Bowing his head in his hands, he despaired. Then he realized how ridiculous he looked and rose to fasten his breeches. As he did so, his foot struck a piece of the microscope. He stared down at it.
Science led him to the Watch Bearers. Science led Angel to England.
Perhaps it could yet save them both.
Pulling his watch, he let the radiance give him strength for the night, and then he set back to work. No matter how long it took, or how many calculations and serum separations he had to make, he’d find a way to turn Angel’s miraculous, powerful blood into a weapon equally devastating to the Beefsteak Killer. And then, his quest ended, he could give up this half existence and share with Angel a natural lifespan.
As human.
By the time she reached Blythe Hall, Angel’s feet were raw. Dawn colored the sky with red fingers of warning. She saw the Hall silhouetted, a dark, dangerous heap, against the bright red dawn and knew, in the desolate recesses of the soul she feared for, that she witnessed a harbinger of what was to come.
Blackness and bloody conflict.
For an instant, she rested her head against the gate, wondering if she shouldn’t just get in the first available coach and flee back to America. Her lips twisted bitterly as she looked down at the tatters that revealed far too much of her well loved skin.
She’d not make it far.
Besides, one quality Angel the innocent and Angel the vampire shared: neither of them were craven. Whether Max had killed her mother or not, she now knew Max was not the Beefsteak Killer. No defiler of innocents would dare show her his one fatal flaw and then love her so passionately to prove it to her.
No. Someone in this hulking monstrosity was the killer.
A vampire had to refresh itself upon the soil of its birth.
She had to gain entrance to that tunnel.
For several days, life seemed to regain some semblance of normality. Though she ached for Max and longed to talk to him about the strange rapture-regret they shared, she knew it was best to leave the subject be for now. Somehow she knew the killer had lured her here precisely because she was half vampire and half human, Max’s only weakness.
Until she found the killer, she didn’t dare tempt either Max or herself to experience again that odd bonding that was so satisfying yet so perilous.
When she saw them at dinner the next day, Sarina and Alexander noticed her scratches and sore feet, but they accepted Angel’s excuse. “My mare rode under branches with me and knocked me out of my saddle, and I got blisters walking back.”
“Indeed, you look as though you’ve had a particularly wild ride,” Alexander said blandly.
Angel didn’t like the look in his eyes or his implication. How could he possibly know she’d been intimate with his enemy? Making some excuse, she left the table early. She let the maid prepare her for bed, but as soon as the girl was gone she put on her boy’s attire.
She was observant, too. Alexander had not been dressed for dinner. He wore tall boots and tough breeches, as if he had a rough outing of his own to make that night. And since he wasn’t the rough and tumble type, she had to assume he had a mission.
A mission to kill his next victim?
Hoping her nascent vampire skills were enough to disguise her attempts to track him, Angel cracked her door a tiny notch to listen for footsteps. She heard loud voices raised from the area of the master suite, a slamming door and then she felt him more than heard him, for he moved with the same skill that Max had perfected to an art. Almost soundlessly, he glided down the hallway toward the curving staircase.
Angel was about to exit after him when she saw movement at the end of the hallway. She ducked back in time to see Gustav pass, his movements stealthy as if he, too, followed his master and didn’t want to be seen. What was the head groom doing in the family living quarters?
Giving them quite a lot of space, Angel counted to eight and then sneaked out her door. She saw no trace of either Gustav or Alexander. She was halfway down the stairs when she sensed someone watching her. Shrinking against the wall, Angel waited, her heart sledging at her ribs. She used all her strong senses to seek through the darkness for the source of her unease, but she saw nothing, heard nothing.
Only felt. A menace so old and ancient and evil that she couldn’t fathom it.
Telling herself she was nervous, Angel continued down the stairs and eased open the front door in time to see Alexander get on his stallion and ride away. Had he sensed her watching him and reflected back that menace to scare her off?
Angel moved to bolt toward the stables for her mare, but a tear-drenched voice said right behind her, “He’s going to his mistress again, the rotten bastard.”
