fictional character to walk in the door.”
“Clearly, I am not—”
She cut me off with a languid wave of her bejeweled arm. “Of course you aren’t, my dear. I said from the moment that awful book came out that Stoker was up to no good. I did say that, didn’t I, Felix?”
“Repeatedly, my lady and, as usual, you were absolutely right.”
Without taking her eyes from me, she continued to address him. “Darling, leave us alone for a bit, will you? Oh, and tell Chef to send in a plate of nibbles and a bottle of the Veuve Cliquot ’86, would you?”
He bowed, cast me a final look, and departed.
“Sit down,” Lady Blanche invited, waving me into a chair opposite her. “Please believe that I mean it kindly when I say that you appear rather done in.”
She, on the other hand, looked exquisite. The more I gazed at her, the more I was struck by her luminous beauty. Like the pearls she wore, light seemed to glow from inside her. I had never seen a more breathtaking woman.
Lady Blanche smiled as though she guessed my thoughts. “It’s been a very long time, but I still remember how confusing things can be in the beginning.”
How old was she? I would have guessed no more than thirty but for her eyes. In their depths, the wisdom of centuries seemed to lurk.
“Is that how I appear, confused?”
She shrugged. “You appear to be alone, and that is, to say the least, highly unusual. Frankly, it’s enough to raise concern. How long have you been . . . as you are?”
“A few months.”
“And you’ve been on your own all that time?” She looked genuinely appalled.
I nodded. “I’m trying to find the one who . . .” I hesitated, uncertain how much I was prepared to reveal. Clearly, I would have to explain what had happened to me, as best I was able to recollect it, if I were to have any hope of finding him .
“The one who transformed you? Yes, I imagine you would want to find him. It’s really quite extraordinary that he left you to your own devices.”
“Is that not how it is usually done?”
“Certainly not. In fact, I don’t believe that I have ever heard of it happening before. But we can hash all that out later. How fortunate that you found us.”
A snake, much smaller than the one earlier on the door, slithered across the desk and twined itself around her wrist. She stroked it absently while keeping her attention firmly on me.
“Yes,” I said, trying not to stare at the snake. “Fortunate indeed.”
She studied me in silence for several moments. I was about to squirm under her scrutiny when a knock at the door saved me. A white-jacketed chef, who but for the extreme pallor of his complexion could have stepped from the kitchens of London’s finest restaurant, appeared. Bowing, he placed a gold platter before Lady Blanche and removed the lid. She nodded her approval.
With an expert hand, he uncorked the champagne and filled a pair of tulip-shaped glasses. Leaving the bottle in its gold ice bucket, he bowed again and, with the merest glance at me, took his leave.
When he was gone, Lady Blanche said, “I stole him from a French baron he’d been with forever. Everyone says he’s a genius.” She nudged the platter toward me. “Tell me what you think.”
The hunger I had fought since leaving Whitby was becoming more than I could bear. With my hands clenched in my lap, I stared at what the chef had brought.
“That is fresh stag heart,” Lady Blanche said. “And that . . . let me see . . . that is the heart of a swan. Both are still warm, of course.”
When I hesitated, she placed the stag heart on a small plate. “I always think this tastes of the deep forest and rushing water. Do you agree?”
I succumbed. The scent of the stag blood was sweet and thick. Already, I could almost taste it. Forgetting myself entirely, I seized the heart and bit clear through it. Blood spurted into my mouth. I groaned in delight. At once, I felt intense relief followed by a desperate
“Clearly, I am not—”
She cut me off with a languid wave of her bejeweled arm. “Of course you aren’t, my dear. I said from the moment that awful book came out that Stoker was up to no good. I did say that, didn’t I, Felix?”
“Repeatedly, my lady and, as usual, you were absolutely right.”
Without taking her eyes from me, she continued to address him. “Darling, leave us alone for a bit, will you? Oh, and tell Chef to send in a plate of nibbles and a bottle of the Veuve Cliquot ’86, would you?”
He bowed, cast me a final look, and departed.
“Sit down,” Lady Blanche invited, waving me into a chair opposite her. “Please believe that I mean it kindly when I say that you appear rather done in.”
She, on the other hand, looked exquisite. The more I gazed at her, the more I was struck by her luminous beauty. Like the pearls she wore, light seemed to glow from inside her. I had never seen a more breathtaking woman.
Lady Blanche smiled as though she guessed my thoughts. “It’s been a very long time, but I still remember how confusing things can be in the beginning.”
How old was she? I would have guessed no more than thirty but for her eyes. In their depths, the wisdom of centuries seemed to lurk.
“Is that how I appear, confused?”
She shrugged. “You appear to be alone, and that is, to say the least, highly unusual. Frankly, it’s enough to raise concern. How long have you been . . . as you are?”
“A few months.”
“And you’ve been on your own all that time?” She looked genuinely appalled.
I nodded. “I’m trying to find the one who . . .” I hesitated, uncertain how much I was prepared to reveal. Clearly, I would have to explain what had happened to me, as best I was able to recollect it, if I were to have any hope of finding him .
“The one who transformed you? Yes, I imagine you would want to find him. It’s really quite extraordinary that he left you to your own devices.”
“Is that not how it is usually done?”
“Certainly not. In fact, I don’t believe that I have ever heard of it happening before. But we can hash all that out later. How fortunate that you found us.”
A snake, much smaller than the one earlier on the door, slithered across the desk and twined itself around her wrist. She stroked it absently while keeping her attention firmly on me.
“Yes,” I said, trying not to stare at the snake. “Fortunate indeed.”
She studied me in silence for several moments. I was about to squirm under her scrutiny when a knock at the door saved me. A white-jacketed chef, who but for the extreme pallor of his complexion could have stepped from the kitchens of London’s finest restaurant, appeared. Bowing, he placed a gold platter before Lady Blanche and removed the lid. She nodded her approval.
With an expert hand, he uncorked the champagne and filled a pair of tulip-shaped glasses. Leaving the bottle in its gold ice bucket, he bowed again and, with the merest glance at me, took his leave.
When he was gone, Lady Blanche said, “I stole him from a French baron he’d been with forever. Everyone says he’s a genius.” She nudged the platter toward me. “Tell me what you think.”
The hunger I had fought since leaving Whitby was becoming more than I could bear. With my hands clenched in my lap, I stared at what the chef had brought.
“That is fresh stag heart,” Lady Blanche said. “And that . . . let me see . . . that is the heart of a swan. Both are still warm, of course.”
When I hesitated, she placed the stag heart on a small plate. “I always think this tastes of the deep forest and rushing water. Do you agree?”
I succumbed. The scent of the stag blood was sweet and thick. Already, I could almost taste it. Forgetting myself entirely, I seized the heart and bit clear through it. Blood spurted into my mouth. I groaned in delight. At once, I felt intense relief followed by a desperate
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