Dawn Thompson (32 page)

“Brotherhood? What
Brotherhood?
” she snapped at him.

“He calls it the
Brotherhood of the Vampire Wolf
—vampires like us, who have embraced the blood moon ritual—resisted the lure of the undead, and become hunters of the very thing we are—
vampir
. What we had together was beautiful, Cora . . . beautiful and fine, but it must end here and now, while we still can end it. I have nothing to offer you. I do not even know who—or
what
I am; neither does Milosh. Now that I know that, I could not burden you with such an existence.”

“And what if I do not look upon it as a burden?”

“It is not your decision to make, Cora. You are not the one afflicted. It is over.”

“When did you come to this decision—while you held me naked in your arms in that bed? Or was it when you seized me like a madman before you went back out into that . . . that madness earlier? Is that why you came bounding back through that front door down there in your wolf’s body nearly knocking poor Parker off his
feet, just to shapeshift back and dress and saddle two horses?”

Joss’s eyes flashed toward her, quicksilver jousting with shimmering blue. He reached her in one giant stride and seized her upper arms, shaking her gently, though the motion jarred her welled-up tears loose and they streamed down over her hot cheeks.

“What are you talking about?” he said through clenched teeth. “Answer me, Cora! When? What happened?”

“Don’t you remember what you do in wolf form?” Cora snapped. “You had just left me. I was on my way up to my suite when there came a sound at the door. I watched from the shadows. Parker opened the door a crack, spoke to you, opened the door wider and you bounded past him and disappeared toward the servants’ wing. You nearly knocked the poor man down. Were you in so much of a hurry to evict me from your life?”

Joss’s scalp drew back. His eyes bored into her; wild, feral lights danced in them, catching red glints from the resurrected fire in the hearth. “That was not me!” he pronounced. All at once he let her go and streaked toward the door.

“What do you mean it wasn’t you?” Cora cried, rushing after him. “I saw you with my own eyes!”

“You saw a gray wolf with your own eyes, but not
my
gray wolf. I was with Milosh until dawn, killing vampires, Cora. Lock this door and open it to no one but me—not anyone, is that clear? I’ll be back as soon as I get to the bottom of this.”

“Joss, what is it?”

“Don’t you understand?” he snapped, prying her
hand off his arm. “It wasn’t me! If Parker let a wolf into the Abbey, he’s let in a vampire, and that vampire can now invite others to enter. If what you say is true, we are under siege inside and out. Now, lock this damned door and pray you dreamed that wolf!”

Joss stepped into the hallway, his hands fisted by his head as if he meant to keep his brain from bursting. He started first in one direction, jerked to a halt and started in the other. He raked his hair back ruthlessly and leaked an agonized groan, then bellowed at the top of his voice:
“Par . . . ker!”

At his back, the sound of a bolt being thrown, and a bitter sob shot him through like cannon fire. He had hurt her, but at least now she would do as he told her. Finally she knew what she was facing under his roof. It was done, and he would stick to his decision. He could offer her nothing but danger and heartache. He had to let her go.

He shouted for the valet again, and the servants’ wing door snapped open. So did the door to the toile suite. Milosh burst into the corridor and swaggered toward him at the same instant the valet shuffled toward him from below leaking a string of expletives under his breath, his sparse gray hair fanned out like a misshapen halo that had slipped down over his ears.

“There are bellpulls in the chambers, sir,” the valet
grumbled. “You needn’t shout the house down. You’re making enough noise to raise the dead!”

“You’d best pray not, old man,” Joss snapped.

Milosh reached him. “What’s happened?” he asked, his dark eyes as black as onyx.

“They’re in the house, thanks to Parker here!” Joss railed.

The valet gave a start and backed up a pace. “Never!” he blurted. “The only thing I let inside this Abbey was you yourself, sir, when you came barging in before! You nearly knocked me down.”

“That wasn’t me,” Joss pronounced, his voice dangerously calm.

The valet’s jaw dropped. What little color he had left his face. “It was!” he cried. “It had to be—that great gray wolf with the mask about its face. Why, I’d know it anywhere. Young miss saw it, too.”

