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“Lady Maelin of Theryn, I believe.” She smiled, showing the tiniest glimpse of white fangs against the rich ruby lips.

Maelin managed a surprised little bow. “I am...well, I’m honoured that you know my name, Madame.”

She smiled enigmatically. “Not all the Theryns are obsessed with seawater, you know.”

All Maelin could do was blink and dredge up a weak smile, while her mind did its best to process Madame’s implications.

“How may I be of help?” Madame turned back to Cyrus.

“I have to return something. I believe you might recognise it?” He produced the bloodied shoe from his pocket and laid it on the desk.

The woman froze. Not a muscle moved for several seconds. Cyrus wasn’t sure she was even breathing.

She reached for the shoe, picked it up, and turned it over, touching the heel and releasing some sort of spring allowing the sole to swing to one side.

Then she crumpled into a chair. “Hellforge,” she whispered. “Young Cristobal.” A film of red clouded her deep brown eyes, and she closed them for a moment, only opening them as a red tear escaped and slowly fell over her cheek.

She ignored it and stared at Cyrus. “Too many of them, Drake. Not only here, but the other Velvet houses too.”

“I know,” he nodded.

She rose. “Then fucking do something about it before we lose anyone else. It’s what you’re supposed to be doing, isn’t it? Protecting us from something like this?”

Cyrus could almost feel Maelin staring at him as Madame Vane lashed out.

“I will do what I can. You know that.”

She sighed and sat on the nearest chair. “I know that. I apologise. It’s just that...this...” she waved the shoe, “this belonged to a young lad. He was so happy to be one of us. It was only his second week...”

“One question I must ask, Madame.” Cyrus bent and took her hand in his. “Did the lad have his fangs yet?”

She nodded. “They had just come in. That’s why he came to us.”

Cyrus glanced at Maelin, then away. “Thank you. I’m sorry we had to bring you such bad news.”

“As am I,” she answered quietly.

“My sympathies, Madame Vane,” said Maelin quietly. “I know Cyrus will do everything within his power, not just for you here, but for the other Velvet houses that have been similarly affected.”

The other woman stared at Maelin for a few long moments, then turned to Cyrus. “Go now. Take the lady with you. I believe she’ll be of help to you, Drake. For all our sakes, stop this madness.”

Chapter Thirteen

The journey back to upper Caelemar was short, efficient, and lacking in conversation.

Images, ideas, thoughts, questions...Maelin’s mind was whirling with an assortment of all of them. So many, in fact, that she couldn’t settle on just one, so she stayed silent, lost in the turbulence that the afternoon’s events had created.

Cyrus seemed to be very familiar with his surroundings, since he led her to a small door not far from the Crimson Lantern, and opened it with that little key he carried, guiding her into another of those small cupboards, accessible only with his key.

She felt the tiny room rise and reached for him without really thinking about it.

In a flash she was in his arms, held close, feeling his breath stirring her hair. Without a second thought she rested her head on his shoulder and sighed.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice low. “This has been...well, probably a bit upsetting for you.”

She breathed in, detecting his scent, something clean and lemony, warmed by skin, with a trace of salt beneath it.

“You could say that,” she replied.