“That should take care of us for tonight as well as boarding without a name, should it not?”
Bart looked up with a smile. “This will do fine, Mr. Smith.” He stuffed the bag of coin inside his loose pants pocket, then took hold of the reins.
“Could you direct us to the Winchester Boarding House?” asked Nikolai, moving alongside Sienna.
“Oh, aye. Sarah’s place is less than a block that way and across the street. Green shutters and a green door. Can’t miss it.” He ambled into the barn, murmuring softly to Ramiel and Astrophel, who followed him obediently.
Nikolai crooked his arm for Sienna. “I believe they’re in good hands.”
She forced a smile, but it made her look sadder than wearing none at all. He laid his hand over her gloved one at his elbow.
“Let’s get you to the widow’s place. There you can rest till our recruit meeting.”
She said nothing and so he led her swiftly up the paved street. At dusk, there were more than a few people milling about in town, but none of them took notice of two strangers. In a town this size and as the hub of so many smaller villages, there would be a constant flow of unfamiliar faces. Still, he wanted to get off the streets in case there were any Legionnaires about.
Nikolai spotted the widow’s boarding house at once. Where most buildings were constructed in the gray stone so easily found in this region and were left in their natural state, the widow had painted her stone bright white with wooden shudders on the first and second story windows painted a gleaming meadow-green like the front door. Above the door hung a brass plate inscribed in a swirling script, Winchester Boarding House.
Nikolai guided Sienna up the front steps with a hand on her back. He shut the door, jingling the bell hanging above it, and closed off the noisy street. They stood in the entry and surveyed the well-kept house. Clean wooden floors, white lace curtains in the windows surrounding a long table that seated ten, a staircase with a red-and-gold carpet lining the stairs leading to the second floor.
Light footsteps from a room beyond the dining area drew closer. A petite woman—primly dressed in a blue frock and white apron—walked in, examining them both in one quick perusal, then plastered her professional smile in place.
“Good afternoon. Are you looking for a room for the night?”
“We are,” said Nikolai.
Sienna sagged like a wilted flower next to him from the travel, but more from the horror they’d witnessed in Kellswater.
“Right this way, please.” She ushered them back into the foyer near the door where a roll-top desk sat near the entry. She lifted a bound book and opened it. “I’ll just need you to sign the registry, please.”
“Pardon,” said Nikolai. “But we are friends of your friends in Hiddleston.”
She paused, resting the registry book flat to her bosom, arms crossed. She stared keenly at Sienna, whose head was turned to the room.
“Will you remove your hood, my lady?” asked the widow.
Sienna finally seemed to recall where she was. She pulled down the hood, revealing her fiery auburn hair, loose and wild from the day’s journey. The widow smiled and tucked the registry back in a drawer of the desk.
“Mr. Black said not to expect you for another week. Follow me, please.”
Mr. Black had been the code name for all contacts to use to keep the operation as covert as possible. Of course, Deb in Lobdell hadn’t bothered. But the widow was obviously a by-the-book lady. Rather than lead them up the stairs as he’d expected, she walked around the staircase. Nikolai took Sienna by the hand. She accepted his guidance, though she seemed so far away. The widow continued on through a prim and comfortable parlor, across a gold carpet, and through another door that led down a narrow hallway. She finally stopped at the end of the short corridor and opened the door with an ornate key.
The three of them stepped through to a room facing the back alley, not the front of town. One bed was covered in the widow’s signature green and gold, as well as the carpet near the fireplace. A rocking chair sat next to a side table and porcelain lamp with a lacy white shade. She handed Nikolai the key.
“This will do quite well for you, I believe. You are on the first floor and may leave without anyone’s notice if need be.” She nodded toward the window, then stepped closer and whispered the rest. “I have tenants in the upstairs rooms and this will keep prying eyes from your notice. I would make contact with Reginald if I were you. We weren’t expecting you so soon.”
Nikolai wouldn’t explain they were so early because they had to bypass the two villages between Lobdell and Dale’s Peak. No need to alarm anyone else conspiring with the Black Lily.
