Hours had passed since the vampire had left, and Father’s body was cold, but Felicity stayed curled up against his side. Every time she stood, her parents’ sightless eyes seemed to cut through her, as if demanding to know why she had done nothing to stop what had happened.
Icy fingers caressed the back of her neck. “What’s wrong?”
She tried to bark a command for him to keep his distance, but the words clotted in her throat.
“We don’t have to do this,” he said. “If it’s too difficult—”
“No!” She exhaled harshly. “No. I-I’ll be fine.”
It was only a momentary burst of fear, an irrational reaction to a situation that reminded her of the cupboard in which she’d cowered that awful night. If she surrendered and allowed him to take her back to the safety of the townhouse, she might never avenge her parents’ deaths.
“Are you sure?” Mr. Drake curved an arm around her shoulders. “There’s no shame in a strategic retreat. It would break my heart to see you cry again.”
The blackguard was baiting her. “You set this up.” He’d remembered how she’d reacted when they’d been locked in the exhibit. She shoved his arm away. Channeling her anger made it easier to ignore her rising panic. “It won’t work.”
He grinned. “Well, I had to try.” Then, he slapped his palm on the door and pushed it open, flooding the vestibule with light and cigar smoke.
“See anyone familiar?” he asked.
She surveyed the space, which was cramped with tables. The vampire occupants looked at her the way a rat might scrutinize a bit of cheese left on the prong of a trap before the jaws closed shut around its neck.
“No,” she said. Then, quieter, she added, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
A lanky man in a shabby, brown woolen suit stood from a table in the corner of the room and made his way to them.
She tensed.
“Don’t react,” Mr. Drake whispered. “Remember who you’re supposed to be.”
That was right. She was playing the role of his human concubine. Such a person would not be afraid because they would trust their master to keep them safe. At least, that was what she assumed, based on the few humans present. They were draped over their vampire counterparts with half-lidded eyesand open mouths. If she was going to survive this encounter, she would have to become a better actor.
She leaned into Mr. Drake and copied the other humans. It seemed to work, as when the unfamiliar man reached them, he hardly glanced at her.
“Drake,” the man said, spitting the word like a curse. “Did I not make it clear what I’d do to you if I saw you again?”
She squeezed Mr. Drake’s arm until he flinched. He deserved it for taking her to a place where he was not welcome. There were far too many vampires to fight. If they discovered she was a hunter, she’d be dead before she could draw her sword. She would have to rely on Mr. Drake to guide her safely through the night.
It was not a pleasant prospect.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her tightly against him. “I apologize, Wormwood, but this one desperately wanted to see me gamble. Isn’t that right, darling?”
She giggled. “Oh, yes. Win me enough to buy a new carriage.” She would make him regret his words when they were free of the building and out of danger.
Mr. Wormwood gestured behind him. “If you’re willing to risk your coins, perhaps you would be interested in joining my table.”
Mr. Drake stiffened. Something about that offer obviously did not appeal to him. Unfortunately, she had a feeling that they had little choice, as the rest of the room had fallen silent. She stayed tucked to his side as he followed the other man to a table, then copied the postures of the other humans by wrapping her arms around him from behind.
A faint floral scent clung to his hair, and the muscles of his shoulders were pleasantly firm beneath her hands. Still, she hadn’t ventured into the territory of her enemy to spend the night fawning over her guide. While he distracted Mr.Wormwood, she observed the room. It didn’t take long to confirm that the few non-human women present were not the one she sought.
Mr. Drake shuffled and dealt. When he was done, he held his cards so she could see. She didn’t know the game they were playing, but if it was anything like whist, then his hand was terrible. That didn’t seem to stop him, though, as he studied his cards for several seconds before sliding a large stack of coins another man had placed in front of him into the center of the table.
“What are you doing?” she whispered. She didn’t care if he lost all of his money, but did not want him to draw attention to them.
He tweaked her nose. “Wish me luck, darling.”
So, he had turned this into a game of his own. She hoped he would lose everything. Maybe that would teach him not to bring her into hostile territory. She adopted a fake smile and crooned, “Good luck!” Then she pinched his side.
Hard.
