“Where are you?”
“I am not entirely certain.”
“Levet, you are not being excessively helpful,” she said, swiftly exchanging her night shift for the pants and smock, as well as a pair of boys’ boots. “I need to know where to begin my search if you desire to be rescued.”
“And you think that has not occurred to me?” Levet barked. “Had I known I was to be attacked and held hostage I would have been clever enough to leave a trail of bread crumbs for you to follow.”
Juliet moved to the dresser and began pinning her thick curls on top of her head.
“Do you wish my assistance or not?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then tell me what happened.”
“After you left me alone to entertain myself I decided to visit the docks.”
“Why in heaven’s name would you…?” Juliet bit off her words as realization struck. “The pixies. Really, Levet.”
“I am a gargoyle, not a saint. And you were the one to tempt me with the promise of pixies.”
Juliet stiffened at the ludicrous accusation. “I did no such thing.”
“Juliet, something is coming,” Levet hissed, his fear potent enough to spill through her. “Please, ma petite, I need you.”
There was a painful wrench, and abruptly her connection to the gargoyle was severed.
“Damn.”
Pausing only long enough to shove a knit hat over her curls, she clambered out her window and jumped the short distance to the nearby tree.
She might not possess Justin’s terrifying magic or Victor’s icy power, but she was willing to do whatever necessary to rescue her one true friend.
No matter what the danger.
The estate of the Marquis DeRosa was less than a half-hour ride from London, but it provided all the space and privacy a vampire craved.
Built of white stone, it was designed along pure, classical lines with massive marble columns and tall windows that overlooked the manicured lawn and distant lake.
It was not the first manor house built on that precise spot. Victor had, after all, owned the property for several hundred years. But like all the others before, it was constructed as much for security as for luxury.
The vast grounds were guarded during the evening by his clan brothers, while the daylight hours were protected by poisonous Bguli demons who could defeat all but the most powerful enemies. The house itself was wrapped in hexes to keep out unwelcome intruders, including any overly forward humans.
Not that the elaborate defenses were actually necessary.
Only a demon or mortal anxious to seek his grave would be stupid enough to invade Victor’s lair.
Not without invitation.
Sprawled in a massive wooden chair that had once belonged to a Roman general who had the misfortune to kill a human under clan protection, Victor surveyed the various guests who filled his elegant salon.
There was a combination of demons. Vampires, imps, several lovely nymphs, and a handful of human chattel, all of whom were extraordinarily beautiful, and all eager to capture Victor’s brooding attention.
A pity he had no interest in the half-naked bodies that were deliberately poised on the chaise longues and large pillows tossed across the carpet. The tasty feast might be perfectly calculated to sate a hungry vampire, but Victor felt nothing more than cold apathy.
Waving away the silver-haired nymph attired in a thin gauze gown who knelt at his feet with her head tilted in silent invitation, he ruefully accepted that his once varied and exotic taste had now been reduced to one particular female.
A female whom he was still no closer to having in his bed.