brutish whoremongers and living in grimy flashhouses. It should have been beaten right out of her. Yet he had given it to her.
Hope had always been her little secret. That and determination.
I will give us something better
, she would say to her mother. And Mama would stroke her hair and let her say it over and over—until gin became a substitute for hope for Mama and she’d stopped listening altogether.
“You said you were married. Where is your wife?”
His eyes changed; they turned black. Pure black, as though his pupils had gobbled up all the color. “She died nine years after we were married.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Ten years. The tip of forever. I don’t want to speak about it. She is in Heaven and I’m in eternal damnation, where I belong.”
“Why do you believe that?” She stepped toward him, but he retreated from the light.
“We’re here so I can question you.”
“Well, I have another question for you. What have you done to try to find your brother? There are men who can be hired to do such things—former Bow Street Runners. Private investigators.”
“My brother is a vampire. Too hard to explain, even to thosewilling to do almost anything for money. I’ve searched London for him—and for you, because I saw you standing next to Raine in a reflection in a pool of water.”
“That’s impossible. I’ve never been near him.”
“It is a magical pool, high on the moors. It is said that it shows the face of the next person to die. In it I saw you and my brother.”
“Surely you are joking. If you look into a pond, aren’t you going to see your own reflection?”
“That is what happens to most people who do dare to try it. Then each one, according to legend, has died shortly after. Probably so damn nervous, they brought about their own deaths. And yes, when I looked in, I first saw my reflection. But of course, I’m not going to die. Then I saw you. You were reflected with me, as though you were … uh, standing behind me. Then my image vanished and I saw my brother. I could see, from the way he looked at you, that he cared for you and desired you.”
“You believe this? Magical pools and wild predictions! You were probably foxed and imagined it all!”
“Vampires don’t get foxed. Let us go to the library.” He held out his hand.
Startled, she realized he intended to lead her through his house by holding her hand. She placed her hand on his forearm instead. To walk handfasted seemed too intimate. His auburn brow jerked up, but he said nothing. And stayed as quiet as his tomb-silent house as he led her through the darkness.
Silent men had always made her nervous. Like the dark sky, some men became very, very still before they exploded into a storm. Drunk ones were the most frightening. Any man who did not blather like a fool when he got foxed was a man to avoid.
What of a silent vampire? It unnerved Vivienne. Her halfboots creaked upon floorboards, her breath huffed in the quiet as they walked through the house. Heath moved without any sound at all.
“This is the library.” He left her in the pitch black, and she shuddered. A moment later, she saw a blue spark in the middle, smelled a waft of sulfur. A flame caught to one wick after another. Soon a candelabra glowed, and a brilliant halo of light fell over a long, wooden table. It threw light over Heath’s strong forearm and the glow turned his hair to red flame. Gilt lettering glinted as he walked along the shelves, which seemed to stretch endlessly into the dark.
“What can you prove from these books?” There must be thousands of them. Tens of thousands. She’d had affairs with rich and powerful gentlemen. None had possessed so many books.
He ran his finger along the titles, but held the light behind him. Apparently he did not need it to see. “That you are a succubus. Come here. Look at the books on this shelf.” He set the candelabra on the floor.
The shelf in question was ten feet long. Books were
Hope had always been her little secret. That and determination.
I will give us something better
, she would say to her mother. And Mama would stroke her hair and let her say it over and over—until gin became a substitute for hope for Mama and she’d stopped listening altogether.
“You said you were married. Where is your wife?”
His eyes changed; they turned black. Pure black, as though his pupils had gobbled up all the color. “She died nine years after we were married.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Ten years. The tip of forever. I don’t want to speak about it. She is in Heaven and I’m in eternal damnation, where I belong.”
“Why do you believe that?” She stepped toward him, but he retreated from the light.
“We’re here so I can question you.”
“Well, I have another question for you. What have you done to try to find your brother? There are men who can be hired to do such things—former Bow Street Runners. Private investigators.”
“My brother is a vampire. Too hard to explain, even to thosewilling to do almost anything for money. I’ve searched London for him—and for you, because I saw you standing next to Raine in a reflection in a pool of water.”
“That’s impossible. I’ve never been near him.”
“It is a magical pool, high on the moors. It is said that it shows the face of the next person to die. In it I saw you and my brother.”
“Surely you are joking. If you look into a pond, aren’t you going to see your own reflection?”
“That is what happens to most people who do dare to try it. Then each one, according to legend, has died shortly after. Probably so damn nervous, they brought about their own deaths. And yes, when I looked in, I first saw my reflection. But of course, I’m not going to die. Then I saw you. You were reflected with me, as though you were … uh, standing behind me. Then my image vanished and I saw my brother. I could see, from the way he looked at you, that he cared for you and desired you.”
“You believe this? Magical pools and wild predictions! You were probably foxed and imagined it all!”
“Vampires don’t get foxed. Let us go to the library.” He held out his hand.
Startled, she realized he intended to lead her through his house by holding her hand. She placed her hand on his forearm instead. To walk handfasted seemed too intimate. His auburn brow jerked up, but he said nothing. And stayed as quiet as his tomb-silent house as he led her through the darkness.
Silent men had always made her nervous. Like the dark sky, some men became very, very still before they exploded into a storm. Drunk ones were the most frightening. Any man who did not blather like a fool when he got foxed was a man to avoid.
What of a silent vampire? It unnerved Vivienne. Her halfboots creaked upon floorboards, her breath huffed in the quiet as they walked through the house. Heath moved without any sound at all.
“This is the library.” He left her in the pitch black, and she shuddered. A moment later, she saw a blue spark in the middle, smelled a waft of sulfur. A flame caught to one wick after another. Soon a candelabra glowed, and a brilliant halo of light fell over a long, wooden table. It threw light over Heath’s strong forearm and the glow turned his hair to red flame. Gilt lettering glinted as he walked along the shelves, which seemed to stretch endlessly into the dark.
“What can you prove from these books?” There must be thousands of them. Tens of thousands. She’d had affairs with rich and powerful gentlemen. None had possessed so many books.
He ran his finger along the titles, but held the light behind him. Apparently he did not need it to see. “That you are a succubus. Come here. Look at the books on this shelf.” He set the candelabra on the floor.
The shelf in question was ten feet long. Books were
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