on James and the anguish she’d only just now glimpsed in him, along with the hundreds of questions that glimpse had raised, Rhiannon rolled her eyes and went on. “Professor, give Brigit a list of what you need and where we can find it.” As she spoke, she crossed the room to the desk, and then slapped a notepad and freshly sharpened number 2 pencil down in front of Lucy. “Feel free to use the internet. The ISP has been scrambled. You won’t be traced. Be aware, however, that every keystroke is being monitored, so any at tempt to send an SOS will be intercepted. And while J.W. is correct in that we cannot harm you, believe me when I tell you that I can—and will—make your life miserable if you cross me.”
Lucy believed her.
“Just translate the tablet, Lucy,” Brigit said. “We’ll let you go the minute you finish. And that will be faster than anyone could mount a rescue attempt anyway. Besides, just because we can’t hurt you—not that we’d want to,” she went on, “that doesn’t mean we couldn’t do some serious damage to anyone who might come charging to the rescue. And you don’t want innocent people getting killed over this, do you?”
Lucy nodded slowly, understanding that she was completely at their mercy. And wishing she understood why they couldn’t actually hurt her, how she was…related, as James had put it. And more. What were vampires, really? What were their weaknesses? What powers did they possess? Were all the myths true, the crucifixes and holy water and wooden stakes and…?
“Come with me now, J.W.,” Rhiannon said, interrupting her thoughts. “We’re short on time, and your training is about to begin.”
“Take heart, little mortal,” Roland said softly, as he passed her on the way out. “None of us are quite as bad as we seem. And you’ve been told the truth here.”
And with that, they all left the room except for Brigit, who sat at the far end of the table, slouched in a chair. She bit into her half-eaten apple and talked with her mouth full. “You must be pretty pissed off right now. I would be.”
Lucy looked away, refusing to answer. Brigit leaned forward, reaching for the notepad and pencil, pulling them across the table to her. She took another bite and sat back with the pencil poised. “So? Tell me what you need.”
Lucy thought of all the things she needed, and then she thought of the one thing she wanted. She wanted that book by Lester Folsom, the one with the parts of the story these vampires might not be telling her. “My handbag,” she said. “I really can’t even begin until you get me my handbag.”
Brigit frowned, but jotted it down. “I fail to see how your handbag is going to help you translate, but I’ll get it. What else?”
Lucy listed several indispensable reference books from her personal collection. She would have loved to have asked Brigit for some of the volumes at the university, but she didn’t want to drag any of her colleagues into this mess or put anyone else at risk. So she only named the books that could be found in her own little cracker-box house with its marigold-filled flower boxes in the front windows and its marigold carpets lining the walk all the way to the stoop.
She missed her home. Her haven.
“Got it. And that’s upstate, right?”
“Binghamton, yes.”
Brigit frowned but didn’t argue. “I might need to delegate. Anything else?”
“My laptop. It’s there, too, at the house.”
Brigit scribbled on her notepad. “Is that it?”
Lucy nodded. “That’s it.”
“Good. All right, this is going to take some time. Do what you can while I’m gone. Eat some of the fruit I brought you. You must be hungry. And you need to keep your strength up. Also, there’s a bathroom all the way at the end,” she added with a nod toward the door at the back of the office. “You can wander all you want in this section, but don’t go into the main part of the house. We can’t afford to have anyone see movement out there. Okay?”
“Yes. Okay.”
“Okay. See you in a while. Behave.” And with that, Brigit left her alone.
Alone in a crumbling mansion full of vampires and their…kin. In a hidden section, behind a secret wall, translating an ancient dialect under duress.
She couldn’t have made this up if she’d tried.
Brigit drove into the city, parked her car in a no parking zone near the curb and walked three