“Yes,” he answers, pulling another book from his satchel. “Is there a problem?”
I stare, not sure how to answer. “Maybe.” I choose, making him laugh.
“Get started.”
I sigh, turning the circle to the first letter. Asshole.
SEVEN
st. augustine
My stomach growlsloud enough to echo off the wooden walls of our private car. Cyrus puts his third book of the night down, turning toward me. He glances at the book I’ve made my way halfway through. Honestly, I’m proud of myself. Either the fact of being a vampire made it easier to decipher, or I’m a genius. I’m going with the latter.
“Hungry?” he asks.
I set the book heavily in my lap. “I seem to stay that way.”
He hands me a bottle of blood he pulls from his satchel. “Violet, don’t let yourself go hungry. You have a modicum of control, but if you let it go too long, you risk the possibility of losing that control, and you can fill in the blank.”
“Thank you.” I take the bottle, forcing myself todrink slowly.
A soft knock on the door encourages me to sit upright. “Come in,” Cyrus responds. The wooden pocket door slides open, revealing a middle-aged woman. Long dark hair is piled high on top of her head, and she’s dressed in a dress that boasts her place in society. “May I help you?” he asks.
She smiles weakly. “I’m terribly sorry for bothering you, but something called me to you.”What the hell,screams through my mind.
Cyrus smiles, showing a mouth full of perfectly white teeth. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs.?”
“Ducour,” she answers. “Mary Ducour.” Her cheeks turn red as she speaks.
I watch in awe as Cyrus takes her hand into his, lifting it to his lips and kissing it gently. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Ducour.” He turns toward me. “This is my wife, Violet.”
Wife? I smile, hiding the confusion. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Ducour.” I do my best impression of Southern grace.
“You both are so…beautiful.”
“Thank you,” he responds graciously. “Is there something we can do for you?”
Mary closes her eyes. “No…I don’t think so. I was just drawn to you. Oh, my. That sounds a little off kilter, doesn’t it?” She stumbles slightly with the shift of the train. Cyrus grabs her arm, steadying her. She looks at him with a mixture of awe and confusion. “I apologize. I don’t know why I came here. Do you know why?”
Cyrus smiles. “I’d imagine it’s because you sensed us.” He moves toward the door, pulling our visitor with him. He turns, facing her completely. I watch as her pupils dilate, taking her somewhere different. “You are drawn to us because we are vampires, Mary.”
“You’re vampires,” she mutters. Her voice sounds monotone and flat.
“That’s right. Vampires are dangerous,” he continues.
“Vampires are dangerous,” she repeats.
“From now on, Mary, when you feel energy like ours you need to stay away. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she answers. “Stay away.”
Cyrus pulls back, breaking eye contact between the two of them. Mary blinks rapidly for a few minutes before her pupils return to normal. She turns, looking between the two of us. “I am terribly sorry to have disturbed you. I must have gone into the wrong room. Please excuse me.” The look on her face has changed from complete admiration to nervousness in an instant. She doesn’t say another word as she exits the room, closing the door behind her.
“What was that?” I ask once she’s down the hallway. “She was drawn to us?”
He huffs a laugh. “Many people have the ability to sense we’re different. Most steer clear, trusting their feelings, while others are drawn to it.”
“That’s how Harrison gains donors. People likeMary who are drawn to him.” My words are a statement, not a question.
