5. A Visitor
A VISITOR
Alex
When I crawled into the damp dark hole I called home, my muscles hurt, the skin on my hands was bleeding thanks to the scullery soap, and a headache pounded against my temples.
But for the first time in years, I was happy.
Miss Harlowe’s brightness had something to do with it.
Finally, I’d met a girl who didn’t care about my being a thief.
She talked to me as if I were worthy of her attention. Her care made me feel human.
After I lit a lamp, the room didn’t look less desperate in the semidarkness.
“Darius?”
No answer. At least I would find some food. To my surprise, he’d left a message to tell me he’d spent some of the money on groceries. Fresh bread, apples, salted meat, and potatoes competed for space in the pantry.
A full pantry. That was a novelty.
For lack of space, Odette’s portrait sat on one of the shelves, and before grabbing the meat, I held it.
She would have been proud of my job. She would also have said something odd, like that centuries ago, she’d been a princess, or something similar.
Mama had believed the seizures had put those strange ideas in Odette’s head, but I wasn’t so sure.
I bit into a piece of meat as a knock came from the door. Instant cold slithered down my neck. Not Riley. It was too early for him to ask for the monthly pay.
I swallowed. “Who is it?”
“I’m here to see Miss Hart.” The deep, accented voice wasn’t familiar, and who would come here to call on my late sister at night?
Curiosity won over suspicion, and I opened the door. “Who are you?”
A six-foot-tall man towered over me in a finely tailored charcoal-grey coat, top hat, and white silk neck-cloth. His face was half hidden, but the semidarkness didn’t hide his pale, pale skin. The chap hadn’t seen the sun in a while.
He removed his hat, revealing curled blond hair and deep blue eyes. They seemed to see my secrets. “Is this Miss Odette Hart’s house?”
“Yes, but—”
“May I come in?”
What a pain in the neck. I held the door open, but he didn’t move.
“I need a formal invitation.” He tilted his head. “It’s a custom of my country.” He pronounced ‘country’ as ‘kontry.’
I just couldn’t have dinner in peace.
I flourished a hand mockingly. “My lord, I invite Your Excellency into my humble house.” I hoped he caught the sarcasm.
He stepped inside and gazed around. I’d seen that gaze on the faces of ruthless killers in the rookery, and a shiver pebbled my skin. Yet a foreign gentleman couldn’t be a thug like Riley, could he?
“This place is terrible.” He exhaled through clenched teeth. Sharp teeth, that is. “Miss Hart shouldn’t live in such poverty.”
“She doesn’t.” I was starting to get annoyed. “Who are you?”
“Where is she?” Eagerness rang in his voice. “For I very much desire to speak to her.”
“Who are you?” I repeated slowly and more loudly in case he didn’t understand me.
“I’m Matthias Corvinus Andrássy, Count of Bethlen.” He smiled, and I wanted to tell him not to. His canines were pointed, and the result was a chilling grin.
“Why on Earth would you see my sister?” It was more a question addressed to myself than to him.
“Tell me where she is. I can pay you.” He put a hand over his pocket. “I can give you everything you want if you let me talk to her.”
Why did everyone want to give me money as of late? Not that I was complaining, but it was odd.
“I don’t want your money, but if you want to see my sister, you’ll have to visit one of the common graves in Kensal Green. She died four years ago during the flu outbreak.” And I was certain she’d never mentioned a foreign count.
He remained so still I was worried he might have a fit. The air vibrated, and a shout of pure desperation rumbled out of him. It was a punch in the stomach and made me want to cry.
I stepped back. The instinct to run caused me to quiver.
“My lord?” I took the portrait of Odette and handed it to him to make sure we were talking about the same person. “This is my sister. Are you sure this is the girl you’re looking for?”
He snagged the portrait with such speed I didn’t see him moving. “My Isabelle.” His voice changed, becoming soft and charged with sorrow. “Dead. I am late.”
Who the hell was Isabelle?
He held the portrait as if it were the most precious thing he’d ever seen. “She was clever and funny, wasn’t she?”
I said nothing. But he was right.
His face relaxed as he stared at the portrait. “She spent hours playing chess and searching the shore of the river for special stones. She loved stones with even edges and with the shapes of animals.”
He was right again!
I folded my arms. “How do you know that?”
“She suffered from seizures and often had nightmares and moments when she grew still, looking out of the window. She said she didn’t belong to this time.”
That annoyed me no end. This stranger, with his fine clothes and foreign accent, shouldn’t know my sister so well. Yes, everything he’d said was true, but how did he know that?
“Where did you meet my sister?”
His expression softened. “During a festival. She caught my eye immediately because she was graceful and she was laughing.”
That was possible. Odette had attended several festivals. Would a foreign count have attended them though?
He didn’t add anything else, and I was tired of this lunatic.
“You’d better leave.” I moved to take the portrait, but he didn’t let me.
“Did you love her? Were you good to her?”
“I loved my sister very much.”
“I loved her too.” He caressed the portrait with so much love I burst with anger.
“Really? Where were you when she needed your help? When they came to take her to the fever hospital? When she was starving? When she was sick because we couldn’t pay the doctors?
When my parents fell into debt with a thug to pay for the drugs?
Do you think you can come here, showing off your expensive clothes and making demands, after she died in pain? ”
He sucked in a few deep breaths, his muscles bulging. I thought he was about to slap me, but he said, “You’re right.”
“I’m glad we agree.”
He nodded in approval, his facial lines tensing. “You deserve a gift for having stayed close to her.”
“Only because a brother loved his sister? Leave.”
“You don’t understand.” His tone was deadly serious, and I didn’t contradict him. It would be a waste of time. “I’m lost without her. I’m in pain. I must be reunited with her.”
I had no idea what to say. “That’s…ahem horrible.”
I stepped away from him. The man was as mad as a hatter. But he did seem in pain.
He raised three fingers. “I’ll bite you three times. Then I’ll give you my blood.”
“What?” I’ll bite you three times had to be an expression that made sense in his language, but that he’d translated badly.
“Then you’ll need to feed. After you feed, the transformation will start. You’ll help me find Isabelle.” He sounded excited.
“Who is Isabelle?”
“My wife.”
“But you’re looking for my sister.”
“Yes.”
Right. I shouldn’t encourage him.
He came closer. “I have to be quick. Your memories will be confused, muddled, and you might not remember me. It has been so long since I’ve created a new one. But I’ll find you. Do you consent?”
“Of course I do. It sounds wonderful. I’m looking forward to it, and trust me, I’ll do my best to forget about you.” I put a hand on the knob. “Now leave. This strange conversation has lasted too long.”
The last thing I saw before losing consciousness was the count growing fangs and biting my neck.