Page 77

Story: The Gloaming

I relaxed and followed him through the first door on the right. Adam crossed the length of the room and opened the curtains with a heavy rope pulley. The sunrise took my breath away – pink, gold and violet painted the sky, transforming the space into a sunlit haven.

Bookshelves covered the far-left wall, floor to ceiling, with a wooden ladder attached to a runner. In the opposite corner stood a round table with eight seats. One place was set with an elaborate breakfast – far more than a single person could eat. I inhaled the familiar coffee and orange juice smell, thinking of my own less-than-exciting meal.

“Coffee, and perhaps some toast?” Adam asked, gesturing to the empty place beside him. He stood as I approached, waiting until I was seated before settling back into his own chair. Without answering, I reached for the toast rack.

“So. Yes. Research,” Adam said to himself, cutting up a piece of bacon on his plate.

I swallowed my mouthful. “Did you find anything useful?”

“I confess the findings have been interesting, but not particularly useful, no.” He poured more orange juice into his glass.

“But the diaries—”

“I didn’t return to the library after your departure. However, I understand Nick’s journals proved less than enlightening – and I suppose we might have expected as much, given that his memory is a far more extensive resource.” He paused. “I believeNick grew impatient with the lack of progress and set out to do some research of his own. He has been corresponding with Tom about Izzie’s impersonator.”

I almost spat out my coffee. “What?”

“I thought as much.” Adam continued to work his way calmly through his breakfast, spearing a mushroom and chewing it thoughtfully.

“Start at the beginning,” I demanded.

He sighed. “As I said, Izzie and Nick continued to scour the diaries. I went to bed.”

“So you had nothing to tell me yesterday,” I stated.

“I did not. Besides, we were having a pleasant time, were we not?” He smiled, and I returned it, rolling my eyes.

“Apparently, it all began shortly after your argument. He and Thomas have been investigating her background.” He paused, chewing another forkful thoughtfully.

“Tomal,” I corrected automatically. “But what about the man with the French accent? Have we got anything there?”

Adam held his hands up. “Izzie is investigating. Nick’s certain no one escaped his notice in Paris – he claims he’d remember creating another vampire.”

“And she has no leads?”

“If she does, she hasn’t shared them yet.” He dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “As for your mystery woman – Tom took a chance and ran a reverse image search on Izzie’s portrait. It seems cross-referencing it with murder cases narrowed things down.”

“And?” I pressed.

“She’s quite well documented. Older than I, from what they could determine.” He placed his knife carefully on his plate. “She’s had several personas over the years, most involving wealthy men who died of arsenic poisoning. I recall reading about a few of the crimes in the papers, though I had no idea it was the same woman.”

“Do we have a name?” I asked.

“Mary. Émilie. Hélène. Sylvia. Take your pick.”

I pulled a face. “Is she French too?”

He sat back in his chair and pulled a sleek mobile phone from somewhere behind him, scrolling through until he found what he was looking for. “Did she sound French when you spoke with her? From what I understand, she’s committed mariticide in several countries, so itisa possibility…”

“She didn’t speak, but she was… I don’t know. Annoying,” I admitted. “I didn’t pick up on anything else.”

“As I expected,” he nodded, turning the screen to me so I could see the image. “If it turns out sheis, it could be the link between her and her counterpart.”

It was a grainy image, black-and-white, but definitely a photograph. I could see the resemblance to Isabel immediately, but that wasn’t the most concerning part.

“Triple shot, venti, wet caramel macchiato, extra hot, extra foam. Every Monday and Thursday.” I frowned.

“Excuse me?”