“I’d hoped—but you don’t remember me. We’ve met before, on several occasions.” Her smile was sad. “Mayhap you’ll remember me after this time. But I can tell you naught more. Not until you’re ready.”
“What are you talking about?” he said again.
“Your friend Rubey is very wise. You were right to go to her. Now, if you’d only listen to her.”
Voss closed his eyes against the pain of Luce’s sudden fury and his own confusion, and when he opened them a moment later, she was gone. Even though it had been a mere breath that he’d done so—or so he thought—when he scanned the pub, hedidn’t see a hint of long, flowing sleeves or a shapeless pale tunic. Anywhere.
He took a long drink of the abysmal ale and ordered another one from the wench with the long neck. Had he met the blond woman before? When? Where?
Why didn’t he remember her?
I pray it happens before she’s gone.
What did she mean by that? The little wrench stuttered his heart. Could she be speaking of Angelica?
Likely not. He was leaving here, as soon as he heard from her—and even if he didn’t, he had to leave London. Things were simply too uncomfortable and difficult here.
You aren’t yet ready.Ready for what? For what?
Ready to change.
He shook his head. It was as if her voice found its way into his mind.
Change? He couldn’t change. He didn’twantto change.
When Belial walked into the Gray Stag some time after midnight, Voss wasn’t overly surprised. Annoyed…yes. Surprised. No. Not in his world.
Especially not tonight.
Despite the fact there were numerous pubs in London, it was simply his misfortune the cock-biter would also choose this one in which to imbibe. Voss eased further back into the shadows and half turned his face away as the other vampire and his two companions settled at a table across the room. A structural beam partially blocked what would be their view of Voss, and he settled back into his corner. Checked his pocket watch again.
The meeting time had been set at half past eleven; it was nearly half after twelve. He’d been here since before eleven.
Apparently he was waiting in vain. Angelica had not kept her promise.
But he hadn’t truly expected she would contact him with news about the watch chain. She didn’t seem to realize how valuable her Sight could be to someone…someone with nefarious purposes. Had she never thought of how powerful it could make her?
Voss eyed the drink in front of him. No. She didn’t think that way. A wise young woman, she was, but also very innocent in many ways.
Had she never realized what a pawn she could be for someone with unsavory intentions?
Not that his own intentions were unsavory. He merely wished to have as much information as he could have. And to fund his travels.
And who knew when such information might come in handy, especially when dealing with Moldavi?
Voss eyed Belial, keeping his lids half lowered to hide the burning there. He didn’t often feel the urge for violence—it was too messy, too much effort—but at this moment, something nagged at him. Some dark urge to fling his table away and to tear off its leg and slam its jagged point into the torso of that freckled, snakelike vampire. Watch him die.
Even the thought sent a rage of fire through his shoulder’s Mark, although Voss barely shifted. He was becoming used to the incessant pain.
How much worsecouldit get? Last night, when he’d sent Angelica from her own bedchamber…Even now, the thought of that searing, white pain took his breath away. How he’d even formed the words to warn her to leave, Voss didn’t know. He didn’t remember anything but that white, hot world until his feet landed in the cool, damp grass.
Lucifer didn’t approve of his immortalized men killing other Dracule members—his mercenaries, as he called them, hisearthly army—and he expressed his anger the way he always did: through the Mark of their agreement.
In the last week, the symbol of Voss’s covenant with Lucifer had become slender, brownish-red ropes of agony. For self-preservation purposes, he hadn’t been to his London home for days, although he had sent for Kimton (who could travel easily during the daylight) and new clothing.
The valet had tried everything including a foul-smelling salve to ease his master’s pain…to no avail. The Mark’s rage was a constant reminder of Luce’s control.
Voss’s fangs pressed into the inside of his lower lip and his fingers curled around the edge of the table…No, there was no point in angering Lucifer any further. He had a better idea, and crooked his finger to the slender-necked serving girl. Obviously remembering the pile of shillings earlier, she hurried to his side. Another slip of coin, a few whispered words into her ear and she was off to do his bidding.
