“Or maybe he didn’t want it to appear out of place, especially if he thought we were on to him. No doubt Grey has been telling him about us.” I eyed the kitchen, where a row of brand-new appliances lined the bench. A cold-press coffee machine, a fancy bread-maker and… was that a craft beer brewing pail?
I lifted an eyebrow at the strange array. “Is Dracula a hipster?”
Hyuh-hyuh-hyuh. Quoth laughed his bird laugh.
“If Morrie were here, he’d be begging us to get one of these things for the shop.” Heathcliff eyed the coffee machine. “All of these kitchen torture devices have containers, right?”
Of course.
Heathcliff pried the bread-maker open while I lifted the top off the craft beer. An earthy scent hit my nostrils, and when I peered down into the pail, my nose touched damp, fresh dirt.
“Found it.” I held up the pail in triumph. “One box of Dracula earth, ready for neutralizing.”
“Get the communion crisps and let’s get out of here.” Heathcliff’s eyes flashed.
I held the pail under one arm as I plunged my hand into my purse. “They’re called wafers, not crisps—”
Wings fluttered behind me. I thought Quoth was investigating the cupboards, but then he let out a strangled croak. Unease slithered through my chest.He’s in trouble.
I whirled around. Quoth’s wings flapped frantically as a tall man held him, pressing my raven’s body to his chest as he held up a butcher’s knife. The shadow of the kitchen cabinets and a black hood pulled low over his face hid most of his features from me. A smile that could only be described as maniacal spread across a pair of thin lips.
The stranger pressed the knife to Quoth’s throat and held out his hand for the pail. “I think that belongs to me.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
It’s him.
It’s Dracula.
He stepped under the lights, and my body froze in terror.He’s got Quoth. He’shurtingQuoth. All I could do is stare at the figure as it advanced toward me, fingers reaching, reaching, their tips stained with dark splotches.
Blood.
Quoth reached up and gripped the edge of the man’s hood with his beak, tugging it off. I reeled as I identified the face beneath. He was barely recognizable – his usually slick suit replaced with a stained black tracksuit that hung from his body in tatters, strips of flesh had been torn from his cheeks, and his eyes blazed with deranged fire.
Not Dracula.
Grey Lachlan.
Grey’s hand hung in the air between us, his fingers grasping. “I’ll take that dirt back, thank you.”
“You mean this dirt?” Regaining my wits, I held up my hand so Grey could see the sacramental wafer in my fingers. Grey lunged forward, but he was too slow. I shoved the wafer into the dirt, scattering particles across the pristine tiles.
The developer froze, dropping Quoth. My raven hit the tiles and scrabbled to safety behind Heathcliff’s legs. Grey’s eyes bugged out with cartoonish terror fright as he stared at the wafer sticking out of the dirt.
“You don’t know what you’ve done,” he hissed.
“I know exactly what I’ve done.” I upturned the pail, throwing the dirt over him, scattering it around the pristine kitchen. “Tell your boss that we’re on to him. We’re on toyou. There’s no way he’s getting his hands on Nevermore Bookshop, and we’ll stop him before he can turn England into his new hunting ground.”
Grey narrowed his eyes at me. “You think you have the power to stop him, daughter of Homer? You think his plans stop at merely controlling England? You’re a silly blind girl with a gypsy thug crying over his broken heart, and a useless scrap of a poem whose only power is growing feathers out his arsehole. The only one who was a real threat was the Victorian criminal, but he’s been neutralized. Nothing stands in his way now.”
He knows.
He knows the secrets of Nevermore Bookshop. But how?
I opened my mouth to demand answers from Grey. He could have found out about Morrie’s kidnapping from the papers, but that other stuff he said…
Lightning cracked outside the window, sending a dazzling pulse across the room that blinded me. I blinked frantically, my hand clutching the stake. I lunged forward blindly, but my stake pierced only air.