Angel whirled. Sarina stood in her white night rail like a ghost against the darkness. Her fair skin was streaked with tears. “I forget if this is number five…no, I believe it’s number six.”
With a last regretful look at Alexander disappearing into the night, Angel lit a gas lamp and led Sarina to a settee. Her aunt by marriage had been very kind to her and Angel couldn’t leave her in such despair while she went on what was not only likely a fool’s errand, but a highly dangerous errand at that.
Going to the liquor tray on a sideboard, Angel poured a glass of brandy and brought it back to Sarina.
Sarina made a face. “I detest the stuff. I prefer the punch.”
Angel looked at the ever present decanter full of deep red wine. Biting back the urge to warn Sarina what else that wine consisted of, Angel poured a glass and offered it. Sarina sipped. “Won’t you join me?”
“The brandy suits me,” Angel said, taking the veriest taste. She actually detested the stuff, too, but at least she could see from the pale golden color that it held no blood.
Sarina eyed Angel’s attire. “You look as if you had an assignation of your own planned. Where were you off to, Angel?”
“Just a late ride. I’ve…been having a difficult time sleeping.” That, certainly, was true.
Sarina obviously didn’t believe her but she didn’t press the issue. She swirled the liquid in her glass, staring down at it as if mesmerized. “Don’t ever fall in love, Angel.”
A lump appeared in Angel’s throat. She remembered the look on Max’s face as he thrust into her and knew, deep inside, that the warning came too late. But she wasn’t ready yet to admit that truth even to herself much less to anyone else. “Surely mutual love is the greatest happiness any man and woman can know.”
“Mutual slavery, more like.”
“Alexander loves you, Sarina.”
“Does he? Then he’d be faithful, would he not?” Sarina’s troubled blue eyes probed Angel’s. “And dismiss the notion that he’s getting even with me. Despite what rumors you hear to the contrary, I have always been faithful to him.”
Angel stared down into her own glass, wondering how Sarina had read her mind. It was true that Angel had occasionally doubted Sarina’s morality. She was so sensual, so lovely, so popular at the balls, perhaps some of the rumors were true. But seeing Sarina’s genuine pain, Angel believed her. Alexander was the unfaithful one.
And yet…he’d not been dressed like a man going to a mistress.
Sarina slammed back her drink and poured another. Then she paced, her long golden hair floating around her hips, her white gown barely shielding her lush curves.
Not for the first time, especially now that she knew the mixture of that concoction Sarina so loved, Angel wondered why Sarina showed no vampire characteristics. Surely, as Alexander’s wife, he’d converted her long ago. Perhaps she was ashamed and hid her nature.
Sarina whirled on Angel. “Tell me, my dear, where you went last night so late? And please, don’t use the excuse that your mare unseated you. You forget I’ve seen you ride.”
Angel smiled weakly. “Do you do a bed check every night?”
Sarina didn’t smile back. “Please do not consider this an interrogation. It is more in the way of a concern for you. You live under my roof, an
d you are dear to me. I only fear for your well being.”
Shamed, Angel admitted, “I went to Max’s. He…showed me some of his experiments.”
Sarina’s eyes narrowed slightly. “He showed you his lab?”
Angel hesitated, but finally nodded.
“Every blood researcher in the country has begged for entrance to that lab and he’s refused them all.”
The tide of color that swept Angel from head to toe was all the explanation Sarina apparently needed. Setting her glass aside, she came forward to clasp Angel’s hands. “We’re two of a kind, sweet Angel. Both mooning over men who claim to care for us but use us in their own tawdry battles.”
Tawdry? That was hardly the term Angel would have used for the search for the Beefsteak Killer.
Sarina took a deep breath and squeezed Angel’s hands. “Very well, Angel, since I cannot prove my concern for you any other way…It’s time I admit that your suspicions of your uncle are true. Alexander is a vampire.” Sarina saw the question in Angel’s eyes and her voice went soft with shame. “And so am I. Though a very weak one, which is why I drink so much of the fortifying punch. It’s the only way I can go about in daylight and even then, you see how fair my skin remains.”
