Entranced #2
I couldn’t bring myself to ask what kind of wound he himself might leave. Instead, I asked, “Have you looked for this other?”
Setting his empty cup down, he replied, “I have, but I’ve never caught more than the shadow I saw on the day you were attacked. Tonight the moon is full, a time when our thirst has always been stronger, and I will seek again.”
“What will you do if you find him?”
He glanced at the casement; the heath below us was awash in autumn sunshine. Enough light came in that I could see what he meant about his eyes. It wasn’t just the color that made them unusual; the black center circles were very large.
“He may be a hunter like my ancestor,” he said.
“Or it may be that he has only recently become a vampire. We are more dangerous—and less careful—at that time. In either case there may not be a possibility of reasoning with him, but I hope he will at least respect a request from one of his own kind to leave the area.”
“Do you think he would hurt you?”
“Perhaps if he feels threatened.”
“Then you must take care, Mr. Tregarrick.”
He eyed me with disbelief. “I must.” Laughing dryly, he said, “You are a wonder, Miss Penrose.”
This caused a flare of temper. “Don’t laugh at me, sir. I’m sure I must seem simple to you, and maybe those less simple are quick to forget a kindness. I don’t find that admirable.”
He sobered. “I assure you the last thing I find you is simple. Please forgive me. As a monster who’s lived far too many years alone in a tower, I’m not used to anyone caring what happens to me.”
“I find that sad, Mr. Tregarrick.”
“So do I.”
Drawing a breath to cool my heat, I lifted the teapot and refilled both our cups, his eyes following my every movement. In a more reasonable tone, I said, “Was it loneliness that made you come into The Magpie this week?”
He shook his head. “I came to terms with that long ago.”
“What, then?”
Bending to lift his cup, he said, “As you might imagine after what you’ve heard today, this is not the first time a death has occurred on or near the estate.
But many years have passed since anything happened to revive the old stories, and in these times, people are more uneasy about the estate than they are fearful of it.
I worried Mr. Roscoe’s death could change that. ”
“Well, it seems you were right to. But I still don’t understand what that has to do with The Magpie.”
“I went there to be seen. I thought it might stave off the whispers if people could see that I was no different from them.”
I stared. “Do you have a looking glass?”
One corner of his lips lifted. “It was a failed experiment for many reasons, but mainly because I found it was too much for me. You, in particular, were too much for me.”
My heart skipped. “Me!”
“Mr. Hilliard had told me that the woman who found my solicitor worked at The Magpie, but I didn’t realize she was someone I knew. Though until you appeared at my table that day, I’d only known you by . . .” He trailed off, and I saw the muscles of his jaw tighten.
“By what, sir?” I asked, both curious and uneasy.
“By your smell.”
I stared at him, truly horrified. My gaze dropped to my dress, and I tried to remember the last time I’d properly cleaned it. But then I remembered the frankincense. “You mean my blood.”
“Not precisely. I can smell things most people cannot. I’ve known you for some time not by your name, but by the way you smell to me as you pass near my home.
Part of that is indeed the maddening, warm, copper-and-salt smell of your blood.
But the rest is . . . honey and almonds, like meadowsweet blossoms. I recognized it the moment I walked into the tearoom, and when you came out with my tea, I was flooded with it. I nearly choked on it.”
My tongue had stuck to the roof of my mouth. Finally, I managed, “Not an unpleasant smell.” Even then it was not lost on me that he’d made it clear how badly he thirsted for my blood, and I was somehow more worried that something about me might have disgusted him.
His brows lifted. “No, Miss Penrose.”
My ears throbbed with the heavy thumping of my heart.
My feelings were in such a jumble I could hardly sort them, like after a cat’s been in the yarn basket.
Some of what I felt was fear, but there was also the strange new excitement—part wonder, part anticipation.
Which didn’t seem the right kind of feeling to be having.
So I thought about Mr. Roscoe, and I reminded myself of what Mr. Tregarrick was.
Straightening in the chair, I said, “Who was it that you ‘possibly’ killed, Mr. Tregarrick?”
His lips pursed and his gaze lowered. I noticed his eyelashes were thick, and darker than his hair and brows.
“I believe I mentioned that our earliest days as vampires are the most dangerous,” he said. “My father knew this, and when I came of age, I was confined in the chapel, and my thirst was managed in ways that risked no one’s life.”
His eyes came to my face, and I merely nodded, afraid if I interrupted him he might not go on.
“My memories of that time are fevered and fragmented. I couldn’t even say for sure which are true recollections and which are memories of dreams. In my memory, I hunted. I let the bloodlust take me. The thrill of it was terrifying.”
My breathing shallowed and my heart raced as I waited for more. But his attention seemed to have drifted inward. A tremor in my voice, I replied, “But you said you were confined to the chapel. They must have been dreams.”
“I’m inclined to agree, but there is uncertainty on one point in particular.
” The blue-black of his eyes deepened even as the whites brightened.
I held my breath. “For a decade of my life, my father paid a woman to teach me violin. I grew attached to her, I suppose because I never had a mother or sister. But she was also very beautiful, and when I was older, I fancied myself in love with her.”
Warmth flooded my belly even as dread gnawed my heart.
“From the time of my change,” he continued, “I never saw her again. When the feverish state finally left me, I asked my father about her, and he said that he’d released her from our employment for her own safety.
But one of the dreams I had during that time—one I still have to this day—is a dream of . . .”
