With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.”
Later, as we three lay together in a tangle of limbs on the enormous bed the guys somehow levered up the stairs for me without killing each other in the process, the words of another author – Bram Stoker – called to me, and I felt a cold and undead thing reach through the darkness to stab at my heart, for I knew that somewhere out there a monster hungered to take from me everything that I loved.
“Even if she be not harmed, her heart may fail her in so much and so many horrors; and hereafter she may suffer – both in waking, from her nerves, and in sleep, from her dreams.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Move your feathery arse, I can’t get a good view,” Heathcliff grumbled.
“Croak.”
“That’s not a very polite thing to say in front of a lady,” Heathcliff shot back, in a rather Morrie-ish tone.
Heathcliff and Morrie could hear more of Quoth’s thoughts telepathically than I could, so I didn’t get to hear his rude comment. (The gesture he made with his wing was pretty universal). I heard only the thoughts Quoth directed at me, but the three of them seemed to carry on whole conversations where I only heard one side. This was one of those times. However, since we were staking out Grey Lachlan’s property, it was also the time for all of us to be silent.
“Why didn’t you bring your dog along, Mina, to make it a whole jolly circus—ow!” Heathcliff rubbed his cheek and glared at the raven. “What was that for?”
“Croak!” Quoth hopped angrily. Heathcliff gave an exasperated sigh.
I glared at them both. “Do you think you guys could keep it down?”
“Blame the bloody great big hole in my cheek,” Heathcliff grumbled.
“You deserved that. Quoth’s right. In a few months, Oscar will be coming along on all our excursions, and he’s probably better behaved than the two of you.” I elbowed Heathcliff in the arm. “Tell me what you see.”
“Absolutely sodding nothing.” Heathcliff parted the hedgerow and lifted the binoculars to the row of modernist townhouses. “Do you think he’s even in there?”
Taking that as his cue, Quoth fluttered across to the balcony and perched on the railing, peering into the dark windows. He made a circuit of the house before returning to the bushes.
All clear. The house is completely empty. Not a bat in sight, and no coffin in the living room.
I patted his head and shouldered my vampire kit. “Let’s go.”
We padded across the manicured grass and crowded under the door. Quoth kept an eye out on the street while Heathcliff fumbled with Morrie’s lock-picking kit. “These bloody things weren’t made for my fingers,” he muttered as he dropped the tiny metal tool for the third time.
“Give it here.” I held out my hand.
“You said you wanted me to pick the lock.”
“Because if I don’t give you a job to do, you stand there sniping and distracting the rest of us. Of course, this was when I thought you knew what you were doing.” I shook my hand. Heathcliff dropped the kit into it.
“And you do?”
I knelt down at the door and shoved the pick into the lock. “When Morrie gets bored, he makes me practice lock-picking. I can’t guarantee I’ll get it, especially since I can’t see what I’m doing, but according to Morrie it’s all about feel—”
CLICK.
The door swung open. I grinned triumphantly at Heathcliff. Quoth fluttered back from the road and slipped inside first, scouting the interior before inviting us inside with a wave of his wing.
All clear.
I flicked on the light – with all the glass, it looked less suspicious than shining flashlights around – and studied the townhouse. Grey Lachlan might be many things, but he had a good design team – if you went in for minimalist cubes. The bottom floor was open-plan living, dining, and kitchen, the entire back wall floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the river. The place was already fully furnished in crisp, modern furniture and tasteful ‘non-art’ on the walls, all in stark white accented with earthy, hipster tones.
My eyes searched the smooth surfaces for a box or pot where Dracula was keeping his earth, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. Heathcliff stomped around in the bedroom upstairs, while Quoth hopped along the windowsills and used his beak to open the kitchen drawers.
“Maybe he hasn’t dropped it off yet?” Heathcliff thumped down the stairs.
