"He ripped her head off on the spot," Drina said grimly.
"Oh, Christ." Harper sat back in his seat with disgust, but still held on to her hand. If anything, his grip on hers was tighter, as if he was trying to infuse her with his strength to deal with the memory.
"The others immediately agreed to whatever he wanted at that point," Drina said quietly.
"I wonder why," he muttered dryly.
"So he sent them out to find men and bring them back," Drina continued. "The moment they were away from the house, Beth tried to talk the others into fleeing. They could find me, she said. I'd fix this." She sighed, feeling the pinch of guilt that she hadn't been able to fix anything in the end.
"Did they listen?" Harper asked quietly, sitting forward again.
Drina shook her head. "They were too afraid. They didn't know where I was, and he might come after them. She should go by herself, they said. They'd do what he said and wait to be rescued." Drina blew out her breath, and turned her wineglass on the tabletop with her free hand. "Beth fled, but she didn't know where to go to search for me, and she needed blood. She ended up returning to the original brothel to hide. She knew I hadn't yet sold it, and couldn't think where else to go. She hid inside for two weeks, feeding on rats, birds, and any other animal who got close enough to the house."
Harper's eyes widened incredulously. "She couldn't survive on that."
"No," Drina agreed on a sigh. "She was in a bad way by the end of the two weeks, but his turning of her had been so traumatic and she had always been kindhearted, she couldn't bear the idea of feeding on a mortal."
"What happened at the end of the two weeks?" Harper asked.
"She stayed inside during the day, but ventured out at night in search of small animals and such. She was chasing a rat around the side of the house toward the street when a carriage passed. My carriage."
"You were back?"
Drina nodded. "I was on my way to the new house, but I was thinking of putting the old one up for sale and just wanted to see what shape it was in. I wasn't going to stop. I planned to visit the girls first. I just wanted to see how it looked and that it was still standing and hadn't burnt down or something while I was gone. So, I had the curtains open to look at it in passing. Beth recognized me through the window and shrieked."
Drina closed her eyes as she recalled the sound. She would never forget it. It had been an inhuman wail, full of pain, rage, and need. The sound had brought her head sharply around, and she'd spotted Beth standing there, pale and ragged.
"I didn't even recognize her," Drina whispered. "She was a plump, well-kept old woman when last I'd seen her, and this creature was a filthy, emaciated, young redhead. But I saw the glowing eyes and the state she was in and made the driver stop at once. I didn't realize who it was until I stepped down from the carriage and she threw herself at me babbling insanely about headless Mary and the others."
"I still didn't understand what had happened. She was half-mad with blood hunger and wasn't making any sense. I tried to get her to the carriage, saying I'd take her to the retirement house, but she went crazy at the thought and the only way to calm her down even a little was to promise I wouldn't take her there. I took her into the old house instead, and then set out to get her blood."
Drina shook her head. "It was an ordeal. She was repulsed and horrified at the thought of feeding on anyone, and I had to control both her and the donors. It was a slow process. She needed so much blood. I had to go out and bring back several donors one at a time, then control them both, keeping the donor from suffering any pain and unaware of what was happening, while also controlling Beth's horror and making sure she didn't take too much. And the whole time I was terrified that I'd simply have to kill her in the end anyway, that her mind was too far gone to be salvaged."
"Was it?" Harper asked.
Drina smiled wryly. "It's a funny thing about people. The ones who seem strong and mouth off the most, or bully others, are usually the ones most terrified and weakest inside. And the ones who seem quiet and speak their fears, appearing the weakest, are often the strongest under it all."
"Yes. I've found that too," Harper said solemnly. "So our Beth came out all right?"
She smiled faintly at his calling her "our Beth," but nodded. "Yes. I kept bringing her blood donors through the night. Let her rest for most of the day, and then began bringing in donors again that evening and night. She was coming around by the time dawn arrived on the second day, but I insisted she rest and we would talk after. She slept straight through the day and most of the early evening, and I stayed and watched over her. When she woke, she was quiet and calm and much better. She told me everything." Drina blew her breath out on a sigh. "I immediately set out for the retirement house. I tried to get Beth to wait at the brothel while I took care of it, but she insisted on coming with me.
"I should have insisted harder," she said dryly. "I thought I would only have to handle the rogue, but in the two weeks since Beth had left, he'd infected the other women with his madness.
"Some of the things he'd made them do to the men they lured back to the house on his orders were . . ." She shook her head at the memories she'd read from their minds as she'd entered the house, a house that had been charming and comfortable when last she'd seen it, but was now a blood-spattered nightmare, littered with dead bodies, some of which had been rent to pieces. Her mouth tightened. "They weren't salvageable.
"They attacked the minute we entered, which I hadn't expected. I was remembering the women the way they'd been, but they weren't those women anymore. He said attack, and they came at us as if we were strangers who meant less than dirt to them. Beth and I were outnumbered, but we were also at a disadvantage because we weren't mad, knew these women, and they were like family. Or had been," she corrected on a sigh, and then admitted, "I think Beth and I both would have died that day if council enforcers hadn't arrived to save our bacon."
"The council was on to them?" Harper asked.
"Yes, fortunately," she said. "But it would have been hard for them not to be. There was absolutely no caution being used. A lot of men, women, and even children from the area had disappeared. Several of the missing had been seen following the women into the house. And the smell coming from inside was rather atrocious. They might as well have painted 'Look here' on the front door." She shook her head. "The enforcers were apparently arming themselves in carriages across the street when we rode up and, as Scotty put it afterward, 'traipsed in as if attending a tea.' "
"Scotty?" he asked, pouring them both more wine.
"He was the lead enforcer on the raid. Now he heads up all the enforcers in the UK," she explained, and then grinned. "He was most put out with us that night."
Tilting her head to the side, she mimicked a very bad Scottish accent, mangling it horribly with her laughter as she did. "Ye should ha'e sent a message round to the council to handle it, not danced in there yersel'es like a pair o' idjits. Ye cuid ha'e got yersel'es killed, ye silly arses . . . And wid ha'e twoo had we no been here to pull yer fat oot o' the fire."
Harper chuckled with her, and then tilted his own head, and asked, "Is being saved by Scotty and the other rogue hunters the reason you became one yourself?"