Winifred was a vampire hunter.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Winifred all butskipped down the hall, her cheeks aching from grinning. Marcus was everything she’d ever desired in a husband; intelligent, kind, and attentive to her needs. As it turned out, she had many needs. Her appetite in one area was voracious, but he had proven more than capable of satisfying it. After their vigorous activity, she felt as if she had been using muscles she didn’t know she possessed. They had yet to truly consummate their union, but that milestone seemed within reach. She wasn’t sure why that one act mattered so much, but Marcus’s reluctance made her oddly determined.
When she arrived at the library, she picked up the first of the books her husband had once again left on her table. To no surprise, it was another occult manuscript. She’d meant to ask him about his choice of material, but every time they were alone, she found herself consumed by other matters.
She opened the book. The first chapter gave a history of vampirism as far as the author was aware, starting in the sixteenth century. It also included what amounted to a vampire family tree, with many branching paths. The most prolific of the vampires described had made more than a hundredfledglings, as the book called them. The author did not elaborate on how these vampires were born but alluded to a sharing of blood. She jotted that down for a topic of future research. The people listed, she guessed, were like suspected witches in Salem. Poor souls who’d been persecuted likely for matters beyond theircontrol. If Marcus had been alive and suffering his attacks during the same era, he would likely have been branded a witch or a vampire, too.
She found it tremendously ironic that her species had invented monstrous creatures to explain things they did not understand when it was humanity that possessed unfathomable depths of cruelty. Vampires might drink the blood of innocents, but she’d yet to find stories of any who’d branded children the way her uncle had.
She flipped the pages until one name caught her attention.
Lucius Sorrow.
Her maternal great-grandfather.
A distant whine, like a kettle, drowned out the crackling of the fire. She might have dismissed it as a coincidence except for the small symbol of a sun next to his name.
She rubbed her sore neck with one hand. There was no reason to be alarmed. Seeing one of her ancestors in an ancient text meant nothing. Then she noticed the writing at the top of the page and stiffened. She’d apparently passed the chapter on suspected vampires and moved onto something quite different:vampire hunters. If she was reading correctly, Lucius Sorrow was credited with taking dozens of lives.
But that was impossible. The stories her mother had told her as a young girl were just that—stories.
She slammed the book shut as if it had bitten her and shoved it aside. After the night her uncle had burned the sun into her and Felicity’s flesh, she had turned her back on her family lore. The manuscript in front of her had to be a forgery because the only other possibility was that the tales she had been told as a girl were true and she was the product of a line of murderers that went back centuries. She closed her eyes but could not chase the memory of the pages from her mind. Hundreds, if not thousands, of innocent people slaughtered because of a misguided belief in creatures that did not exist.
She wandered out of the library in a haze and returned to her room. When she arrived, there was a letter waiting. The exact distraction she required. She snatched it and cracked the seal.
Winifred,
I must see you at once. As I am uncertain if this letter will be intercepted, I cannot say more, but please understand that I would not ask you to do this if it were not urgent.
Our uncle is accompanying me to the Glasgow museum, where several Sorrow family artifacts are to be placed on display in a temporary exhibit. Please write back as soon as you can and let me know if you could join me for a few days. I am certain we can create a sufficient distraction to keep him away for a few hours. We will be staying at the following hotel…
The tone of the letter was alarming. Winifred found a blank sheet of paper and composed a response that she would, of course, meet her cousin at the specified hotel. She would have to broach the subject with Marcus, given that he couldn’t join her on the journey, but surely, he wouldn’t refuse her request. When she finished the letter, she sealed it and set it aside. Even if it didn’t reach Felicity in time, she knew her cousin would assume she would join her by any means necessary.
The knowledge that she would soon see Felicity again lifted her spirits. They had so much to talk about. She stood from her desk and busied herself with rifling through her wardrobe to select outfits for her trip. It was the job of her lady’s maid, but she didn’t care. Anything was better than thinking about that manuscript and what it meant that Marcus had left it for her.
Had he wanted her to see Lucius’s name?
She would not be staying in Glasgow long, but her red corduroy walking suit would be perfect for the crowded city streets.
Maybe Marcus had known her family’s shameful history all along, and this was his way of telling her.
Her silver, velvet dress was tempting, but theweather was too warm, and it was unlikely she would have the opportunity to attend social events. She heaved it out of the closet, anyway, and was in the process of shoving it in a trunk when she heard a knock.
“Come in,” she said, without looking up.
The door creaked open, and Winifred heard a soft gasp. “My lady, you must allow me to do that!”
Winifred looked down at the half-full trunk and straightened. Keenan was correct. She’d become so desperate to forget what she’d seen that she’d engrossed herself in the task as a distraction.
Keenan bustled over to the wardrobe as Winifred perched on the chair in front of her dressing mirror.
“Do you ken which activities you might partake in?” Keenan asked as she folded a blue silk day dress.
“I will not be staying in Glasgow long. Perhaps a day or two.”
Her new marriage was too important to remain away for much longer. She’d left Toronto prepared to accept a life focused on scientific and academic pursuit. Instead, she’d found a relationship that was more fulfilling than publishing any number of papers.