Angel longed to ask, but the words wouldn’t come.
Fiercely, Sarina squeezed Angel’s hands so hard they stung, as if Sarina struggled against the question Angel couldn’t ask as hard as Angel did. “No. While I admit we do both sometimes partake of human blood, to my knowledge Alexander has never killed a living being. He is not the Beefsteak Killer.”
“Then who is?”
“Why do you care so much to find out? Surely you know how dangerous your search is, not just for you but for everyone in this household.”
“Girls are dying.” And Max is in danger, too. “I cannot escape the feeling that the killer lured me here, Sarina. And I will not be a tool in such an evil enterprise. My life might not mean much to him, but it means a lot to me, and if I cannot determine my own fate, then I don’t want to live at all.”
An admiring light softening her blue eyes in the candleglow, Sarina squeezed Angel’s hands a final time and then let her go. “You remind me so much of myself at your age. I think it was my fearlessness that first tempted Alexander to make a dancer his wife.” Sarina cocked her head. “You do not look shocked at my horrid secret.”
“I adore dancing.”
Sarina dimpled, but then she sighed. “What a stubborn child you are. But you are quite right. You have a unique value to those of us who are creatures of the night.” With a last glare after her miscreant husband, Sarina marched toward the stairs. “Alexander has deliberately kept this from you, fearing you’ll run, but I believe you’re made of sterner stuff. Men are such tiresome creatures, thinking that because we are soft, and generous, and nurturing, that we are weak. Well, Alexander and Max have manipulated us for their own ends long enough. You wish to know why you were brought here, do you not?”
Angel nodded vigorously.
“And I wish to prove to my wayward husband that he may be the stronger one in our relationship, but I still have a brain and a loyalty to my gender as he should have a loyalty to his blood. Weak women indeed!” With what might have been a genteel snort, Sarina marched down the first level of stairs. “Come along.”
Angel followed. “Where are we going?”
“To the laboratory and the one secret you have not yet uncovered.” Sarina looked over her shoulder at Angel, her blue eyes earnest. “Most importantly, you need to learn why Maximillian Britton is not the friend he claims to be, but your most natural, bitter enemy.”
Sarina led the way down the stairs into the bowels of the estate.
CHAPTER TEN
After the wonders of Max’s lab, Alexander’s seemed dreary. Angel watched Sarina light lamps, the illumination limning her aunt’s magnificent face and form. How could Alexander even look at another woman when he was married to someone so gorgeous? And vampire or not, Sarina’s physical beauty seemed matched by an inner one, for she was unfailingly gracious to everyone, noble and servant alike.
Yet she had waylaid Angel a bit neatly tonight, too. No doubt Sarina’s ultimate loyalty was to Alexander, as it should be, so perhaps she’d been distracting her niece to give Alexander time to ride off.
Angel was a bit ashamed of her suspicions, but after the events of the last few weeks, Angel wasn’t sure whom to trust, if anyone. Again, she remembered the way Alexander was dressed.
Like someone on assignment, not assignation.
But now the lights were bright enough, Angel could see tear streaks on those fair cheeks. They, at least, were genuine. Deciding to take Sarina’s offer at face value, Angel walked straight to the microscope which still had a sample inserted.
“It’s my blood you all want,” Angel said, sitting down before the microscope.
Sarina froze on her way to a cabinet. “Max told you?” She seemed shocked.
No, Max showed me. With devastating effect. Trying not to remember how weak she’d left him, Angel looked through the microscope. “Whose sample is this?” But somehow she knew.
“It’s the sample you gave to my husband of your own blood. Alexander has been studying it for days.”
“To what end?”
“After much experimentation, Alexander has proved that your blood is the perfect food for us, Angel. The human components give us sustenance, but the vampire components strengthen us.” Sarina seemed disappointed that her big revelation brought little reaction from Angel. “You knew?”
“It’s logical.” Max had not told her this, but it only made sense that if she weakened a reluctant, self-converted vampire who still retained many of his human traits, that she would strengthen true vampires who were wholly creatures of the night.
“And you know also that your blood is dangerous to those like Max?”