“Have you any idea how many masked gray wolves we have slain out there?” Joss said. “They are a common variety.”

The valet’s posture sagged, and he sank down on the settle beside the master suite door. He couldn’t speak. Though he opened his mouth to do so, no words came, and Milosh placed a hand on the poor man’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes.

“There’s no use lamenting it now,” he said. He nodded toward the master suite door. “Come away,” he said, raising Parker up. “The walls have ears now, and we do not want to frighten young miss.”

“Go below, Parker,” Joss said, his voice strained, “and assemble the others in the servants’ hall. Tell them only that I wish to meet with them collectively. We will join you directly.”

Then, turning Milosh toward the front stairs, Joss
sprinted along the corridor, over the landing and into the study. He threw open the liquor cabinet, took down a silver decanter and stalked back out into the corridor. The Gypsy followed at his heels.

“What do you do?” Milosh asked.

“Holy water,” Joss explained, exhibiting the decanter. “There is nothing for it. The others have to know now—not all of it, of course. Not about you and me or my parents. They know only that we are vampire hunters, not that we ourselves are infected. No one would work here if that were the case.”

“Is it wise, telling them anything?”

“It is
necessary,
Milosh. They are in danger. I should have warned them earlier and now I have no choice. The creatures are in the house! Whatever creature it was that Parker admitted will invite the rest. We have to find and destroy it, and even then . . . We don’t know how many it has already let in. Pray God it is not the sort that can go about in daylight.”

“Take care, young whelp. You don’t want to start a panic.”

“I don’t want any more dead or infected servants on my conscience either,” Joss snapped. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m about.”

Joss tried to ignore Milosh’s sidelong glances as they made their way below. The Gypsy might have more experience in the field of vampire hunting, but Joss knew how to handle his motley crew of excitable servants. If Grace was still abed grieving for poor Bates, with any luck she could remain in ignorance as long as she was watched. That would have to be up to Amy. But then, what to do about Cora? That decision had to be made in great haste, while they still had daylight, when the vampires who could bear it were drained of their powers.

It was with relief that he found as he entered the servants’ hall that at least one of his hopes had been fulfilled; Grace Bates was not among the gathering. But that made his task no less formidable. He still had to deal with Cook, Rodgers, Amy and the despairing Parker, the picture of contrition.

“Well done,” Joss said to the valet. “Is Grace not well enough to join us, then?”

“No, not, sir,” said Parker. “Cook has just dosed her with an herbal draught, and I thought it imprudent to wake her for this. But if you wish—”

Joss raised his hands in a staying gesture. “No, no, let her stay as she lies,” he said. “I am not encouraged with her progress, and as soon as things are settled here I shall have the doctor in.” He glanced toward Cook, twisting the corner of her apron in obvious dread of this unprecedented visit below stairs; something that just wasn’t done. They all looked awestruck, come down to it. He refused to let that daunt him. “Continue your herbals until I can have Dr. Edwards in,” he said to her. The woman nodded and sketched a graceful curtsy despite her age and girth.

Joss cleared his voice. “Very well then,” he began, “. . . we have a situation here that you must be made aware of before nightfall. You all know my parents vocation . . . and mine, for I have joined them in it; we are vampire hunters. You know such things exist. Some of you—even Parker here—has had someone harmed by these creatures.” He glanced around the gathering. Rodgers, Cook and Amy had sunk into chairs at the table. Parker was the only one standing. Joss had their rapt attention, and he turned toward the Gypsy at his side and went on quickly.

“You have all met my houseguest, Milosh,” he said. “He, too, is a vampire hunter—one of great renown. He
is our family friend from Romania, where such things are commonplace, and he couldn’t have arrived at a better time.”

A dark murmur rumbled through the group, and Joss cleared his throat above it. “Yes,” he repeated, “his visit is a timely one, because there has been an outbreak of vampirism hereabout. When I came upon Miss Applegate’s carriage bogged down in the snow, she was the only occupant that wasn’t infected. I reached her just in time. Some of those others have been destroyed, but not all, and those who survived have infected many in the village.”

