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“Doubtful.” Hunting was not one of her interests. “I’ve never fired a pistol.”
“Have Luis teach you along the way. He’s bringing enough ammunition, silver and lead, that you needn’t worry.”
“And this?” Charlotte removed the stake for closer inspection. “Isn’t driving a wooden stake through a vampire’s heart an old Earth superstition? It doesn’t work here.”
“It will hurt,” Solenne said, “and it might work. I checked the family logs, but we haven’t fought a vampire in a long time.”
“Oh, how truly delightful it is that you are from a family of monster hunters. Speaking with you is always interesting.”
Solenne sat next to Charlotte on the truck, despite there barely being enough room. Charlotte set the wooden stake back in the case and scooted as far to the edge as she could.
“My family has hunted monsters for generations,” Solenne said. “You’d do well to listen to my expertise. Someone once told me that I was quite an accomplished monster slayer.”
“I believe I said you were well-read on stabbing and poisoning, but I do not doubt your prowess with monster-slaying.” Charlotte brushed her fingers across the pistol, noting the lack of detail on the handle. It looked antiquated, boxy, and rough, like it had been made by a person trying to rediscover a lost craft. When the settlers’ technology failed, they had to figure out how to survive without tech. Often that meant learning to make the basic components of civilization from books. The original settlers had to rediscover how to spin wool, weave fabric, forge metals, build carts, and a hundred other crafts, but weapons were mastered quickly.
Six bullets were nestled alongside the pistol, smooth and well-made. They gleamed in the sunlight like the promise of trouble. She’d never fired a gun before, and here she was equipped with a portable arsenal.
“I’m not there to assassinate Draven,” Charlotte said.
“It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“He’ll assume the worst if he discovers this case,” Charlotte said. Draven—if he were the original Draven in the history books—had a vicious temper.
“He’ll assume you came prepared to defend yourself. Some men appreciate that. It makes for interesting conversation.”
Charlotte laughed. Her friend never experienced the joy of a social season in Founding, the center of the civilized world. When she was young, before her family’s fortune had diminished and her father was still a respected scholar, she did her time on the marriage mart. Nothing came of it, of course, other than she grew to understand that most gentlemen did not care for interesting conversation from a young lady. They cared about a woman’s face and her fortune.
Some men might crave stimulating conversation, but she had no idea what Draven craved. Well, blood, presumably. He was, after all, not entirely human.
Solenne took the case from Charlotte. “If you think the vampire will react badly, you don’t have to take it.”
“No, you have a point. I should be prepared to defend myself,” Charlotte said. Draven asked for a year’s companionship as his bride. What exactly that entailed, she could not say. She had her suspicions. He would have demands of her. Fine. She had demands of her own.
Charlotte patted her friend’s hand. “Thank you for the gift, although I’m surprised you’re not trying to talk me out of this.”
Solenne shrugged her shoulders. “I know not to waste my breath. Now, your gift.” She opened the satchel and produced two tin canisters. “This is a tea of vervain, nightshade, and rose.”
Charlotte wrinkled her nose. “That sounds dreadful.”
“It’s supposed to make you taste dreadful. One teaspoon, let it steep for five minutes. No more. It is poisonous.”
Charlotte took the canisters. “Poison tea. You’re so thoughtful.”
“So you’re not pressured into a situation you’re uncomfortable with.” She sounded so matter-of-fact, but Charlotte noticed the way her gaze went anywhere but Charlotte’s face.
“There’s something else,” Charlotte said, reading her friend’s expression.
Solenne nodded. “I realize this is a topic usually tackled by mothers, but, well—”
They had both lost their mothers. “Go on,” Charlotte said.
“And you may not wish to discuss this with your father.” Solene took a deep breath and blurted, “Do you have any questions about what to expect on the wedding night? Heavens, this is awkward.” Her face burned scarlet.
“Thank you, but I am not…inexperienced in that regard.” Charlotte wore a matching blush. “I was married, after all.”
“Goodness. How did you find the time? I was run off my feet that day.” Solenne sounded genuinely impressed.
“Oh, we, um, celebrated a bit early,” Charlotte said, blushing so furiously she felt she might burst into flames.
