Winifred was a monster, and Felicity hunted monsters.
“You can’t proceed with this exhibit,” Winifred said.
Felicity stepped closer, keeping the point of the arrow sticking out of her crossbow straight toward her former best friend’s heart. “Leave. Now. Before I’m forced to kill you.”
It was a bluff, of course. Felicity dared not fire. If she missed, the sound might attract museum watchmen, which would draw innocent civilians into a conflict they had no chance of surviving.
Winifred removed a white calling card from her pocket and held it out. “In case you change your mind.”
Felicity stared at the card but did not reach for it. Winifred could not think so little of her. The moment she relaxed her stance, she would lose her only advantage.
“You would reveal your haven?” Felicity asked. The daylight resting places of vampires were closely guarded secrets.
Winifred shook her head. “I wish I could trust you that much, Fel. No, this is only a waypoint for messages.” Then, as Felicity watched in growing horror, Winifred walked to the nearest table,gently lifted the centerpiece of Felicity’s exhibit, and tucked the card beneath it.
She didn’t know.
Winifred didn’t know what she’d touched.
The illuminated manuscript within Winifred’s reach held hundreds of years of her ancestors’ knowledge and the names and descriptions of known vampires and their victims dating back to the sixteenth century.
“Leave!” Felicity shouted.
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Winifred said.
Felicity kept her gaze firmly on her cousin—herenemy. If Winifred moved any closer, Felicity would fire.
Winifred swallowed and took a step backward. “I… I’m sorry.” Then she spun around and fled.
Felicity dropped the crossbow. Her aching arms and shoulders protested the weight despite the exercises she did regularly. Daggers were her usual choice of weapon, but drawing the ones strapped to her thighs would have meant getting uncomfortably close to the thing that had once been her cousin.
She slammed her weapon onto the nearest table and tore Winifred’s calling card to pieces. She couldn’t think about her cousin. If she did, the agonized scream that was building in her throat would burst free, and once she started, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop.
Her hands moved of their own accord, adjusting the artifacts on the table. Eventually, her family would discover she’d taken them from the Sorrow archive without permission, but if her plan worked, it wouldn’t matter. The vampires depicted in the portraits would be chased out of hiding and her family would be too busy hunting them down to care about her disobedience.
She wouldn’t let Winifred or anyone else get in her way.
But the museum’s security wouldn’t be enough now that she’d attracted vampiric attention. Her gaze returned to theilluminated manuscript. The spells inside were forbidden. They had been ever since Great-Uncle Hector had accidentally blown up a hunter outpost while trying to cast a truth spell on a captured vampire.
There was a reason hunters weren’t allowed to use the trickle of magic that had passed through their bloodline from a distant Fae ancestor. When it came to spellcasting, intention was more important than ability. Hunters were so dedicated to the eradication of vampires that it was nearly impossible to achieve the mental clarity necessary to become a true witch.
The creak of the door closing, likely set into motion by a member of the night staff, had her turning and racing toward the exit until the heavy, black wool of her skirt caught in her legs. As she hit the floor, the room descended into darkness.
She curled onto her side and slapped her palms over her ears, but it did not stop her from being catapulted into a memory.
She wrapped her arms around her legs and peered through a gap in the doors of the cupboard in which Father had told her to hide. Wind whooshed through a shattered window in the hallway and fluttered the long coat of the black-veiled woman standing in front of Mother and Father.
The woman flipped her veil over her head, and Felicity hissed in a breath. The woman’s eyes glowed a bright, vibrant blue, and her straight, black hair was completely dry despite the storm.
Vampire.
The creature lifted a cane that was topped with the gold head of a dog with a chipped ear and pointed at the cupboard.
Father paled. “No.”
Mother dropped onto her knees. “Please! Anything but that!”
The black-veiled vampire twisted the head of her cane, releasing a serrated dagger. Mother scrambled to her feet with a cry. Father ran for the crossbow mounted on the wall.
