concerned, any hunters always meant more, and more meant trouble.
The elder vampire paused. “Three.”
“Only three?” Zadok snickered. “Send me after them tonight. I will deliver their heads to you by dawn. I will—”
“One of them is a Helsing.”
Zadok fell silent. Briefly. For as long as Walter suspected the Frenchman was ever capable of staying in such a state. It lasted a whole fifteen seconds, which was a remarkable feat on his part, before it shattered. “Merde.”
The older vampire chuckled and turned to face them, crimson eyes shining even in the dim light of the room. “Walter. One last thing for you, once you are done with the ghouls and Mordecai. This is a delicate matter. I trust you to treat it accordingly.”
He would complain about being sent on so many errands while Zadok had neglected to receive one, but he knew better than to speak his thoughts for two reasons. It would result in little more than having his arm torn from its socket and fed to the creatures who lingered below. And Zadok could not be trusted to fetch the mail, let alone be given a task of any importance.
So, he simply nodded and said nothing. “What is it, my Lord?”
His sire smiled. It was an unkind one. It was the expression of the pleasure of a predator moments before the kill. “The hunters have gone out of their way to meet with a young woman. I will need to find out why. Find me everything you can learn about one Miss Maxine Parker.”
Bowing low again, he folded one arm at his back and the other at his waist. “It shall be done.”
May the gods help you, Miss Parker. For I have seen that look on him before, and it spells your doom.
Maxine made tea.
What else was one supposed to do with guests? Manners demanded she serve them tea and cookies. She might have spent the better part of her life living in a Roma caravan, but it didn’t mean she hadn’t first been raised in “civilized’ society and taught all the ways she was meant to act.
Even if she was rather terrible at such things.
Even if she did hate it.
She guessed she hated it precisely because she was terrible at it. People rarely hated things they were good at. Focus, simpleton. She poured her three guests their tea and sat at her spot at the table, filtering her own through the strainer and into her teacup. She took it with a single cube of sugar and nothing else.
The younger man in the leather duster and hat apparently took his with four cubes. She couldn’t imagine it tasted anything like actual Earl Grey by the time he was done. She couldn’t help but smile at him, finding his sweet tooth disgusting and charming at the same time. The young man smiled back. “And you are?” she asked.
“My name is Eddie Jenkin.” His accent was thick and labeled him clearly as somewhere west of Boston. Although being east of Boston and still being American was rather a trick, so she supposed it wasn’t hard.
“And I am Bella Corallo,” chimed the blonde woman. She had a beautiful smile, one full of happiness and life. One that perfectly covered the tragedy Maxine could sense dwelled in her past. She wore it better than the other two. It might even be invisible to the naked eye.
But Maxine’s empathic gifts extended to more than just her ability to read emotions. Flashes of memories came with it. Images of Bella as a young girl, cowering under a bed, weeping. Clutching a ratty stuffed animal to her chest as blood pooled on the ground nearby.
As for Eddie, there was more grief than there was fear. A loss—something taken from him. A small body in his arms. But both flashes of sensation carried one thing in common. Tears.
“What is it?” Alfonzo broke her out of her thoughts. “Are you all right, Miss Parker?”
“Hm? Yes. Sorry.” She shook her head and forced a smile back on her face. “Forgive me. It isn’t often that I am around people with such stories. It is hard not to get lost in the hallways looking at the paintings on the walls.”
“I…don’t think I understood anything you just said,” Eddie muttered. He glanced at Alfonzo as if to ask if she was crazy. She didn’t take it personally. Most people assumed she was. Or they were too afraid to accept what it might mean if she wasn’t.
She shut her eyes. Correction—she tried