How much did they really know about Max? “Those like Max? How is he different?”
Sarina gave her a look. “Prevarication is not your long suit. Every vampire in the district knows Max is a Watch Bearer. A created creature of the night, not a converted one. He hates himself, and he hates us. A sentiment we return in full.”
You all fear him, too, Angel reflected.
“There is no one more debased than one who kills his own kind for sport.” Sarina wrapped her arms about herself, and suddenly she looked fragile. As if she were deeply afraid of Max, too.
Angel frowned. “For sport? He kills to stop the killing of innocent human lives.”
Sarina shook her head. “So he would have you believe. In actuality, he kills because he enjoys it.”
Half numb, Angel didn’t know what to believe any more. But one thing was clear–she was tired of being used. By both sides. “This revelation is supposed to bring me comfort?” Angel burst out. “I feel like a cow who needs milking! And my supply of cream is finite!”
Sarina laughed. “You should take to the stage, dear child.” Gently pushing Angel back into the chair before the microscope, Sarina went to a supply cabinet and took out a gleaming scalpel. “Since you doubt me, I can prove what I say is true. We shall mix my blood sample with yours.”
“But we only need a pin to pierce your finger.” Angel tried to take the scalpel, but Sarina pulled it back out of the way. There was something erratic and strange about her behavior. Was she truly so angry with her husband that she would endanger her own life? Her cheeks were flushed, the blue eyes brilliant. Angel felt uneasy for the first time since entering the lab. She glanced at the door, back at her aunt.
Moving to stand over Angel’s table, Sarina readied a clean slide. Then she lifted the blade, the edge uncomfortably close to Angel’s face.
The hair on the back of Angel’s neck stood on end. Instinctively, Angel leaped up and out of the way. “Sarina, what are you--”
Her movements awkward, Sarina sliced downward, not toward Angel, but into her own wrist. She winced and her blood spurted outward in
a starburst pattern. She stared stupidly down at the stream that pulsed with the rhythmic ebb and flow of her heartbeat. “I didn’t mean to cut so deeply,” she whispered, groping for a chair. Her blood continued to spurt, onto her clothes, seeping onto the floor with a hypnotic drip drip drip. .
Angel leaped up and went for clean bandages. She knelt in front of her aunt, unwrapping the clean cotton. But the moment she touched Sarina’s bloody wrist, every nerve in Angel’s body went on tingling alert. Her nostrils flared at the rich, coppery scent.
The pulsing flow was slowing because Sarina was already coagulating, but her blood, the deepest, darkest crimson Angel had ever seen, was dripping down Sarina’s arm into a pool on the floor.
All Angel could think was–what a waste.
Sarina thrust her wrist under Angel’s nose. “Help me, Angel. It hurts. Lick it and the cut will start to close.”
Angel stared down stupidly at the bandages in her hand, back at the crimson stream of life. Don’t, Angel, her human half begged. But the vampire half, the strong half, was tempted beyond bearing.
Bending her head, Angel suckled at Sarina’s vein. Ambrosia. Sarina tasted wonderful, even better than Max. She suckled harder, the blood oozing into her mouth.
Gently, Sarina stroked Angel’s hair as she watched the girl feed.
And she smiled.
In his lab, Max had just nodded off, his face buried in his own notes, but he snapped awake under the influence of that powerful mental bond that he’d seldom felt with anyone other than Eileen. For a moment, he was disoriented, wondering what had awakened him. He stared into the darkness and saw Alexander’s laboratory form in the shadows of his mind. Angel was kneeling before Sarina, who wore only a white night rail.
A night rail spattered with blood.
Angel was feeding on that thin wrist! Max ran up the steps, intending to form into a bat, but he’d almost leaped out the window before he realized he was still too weak to transform. Poised on the transom, he swung his weight back inside barely in time.
Cursing his own weakness, he ran down the hallway and descended the stairs, calling for his horse as he went. He knew it would be too late by the time he got there. Angel would be lost in the blood lust. So lost he might not be able to coax her back.
The Trelayne Inheritance Page 17
