16. Rules Are Rules
RULES ARE RULES
Alex
Two days had passed since Bethlen had attacked me, and my control had improved.
Eating raw meat, sparring all day, drinking Darius’s blood, and sipping a stinking calming potion he had brewed for me had helped me find my composure once more.
Composure I might lose quickly after Darius finished reading out loud the latest letter from the Fair Duchess.
Irene’s presence in my study also distracted me. Her heartbeat and scent teased my senses, but I remained focused on Darius.
Dear Ravenhill,
It is with great dismay that I learnt that two humans had been killed by the rogue in London.
You guaranteed that the situation was under control. I am sorry to say that this does not seem to be the case.
It is of vital importance that the rogue be promptly stopped.
I do not want to invoke the Merlin Act and take control of your court.
As if catching a super-strong four-hundred-year-old vampire were easy.
He folded the letter and placed it on the desk in my study. “We must find your sire, which means we need you.”
Irene kept her distance, leaning against the wall next to the door, and I couldn’t blame her. “How do you feel? Can you go out tonight?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I feel better, but catching Bethlen is a different matter. Sensing his presence is useless if I can’t fight him. Darius, your magic?”
He slumped his shoulders. “It’s not back yet. Alas, I’m a common human right now.”
Guilt pricked me. It hadn’t been the first time I’d fed from him, but that was the first time that I’d fed from him every day. I must have taken too much if his magic hadn’t returned, not even a little.
“I don’t see how we can find Bethlen and stop him without your magic and my control.” I refused to believe I would never be in control again.
My condition had to be temporary.
He fiddled with the letter. “Perhaps we don’t need to use brutal force.
We should convince him to come to Raven Hall and join us in our search for Rothbart.
Our best chance at controlling him is to know his movements and be able to keep an eye on him so he doesn’t kill anyone. That would be a good start.”
“I think I should go out tonight.” I scratched my chin, trying to ignore their tempting heartbeats. “I’m much better. I promise. And we can’t postpone the search further.”
He exchanged a glance with Irene and nodded. “Fine. But the only thing you’ll do is talk some sense into him.”
“Talk. You want me to talk with the vampire who bit off a piece of me?” I couldn’t completely remove the frustration from my voice.
“Precisely. Talk. Nothing more.” Darius patted my shoulder. “Try to convince him that we mean to join forces with him and find Rothbart. We’ll come with you, and while we’re going to Whitechapel, we’ll pay a visit to Lucy.”
In the carriage as we rode to Whitechapel, I remained silent and mulled over the situation.
The truth of what was happening to me was undeniable. My control had almost slipped away, and I risked turning into a rogue without having killed anyone or drained anyone, only out of pleasure.
I’d thought the rules not to become a rogue were clear.
Don’t kill, don’t let the thirst control you, don’t drain people.
I’d believed that, if I followed those rules, I would never become a rogue.
But there was a fourth hidden rule.
Don’t make deals with witches who practise dark magic.
Congratulations, Alex. You’ve won the first prize for the dumbest vampire of the century.
No vampire in history had ever become a rogue by behaving as well as I had.
Irene and Darius were nervous, too. The bond was a taut rope that tugged at my heart, and Darius was as jolly as a mortician. I’d upset the only two people who cared about me.
The carriage came to a stop, and we filed out without a word.
The streetlamps produced an annoying glow in the fog. And the light rain soaking my coat and slipping under my collar unnerved me.
Irene and Darius were both armed with blessed water, crosses, and silver daggers. Exactly how I wanted the people I cared for to be with me.
Irene walked next to me, on the alert and dejected, but she hadn’t given up on me. She was the only ray of sunshine in my life. Metaphorically speaking.
She gave me a feeble smile. Our bond betrayed her sadness. I wasn’t cheerful either. The cobbles were slippery with rain, and yards away, a rat was feasting on a pile of rubbish.
We stopped at Lucy’s house, and Darius knocked, gazing at me. I wondered if he expected me to attack him.
Myrtha opened the door and smiled warmly at Irene but frowned when Darius and I entered. Nothing new. At least there were things that remained normal.
“How are you, Lucy?” Irene walked over to Lucy, who was working with thread and needle on a shirt so worn I wouldn’t use it as a rag.
She put down the work. “Much better, thank you.”
She was indeed. Her skin was still pale, and she’d lost weight, but she wasn’t shivering and sweating. Her heartbeat thumped steadily, too.
“Your Grace.” She tried to stand up, but I stopped her.