“Reginald?” asked Sienna dazedly. “I thought she was our contact?” She directed her question at Nikolai.
“I am,” the widow answered for herself. “But I cannot accommodate so many for the gathering.” She glanced around, though there was no one to hear them in this part of the house. “There are many here in Dale’s Peak who are sympathetic to the cause. Mark my words on that score.” She turned for the door and paused at the exit. “When dinner is ready, I’ll bring a plate to you, my dear. You look worn out from your journey.”
She shut the door behind her. Sienna removed her cloak and dropped it onto the rocking chair, the red swathe of fabric on the inside flaring bright. Then she walked over, sank onto the bed, and began removing one of her boots.
Nikolai guided her by the shoulders to lie down. “Let me do that.”
She submitted without protest, allowing him to remove her boots and stockings. He lifted the folded white blanket on the end of the bed and draped it up to her shoulders. She’d turned on her side, looking like a child with both hands tucked under one cheek. Nikolai sat on the edge and combed her loose locks away from her face, wishing he could take away the terrors of Kellswater.
“I am sorry, my sweet,” he said, brushing the backs of his fingers along her soft cheek. “I wish you hadn’t seen that.”
“I don’t. I need to see what we’re fighting for, don’t I?” Her chin quivered. “But those children. Those families.” She squeezed her eyes shut, a tear slipping over the bridge of her nose to the pillow.
“I know, my love,” he whispered. His pulse leapt at the slip of tongue. He did indeed mean the words with his whole heart. My love.
Her eyes popped open. He continued in his soft timbre. “The queen is immersed in darkness, living only for power and blood. But she will pay for her evil.” He wrapped his fingers loosely around her neck, brushing a thumb along her jaw.
Sienna wrapped her hand over his. Having removed her gloves when they walked in the room, he gloried in the feel of her bare skin on his. When she caressed him, it was the closest to divinity he’d ever known. Immortality shrank before the touch of heaven that was Sienna.
“Get some rest,” he urged.
Tilting her chin up with his forefinger, he leaned forward and grazed a soft kiss to her lips, lingering without demanding more, simply letting his lips lay atop hers in a promise of strength and protection.
“I won’t be long.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” He smiled, his heart aching to take away all of her pain. “And when I do return, I will replace this pain on your heart with pleasure.”
She shivered and laced her fingers with his, then pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
The look in her eyes could’ve slain many a man from sheer desire. But she didn’t look at any man that way. Only him.
He checked to be sure the window was bolted. “Lock the door when I leave.”
“I will,” she said, offering him the first smile he’d seen since before Kellswater.
With that, he was out the door. He waited in the corridor until he heard the metallic click of the bolt locking into place, then he set out to find Reginald. After tonight, he’d take her swiftly back to Hiddleston then on to Cutters Cove where she’d be safely away from the queen and her m
en.
A tingle of dread shot down his spine, remembering Queen Morgrid atop her war horse in full armament, watching and gloating over the slaughter and enslavement of Kellswater like the queen of the damned. Nikolai felt the pricking need twisting in his gut to get Sienna far, far away.
Chapter Eighteen
A soft rapping at the door roused Sienna. She’d drifted off in the rocking chair, which she’d moved near the fireplace. Placing the blanket across the bed, she tiptoed to the door and listened.
“My lady, are you awake?”
Sienna released a sigh of relief. Only Ms. Winchester. She opened the door to find her carrying a wooden tray with a pretty pot of tea, a porcelain tea cup with roses painted around the rim, a tall glass of water, and a plate with cubed beef, carrots, and potatoes in a gravy aside a pile of greens. Sienna’s mouth watered, even though she hadn’t thought about food all day. If anything could tempt her appetite, it was Ms. Winchester’s delicious dinner on her tray.
Sienna opened the door wide for her to come in.
“Good thing you’re wary,” she said, carrying the tray to the foot of the bed. “Ah, you’ve already made a fire. I wasn’t sure there was enough kindling in the box.”
