The door opens revealing a young gentleman with tousled blond hair and his shirt collar undone. This definitely isn’t Darius. My stomach gives a cold lurch.
‘Yes, can I help you?’ he says in a brisk, but not unfriendly tone.
‘I-I’m looking for a gentleman who I believe lives here. His name is Darius Vexley.’
The gentleman rakes his gaze over me none too politely. ‘Who?’
‘Darius Vexley,’ I repeat, straightening my spine. ‘He is a business acquaintance of mine.’
The gentleman raises an eyebrow and turns his head and calls into the depths, ‘Sammy, do we know a Darius Vexley? Young lady at the front door says he lives here.’
After a beat, another gentleman with ginger hair and a matching moustache appears. His deep blue eyes lock on to my bosom and then lift to my eyes.
‘Darius Vexley, hmmm. Doesn’t ring any bells. But would you like to come in, madam, while we ponder if we do in fact know him?’
Both of them look at me expectantly, and their thoughts aren’t too difficult to determine even if I wasn’t a vampire:Pretty thing, I wonder how much she charges. I’d like to see those rosebud lips wrapped round my dick. Should I ask ifshe can do us a two for one?
I take a step back. ‘My mistake. I must have the wrong house.’
The unnamed blond man suddenly snaps his fingers. ‘Sammy, wasn’t the previous tenant called Vexley?’
I take a step forward. ‘P-previous tenant?’
‘Yes,’ he continues. ‘The landlord said there was some kind of incident, andVexleyhad done a runner. We never found out more than that, but it must have been urgent as he left all his belongings behind.’
I bite my lip. ‘Is he ... Do you think he is quite well? I mean, was there anything to make you think he wasn’t well when he left?’
They look at each other and shrug. ‘Like what?’ asks ginger Sammy.
‘Like, uh, blood on the rug or ... or under the bed?’
Their eyes widen at that, and they look at me curiously. Damn, that’s got them thinking suspicious thoughts.Well, well, the little minx, it’s always the quiet ones. Did she stick him with her hatpin because he refused to pay? But what happened after that? The constable might want to know about this.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to come in, madam? We can have a check under the bed and see if there’s anything amiss,’ says ginger Sammy, his kindly tone belying what’s going on in his head.
I know if I step foot into that house, they’re going to try and detain me or force themselves upon me. Either way, it’s not going to end well for them. This was a bad idea. My brain is screaming at me,Leave it alone! Get the hell out of here!
Without another word to the two men, I turn on my heel and stride down the path, unlock the gate, and walk hastily across the road to the alleyway. From there, I watch as they confer for a minute, then shrug and close the door. But I can’t hear their thoughts; the mind reading seems to work only when I’m right next to the person, which is annoying.
I toss up whether or not to collect the gin from number 11, but Amy Renfrew undoubtedly knows who Fanny is and where she lives. So if the two men happen to look out the window and see me going in there, it would be easy enough to track me down afterwards.
Slowly, I make my way back to the brothel with the men’s words ringing in my ears.There was some kind of incident. He left all his belongings behind.
But is he alive or dead? Did he walk out, or did Anya kill him and get rid of the body? Will I ever know?
With a whimper, I shove Darius and Anya under the potentially bloodied rug and push them down far away from me, where I don’t have to ever think about them again. Or wonder if I’m to blame for the whole sorry mess.
Besides, I have more than enough to worry about. Everyone in certain circles knows me and what I do. If there was another raid at the brothel, I’d be the only one getting arrested. And now I have two suspicious witnesses who know I was asking questions about their previous tenant. I’m going to end up in the Clink. I just know it.
I start walking faster, my heels tip-tapping on the grimy cobblestones, as a plan starts taking shape: Me in Paris, dressed in pink taffeta with a fine hat and well-made shoes. A toff on each arm, vying for my affections. Me laughing and flirting coyly. Hmm, the flirting part could be a problem since I can’t speak French, but I’m sure it’s easy enough to learn. ‘Ooh la la’ when I clap eyes on their stiff rods should be enough to begin with anyway. And of course, I’ll need a different surname if I’m going to start earning my living as a high-class harlot. Smith is much too plain. What about ...Bouffant? That sounds French and right posh.
Yes, it’s all coming together. Pity about Fanny, but she can easily get the girls back once I’m gone. It’s time for Sadie Bouffant, sole resident vampire of Mother Swift’s elegant establishment, to vamoose across the Channel and look after herself.
Chapter 37
Sadie | Highlands, present day
I stare at Lucy, aghast.
