“No,” he said, after a moment.But I have lived it.
She thumbed through the first few pages, grimacing at the drawing of a coach traveling a dark road with skeletal trees lining both sides. “Chapter one,” she said, reading aloud. “Jonathan Harker’s Journal.” With a shake of her head, she returned the book to the shelf.
“Are you ready to go home?” he asked.
“Yes!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling.
“My home,” he said, and watched the excitement fade from her eyes.
Bryony was quiet on the way back to the Stone House, her thoughts turned toward her family and how much she missed them, especially her sister, Veronica.
He really was a monster to keep her from her loved ones, Stefan thought bleakly. But surely even a monster who dwelled in endless night deserved a ray of sunshine once in a while.
That night, after Bryony had gone to bed, Stefan found himself wanting to know more about where Bryony had come from. With that thought in mind, he went into the city. He moved from tavern to tavern where he made several discreet inquiries. Lord Leyton Barrett was a wealthy man who owned a large estate near the coast. He had a wife, Maida, a son and two daughters. The youngest was missing. Barrett had offered a sizeable reward for information regarding the girl’s whereabouts, a larger one for her safe return, and one still larger for the capture of the man or men who had kidnapped her.
Moving with preternatural speed, it took him only moments to reach the Barrett estate.
Large, indeed, Stefan mused. The place resembled a castle more than a manor house. The yard looked like a park. Dozens of trees surrounded the property. Flowers grew in abundance wherever he looked. A large fountain in the shape of a mermaid was located near the front of the house.
Dissolving into mist, he transported himself to the back of the estate where he spied an ice house, three corrals filled with blooded stock, a large barn, and a gazebo. A buggy house held a cabriolet, a phaeton, and a buggy.
No wonder Bryony missed her home. He had traveled the world over. Her residence was the equal of some of the most luxurious dwellings he’d seen.
He was about to return to his lair when the back door opened and a young man stepped out of the house. Bryony’s brother, Stefan thought. The resemblance was easy to see. An older man who was obviously the young man’s father followed him outside.
The elder Barrett was tall and solidly built, with close-cropped, dark-brown hair, a prominent nose, and a thick mustache.
“Do you think we’ll ever find out what happened to her?” the boy asked, taking a seat on a wooden bench near the back door.
“I have to believe we will.”
“Veronica misses her more every day. So do I,” the boy confessed, with a wry smile. “But don’t ever tell Bry I said that.”
“Nay, lad. The good Lord willing, one day you’ll tell her yourself.” Barrett lit a pipe, then sat next to the boy. “I fear for your mother’s health if anything has happened to Bryony. If someone has taken her, I swear by all that’s holy, I’ll seethe culprit or culprits hanged! After I flay the flesh from their hides.”
Returning to the front of the estate, Stefan resumed his physical form. He tried to outrun the pangs of conscience that plagued him as he transported himself back to his lair, but the guilt followed him all the way home.
Chapter Eight
Since Leonora was no longer there to do the shopping, Stefan had arranged for Elon, a young man from the village, to stop by and pick up Bryony’s grocery list each Friday morning and deliver it later that afternoon. Elon was her only human contact, except for occasional trips to the village or traveling to the city with Stefan, and she looked forward to Elon’s brief weekly visits.
She smiled at him when he came to the back door that afternoon to drop off her supplies.
“How are you, Elon?”
“Doing well, thank you, Miss,” he said, doffing his cap.
“It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”
He nodded as he carried a box and several sacks into the kitchen and placed them on the table.
Bryony sighed. He was a little younger than she was and terribly shy. He blushed every time she smiled at him.
“Good day to you, Miss.” He turned around, took a few steps, and glanced at her over his shoulder. “There’s to be a celebration in the village tomorrow night,” he said, one word tumbling over the other in his haste to get them out. “With food and dancing and fireworks. You should come.”
Before she could answer, he was hurrying toward his horse and cart.
Bryony stared after him. A celebration in the village. With food. And dancing. And people. She thought of nothing else as she put the foodstuffs away. If she asked Stefan, would he take her?
