reconcile what I knew of demons with what the warden had just told us.
Finding a true demon is rare, Devlin had once told me. For one to exist in this reality, it has to take a shape that is natural to our world, he’d said. Demons find the human body too limiting. You could live five hundred years and never see one.
Wouldn’t that have been nice? I thought.
“Warden,” I said, “go back to your Regent and tell him that I will come to London, but I will not come alone, and I will not grant him the courtesy of an audience. In fact, considering that Michael swore to kill Sebastian if he ever saw him again, I think it might be a wise idea for you to keep him inside his townhouse while we’re in the city.”
“Thank you, Miss Craven,” Grady said, smiling. “You are our last hope.”
I smiled back, putting a great deal more confidence into the gesture than I felt. “We will find a way to slay this demon, but I give you fair warning—if I discover that Sebastian had anything to do with summoning it into our world, he will answer for it with his life.”
The warden nodded gravely. “I’ve seen firsthand what the Ripper has done to my vampires, Miss Craven. The young ones, they don’t turn to dust like the old ones do. I know what tortures they endured before he put them out of their misery. I’m sure the Regent wouldn’t do anything to bring harm to our vampires. But if evidence should come to light that he has any connection with this monster, I will gladly stand by your side against him.”
THREE
I hate winter. You’d think that, as a vampire, it would be my favorite season. After all, the days are shorter and the nights are longer, which is undeniably helpful if you’re a prisoner to the sun. To me, however, winter is such an ugly time of year. I would gladly trade shorter nights for leaves on the trees and flowers in bloom, for the smell of green grass under my bare feet. Looking out the carriage window at the streets of London—thick with the soupy gray sludge of dirty, melting snow—I longed for spring.
“What has you so pensive, mo ghraidh?” Michael asked, his Scottish accent barely discernible anymore, unless he was speaking Gaelic.
I turned my attention from the world outside to the man who sat next to me. Devlin was driving the carriage and Justine had elected to ride up top with him, so it was just Michael and me inside. Devlin didn’t care much for sea travel and, after being confined all day to his cabin on the ship, he was fairly itching for some fresh air. Our poor driver had been somewhat confused to be sent home in a hack.
“I was just thinking how long it’s been since we were last in London,” I replied. “Can it really have been three years ago this spring?”
“I believe it was,” he replied. “If I’d thought we would be so long between visits, I might have objected to you buying that house. Not that it would have done me any good.”
I smiled. “I don’t see any sense in all that money just lying about.”
“It isn’t lying about,” Michael groused. “It’s earning interest.”
“And plenty enough to allow me to keep one small house in London and still be a wealthy woman.”
Michael arched a brow at me and, the way the moonlight cast his cheekbones in sharp relief, he looked more like a devil than the archangel he was named for. “One small house in London, and a rather large house in Spain. Then there’s the villa in Italy, and the plantation in America.”
I ran my fingers lazily down his chest, toying with the buttons on his vest. “Are any of them likely to bankrupt me?” I asked.
He snorted, as if I’d asked a ridiculous question. Which I had. If there was one thing I didn’t worry about in this world, it was money. Michael, with his Scots frugality, was a genius with finances. Over the years, he had managed to multiply my substantial inheritance almost beyond imagining.
“Then don’t complain about the houses,” I said. “You know how much I dislike living out of hotels.”
He gave me a look. “Aye, every time we’re in one place longer than two weeks, I’m afraid you’ll buy an estate.”
“But, darling,” I purred, slowly popping the buttons of his vest open one by one. “Won’t it be nice to be in our own house and not some noisy hotel?”
He growled and pulled me onto his lap so that my legs were straddling him. “Only if Ginny’s got a fire blazing in the hearth and fresh sheets on the bed.”
“Sleepy?” I asked, calling up a little practical magic. With a thought and a flick of my wrist the curtains of the carriage snapped shut. Being a witch often has its advantages.
“Not remotely,” Michael replied, pushing my skirts up until his hands gained access to my bare thighs. “Why, you wicked girl. You’re not wearing any drawers.”
I bit my lip and smiled. “Are you shocked?”
“Scandalized,” he murmured, just before his fingers found me.
By the gods, I was hot and wet and so ready for him. Furiously I tried to calculate if we had time to finish what we’d started. Then all reasonable thought went out of my head as his hand snaked up to wrap around the back of my neck and pull my lips to his. His tongue entered my mouth as one long finger entered my body, and I arched against him, swaying with the rhythm of the carriage.
“Please, don’t stop,” I begged as he withdrew from me.
He ran his fingers gently over my womanhood, spreading the slick moisture across me.
“Such a greedy lass,” he whispered huskily. “Do you want more?”
I looked down at him, at the look of masculine triumph in his blue eyes. Michael was the sort of man who enjoyed foreplay. He often made a game of seeing how many times he could make me come before he joined me. I would have been happy to free the buttons on his trousers and take him right there, but I knew that watching me find my own release was almost as pleasurable to him as achieving his own.
“Yes,” I said on a ragged breath. “Give me more.”
