A Night of Secrets (17 page)

“In prison?” Her unreadable face was back, showing no emotion.

He paced the room, a warm, comfortable room with a roaring fire. Was Meg cold? Most likely. Humans couldn’t take the chill weather for long. He doubted the Constable provided blankets and if he did, they’d be invested with lice and fleas. “For murder.”

She stiffened. “For murder?”

He waved his hand through the air, dismissing her comment. “Yes, yes, but not Emma’s, another.”

Millie stood, smoothing down her skirts. “Gray, the woman is a suspect of two murders, yet you don’t think she is capable? One, I could understand, but two?”

“I know, I know. It’s just that, well, she’s the daughter of a Vicar. For all intents and purposes, supposed to be a good girl.”

Her face grew soft and she tilted her head to the side. “Oh Grayson, you know as well as I what a human can hide.”

“I know,” he said, stopping next to the windows and staring out into the black night.

“Humans are complicated, they like to hide things. They’re not like us…accepting, open, honest.”

Honest and accepting with each other, perhaps, but not with humans. But they kept their secrets for a reason; humans would never understand. He barely heard her words, lost in his own thoughts. Was Meg frightened?
Merde!
He didn’t bloody well care. He slammed his fist into the wall, the plaster cracking.

“Well, that’s settled then,” Millie drawled out, coming to stand next to him. She rested her hand on his upper arm. “I’m worried about you.”

He laughed, a forced joviality he did not feel. “Why?”

“When are you going to accept the fact that your father is right? You’re not a monster Gray. If you want to have a normal life, you can. If you want to marry a human, then do it.” She shrugged. “Although I don’t know why you’d bother.”

But she was wrong. So wrong. They could never have a normal life, they couldn’t interact with Humans. Humans were weak, complicated. They’d be destroyed so easily. A woman like Meg wouldn’t last in his life. He’d do better to be like Millie and think of humans as food…if only he could.

“Yes, because my sister had such a normal life,” he couldn’t help but murmur.

Her school marm face was back in place. “We have no idea what happened to Emma, Gray. You can’t base your life on what happened to her.”

“You don’t think it odd that she should be murdered only four years after my parents? Murdered when it’s supposed to be near impossible to kill our kind? You don’t think it odd that so many of our kind are disappearing? Until I know what happened, I can’t possibly have any sort of normalcy, no matter how much I wish it.”

Millie sighed and walked away from him, pausing near the fireplace, although the flames would give her no heat. Nothing but feeding could warm their bodies. “I sensed two of our kind when we entered town.”

He stiffened. Blood suckers? In this small town? But why? They tended to stay near cities where they’d draw less notice. “They’ll find no one here and move on.” He hoped they were not stupid enough to feed off of a townsperson. The uproar would be immediate. The fear would cause panic.

He hadn’t sensed them when he’d arrived, but perhaps he’d been too focused on finding Collette. More likely too focused on Meg. Had he missed something? Had Lord Brockwell’s death been more than human?

Millie drew her fingers along the top of the mantel. “Yes, they’ll move on, but they might feed first.”

Annoyed, Grayson crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you getting at?”

She faced him, her head tilted to the side in an innocent manner. He didn’t fall for it in the least. “They feed on those who will bring the least notice. When drunkards and prostitutes aren’t available, where do vampires find their food?”

Realization hit like a punch to the gut. “The gaols,” he whispered.

******************************************************

A crisp breeze brushed through the small window, ruffling Meg’s skirt and sending shivers over her skin like the caress of a ghostly prisoner. She sniffled and drew her knees closer to her body. The plank bed creaked with the movement and she wondered if it would break from the stone wall from which it was chained. Dear God, she could not sit on the floor,
would
not sit on the floor.

