Chapter Eleven
Felicity’s head felt like it was stuffed with freshly shorn wool as she sprinkled herbs around the perimeter of the conservatory.
The night had hardly begun, and her muscles screamed with fatigue, but she couldn’t return home until she refreshed the warding spell that had been eroded by time and traffic.
She hadn’t seen Mr. Drake since he’d thrust her away at the fountain.
Did he regret his actions? She hoped not—because she intended to offer herself to him in exchange for his help.
As a spinster and a working woman, she had little use for her virtue.
Better to use it to pay for the revenge she so desperately sought.
Assuming he ever returned to the Sloan House.
She finished sweeping the herbs and leaned against the wall.
Keeping her eyes open was impossible. It was like there was an anchor secured to her chest, dragging her into the depths of sleep no matter how much she tried to keep to the surface of consciousness.
After several minutes of fighting, she slid down until the tips of her black leather boots were pressed against the legs of the nearest table and then rested her head against her knees.
A crash jolted her awake. She wiped the drool from her cheek and checked her watch.
More than an hour had passed. Had that crash been in her dream, or had it been real?
She struggled to her feet, gritting her teeth through the prickling pain in her limbs, then walked over to the door and pressed her ear against it.
There was no sound. She turned the handle, then peered outside, only to see the creature that had once been her cousin standing in the hallway.
“Hello,” Winifred said. She wore a crimson evening gown covered with twinkling gems, an outfit more appropriate for the opera than a late-night museum visit.
“I wanted to give you another chance to change your mind.” She stepped forward, then frowned.
“What…?” She lifted a hand and reached for Felicity but then winced and recoiled.
Felicity’s heart pounded. The warding spell had worked. Winifred was incapable of entering the room.
Her cousin furrowed her brow. “What have you done?”
“I’ve taken precautions.”
Winifred took a step back. “I don’t have to be your enemy, Fel.”
“You aren’t going to stop my exhibit.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
Something in those words made alarm bells go off in Felicity’s mind. “You put up the notice.” She clung to the doorknob to stop herself from hopping over the line of salt and herbs.
Winifred frowned. “What notice?”
Felicity barked a laugh. “You expect me to believe that it’s a coincidence that you show up here, asking me to cancel my exhibit, and then a threatening note appears outside my door? I don’t think so.”
“Please listen—”
“I don’t want to hear your excuses!”
Winifred sighed. “I had to try.” Then she turned around and walked back down the hallway. Felicity hoped the guards would spot her, but of course that didn’t happen. When Felicity could no longer see Winifred, she sagged against the door.
Far too close. If it weren’t for the warding spell, the confrontation might have gone much worse. She didn’t want to believe Winifred could murder her so easily, but that was what vampires did. They had killed her parents, Vincent, and Uncle Ethan. Given a chance, they would kill her, too.
She was about to close the door when she heard a muffled shout. This time, it was definitely from the direction of the Egyptian wing. Had Winifred taken a museum employee as a hostage to force Felicity to exit the conservatory?
Despite her better judgment, she stepped across the circle of protection and walked toward the sound.
She’d never forgive herself if her inaction led to an innocent being harmed.
She grasped the hilt of her sword, withdrew it, then held it so that the tip barely brushed the ground.
With only a flick of her arm, she could send the blade swinging, taking out anyone who stood in her path.
She reached the end of the hall and peered around the corner. Standing in front of a statue of Athena were two men wrapped in an embrace. The first was dressed in a navy uniform—one of the security guards.
The other was Mr. Drake.
The wet sounds coming from the pair made her cheeks heat. She didn’t care whom Mr. Drake chose to involve himself with, but it was entirely inappropriate to behave so indecently in a public setting.
Why, then, did the sight of him with his limbs twined around a man have her stomach twisting itself in knots?
She restored her sword to its scabbard and was about to leave the way she had come, when Mr. Drake released his grasp on the security guard and the man crumpled to the ground.
Only then did she see Mr. Drake’s face. His eyes glowed vibrant blue, and fangs gleamed between his parted lips.
He withdrew a red handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood from his mouth.
“I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re thinking.
” Not once did he glance at the body at his feet.
The tips of her fingers tingled. She’d trusted the blackguard, revealed things about her past that she’d never discussed with anyone outside her family, and kissed him. Oh, God, she’d nearly offered herself to a monster.
She hastily withdrew her sword and grasped it with both hands. “Be gone, demon.”
His eyes dimmed to a deep brown, and his fangs vanished. This was no fledgling, but a mature vampire, possibly decades or even centuries old. That meant he was extraordinarily dangerous.
“Why?” she asked.
He tilted his head. “Why, what?”
“Last night. Why did you help me?”
He blinked several times before raising his eyebrows and opening his mouth in an “O.” “You mean the fledgling!” He slapped his thighs. “Well, I wouldn’t be a very good protector if I let you die so easily.”
He was toying with her. In a one-on-one fight, she had virtually no chance of defeating him. She would have to get out of this encounter some other way and then alert her family so they could track him down.
“So fierce,” he whispered. “And I had thought Winifred had warned you.”
Hearing him speak her cousin’s name in such a casual manner was jarring. She felt her arms trembling and forced them to stillness before he noticed. “How do you know Winifred?”
“She really didn’t tell you anything, did she?” He chuckled. “She’s my nest sister.”
Felicity’s arms erupted in gooseflesh. She should have guessed.
He stepped forward, and she slashed her sword, not quite reaching him, but making his hair flutter. He didn’t even flinch.
“Fearsome,” he said, “I am shaking in my boots, little hunter.”
What was she going to do? He clearly wanted something from her, or she would already be dead.
If she could stall him long enough, perhaps the other guards would come searching for their comrade.
She would have to hope that Mr. Drake was not so strong that he could take on multiple humans at the same time.
Mere hours earlier, she’d been so flustered by their kiss, she’d overlooked clues that should have revealed his nature, such as the coldness of his skin and the way he’d poked around her exhibit. What kind of hunter allowed herself to become attracted to a vampire?
She bit the inside of her cheek. Dwelling on her failures would only distract her. The only thing that would erase the stain of her mistakes and prove to her family that she was worthy of joining their ranks was killing Mr. Drake.
But he was much stronger and faster than her. To win, she’d have to rely on her other skills. She had the exact tool necessary to subdue him in her pocket, but it could only be used at close range. There was only one way to do that without risking him tearing out her throat.
It was time for Mr. Drake to learn what it felt like to be deceived.
“What do you want?” she asked, relieved when there was no trace of tremor in her voice.