If death has come to me, it comes in a strange guise.
“Excuse me.” The older man interrupted her thoughts. “Are you Miss Maxine Parker?”
“I am.”
Her opinion of him carrying the air of a soldier was matched by his appearance. He had short, dark hair graying at the temples. Kept in a style that was all function and no form, he was every ounce the utilitarian creature she expected. His eyes were creased at the edges, and she knew it was from worry and not from laughter. He had seen grief. He had seen loss. He knew death, and he knew it well. The children behind him—they looked not much younger than Maxine herself, but they felt more youthful all the same—were marked with their own tragedies, but not nearly to his extent.
She could picture flashes of their memories in her mind’s eye. Bits and pieces of what they carried around with them in their souls. She had to push them away to keep from being overwhelmed. But she saw a trail of blood had led them here to her. They may not mean her harm, but they brought harm all the same.
The older man reached a hand to her. She hesitated for a moment before meeting him, taking a moment to ensure that she still wore her gloves. It was a reflexive action.
“My name is Alfonzo. Alfonzo Van Helsing. And I am hoping we might speak with you.”
Walter rose from his bow. He kept his gaze downturned. The sunlight hurt his eyes. It did not trouble his Master, who stood in front of a window, gazing out at the city beyond, pale hands clasped behind his back, his forefinger and thumb rubbing slow circles against each other as he thought.
The elder vampire cast an imposing and stark shadow over the floorboards and across his own shadow, mingling them together into one. Walter may not wish to stare into the sunlight, but he did not worry about it burning him overmuch. It would take significant and direct exposure to harm him, although its presence was hardly enjoyable.
He did not speak. He would wait until his elder addressed him. He knew better than to interrupt his thoughts.
Walter did.
His compatriot did not.
“Why can we not hunt in the streets at night? Your monsters can. It is a travesty and gloriously unfair,” Zadok whined from where he sat, draped on a chaise lounge by the wall, far out of the reach of the sun’s late-morning rays. His feet were up on the back of the wood frame, his head hanging off the portion where his feet were intended to go.
Walter shut his eyes to keep from rolling them.
His Master kept his voice even and devoid of the annoyance Walter was certain was there. “They are allowed a few a night. They are not free to kill with abandon, and I will not command them to starve. You have taken three pets since we have arrived in this city. You are not bereft.”
“One died last night.” Zadok squinted over at the window then covered his eyes with his arm. “I’m down to two.”
“That is your fault. It is no concern of mine.”
“I didn’t kill him. He killed himself.”
“I fail to see how that changes my statement. Make do with your two remaining toys, Zadok, and be happy I allow you that much.” The elder vampire paused. “Walter.”
“Yes, Master?”
“The ghouls are becoming too bold. They killed a man and left his head on a rail the other night. They must take their prey and eat below grounds in the tunnels. Ensure those responsible for the misstep are dismembered and fed to the rest.”
“As you wish, my Lord.”
“Tell Mordecai he is to see that the rest are kept hungry for a week. I will not have them ruining my plans over their insatiable bloodlust.” The elder vampire’s voice was a low rumble and did not need to be loud to be heard. It carried easily in the room, especially to their preternatural ears. “And tell Mordecai to keep his lust leashed as well.”
“I will do my best.” Walter felt his eye twitch. He was not fond of Mordecai. It was nothing personal. They were simply very different men. Attempting to convince the captain of his Master’s demon horde to keep his desires curtailed was quite like attempting to hold back the tide with a teacup.
Mordecai was an incubus, after all. Some things couldn’t be helped.
“Soon, this city will be ours, and those within it will be the same. We will stretch our grasp, and we will etch our new kingdom into this fledgling country. You will all be fed as much as you can desire. But now is the time for patience. We must play the game. One must not spook the flock if one wishes to catch more than one sheep.”
“Yes, Master,” Zadok said through a heavy sigh. The Frenchman did not care to be lectured, yet often found himself in precisely that position of his own accord.
The elder vampire tilted his head to the side slightly, long black hair falling along his shoulders in dark tendrils. “Both of you must stay on your toes. We have unwelcome company in our city. I smell them on the air. Hunters have come.”
Walter felt his eye twitch. “How many?” While he was not overly concerned, any hunters always meant more, and more meant trouble.
The elder vampire paused. “Three.”
“Only three?” Zadok snickered. “Send me after them tonight. I will deliver their heads to you by dawn. I will—”
“One of them is a Helsing.”
Zadok fell silent. Briefly. For as long as Walter suspected the Frenchman was ever capable of staying in such a state. It lasted a whole fifteen seconds, which was a remarkable feat on his part, before it shattered. “Merde.”
The older vampire chuckled and turned to face them, crimson eyes shining even in the dim light of the room. “Walter. One last thing for you, once you are done with the ghouls and Mordecai. This is a delicate matter. I trust you to treat it accordingly.”
He would complain about being sent on so many errands while Zadok had neglected to receive one, but he knew better than to speak his thoughts for two reasons. It would result in little more than having his arm torn from its socket and fed to the creatures who lingered below. And Zadok could not be trusted to fetch the mail, let alone be given a task of any importance.
So, he simply nodded and said nothing. “What is it, my Lord?”
His sire smiled. It was an unkind one. It was the expression of the pleasure of a predator moments before the kill. “The hunters have gone out of their way to meet with a young woman. I will need to find out why. Find me everything you can learn about one Miss Maxine Parker.”
Bowing low again, he folded one arm at his back and the other at his waist. “It shall be done.”
May the gods help you, Miss Parker. For I have seen that look on him before, and it spells your doom.
Maxine made tea.
What else was one supposed to do with guests? Manners demanded she serve them tea and cookies. She might have spent the better part of her life living in a Roma caravan, but it didn’t mean she hadn’t first been raised in “civilized’ society and taught all the ways she was meant to act.
Even if she was rather terrible at such things.
Even if she did hate it.
She guessed she hated it precisely because she was terrible at it. People rarely hated things they were good at. Focus, simpleton. She poured her three guests their tea and sat at her spot at the table, filtering her own through the strainer and into her teacup. She took it with a single cube of sugar and nothing else.