Resting her forehead on her knees she bit her lower lip, that same lip Grayson had nipped the other day. There was no injury, no indication of what he’d done. But she remembered all the same. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if that could keep the tears from falling. Damn Grayson Bellamont! He could have stopped this nonsense; he could have reasoned with the Constable, instead, he’d stood by doing nothing. He probably took glee in the fact that she’d been detained.

“Miserable, wretched man!” She sniffed, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes to keep the tears from falling. It didn’t help, nothing helped. For the first time in years, she gave into her misery.

A squeak interrupted her quiet sobs. Meg stiffened, her eyes wide as she gazed around the dark enclosure. The shuffle of tiny feet scampered across the stone floor. Meg’s skin crawled.

“Oh dear God,” she whispered, drawing her legs tighter to her chest. She couldn’t take much more. They might have been poor, but their home had always been clean.

She held her breath, waiting for the rats to attack, to claw at her face and skin, to become their next meal. There was another squeak, a scamper of tiny nails fading and then silence. Instead of relief, she felt oddly bereft. Alone. She almost wished the mouse would return. Back home, she’d prayed for peace and quiet, now she wanted nothing more than to hear the annoying chatter of her family.

Her stomach rumbled, and she pressed her hand to her abdomen. Her mind went automatically to food. Why hadn’t she spent her time eating at the gathering, rather than doing something as pointless as searching Bellamont’s room? Now it was too late and she’d probably starve to death and it was all Grayson’s fault.

A soft murmur of voices rumbled down the corridor. Meg jumped to the ground. The quick movement sent the blood straight to her feet and she swerved, unused to standing. Frantic for information, she stumbled forward and clutched at the bars at the front of her cell, peering down that dark corridor.

In the deep recesses of her mind she was sure they were coming to hang her. The urge to curl into a ball and hide in the corner overwhelmed her. Rationally she knew there was nowhere to hide. No, what she needed was answers. Perhaps somehow her family had found a way to gain her release. Or perhaps Vicar Young had heard and was demanding her…

A tall, thin shadow morphed from the darkness, an unfamiliar human form. His boots thumped against the stone floor beating in time to her heart. He held no lantern and Meg was left to wonder over the man’s identity. She shivered, wrapping her arms around her waist and stepped back until her shoulder blades hit the cold, stone wall of her tiny cell. Condensation soaked through her back, chilling her skin, yet she didn’t dare move. Something was wrong…so terribly wrong.

“I smell something good,” the man’s words sounded harsh in the silent prison.

A deep chuckle rumbled from behind him. Another man? Two men? Meg narrowed her eyes, attempting to decipher their faces from the darkness. This was no rescue party. Her hands fisted, her fear escalating.

“What do we have here, Jim?” the first male asked. He stepped closer and the moonlight coming through her small cell window hit his face. A pale, narrow face with a long nose, but it was his eyes that horrified her. Eyes that glowed yellow. A terrifying dirty yellow that sent her spiraling back in time to London.

Meg bit her lower lip, a whimper clogging her throat. “No,” she whispered.

“I wasn’t expecting something so lovely, so pure, so clean.” The other man stepped forward, shorter, bulkier, and gripped the bars of her cell. His face like a pig and those eyes…those eyes glowed the same as the men in her nightmares. The men from London.

“No,” Meg whispered. This wasn’t happening. She was dreaming. Yes, she’d wake up soon. The monsters from her nightmares had not come for her. She would not be taken away into the darkness.

Jim closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. “I get her first.”

The other man growled, shoving his elbow into Jim’s gut. “You’ll drain her dead!”

Jim’s lips lifted into a snarl. “Sod off, Bill, there’s another meal down the hall.”

Bill’s eyes flared brighter, two tiny torches in the darkness. “Aye, but not as sweet as her!”

Even as fear sent her body trembling and she wanted to do nothing more than curl into a ball and cry, Meg straightened her shoulders. They couldn’t reach her, she was safely behind bars. “The…the Constable is coming. He won’t allow…”

Bill started laughing, a deep, rich chuckle that sent a shiver over her skin. He moved closer, Jim at his side. They were united once more in their desire. Damn, she should have kept quiet and hoped they’d fight each other to the death.