As if on cue, howling began, audible even there, in the lower regions of the Abbey. “Do you hear that?” he said. “I must be honest, there are many outside. But you will be quite safe as long as you remain calm and keep your wits about you. Milosh and I will deal with these, though we cannot do so without your cooperation. That is why I’ve given strict instructions that no one but Parker answer the door. No one must be admitted—not even an animal.”

Their gasps and murmurings grew louder, and Joss slapped the silver holy water decanter down on the table, silencing them. If they panicked over what he’d told them thus far, he didn’t want to imagine how they would react to the news that one or more vampires might already be in the house. He chose his words carefully.

“We have been very diligent,” Joss went on, “but despite our efforts there is a possibility that one of these creatures may have gotten past our defenses and entered the Abbey—”

An uproar responded to that, and all three servants seated at the table vaulted out of their chairs.

Joss picked up the decanter and set it down before
Cook. “Holy water,” he said. “Use your herbal vials, and divide this equally—one for each of us. It will not destroy a vampire, but it should chase one off long enough to keep you from harm. Carry it with you always. If you should need more, come to me.” That was enough to tell them. They needed hope. With luck they would never have to learn that some
vampir
were immune to holy water.

“Beggin’ your pardon, sir,” said Amy. “You’re sure there’s one o’ them creatures in here?”

“It is a distinct possibility,” Joss said. “You will need to see that Grace is guarded, since she cannot protect herself in her present state.”

“Y-yes, sir,” Amy mewed, passing an audible gulp.

“Look around you,” Joss went on, addressing the group. “With the exception of Grace and Miss Applegate, the only people that belong inside this Abbey are here in this room right now. Should you see anyone else—human or animal—you are to come to me straightaway. Do
not
approach any stranger on your own. If you encounter anyone—
any thing
out of the ordinary, come for me or Milosh at once. You are to take his orders just as you take mine. Is that clear?”

Another murmur broke the silence, accompanied by reluctant heads bobbing. It would have to do, and Joss took a ragged breath—the first time he’d filled his lungs completely since he began his address.

“Good!” he said. “My previous order still stands. Ignore the door; Parker will be the only one to answer if anyone knocks. Go about your business as usual. Keep your holy water at hand, and come to me with anything untoward that might occur. Milosh and I aren’t alone. Others are coming to our aid. Meanwhile, stay inside the Abbey until I give you leave to go abroad, and carry
on as usual. You are dismissed.” He turned to go, then turned back. “Not you, Parker,” he said. “Come with us.”

The trio had scarcely left the servants’ hall when Parker sketched a bow. “I cannot thank you enough for allowing me to man the door still . . . after . . . after what I’ve done, sir,” he said.

“I’m confident that you won’t make that mistake again,” Joss replied as they climbed to the first-floor landing. “I called you aside because I do not wish that the others know any more than I’ve just told them. It’s important, Parker. If they knew what you know, they would likely flee and the creatures lying in wait outside would have their way with them. I won’t have that on my conscience. If that were to occur . . . well, death would be a kindness. Am I making myself plain?”

“Y-yes, sir, perfectly plain,” the valet stammered, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Good.”

“They all knew something was afoot, sir,” Parker said. “They saw the bonfire. I’m glad you told them what you did, because they also know I am privy to more than they, and I was hard put to appease them with explanations.”

“I shan’t deceive you, Parker,” Joss said, “we are under siege here. You needs must look sharp. Milosh and I will search the Abbey now, before dark, for the creature you let in. It’s still here; I’d stake my life upon it. It will stay where it can invite others in once the sun sets. Let us hope it hasn’t done so already.”

“I am so dreadfully sorry, sir. I thought—”

“There’s no time here for that,” Joss interrupted. “Go about your business as usual, and try to keep the others calm. With any luck, when the sun rises again this nightmare will be over.”

The valet shuffled off, and Milosh turned to Joss. “I’m
glad you didn’t mention your stabler,” he said. “That lot would never take the way he passed in stride.”

“It would be best if they think he’s run off—at least for now, while the danger still exists. Everyone loved poor Otis. He was a loyal servant . . . and a good friend, poor blighter.”