He growled and plunged two fingers into me, stretching me. I quivered and threw back my head. His lips traced the tops of my breasts, his tongue running just under the edge of my bodice. My nipples tightened, wishing they were free to feel the heat of his mouth. I dug my fingernails into his shoulders, reveling in the feel of the deep, hard strokes of his fingers. I was almost there, so close … and then the carriage came to a halt in front of my townhouse.
With a sigh of regret, Michael stopped.
“No!” I cried, collapsing against him.
Stroking his fingers one last time across me, Michael modestly pulled down my skirts, put his hands around my waist, and gently set me on the seat next to him. When Devlin opened the carriage door, the muscles in my legs were shaking so violently, I wasn’t sure I could walk. I turned and looked at Michael.
“You’re such a tease,” I scolded.
“I never promise what I can’t deliver,” he assured me. “If you don’t spend all night talking to Ginny, we can go upstairs and finish this.”
I looked down the length of him, imagining that lithe but solidly muscled body naked beneath me.
“I’ll give her five minutes,” I said, “and then you’re mine.”
“Are you two coming?” Devlin asked impatiently from the sidewalk.
“Not at the moment,” I said with regret and great meaning. “But soon.”
FOUR
Ginny McCready was the eldest daughter of the manager of my island plantation off the coast of Savannah. Shortly after I’d bought the London house eight years ago, I’d received a letter from Ginny, then an unmarried woman of twenty-seven, expressing an interest in leaving Georgia and seeing more of the world. I’d immediately hired her to come to London and run the house in Mayfair and any other estates I might eventually purchase in England. Standing in the open doorway with her round, pink cheeks and her golden hair piled up in braids, she was a welcome sight.
The tall, lanky young footman who had brought our carriage to the docks rushed past her to tend the horses. He nodded respectfully to me as we passed a
nd I glanced back, watching him eagerly take instructions from Devlin regarding our plans for the conveyance this evening. I shook my head. Skinny young men with red hair and freckled faces weren’t what the upper class traditionally looked for in a footman, which is probably why Ginny had hired him. She’d always had a soft spot for strays.
Ginny glanced up at the thick, gray storm clouds that hung low in the dark sky and pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders.
“Y’all had better get inside,” she called out, and then laughed. “I almost said ‘before you catch your death’!”
I chuckled. Ginny had known about vampires since she was eight years old, when Michael and I had bought the plantation where her family lived, on what the locals called Devil’s Island. I gave her a quick hug as she shooed us all inside and closed the door against the chill night.
Justine was humming softly as she removed her hat and gloves. She was tall, long-legged and gorgeous, with her silvery blonde hair done up in the latest style. She was also the closest thing I’d ever had to a sister. We’d lived, played, and fought by each other’s sides since I’d become a vampire.
As Ginny gathered up our cloaks, chattering away in her delightful southern accent, Justine reached out and tugged at the crooked neckline of my gown.
“Merde,” she muttered in her native French. “You two find yourselves alone in a carriage and the clothes, they come off.”
I cocked a brow at her. “Need I remind you of the last time Michael and I drove? I opened the carriage door to find you with your skirts up over your head and Devlin crouched—”
She slapped her hand over my mouth. “Point taken,” she said hastily, glancing at Ginny.
“Right in front of the Paris Opera, no less,” I whispered defiantly.
Justine glanced at Devlin with her coquette’s smile, and I knew she and I had very similar plans for our first evening in London.
“The men from the ship came this morning to tell me of your imminent arrival,” Ginny was saying. “They delivered your trunks, and everything is all unpacked in your rooms.”
“I’m sorry for showing up on such short notice, Ginny,” I said. “I hope you haven’t gone to any trouble.”
We had come in on the morning tide but naturally had not been able to leave the ship until dark. One of the benefits of sailing on the vampire-owned Blood Cross line was that there was no need to explain such behavior to the crew. The human sailors who manned the ships had worked for the line for generations, and could be depended upon to be helpful and discreet.
“Why, Cin,” Ginny scoffed, “it’s no trouble at all. You pay me very well to be ready for just such an occasion, though I must say it would be nice to see y’all more often. I went to the market and stocked up on your favorite whiskey. Also, champagne for mademoiselle,” she said with a nod to Justine. “The piano has been tuned, there are fresh paints for Michael in the studio upstairs, and all the correspondence that I had yet to forward to you is on your desk in the study.”
I shook my head. “Ginny McCready, you are a wonder. I wish I had five more just like you.”
“Well, you might get your wish soon enough,” Ginny said, barely able to contain the enormous smile that bloomed on her face. “I have a beau.”
“You do not!” I gasped.
I couldn’t have been more shocked if she’d hit me in the head. From the time I’d met her when she was eight years old, Ginny McCready had consistently and vociferously vowed never to marry.
“I most certainly do,” she assured me. “And he’s simply lovely.”
“I’m so happy for you,” I said. “You’ll have to tell me all about him.”
