“She always did have a temper,” said Colin absently. “And she never did understand why Mother married as she did. As though she had any grounds to talk.”
“Tiberius was human enough,” said Stephen, “after his fashion. And he looked human all the time, which was the important thing to her, I expect.”
“I expect so,” said Colin, rolling his eyes. “Knowing her.”
“Be fair. Most women wouldn’t want a husband like one of us,” said Stephen.
“In my experience, most women want a husband who’s wealthy and not around often. As long as you don’t track mud on the drawing room floor, old boy, I expect the next Lady MacAlasdair won’t carewhatyou turn into.”
“That’s a nice romantic view of the matter.”
Colin laughed. “Even most humans are wise enough to be cynical about marriage.” He craned his head around to peer at Stephen. “And you’re brooding on the topic. Thinking about the succession, are you?”
“No,” said Stephen, which was true.
He peered down at the buildings below. They were rougher now, crumbling brick and stone, and the streets were smaller and darker. Had Mina grown up here? What had her life been, always in the city, always surrounded by people? Had she come to like it?
Would she ever want to leave?
“Don’t worry,” said Colin. “There are half-breeds to go around, and I’d imagine you can even choose yourself a tolerable one. The title alone will give you your pick.”
“Thank you very much,” said Stephen. “Take a look below, will you? I think we’re almost there.”
Finding Brick Lane required flying closer to the ground than Stephen had done for most of his previous excursions: a risk, but one that the fog again lessened. He folded his wings and came in closer. Still unable to read the street signs, he pictured the map he’d done his best to memorize on short notice and tried to match the buildings to the clusters of numbers he’d seen.
In this form, they all seemed much alike and fragile. With very little effort, Stephen could have broken through any wall he saw. Any of his bloodline could, when full grown. It was why Loch Arach had rooms lined with blessed silver and chains forged with magic. The houses and offices in front of him would crumble at one blow—at least, as far as Stephen could tell.
He could sense no significant magic. Perhaps somewhere on this street a crone told fortunes with real accuracy, or a spirit truly did linger near its loved ones, but Stephen felt nothing of the power that even his own private room, slapdash as it was, gave off. Neither did he feel the sense of inhumanity that had hung about “Mr. Green’s” part of town or the chill that accompanied the manes.
There was still something wrong. Restlessness prickled beneath his scales and down the length of his spine, making Stephen lash his tail and wish, in the darkest chambers of his heart, for either enemies or prey. Below him, though, he couldn’t find any trace of magic large enough to stand out.
He looked over at Colin, who’d always been better at occult matters. “Have I missed aught?”
“No,” said Colin, with no trace of doubt. “Wherever your man keeps his creatures, it’s not here. That means—”
Like a sudden gust from the still air, a wave of terror sent Stephen reeling sideways. Snarling, he whipped his head around to confront the new threat, his teeth bared and his body ready to lunge.
Nothing was there.
His eyes registered blank night as his mind caught up to the true situation.
“What wasthat?” Colin came up to him, keeping a careful distance.
“We have to get back,” Stephen growled. “There’s danger at home.”
***
Not much light got in under the pantry door. Mina could make out the outlines of the room, but the pots and pans on the walls were only vague shapes. If Emily hadn’t been wearing a light dress, Mina never would have seen her where she huddled in the corner.
Mina stood in front of the scullery maid, trying not to clutch at her knife. How did one hold a knife properly? She’d never had occasion to find out. All she knew was that it felt much heavier than any knife ever had when she’d been chopping meat for dinner at home, and that she kept having to wipe her sweating palms off on her skirt.
She and Emily had tried to move the big table in front of the door, but their combined weight had budged it all of two inches. Besides, Mina had said, they might need to get out in a hurry.
Now she wished there was something more substantial between the door and the two of them. At the same time, she was beginning to feel silly. She wasn’t sure how long they’d been in the pantry, but so far, everything outside had been calm. Fear still twisted its way through her body, though. She bit her lip and tried to decide how long she wanted to heed it.
Then she took a few steps forward and bent down to peer under the door. The kitchen floor spread out smoothly in front of her. Nothing moved across her field of vision. Mina let her breath out slowly and felt her face burning.
“I think everything’s fine,” she murmured. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”