He turned his face from me to the fireplace. I remembered the smashed fiddle I’d seen upstairs.
Steadying my hands against my lap, I said, “You think you may have killed her.”
His eyes closed, and his throat worked as he swallowed. “The dream feels very real.”
His story had indeed given me the shock I’d hoped for. A shock strong enough that it should have jerked me out of my chair and sent me back home where I belonged.
“Even if . . .” I took a deep breath. “Even if it is as you fear, if all you’ve told me is true, you’re not the same man now that you would have been back then. One who could be overtaken by such a savage urge.”
His brow furrowed as he frowned. “I’ve never truly been tested since then. I’ve never been willing to take the risk.”
“Until two days ago on the heath, when you were overtaken by a very different kind of urge.”
He blinked. “Yes.”
I couldn’t hate him. I could barely fear him. Monster though he might be, he was also a man. One who had saved my life. One who had told me his dangerous secrets. And in this moment he seemed a softer, kinder man than my own brother.
But I wasn’t likely to see him again, and I still wished to offer him what small help I could for what he’d done for me. Even if he laughs at me.
“What are you thinking about, Miss Penrose?” asked the vampire, his hand going to the back of the chair in front of him. For a moment I thought he might sit, but he didn’t.
“About the things I see in tea leaves.” He waited, puzzled but attentive, which gave me the courage to go on. Had he not told me his unlikely truth? “Sometimes what I see is the future.”
“You practice tasseography.”
The same word Mrs. Moyle had used. “I suppose I do, though I’d never done it purposely until recently. It just comes to me.”
“What have you seen?”
“The day Mr. Roscoe died—was killed—I saw a dagger and a magpie in the leaves in his teapot. I was worried about it. Even mentioned it to Mrs. Moyle. But I didn’t know what it meant. Then I found him on the road.”
While he considered this, I watched his face for signs of disbelief. “It sounds as if you have a gift.”
I gave a small shrug. “I think my mother may have secretly read tea leaves for people, for extra money. The day you came to The Magpie, I saw something in your teapot as I was emptying it.” Which suggested that I hadn’t looked on purpose, when in fact I had.
“What was it?”
“A wolf’s head.” His expression tightened. “Then, this morning, I saw the same in my own cup.”
He looked truly grim now, and his voice was deeper as he said, “Your gift seems to be trying, without much success, to warn you about me.”
“Or maybe to warn us both about this other vampire.” His eyes narrowed, but I continued, “The stories about the Wolf of Roche Rock may have started because of your ancestors, but the people in the village are wrong to connect it with you.”
“While thus far I’ve found all your reasoning sound, I begin to worry about your judgment.”
I folded my hands on the table. “Mr. Tregarrick, from what you’ve told me, both you and your father have always taken great pains to avoid harming anyone.”
His thumb rubbed the chairback, his expression going cold as he replied, “You seem to have glossed over critical points in my story.”
In my memory, I hunted. I let the bloodlust take me. The thrill of it was terrifying.
Shifting in my seat, I said, “I understand what you are. At least, as well as I may. But do you want to know what I think?”
His nostrils made a tiny movement—a slight flexing. “By all means, Miss Penrose.”
I took a breath to steady my courage. “I think that you’re a lonely man with a good heart who’s living with an awful secret.
A man who decided he didn’t want to prey on his fellow creatures and found another way.
You also risked everything you’ve worked for your whole life to save a woman who is nothing to you.
” I leaned forward. “And she’s not about to forget it.
I’m not strong or especially clever, Mr. Tregarrick, but now that I know your secret, it may be that I can help you. ”
He leaned forward, too, bracing himself against the chairback—and pinning me with his gaze. “What happened to you being afraid of me?”
Though my heart raced, I didn’t allow myself to shrink from him. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To frighten me so that I’d stay away. I’m not fool enough not to fear you, sir, but you didn’t abandon me when you were afraid.”
I could see his fear now, darkening his eyes and hollowing his cheeks. Both hands gripped the chairback, so hard his knuckles went white. With a sudden loud crack, the chairback snapped, and I scooted quickly away from the table, upsetting my own chair as I jumped to my feet.
“Go home, Mina,” he growled, then strode toward the stairs.
Dismayed that I’d angered him—and by his sudden departure—I did something foolish. I reached out as he was passing and caught his sleeve.
He stopped cold, sucking in a hissing breath. I saw the tips of his wolf teeth against his bottom lip. I let go of him and drew back, not daring to breathe.
His head turned, his eyes meeting mine, and for a long moment, he just stared deep into me while my heart galloped. I fancied even my thoughts couldn’t hide from him.
In a blur of movement, his hand came suddenly to close over my arm, and he dragged me against him. I let out a cry of panic as his other arm came around my waist. I tried to free myself by shoving at his chest, but he might as well have been a carved slab of marble.
His fingers dug into the hair at my neck, and I heard pins falling to the floor as he tugged my head back.
He bent over me, and I whimpered as his breath puffed cold and dry against my throat.
Then he drew a long breath through his nose, and I felt a shiver run down the length of his body, hard against mine.
Before my lips could form a plea for mercy, I felt those glittering white points against my throat like the prick of needles.
My limbs and belly went warm, liquid, and pooling.
My heartbeat slowed, and my body began filling with the most delicious heat and light.
My hands melted limply to my sides. I drew in a long, shuddering breath and let it out again.
I had already closed my eyes and wanted nothing more than to sleep, yet a small part of me fought this surrender.
Wake, Mina!