Michael cleared his throat. The only problem with Ginny was that she was a true southern belle. She was as much a master of the art of conversation as Michael was at the art of swordsmanship. And that is saying quite a lot. Often a simple exchange with her turned into a chat that lasted for hours. Ginny had never met a stranger—she could draw anyone, be they countess or chimney sweep, into a conversation—and often people found themselves telling her things they normally wouldn’t share. Perhaps it was her innocent, farm girl appearance, or perhaps it was that delectable southern accent, but Ginny had an uncanny ability to know absolutely every bit of scandal there was to know in London society. I’d often wondered if there was a patron goddess of gossip, and if Ginny McCready had erected an altar to her in her bedroom.
“Perhaps in a few hours, after we’ve all rested a bit,” I said, glancing back at Michael with a wink.
“Yes,” Devlin agreed, slipping his arm around Justine’s waist and pulling her back against his massive chest. “I think we could all use a bit of relaxation. The crossing was so choppy. I didn’t sleep a bit.”
I was fairly certain that the Channel wasn’t what had kept Devlin awake, but I didn’t say so.
“Well, that’s to be expected this time of year,” Ginny said. Suddenly her hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, dear Lord! I entirely forgot about your guest!”
My eyes widened. “We have a guest?”
“Yes, I told him y’all weren’t here yet, but he said he’d wait. I put him in the parlor an hour ago. You vampires are so fiendishly quiet I forgot he was there.”
“Did he give you a name?” Michael asked.
Ginny bobbed her head. “Warden Grady.”
All four of us groaned. I think we were all looking forward to one evening of quiet to get settled before we started demon hunting.
“Well, we mustn’t keep the warden waiting,” I muttered.
“Would you like me to fetch y’all some tea?” Ginny asked.
Before I could answer, Michael said, “Miss McCready, I think you’d better break out the whiskey.”
My husband knew me so very well.
FIVE
As promised, Warden Grady was waiting patiently in my parlor. He had helped himself to a glass of cognac and was stretched out in one of the wing chairs in front of the fire.
“Warden,” I greeted him as we entered the room, “I trust we didn’t keep you waiting long.”
“Not at all,” he replied, rising swiftly to take my hand and execute a courtly bow. He then greeted Michael, Devlin, and Justine. As we all took a seat he continued, “I apologize for showing up on your doorstep before you’ve even had a chance to settle in, but I appreciate you coming so quickly. I just arrived back in town myself yesterday.”
Devlin leaned forward. “I take it there has been some new development,” he said, his gravelly voice sounding surly, even to me. “Or surely tomorrow night would have been soon enough to call.”
Grady looked at him nervously. Devlin was the oldest of us, the leader of The Righteous. That, coupled with the fact that he was nearly six and a half feet tall and built like a brick wall, was enough to inspire respect, and perhaps a bit of fear, in any sane vampire.
“Another vampire disappeared last night,” Grady said.
“Something must be done before the Ripper decimates the entire population of the city.”
“What Devlin is trying to say,” I explained gently, “is that since we’ve literally just walked in the door, I haven’t yet had the time I need to look through my spell books, which I keep in the library here.”
Grady looked disappointed, as if he had assumed that because I was a witch I should somehow instinctively know how to vanquish demons.
“But you do have something that will stop him?”
“I know that there is part of a spell in one of my books. I need to acquire the ingredients that fuel the magic, though. Ginny, is there still an apothecary shop on Panton Street called Little and Sons?”
Grady glanced at Ginny as she filled our glasses. “There is,” she replied hesitantly.
Ginny glanced around the room at everyone’s expectant looks, and leaned down to whisper, “As a matter of fact, you know how I said I have a new beau? His name is Warren Little and he happens to own that particular shop.”
She needn’t have
whispered. With our keen vampire hearing, everyone in the room knew what she’d said.
I blinked up at her. “Oh. My. Well, that is fortuitous. We shall pay him a visit tonight and that will bring us one step closer to tracking down this monster.”
“And until we slay him, though,” Devlin said to the warden grimly, “keep your vampires off the streets. Tell them not to go out to feed unless they absolutely have to. And if the blood will come to them, so much the better.”
Grady nodded. “The Regent hasn’t left his mansion in weeks,” he replied. “The blood whores are brought in to feed the court.”
A blood whore was exactly what it sounded like, a human who sold his or her blood, and often their bodies as well, to vampires. It was a very lucrative and tightly regulated business, but blood whores were considered a delicacy, and only those in the upper echelons of vampire society were able to afford to drink from them on a regular basis. As a result, there were nowhere near enough blood whores in London to feed the entire vampire population. Unless we caught this bastard soon, the vamps would eventually have to go out to feed. And the Ripper would be there, waiting.
SIX
Our carriage pulled to a stop in front of the apothecary shop on Panton Street. Michael leapt from the box and opened the door with a flourish, interrupting Ginny’s discourse on the hiring of Will, my redheaded footman, and his young bride Amy, who was apparently my chambermaid. Thankfully, they had their own lodgings and did not live in my house. It would be hard enough to explain why all the windows were shuttered during the day without having them underfoot all night as well.
Ginny and I descended from the carriage. Devlin and Justine had stayed behind to look through the books that were in my library. I’m not an accomplished spellcaster—my magic tends to be a bit more active—but I have acquired quite an abundance of books on spellcraft and the arcane over the years.
