Chapter 12 #2
“I thought I heard you yammering on, Winnie,” a male voice drawled behind them. “Hush and run along; the Master doesn’t need you bending his ear.”
Winnie dipped her head and backed away under command from the blood bond.
“Genevieve. What rarified company you’re keeping.
” Oxley stepped out of the shadows wearing striped trousers and an evening coat, the picture of a man-about-town.
He was Winnie’s master and the only one who could command her to stop talking—with his will.
He was an obsequious little toad, and it was awful to have one’s tongue leashed or to be puppeted like a doll, as sometimes took his fancy with Winnie.
But there were worse vampires. Much worse.
“Be careful, sire; the stench down here is monstrous difficult to remove from one’s clothes.”
“Then I wonder at your presence,” Kendrick said. “What is your name?”
“My name? Gerald Oxley.” The vampire puffed up with the attention. Genevieve wondered why he couldn’t sense Kendrick’s displeasure. “I understand you’re doing a little survey of your kingdom, with Genevieve’s help. Did you ask Laurent first, Genevieve?”
Though she tried not to, she flinched.
“Do not address the lady so familiarly,” Kendrick growled. What a puling, maggoty pustule of a vampire. Exactly the sort of grub one found hiding under a log that tried to wriggle away when exposed. And who was Laurent? He had not missed Miss Dryden’s recoil at the name.
“I-I meant no disrespect, sire! My liege! Only I’ve known Ge—er, the lady a long time and—”
Kendrick was certain the man could not come up with Genevieve’s last name even if thumbscrews were applied. Because he had never bothered to learn it.
“Do you make your home in the Ossuary?”
“Lud, no!” The man straightened his cuffs. “The linen would never stay clean.”
“Then what is your purpose here?” Kendrick pressed, advancing on him.
“Ch-Checking on them—my girls and others. Letting their makers know how they get on.”
“Spying and telling tales,” Genevieve corrected, voice hard.
“You’ve turned vampires and abandoned them to fend for themselves?” Kendrick said dangerously.
“N-Not abandoned—”
“Neglected, left, forsaken?” Kendrick suggested, advancing on Oxley as he retreated.
“I say!”
“I say that you are not welcome here.”
“I’ve the right to look in on—”
“You’ve no rights at all, and I’ll make sure of it.” Kendrick’s hand moved towards the hilt of his sword, and Oxley bolted. He’d never seen a vampire move so fast in such tight trousers.
“Is that the sort of thing you guard against on your rounds, Miss Dryden?”
“Yes, some of it. Thank you,” she said. “Winnie isn’t my favorite person, but no one should have their autonomy removed.” Her face was still shadowed, however.
“What is that look for?”
“You’ve bought yourself more trouble. He is a born and bred sycophant, and telling tales to those stronger than him will increase their dislike of you. More knives in the dark.”
Kendrick smiled. “Then we’d better continue building more goodwill. And if you hear of more assassination plots, you can tell me directly now. Can’t you?”
“Who cleans the rooms down here? Changes the sheets, refreshes the water, things like that.” Kendrick gazed around the small portion of the Ossuary that boasted actual rooms with amenities.
Someone had to trim the wicks and refill the oil in the few passages lit.
“No one has done anything to the rooms, but someone must maintain the lights.”
Genevieve shook her head. “I always assumed the vampires who stayed here just ordered someone to do it. That or someone angling to improve their prospects took initiative.”
“Not paid for their labor, then.”
“No. Not that I’ve ever heard.”
“Hmm. The persistent Ossuary problem, as you’ve pointed out.”
“It’s a problem of personal dignity,” Genevieve said, lifting her chin.
“No, you’re right. To move from nothing to remembering that they are a voice-bearer takes effort and support.”
She nodded like a governess approving an apt pupil, and he couldn’t help but smile. “What would you do about the problem, Miss Dryden?”
She thought for a moment. “I’d make sure I knew how much was in the coffers and how much we could spend.
I’d invest some of it the way humans do and purchase property with the rest. Earn more money through careful investing and provide housing to those without it.
Perhaps there is some kind of industry we could contribute to.
We all have skills if we can be reminded of them.
We’re not just husks driven by hunger.” Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“That’s very well thought out.” Why hadn’t he considered that?
Genevieve Dryden had vision. And when she spoke from the heart, she glowed as brightly as a lamp.
She was not content for the status quo, even though so many of the vampires she wanted to help could not fancy any other way for the Ossuary to function.
How had she held on to such a picture? Was it just her circumstances, living in the Ossuary?
Her relative youth as a vampire? Or was it something else?
“I’ve had a long time to think about it. Why do you smile at me so?” she asked warily.
Had he been smiling? He tilted his head to the side as understanding washed over him.
That window in his mind, the one with cheery company and a good fire that he couldn’t turn away from—Genevieve Dryden sat inside.
And he wanted to press his hand to the window, ask her how she had found the door to come in from the cold.
It was her tale he wanted to hear, her story he wanted to unravel.
That was why he spoke so rashly. “Possibly because I find myself wanting you, Miss Dryden.”