herself up in a decadently soft, cushy towel and took a look at the clothes he had left for her.
Jeans. Low-rise jeans that fit far more snugly than the waist-high, relaxed-fit style she wore at home, when she wore jeans at all. A tiny black T-shirt, with its sleeves and collar ripped out. It had been cut off, too, so that it revealed most of her midriff when she pulled it on. It was as far as possible from anything she would have found in her own closet at home. There were socks, and a pair of what could only be described as high-heeled army boots. The four-inch heels were thick and chunky, but there was a good two-inch platform, too, so the angle of her foot remained fairly comfortable. The boots laced up over most of her calf and had buckles besides.
These had to have been taken from Brigit’s wardrobe. Lucy felt so uncomfortable it was ridiculous.
No mirror. Of course there were no mirrors. It was just as well, she probably looked awful. She wound her damp hair up into its customary bun and walked back through the secret rooms, past the blood-filled fridge, to the office, wobbling on the high heels and tugging constantly on the shirt.
God, she wanted to go home.
Well, then, she supposed, the best thing was to get back to work. She took a seat at the table, opened the notepad, squinting without her glasses, and got busy.
An hour later Brigit was back, tossing Lucy’s long-lost satchel onto the table.
“Nice try,” the sweet-looking blonde with the dominatrix wardrobe said. Then she dropped the book Mr. Folsom had given Lucy right beside the satchel. “I presume this is what you really wanted?”
What she really wanted, Lucy thought, setting her pencil carefully on the table, was whatever smelled so good in the white takeout bag Brigit still held.
And to read that book.
“I thought I’d like to know a little more about the race I’m being forced to help save.”
“Yeah, well, you’d better get on it, or there won’t be a race left to need your help. The existence of vampires is the hottest topic going right now, thanks to the bits and pieces of this book that have leaked. At least from what I heard on the car radio on the way back here. Vigilante groups are popping up all over the country, and innocent people are dying.”
“Innocent vampire people or innocent ordinary people?” Lucy asked.
“Innocent is innocent, bookworm. But to answer your question, both.”
“I’m sorry if that sounded…bigoted. I didn’t mean it to. And I’m sorry your people are suffering.”
“Your people, too.”
Sighing, Lucy eyed the book again. “Maybe there are some answers in here.” She reached for it, but Brigit snatched it before she could pick it up.
“Not so fast. Let’s see what Rhiannon has to say about this. Besides, anything you want to know, you can just ask. And you don’t have time for leisure reading right now, anyway. We need that prophecy translated ASAP. Understand?”
Lucy frowned, tilting her head to one side. “You seem upset.”
“You think?” Brigit sighed, shook her head, then dropped the fast food bag on the table at last. “Figured you’d be as starved as I am. My relatives may have the house well stocked with sustenance for them, but I doubt there’s much food fit for human consumption around here.”
“True enough. I’ve heard they never drink…wine.”
Brigit went stone silent, staring at her for a long moment before asking, “Did you just make a Dracula joke?”
Lucy nodded. The smells emanating from that bag were making her mouth water and her brain senselessly joyful. “I think so, yes.” She opened the bag, grabbing the fries first. The colder they got, the more they tasted like salty cardboard.
“He’s real, you know,” Brigit said while Lucy ate.
“Who is?”
“Dracula.”
Lucy stopped with a French fry between her teeth and stared at Brigit, wide-eyed.
“Vlad Tepish. Of course, that wasn’t his original name.” Brigit bit her lip. “And I’m telling you more secrets than Folsom’s book probably will.” She looked Lucy up and down. “I see you did as I suggested and took a look around the place while I was gone.”
Lucy nodded. “I took a shower. The clean clothes are…appreciated. I presume they’re yours.”
“De nada. I told J.W. to take whatever he thought you could use. The rest of the stuff you asked for should be arriving shortly. I sent someone who could move a little faster than I can, and I asked them to bring back