“No need to stand up for me. I’m happy you’re recovering.” I noticed a thick blue vein under her pale skin. I would lie if I said it didn’t tempt me. “The vampire must have simply fed on you.”
“Knight’s men don’t seem to understand that.” Myrtha perched on a chair, looking regal in her cream-coloured gown and at odds with the miserable environment. “They keep coming here, asking questions and sniffing the air like hounds. They have no manners.”
“Because they sniff the air?” Darius asked.
Myrtha shifted on the chair. “Because they never listen to me.”
He waved dismissively. “That’s not bad manners but survival.”
“You’re so…” She pressed her lips hard. “You’re always… I can’t really…”
“Finish a sentence.” Darius grinned.
I shook my head at him. “Can we please focus?”
“It’s Knight’s territory, after all.” Irene sat down as well. “As long as his men don’t bother Lucy too much.”
“Has Graves shown up?” I asked.
Lucy focused on the shirt. “No, he hasn’t.”
Irene patted her hand. “You can tell us the truth. We mean well. I sensed a lie.”
She released a breath. “Fine. I saw him briefly.” She was flustered. “He brought me more money and a bunch of flowers.” She pointed at a bunch of fresh white daisies on the table. “That’s all.”
I glanced at Irene. She nodded. Lucy was telling the truth. But where did Graves find the money?
I kept my distance from Lucy just in case. “Have you remembered any more details about the vampire who bit you?”
“I haven’t.” She stiffened. “I told you everything I knew. Obviously, I’m not going to turn into a vampire. I’m very grateful for your help, for sending the physician and your footmen with supplies, but I don’t understand why you insist on pestering me, Ravenhill.”
My patience was already thin, and her sharp tone made me clench my jaw. “Miss Graves—”
“We’d better leave. Thank you, Miss Graves.” Darius held the door open and paused on the doorstep. “Are you all right, Myrtha? No headaches or nausea? The first weeks after are always the worst.”
Lucy gasped and angled towards Myrtha. “You’re with child! Is Mr. Strange the father?”
The light coming out of Myrtha caused the table to shake. “I certainly am not with child, and if I were, Mr. Strange would have nothing to do with it.”
He scowled. “I was talking about my book on magic. Myrtha tried to read it, and unless you’re a mage, the book will give you a fierce headache and nausea for a few weeks.”
“Oh.” Lucy put a hand on her mouth. “My apologies. It’s just that you and Mr. Strange seem—”
“What?” Myrtha flushed a deep red. “Mr. Strange and I are…” Her blush intensified. “We simply live in the same mansion.”
Darius leant against the door. “But you do have a secret passion for me.”
“So secret that I myself am not aware of it.” She shot him an incendiary glare.
Irene mouthed, “We should leave.”
Darius held up a hand. “I thought we were at least good friends, not just fellow tenants.”
“Let it go.” I waved him out. “We’ve done enough damage.”
When we closed the door, white light limned it, a sign Myrtha was upset.
“She took it personally,” Irene said.
“As usual.” Hands in his pockets, Darius walked down the street. “I’d almost prefer the company of Alex’s sire now.”
We entered the central area of Whitechapel where the streets became crowded with carousing people.
The recent deaths hadn’t dispirited revellers of every class from attending brothels, gambling and opium dens.
The strong heartbeats and blood scents distracted me, but at least brushing against people didn’t bother me.
The problem was the thirst. It scratched my throat and triggered a headache in my temples.
Darius’s blood had sustained me for merely two days.
We’d walked for almost half an hour when my sire’s presence hit me like a stab in the chest. I groaned, but this time I was prepared for the sensation.
“Alex.” Irene touched my shoulder.
“He’s close.” I gritted my teeth.
“Where?” Darius gazed around.
I focused on the link I shared with him. It guided me to the left. “That alley.”
“Right.” Darius pulled out a vial of blessed water. “Don’t do anything rushed. We only want to talk to him and—”
I darted off. The combination of worry, frustration, thirst, and pain was enough without adding inactivity. Darius and Irene chased me, yelling at me to slow down.
My sire was on the move. I followed him through the maze of alleys, deeper into Whitechapel, and came to an abrupt halt in the middle of a passageway under a stone arch. The tempting smell of blood tickled my nostrils.
My sire, the Count of Bethlen, was crouched next to a motionless man. The man’s heartbeat was fading quickly until it stopped altogether. Quick footsteps pounded from behind me, and I didn’t need to turn around to know that Irene and Darius had found me.
Irene gasped. Darius cursed under his breath.
“Stay back.” I waved them away.
They did as told for once.