Page 30 of The Duke’s Bloody Bargain

“Who else?” Darius said.

“Why didn’t he kill her?” I asked.

“As Darius said, the rogue isn’t at his last stage.” Alex slowed his pace as if tired. Sweat dampened his skin. “If the rogue wants to turn her, I don’t see what he has to gain either.”

“We must patrol the streets of Whitechapel at night,” Darius said. “Find this bloody rogue.”

We remained silent until we climbed into the carriage.

Alex slumped in the seat. “Perhaps this is the price I have to pay for Carabosse’s spell. Weakness in the sunlight. It’s killing me.”

“If it stops here, it’s not that terrible.” I laced my fingers through his.

“I doubt it’ll stop here.” Darius sounded so serious and certain Alex didn’t reply.

If that was the beginning of a big change in Alex, then what would the end be?

10

NOT FAIR

Alex

The last thing I needed was a meeting with the Fair Duchess, Esmeralda, and bloody Knight. But the day after we’d visited Lucy, Her Grace had asked to see us in Winterdale, the mansion close to Whitehall, which was considered neutral territory among the courts. Its walls radiated magic so intense that our powers didn’t work, guaranteeing a more equal environment, meaning that, if we wanted to beat each other up, we had to be creative.

Knight greeted me with a curt nod of his head when I entered the library. The shelves loaded with books and the heavy drapes blocked the light of the dying sun, for which I was grateful. But I didn’t appreciate the large painting depicting the mediaeval Countess of Saragossa, the first known vampire slayer, stabbing a vampire in the chest.

Hunters were humans who acquired uncanny strength and speed by drinking a potion, or so the legend said. They were bent on killing wizards, vampires, werewolves, and even fairies. The countess had been one of them. I’d never met one so far.

With her flaming red cape and dark hair flapping around, the countess looked like an avenging angel.

Instead, the vampire appeared to be a monster with a distorted face, pointed ears, and claws. Annoyingly, the scent of blood wafted from the painting, and if I focused, I could hear the growls from the vampire and the war cry of the countess.

If the magic in the mansion didn’t suppress my vampire powers, my fangs would already be out.

“You aren’t alone.” Knight nodded at another painting where St. Patrick used a bow and a silver arrow to slay a werewolf in the act of leaping.

“Interesting how there aren’t scenes showing fairies being slaughtered.”

He clicked his tongue. “The hunters killed fairies as well. I find these paintings obscene.”

“They shouldn’t be here.”

The crackling of the fire filled the silence.

“News?” I asked Knight in a low tone.

He glanced at the set of double doors where two footmen were standing. “Nothing. My werewolves and I patrolled the streets last night. We visited the gaming den where those men had been found dead. We didn’t catch any signs of a vampire. Whoever he is, he’s damn fast and doesn’t leave traces. Not even his scent.”

“Which means he must be ancient.” I had to look away from his neck because the damn thirst reared its head at the sight of Knight’s thick veins. “What about Lucy?”

He shifted his weight and averted his gaze. “The same. No improvement.”

“You took a shine to her.”

He drew his eyebrows together. “Shut up.”

“Are you fifteen?” I chuckled. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”