The Reluctant Vampire Page 0,36

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 me, 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 me 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 me dawn arrived on the second day, but I insisted she rest and we would talk a er. 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 be er. She told me everything."

Drina blew her breath out on a sigh. "I immediately set out for the re rement 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-spa ered nightmare, li ered with dead bodies, some of which had been rent to pieces. Her mouth ghtened. "They weren't salvageable.

"They a acked 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 a ack, 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 admi ed, "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 cau on 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."

Til ng her head to the side, she mimicked a very bad Sco sh 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,