Incarnation

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Authors: Emma Cornwall
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“Therein hangs a tale, but it will have to wait. You were about to tell me what brings you here.”
    “I am seeking the one who transformed me.”
    It occurred to me that as Felix knew my true identity, he might also know the being responsible for my state. But instead of revealing it, he shot me a look of surprise that was less than credible. I had to conclude that whatever he knew, he was not willing to share it, at least not right then.
    “How odd that he is not with you,” Felix said. “That is not at all how things are done.”
    “I can’t speak to that. I only know that I would like to find him.”
    The hooded figures were carrying the woman away. They had stopped her bleeding. She was unconscious but breathing, as she would until the moment when she passed from life into . . . whatever the strange state was that I found myself in. Not alive, not dead, yet not in any sort of limbo either. In truth, I had never experienced existence so keenly. All my senses were exquisitely alert. I was aware of every sight, sound, smell, and movement around me, but above all, I felt the one who had created me in my new form, calling to me.
    “Not to worry,” Felix said. “Your incarnator is bound to show up here eventually. Everyone comes to the Bagatelle.”
    I remembered Marco di Orsini’s remark concerning the club but did not speak of it. Felix seemed inclined to befriend me; I would be as foolish not to take advantage of that as I would be to trust him.
    “Have you met any of us yet?” he asked.
    “You are the first.”
    He made a little bow and smiled. “I am honored and I bring good tidings. Lady Blanche would like you to join her for a little tête-à-tête. “
    “Lady Blanche?”
    My ignorance earned a chiding glance. “Our proprietress. She doesn’t extend herself to newcomers as a rule. You should be flattered.”
    So I might have been if it hadn’t occurred to me just then that the proprietress of the Bagatelle might have sent the hooded figures to the Lyceum Theatre. If so, she would be pleased that after eluding them initially, I had walked directly into her lair.
    Swallowing my concerns, I found a smile. “I would be delighted to meet her.”
    Felix offered his arm. We proceeded toward a set of curving steps at the far back of the room. He gestured for me to go first. Gingerly, not knowing what I was about to encounter, I began my descent into the lower reaches of the Bagatelle.

CHAPTER 5

     
    S o close to the Thames, I expected the air to be damp, but it was instead dry and pleasantly scented with fresh herbs. The stairs came out into a wide gallery, the stone walls of which were covered with worn but still beautiful tapestries visible in the light of gas lamps set in sconces. Felix and I walked a little way before coming to a wooden door studded with iron. He pressed the latch down and stood aside for me to enter.
    The chamber I found myself in was less gaudy than the rooms above, yet it lacked nothing in luxury or elegance. More tapestries lined the walls, depicting medieval lords and ladies at the hunt. Iron braziers set on tripods gave ample light. In the center of the room, seated in a thronelike chair, was a woman of unparalleled beauty. Her hair, the silvered hue of moonlight, tumbled down her back. Unlike the female vampires in the club who seemed to vie with one another in the brightness of their array, she was garbed all in white. A magnificent rope of pearls encircled her lovely neck and looped to below her waist.
    She appeared to be studying a ledger on the table before her but looked up as we entered. “Ah, Felix, you found her.”Her voice was pleasant, soft and melodious. The sort of voice that drew the listener to it.
    “I did indeed.” Taking me by the arm, he guided me forward. “Lady Blanche, may I present Miss Lucy Weston.”
    A perfectly arched eyebrow rose. “Lucy Weston? How extraordinary. It is said that everyone comes to the Bagatelle but I never expected a

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