moon had risen. With it came the creatures that hunted in the shadows. They were under strict rules about how many they could take.
Enough to sate the hunger. Not enough to cause panic.
He wanted to take this city with its populace intact.
But that was not why he found himself on the roof, surveying his soon-to-be empire. He was dwelling on his new quarry. His new prize. He knew where he would find Miss Parker. She was mortal and therefore had mortal trappings. A home, a business, bank accounts, and so on. They were trivial things, but useful. Often, he had to consort with lawyers and brokers to purchase land and new estates. It was oddly amusing for him to play at such little games. Like a parent playing checkers with a child.
He could slip into her home, steal her away, and spirit her off into some dark corner of the world where no one would find them. If she were in his cage, she would fall to him in time. All creatures kept in cages became enamored of and inured to their jailers. But that would be too easy.
He did not want a broken thing. He did not want her to crawl to his feet. He wanted her to walk into his arms, to embrace him, then to kneel because she wished to do it. These games should not be rushed. They should be enjoyed and savored.
And how much more perfect the chains she would wear when she donned them herself.
“Master.”
Walter.
Vlad moved his head enough to acknowledge the other vampire’s presence. His direct whelpling—one of the few who had survived the enormity of the poison that was his blood—was learning to move with true silence. He almost had not noticed his approach. “Speak.”
“A suitable mortal has been found with an estate grand enough to host your gala. He is ready to throw it on any day you wish.”
“Tomorrow.”
“As you command. How shall I ensure that the hunters attend?”
“I know how we may lure them in.” Vlad smiled to himself, a wicked plan forming. Oh, it would be delightful.
“Yes, my Lord.”
“I will need Zadok rested and sober. His gifts will be required at tomorrow’s event. Inform him now so that I stand a slight chance of him being prepared in time.” He let out a small growl in his throat. “Tell him he will suffer violence if he does not.”
He did not miss Walter’s sigh. His whelpling and right hand was a patient creature, but even he had his limits regarding the Frenchman and his extravagances. “As you wish.”
“Thank you. Now…go. The line is tied. Now I must bait the hook.”
It was morning, and Maxine had her cup of coffee in her hand as she went down the stairs to fetch her mail. She paused. A note was lying in the middle of the foyer floor, having been slipped under the door. Leaning down, she picked it up. It was a simple piece of paper, folded over in the middle. Turning it over, it bore no identifiable marks.
She set down her coffee and opened the letter.
It was only an address written out in careful script. An antiquated script, in fact. The place it listed was somewhere on Beacon Hill behind the State House. She didn’t know the exact number and couldn’t quite place where it was, exactly. It was followed by a time. 8 o’clock. Tonight.
It was signed near the bottom. Simply, succinctly, and with a single letter that left no question about who had left it. And it sent goosebumps crawling over her.
-V.
6
That afternoon, the hunters came to call once more for lunch. She had spent most of the morning pacing around her home, a nervous wreck. She had prepared food, but she had broken two plates while doing so. She couldn’t focus.
Shortly after receiving the note from Dracula, she had walked to the address to see if she could discern precisely to what she was being invited. The address was an estate. The servants outside who were placing strings of garland along the wrought-iron fencing told her a gala was being hosted that night in honor of a new dignitary come to the city. One who would save Boston from all its woes.
She had not needed to ask the name of the dignitary in question.
It would be the logical thing to climb into a carriage and ride for the horizon. She had nowhere to go, but that never stopped her before. She was accustomed to life on the road