Chapter 10
London, England
Lucy stood at the top of the staircase, blinking into the darkness. The air was cold, but Lucy couldn’t feel it, her mind caught in a dream. She took the first step, and then another. One by one, she made her way down the familiar staircase of her townhome, reaching the bottom without incident.
She moved through the small foyer and reached for the door, finding it locked.
Her mother always locked it—a sensible habit, given that it was just the two of them living alone on the edge of London.
But the lock was no matter for Lucy. Her body knew the motions by heart.
She reached down to flip the latch, then up to slide the chain free.
The door opened with a groan, and a gust of ice-cold wind enveloped her. She stood there, eyes open but unseeing, and stepped out onto the cold concrete. All was quiet, the night so deep that most had long since retired. Those who remained were rarely ones with good intentions.
Lucy walked down the handful of steps and turned onto the path she had taken many times before.
Dogs barked in the distance, catching her scent, sensing her movement. Goosebumps spread across her skin, the thin cotton of her nightdress offering little protection against the autumn wind. Still, she went on.
After only a few more steps, she turned again and raised her fist to knock on the door. The motion was languid, weak, though she did not notice.
She waited for an answer—waited for Mina to open the door, to let her in so they might go to luncheon together. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining. It would be a pity to waste it.
“Lucy!” a voice called through the night.
Lucy paid it no mind. She heard nothing at all as she stood before Mina’s house, which now sat dark and empty.
Mrs. Westenra hurried toward her daughter as quickly as she could in slippers. Her eyes were frantic, searching the street for intruders—anyone who might snatch Lucy away at any moment.
“Lucy!” she whispered sharply, grasping her arm and pulling her away from the door. “You’re asleep, you foolish girl. Look at you—haven’t even got your coat on. Just moments away from catching a chill, I’m sure. Then comes pneumonia.”
“I’m going to luncheon with Mina,” Lucy said, her thoughts still hazy as she tried to make sense of what was happening.
“You can join us . . .” Her voice trailed off as the night pressed in around her.
The street was quiet, save for a dog barking in the distance.
She blinked in confusion—the sun had been overhead only moments ago, the day warm and bright. “What’s going on?”
“You were sleepwalking again,” Mrs. Westenra said, pulling Lucy along the pavement and up the steps to their front door.
“It’s near two in the morning.” As they stepped inside and shut the door behind them, her mother’s pinched expression softened.
“Is it Mina? Is that what you’ve been worrying over?
It’s been ages since you last did this.”
“I don’t know,” Lucy said. “I suppose it’s possible.”
The thought of Mina tightened her chest with grief.
Had they reached the castle yet? Were they safe?
Was Mina pleased with this count? Lucy tried not to dwell on the worst, but the image of her friend so far away, with no one to confide in, brought tears to her eyes.
Jonathan was with her—but it was not the same. Men did not see the things women did.
“Oh, my dear,” her mother murmured, drawing her close. “You’ve been thinking too much and sleeping too little, that’s all. Come now, let’s get you back to bed.”