“Thank you,” said Sienna. “I managed well enough.”
“Very good. Have a seat then. Back in your chair. I like that you were enjoying the warm fire. Looks like more snow soon, so enjoy it while you can.”
Sienna sat, and the widow whipped open a napkin and lay it across her lap, then brought her the tray, which balanced easily enough. Ms. Winchester poured a hot cup of tea, then set the teapot on the side table with the lamp.
“There now.” She stepped back and stood straight with one hand gripping the wrist of the other before her. “Go on. Taste it and let me know if it’s any good.”
Sienna forked a bite of the beef, the flavors salty and savory, the meat perfectly tender. “Mmmm. That is truly delicious.”
Ms. Winchester beamed a bright smile. “Good.”
She busied herself refolding the blanket that had been draped loosely over the bed and squared it neatly back in place. Then she lifted Sienna’s cloak that had fallen in a heap on the floor.
“Oh, what a lovely cloak.” She turned it right side in with the rich crimson material on the outside and held it up to view it more fully. “You wore it with the black exterior when you came in. Why would you ever hide this beautiful material?”
“I think you can guess, Ms. Winchester.” Sienna spooned a mouthful of the greens, the butter-and-herb flavor melting on her tongue. “We’re doing our best not to attract attention.”
The widow hung the cloak carefully on a hook near the door. “I see. But such a shame to hide its beauty.”
Sienna sipped her water. “I had to, I’m afraid. The soldiers from where I live know me by that cloak. Have you seen any Legionnaires recently?”
“Not recently, no. We had some pass through about a week ago. Drank too much down at Reginald’s tavern, got into a brawl with some locals, then disappeared before dawn. It upset Reginald something fierce.”
Sienna frowned. “I take it they damaged some of his property?”
“I don’t think so.” She pulled a rag from her apron pocket and wiped the length of the mantel. “Now that I think of it, they didn’t damage anything at all. But they roughed up some of his customers. Seemed to put him in a foul mood that’s lasted all week.”
“You see Reginald regularly then?” Sienna poked into territory she shouldn’t, but something told her the way the widow spoke his name that they were intimate friends.
The widow glanced back in surprise, then schooled her expression. “Yes. Reginald is a bachelor and rarely cooks a decent meal for himself. He comes down and pays for a hearty meal from time to time.”
“I see.” Sienna guessed that the bar owner probably visited her for more than a hearty meal.
“Well, then, I best stop bothering you.” Sienna had definitely unsettled her. “I’ll be back up for the tray and dishes in a bit. You just rest awhile.” Without a backward glance, she swished out the door.
Sienna finished what she could. The widow was a hearty cook indeed. After setting the tray aside, she bolted the lock again and settled back by the fire, her legs tucked under her chin, ruminating over the day. The warmth of the room and the fullness of her belly made her drowsy, but the chilling memory of Kellswater wouldn’t let her settle.
The screaming women, the crying children, the men bellowing in rage, fighting to the death for their loved ones. If terror ever took on a form, it was the image of the father running to protect his daughter, then being gutted and decapitated right in front of her, just before the blood-maddened vampire scooped her up to take her back into the hut. He didn’t put her in the cages with the other women. He wanted her to himself, right then and there.
Sienna wondered if he let her live, if he could restrain himself from drinking her to death. Or if she was left to bleed out after being brutalized by such a monster. Sienna was surprised how little Nikolai spoke of the event. Even when neither of them wanted to recall what they’d seen, she thought he might explain to her, tell her more what makes men—no, vampires—go completely savage.
But then, what was there to explain? She’d witnessed sanguine furorem raging through Kellswater, not men. The blood madness was a cold evil. And there the queen and her son, King Dominik, who had sat on high, like glorious conquerors, proud of their triumph.
“Bastards,” she whispered.
A soft rap at the door jerked her back to the present. The widow was back for the tray. “Coming, Ms. Winchester.”
