Gideon could not help but smile wryly at her display of temper. She would not be satisfied for long at his refusal to reveal the truth of himself, but for now he could do nothing but hope that she did not allow her curiosity to lead her into more trouble. He preferred her anger to fear. That he could not bear.
With a shake of his head at his ridiculous behavior, Gideon turned and headed down the street. He still had the stews to scour before morning arrived. The sooner he could trace Tristan and be done with this mess, the sooner he could ...
He clamped down on the alarming thoughts that raced through his mind. Thoughts of him and Simone entwined in bliss.
There were more than one means of trapping an unwary vampire.
Stroking the smooth ivory of his cane, Tristan watched in pleasure as his minions stalked the unwary maid. It was a pity that he had been forced to command them only to frighten the girl and not kill her. He enjoyed watching others drain the life of filthy humans nearly as much as he enjoyed the task himself.
Tonight, however, was not for pleasure.
After days of futilely attempting to discover some means of wrenching the Medallion from Lady Gilbert he had at last forced himself to acknowledge that it would take stealth rather than brute force to achieve his goal.
His near white fingers tightened on the cane in disgust.
Nefri would pay for his aggravation, he swore. To even think he must play these foolish games with beings that were as insignificant as roaches made his teeth clench.
He should already be ruling this world. Not sneaking about like a coward in the dark.
Watching the maid pass the high hedge Tristan gave a nod of his head. In a blinding flurry three roughly attired men bounded from the bushes and grasped ahold of the startled maid. There was a shrill scream that was abruptly cut off as one of the men placed a hand over her mouth.
Tristan waited until he was certain the woman was properly terrified before casually strolling forward and waving his cane in a threatening manner. As arranged, the servants released their hold upon the maid and promptly vanished into the shadows.
On her knees, the maid was shivering with fear. Ignoring his distaste, Tristan forced himself to reach down and pull her to her feet.
“Here, my dear, allow me to help you,” he murmured in soothing tones.
“Oh, thank you, sir,” she babbled, tears running down her round face.
“Are you harmed?”
“I don’t think so.” She gave a scared glance over her shoulder. “They gave me a good fright, though.”
“Shameless louts. Shall I follow them and have them handed to the Watch?”
“Oh no.” She reached out to grasp his arm in a tight grip. “Please, do not leave me alone.”
Shuddering in horror at the filthy hands that threatened to wrinkle the fine fabric of his coat, Tristan firmly pried her fingers from him.
“If you wish.”
She pressed a hand to her throat, so rattled she did not seem to find it odd that an obvious gentleman would bother to help a mere servant.
“Do you ... do you think it was the St. Giles Butcher?”
Tristan hid a smile at the garish title that had been given to him by the newspapers. He enjoyed the knowledge that he had managed to send terror through the city. A terror that was only a taste of what was to come.
“I fear it might very well have been.”
“Oh ... oh ...” the maid blubbered.
Tristan gave an impatient click of his tongue. He could not use her if she continued to moan in such a foolish manner.
“Calm down.”
“But I might have had my throat ripped out.”
Ignoring the powerful urge to do just that, Tristan managed to offer a cold smile. He wished to ensnare her with Inscrollment and be done, but he had never managed to learn the more subtle means of manipulating the human mind without destroying it completely. He did not wish anyone to know he had spoken with the maid. Not while she might be of use.