Crouched before the hearth, a brick of turf still in his hand, he turned. “Yes,” he said softly, “of course you are.”
A tear slipped onto my cheek, and I looked down, drying it with the back of my hand.
“Mina.”
Breath shuddering through me, I looked up again. Every time our eyes met, I felt that his strange beauty and gentleness might break my heart.
“I won’t allow anything to harm you here.”
Said the vampire.Yet I believed him. Or at least I believed that if any harm came to me throughhim, it would be the fault of something that was stronger than he was.
I nodded, and he tossed the brick onto the fire. He remained crouched there, just far enough away that I couldn’t have touched him without moving closer, and we watched the flames rising.
The room warmed, and the silence grew thick again. Finally, I said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a fireplace in a church.” It felt like what Jack called “whistling past a graveyard.”
Harker turned, and by his expression, I knew he had read me. He saw that I wanted distraction, and room to breathe. Taking up the clumsy change of subject, he said, “This building was originally intended to be used as a hermitage, so this floor would have served as living space for a monk or priest, with the upper floor serving as the chapel. But I do think it likely that one of my ancestors added the chimney system later, to make the tower more comfortable for his family.”
I imagined them gathered here as we were. As my own family had gathered around our hearth on cold nights. Then I remembered his family was nothing like mine. Harker and the sons who’d come before him had never known their mothers.It seems they couldn’t survive the birth of a monster.
“Stay here by the fire,” he said, rising. “I’ll make tea.”
I watched him move in his quiet, steady way up the stairs. I had not expected to find myself here again, drinking tea with a vampire. I thought I had seen the last of Harker Tregarrick. Whatever else this day had brought, or might yet bring, I couldn’t help feeling glad that I’d been wrong.
Sitting while others labored wasn’t something that came easily to me, so I got up and began moving the furniture around, dragging another chair near the fire before placing the tea table between them. I eyed my handiwork, then moved the chairs farther apart.
I’m sure six more inches will make all the difference.
When Harker came down again, his gaze took in my rearranging as he carried the tray to the tea table. I noticed a plate of biscuits and sliced apple from our tree and managed a smile.
“It seems to be a season for visitors,” he said as he filled our cups. Me, the constable, poor Mr. Roscoe. “I confess that visiting The Magpie and having you and your baskets here has made me miss the comforting humanness of the whole tea ritual. I haven’t been very deliberate aboutsuch things for some time, eating only when I think of it, and whatever is to hand. So I asked Roger to make a few purchases.”
You and your baskets.Heat stole into my cheeks as I picked up a biscuit. “It’s funny to hear you speak almost fondly of my visits. I truly felt I was the last person you wished to see at your door, though I understand why now.”
He studied me across the tea table while my heart flopped around like a fish on a riverbank. “I may not have spent much time around other people, but I’ve read more books than I can count, and I think if there’s anything that defines us as humans, it’s wanting things that we shouldn’t.”
The fish stopped struggling and simply gasped, glassy eyed. I couldn’t have said for certain whether he was talking about my blood now or something else. His gaze raked quickly over me, and warmth fountained in my belly. Despite the snug comfort of this room, with its rich furnishings and fire in the hearth, the air around us felt like it did before a lightning strike.
“Harker?” He eyed me through the steam leaving his cup. I thought he looked pleased, as if he liked hearing me say his name as much as I liked saying it. “Will you tell me what happened out on the heath?”
“Mmm.” His brow furrowed, and his eyes drifted down.
He sat back in his chair. The turf popped and crackled in the hearth, releasing a scent very like his smoky tea.
“I was up on the battlements looking out over the estate when I saw a cloud moving along the ground, and you standing in its path. Do you have any memory of that?”
I nodded. “I saw the cloud from our garden. But I didn’t go out to it. I was going back inside when I heard strange music. Then, somehow, I was out on the heath. I glimpsed the creature in the cloud, but the next thing I knew, I was standing with you at the foot of Roche Rock.”
He frowned. “Your story has a familiar ring to it, almost like something from a fairy tale.”
“Yes, it reminds me of the stories my mother told us of people taken by the ‘gentle folk.’” I shifted in my chair to pour more tea. “Did you get a very good look at him?”
“Oh yes,” he said in a low voice. The candle on the tea table guttered. “Did he speak to you?”
I shook my head. “You?”
“No.” He blinked a couple of times. “At least not in words.”
I waited for him to go on. His eyes reflected a cold dread that caused my heart to thump. “Mina, I’ve had a kind of ... vision. I hardly know how to tell you. I keep turning it over in my mind. I don’t know what it means, yet it—it terrifies me.”