The second her hand landed on the silver knob, a floorboard creaked in the hallway as if someone heavy shifted their weight. Adrenaline rushed through her body, igniting like wildfire.
“Ms. Winchester?”
A second’s pause. “Run, my lady! Run!” Then a piercing, gurgling scream.
Sienna launched herself across the room and unhinged the window, glancing back to see the entire doorframe splintering inward. The window came free. She threw the pane upward. The heaving crack of the door falling. She had one leg over the sill and her torso out into the cold night air. A strong arm wrapped her waist, a hand gripped her hair close to the scalp and jerked her downward, then she was pulled back through the window.
She clawed and fought, grazing the face of her attacker, then was thrown violently to the floor. Landing on her stomach, she looked through the open door now hanging by one hinge, past the feet of four men standing inside the entrance where Ms. Winchester was crumpled in a heap, her sightless eyes gazing at nothing, her throat torn out.
“Pretty little red witch is all alone,” came the sickening, familiar voice of the man above and behind her.
She looked over her shoulder, panic flooding her with a glacial chill. Lieutenant Volkov stood, legs planted wide, one hand on his hip, the other rubbing the scratch on his face she’d given him.
“My kitty cat’s a little wild, boys.”
The men chuckled darkly. Sienna swallowed the bile crawling up her throat.
Volkov turned a fevered look of lust down at her, sinister grin spreading wide. “No worries.” He leaned over to take hold of her. “Taming them is the part I love most.”
Chapter Nineteen
Nikolai sat in the corner booth closest to the bar, the raucous noise of men enjoying their ale after a hard day’s work growing louder. He stared at the barkeep, a young man who’d told him that Reginald wasn’t in yet. So Nikolai waited. But a warning was rattling his bones. The evening rush was building, and this kid behind the bar couldn’t manage this many customers on his own. Reginald would know that.
Enough. He didn’t like it. He slipped out of the booth and skirted through the crowd for the door, ignoring any sideways looks from the workers. Vampires weren’t welcome in most places, but even less so in Dale’s Peak. It had always been more hostile toward his kind. The main reason he needed Sienna for th
e recruiting. She had a way with people. She could convince a starving man to give up his last crust of bread with a few words and a smile.
Back out into the blustery night, he pulled his collar up. Not so much to block out the cold, but to hide his face. Something wasn’t right, and he didn’t want too many locals getting a good look at him. The street was busy, for there was more than one tavern open along this strip. He skirted along the buildings, avoiding the street lanterns posted every four buildings. Dale’s Peak was a thriving town, a place of sophistication and modernity, bustling with people.
Nikolai could hardly imagine Sienna growing up in such a place. No wonder she left. She didn’t belong in this busy, overpopulated city, hosting parties and doing a husband’s bidding. The very idea smacked him hard as a sacrilege against her nature. Sienna belonged in the woods where she could gather her herbs and plants, brew her healing potions and salves, and live amongst the animals she loved so well.
He smiled at his own idiocy. Never more had he understood how much she truly belonged in Silvane Forest until he was walking the streets of her native home of Dale’s Peak.
“Pardon me,” he said after bumping into a gentleman in an evening coat, stepping up to a posh restaurant with his lady on his arm.
He moved on, again with Sienna on his mind. Truth be told, she never left his mind. In the few moments they’d been separated on this journey, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. She’d become so much to him, he could hardly function. The simple act of accidentally bumping into the man he’d just passed was a sign he was distracted. He was a man of precision and efficiency. But Sienna had thrown him off his game.
He moved swiftly, eager to get back to her. With the cover of night, humans wouldn’t even detect his movement. They’d think his passing only a chilly wind in the night air. He stopped on the doorstep of the Winchester Boarding House. Once inside, his senses prickled, gooseflesh raising on his skin. He could not hear Ms. Winchester in the kitchen. The candle that was burning on the desktop was now snuffed out. No lanterns were lit at the front foyer. It was not so late that no one should be moving in the house.
The Red Lily (Vampire Blood) Page 18
