“What does family have to do with it?”
“A woman with a house and vampire family has servants, tradesmen who come to the house, callers…”
“No. This woman buys newssheets from the hawkers,” Kendrick said with some certainty.
“Then she likely takes her meals where she can get them,” he murmured.
“What is your name?”
The man looked up in surprise. “Marshall Cutter, sir.”
“Thank you, Mr. Cutter. A good evening to you.”
“A-And you, sir.” The young man dipped his head and ventured, “And good hunting.”
Kendrick flashed him a smile and turned up the collar on his coat so he would not appear different from others hunched against the wind’s sharp knife of cold. Perhaps not every vampire in London wanted to stick a knife in him. First his mysterious note woman, and now Mr. Cutter.
He just had to find her.
ChapterFour
Genevieve knew she was dreaming because sunlight trickled through the curtains of her childhood home. She sat on a comfortable sofa beside her father and listened as he read, blinking at the patterns of light on the rug. The warm rasp of his voice soothed her, even if she couldn’t understand the words. Lips as soft as a cloud brushed against her cheek as slim, feminine hands curled around Genevieve and her father from behind.
“She’s falling asleep, Ezra; it’s time for her nap,” Genevieve’s mother murmured.
“She wants to hear the end of the poem,” her father objected.
Her mother replied with fond amusement, “Dear, you’re reading in Old English; she doesn’t understand. She just likes the sound of your voice.”
Genevieve came awake slowly, the flicker of a candle stub replacing the memory of the sunlight’s brightness. Her throat ached with the pressure of unshed tears.
It was a happy dream. A happy memory, she insisted, rubbing eyes that felt filled with sand.Don’t ruin it. Hold on to it.
She sat up in her corner of their earth-and-stone bolt hole and drew back her cloak. The sun must have gone down below the horizon. She could feel her body waking up.
Their bolt hole was a pocket in the rock and clay of the catacombs, barely big enough for the three of them together. As vampires, they no longer had to eat or relieve themselves or suffer many of the human indignities that cropped up when one lived on top of another, but they still had to sleep when the sun rose, and they all barely had a place to lay their heads. But it was like that everywhere in the catacombs.
Elspeth was already awake—she had been the one to light the candle. She faced away from Genevieve as she pinned her blonde hair, the texture of fairy floss, carefully over her ears. Then she settled her bonnet on her head. Genevieve had bought her the blue bonnet with the first coins she had earned.
“Good evening,” Elspeth whispered, mindful of Sparrow still curled up at the back of their bolt hole. “Sleep well?”
Genevieve nodded. “You?”
“I stayed up too late finishing the lace, but I did rest well afterward.” Elspeth pulled out the finished lace and displayed it for Genevieve. “Isn’t it lovely?”
“Gorgeous.” She marveled over the tiny, intricate stitches that would make anyone other than Elspeth go blind.
“You could pull it through a ring,” Elspeth said proudly.
Genevieve hugged her. “I can get you more thread today.”
“Here.” Elspeth bundled up the lace. “Take this with you.”
“To sell? But you should?—”
“Silly; I’m not going to wear it down here, am I? And coin will help us more.”
“I don’t have to sell it today,” Genevieve protested. “You ought to have time to be proud of your accomplishments.” When Elspeth frowned, she added, “Bacchus is gone, you know.”
