“Late night stroll?”
She reached for the hilt of her sword, but it slipped out of her grip. She cursed and fumbled instead for a knife in her bandolier, but before she could withdraw one, she saw who’d spoken.
Mr. Drake wore a baggy, black lounge jacket, a purple waistcoat, and silver trousers. Completing the cobbled-together outfit was a too-small bowler hat perched atop his head.
“Did you follow me?” she asked.
“I should ask you the same question. A woman wandering the streets of Whitechapel at night. What would Mr. Blackwood say?”
The air vanished from her lungs. If the curator knew about her nightly activities, she would surely be sacked. Then she saw the crinkling at the corner of Mr. Drake’s eyes and realized he was once again teasing her. “What do you want from me, Mr. Drake?”
He could have been using his natural charm to seek a position with one of the larger and more profitable museums. Ones that could actually afford his services.
“You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” he said.
The man was so adept at dodging her questions that she wanted to throttle him. She curled her hands into fists but refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d annoyed her. There had to be some other way to get him to leave her alone. She had plenty of experience being ignored by the men in her family. If only she could make Jonathan treat her in the same dismissive manner that her cousins did.
Perhaps the truth would work.
“If you must know,” she said, “I am searching for vampires.”
His sharp laugh had her biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.
“‘Vampires,’” he repeated. He sat down and stretched out his long legs. “Why?”
Her jaw dropped open. Any other man not related to her who heard a lady utter such a ridiculous statement would have immediately dismissed her as hysterical.
Not Mr. Drake. As he tilted his head, he grinned. The damned man found her entertaining.
Perhaps if he learned more about the dangers of her task, that would chase him away.
“There have been a series of murders in this neighborhood,” she said, waving her hand around them. “At least twelve victims. Their throats were slashed and bodies drained of blood.”
Was she imagining it, or was he clenching his fingers tightly between his knees? The smile had also faded from his face.
She shifted on her feet. “Their deaths were gruesome. The cuts to their throats were so deep that witnesses claimed the dead women’s heads lolled over the back of their necks like puppets.” The way Mr. Drake paled encouraged her to continue. “It was done to disguise the marks, of course.”
He furrowed his brow. “‘Marks’?”
“Bite wounds. The vampires who killed them cut out the pieces of flesh that would have shown the true manner of death.” It was a common technique, or so the books in her family’s library claimed. A way to keep the local humans from realizing what lurked among them.
“So, you think there’s a vampire?” Mr. Drake asked. The skepticism in his voice made her grind her teeth until she took a moment to recover herself. She wanted him to be skeptical.The more he thought of her as beneath his notice, the sooner he would depart her side.
“Yes,” she said crisply. “In fact, I have a good idea of what manner of vampire it might be.”
He lifted one thin eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”
Now was her opportunity to use another of the talents that women possessed, and men despised. She would chatter without giving him a chance to respond, going on and on until he regretted seeking her out.
She inhaled deeply, then began.
“According to my research, when a new vampire is created by their maker, they possess a fearsome hunger. Most times, the maker assists the fledgling by restraining it in a cage and providing it with sustenance. It is believed that the maker does this because newly made vampires do not possess the willpower to keep their victims alive and often leave easily identifiable marks upon the corpses. Now, one can surmise based upon the series of deaths in recent newspaper articles that there is something more at play in this situation, as the deaths have occurred but are being disguised through the removal of flesh on the neck and the appearance of other wounds. Therefore, it is my supposition that a vampire is intentionally allowing their children to roam free in this area. I intend to find that maker and dispatch them before any other innocents die.”
He chuckled. “So, you see yourself as some kind of hunter?”
Slightly dizzy from her rapid speech and frustrated by his continued presence, she huffed. “Yes.” She wouldn’t tell him about her family or her ancestry, as that would only add legitimacy to her claims. “So, you see, it would be better for you to leave. My mission is very dangerous.”
“Oh, but now I cannot.” He crossed his arms and nodded. “If there are vampires lurking about, it would be ungentlemanly to leave you unprotected.”