But she wouldn’t be afraid. No, she was tired of being afraid. In this cell, she was safe from monsters. They couldn’t get her. They didn’t have the keys. So why was she still trembling? Why was her panic so acute she thought she might get sick all over her stone floor?

“Constable!” she cried out, her voice echoing down the corridor.

“He’s not here, love. Went home for a nap, leaving you all unprotected, poor little dear.”

Jim chuckled. “I love it when they beg for mercy.” His lips lifted. Needle-like canines glowing in the moonlight. “Beg for mercy, be a love.”

What little light had found its way in the cell faded, the bars before her wavering in and out of focus. No, she was seeing things. They weren’t real. They weren’t real. They weren’t real.

“Beg for mercy, love. Come on now.”

They couldn’t get to her. She was safe behind those bars. Safe. Safe. Safe!

Jim picked up the padlock on her door, his gaze still focused on her. With a grin, he twisted the lock, turning and pulling until the metal scraped against metal. There was a large pop as the lock broke open. He tossed the metal pieces to the floor.

“No,” she whispered. Impossible.

The screech of hinges raised the fine hairs on her body. Panic flooded through her very being, leaving her trembling, chilled, sick. Fear like she’d never known, a fear that froze her in place. She knew, in that moment, she was going to die.

The door swung wide and the man’s smile widened. “She’d be easy enough to take here, but what’s the fun in that?”

Jim sighed. “Bloody hell, you’re going to make me chase her, aren’t you? Can’t we ever do anything the easy way?”

Bill turned to Meg and winked. “Up to you, me dear. We can feed on you here, or you can run.”

Feed on her. Their words made no sense, yet her fear was so incredibly real and through the bitter fear, Sally’s young face flashed to mind.

“
They only come out at night and….” She paused, her gaze flashing with excitement. “They feed on blood!”

Hanna’s mother had been a vampire.

“Well, which is it?” Jim stepped to the side, the door wide open. “We’ll even count to five, if Bill can manage that high.”

“Oh, sod off, Jim!”

Meg wasted no time. She clasped her skirts high and burst down the dark corridor, leaving them to argue amongst themselves.

The men’s laughter followed, taunting her. She ignored the sound. She didn’t dare turn to see if they followed. No, she couldn’t think. She had to run. Merely run. Darkness, speed and her wits were all she had. Meg turned the corner and slammed into someone.

“Ohh, no fun.” Bill’s glowing eyes stared down at her.

Meg started shaking. “Please, no.” How could she make them understand? Her family needed her. Her father…Hanna…

Bill patted her shoulders. “Awww, sweetheart, there we go, the begging has begun.”

His words burst through her fear. Made her angry. She would not beg. They would show no mercy. Meg cried out and shoved her knee into his groin.

He laughed, releasing his hold and stumbling backwards. “Yer a fighter, ye are. We should keep her as a pet, Jim.”

Meg spun around, preparing to run. Jim was there, standing only feet from her in a pool of moonlight. He wasn’t smiling. She knew their little game was over. His lips lifted, those long, pointed teeth glaringly white.

Meg froze, suspended between life and certain death. She could only pray it would be quick. The men stepped closer, one behind her, one in front. She was trapped. She was going to die.

“I get her first,” Bill muttered, his attention focused on Meg like a dog after a bone.

Meg’s fingers curled, the nails biting into her palms. She would not cry. She would not whimper.

She was going to die.

“Fuck ye,” Jim growled.

She could kick him again, and…and…hell, she didn’t know what she could do but she wasn’t going down without a fight. Meg opened her mouth to scream. Jim was on her, his bitterly cold hand wrapped around her neck, squeezing her throat until stars burst before her eyes. He shoved her easily against the rough, rock wall. His hard body pressed against her, pinning her to the stone.