Page 55 of Dark Embrace
Sarah walked past the graveyard. A thick, damp blanket of fog clung to the tombstones and the surrounding buildings. She braved a glance over her shoulder toward the slaughterhouses. The fog veiled them from sight though she knew they were behind her for the air was stained with the scent of blood andbutcheredmeat.
Beneath her cloak, she carried her cudgel, and her fingers curled tighter about it now. Killian had grinned when hesawit.
“What will you do with that?” he had asked with a lowchuckle.
“I shall cosh him on the head ifneedbe.”
“Yes, I believe you will.” He had caught her to him and kissed her, and held her against his chest, his laughter rumbling throughthemboth.
The sound had poured through her like chocolate, luscious and warm. She made him laugh. She brought him joy. There was such pleasure for herinthat.
Now, she walked on, quickening her pace, the chill of the night, or perhaps unease, making her teeth chatter. She resisted the urge to peer about, to search for some sign of Killian. She knew she would see no hint of his presence. He blended seamlessly with thenight.
The hunter. She shivered as she recalled his words, uncertain how she felt about that. He would do what he must to keep humans safe from one of his kind, but what did that make him? And what did it make her that she loved himnonetheless?
She turned onto Queen Street and continued toward St. Giles. They had determined that she would take the quickest way to Coptic Street this night, through alleys and courtyards, for that was the darkest route, the most isolated, and their best hope to draw out the man theysought.
Summoning the memory of her previous encounter with him, she recalled that he was tall, draped in a flowing black cloak, his hands gloved, his face shadowed by a low crowned hat. There was little enough to hint at his identity, but for some reason, she felt certain he was familiar. Not Mr. Watts. She had already crossed him off her list. Mr. Simon, perhaps? He was of a height, and there was the fact that, while he attempted to lay suspicion on Killian, he, too, had been present on the ward on the day of eachmurder.
But that was the conundrum. Thedayof each murder. Even if the deaths occurred during the night, Mr. Simon had been there during the day after the discovery of each body. If he was a newly turned vampire, how then did he manage to stand in thelight?
A sound distracted her, and she whirled to see a group of dark, furry bodies nosing at the gutter. Rats. Twitching her skirt aside, she made a soft exhalation thenwalkedon.
Keeping a wary watch on her surroundings, she passed the darkened chandler’s shop, and the black windows of the stores that dealt in all manner of birds and small animals. Between the buildings, the alleys and courts darted in all directions, made chilling and menacing by theimpenetrablefog.
In the distance, a dog began to howl, a solitary, mournful cry. Shivering, Sarah hesitated and looked about, the hair at her nape prickling and rising. She could hear the sound of her own breathing, harshandloud.
Drawing her cloak tight about her, she walked on, daring a glance over her shoulder that revealed nothing save darkness and mist. But she sensed him, the man who stalked her. Hehadcome.
And with him cameherfear.
The sound of footsteps rang hollowly on the cobbles closebehindher.
She froze, attuned to the faintestnoise.
The footsteps stopped as she stopped, and when she began her trek once more, the echo of booted heels hitting the stonesresumed.
A sharp trill of fear cut her, and she prayed Killian was behind her for she had no wish to confront the man—thevampire—on her own. No sooner did the thought coalesce, than the rising tide of her fear dissipated somewhat. Killianwaswatching, blanketed by the night. She had no doubtofthat.
Faint sounds carried from the surrounding streets and buildings, raucous laughter, a woman’s sobs, a baby’s frantic cries. But all she could focus on was the ringing steps of the vampire that followed her, his steps matched to hers, neither falling back nordrawingnear.
Just as she and Killian had planned, she turned down the same alley where the man who stalked her had cornered her before. Up ahead, the wooden cart was angled to block the way exactly as it had been the last time she walked this route. The thick vapor swirled around the wheels in ghostlyembrace.
She kept her steps even until she reached the wagon, then she spun to face the length of the alley, her back pressed against the rough wood, her pulse hammering a frantic rhythm. She felt isolated here, the fog building a boundary between her and the rest of theworld.
Before her, tendrils of mist stirred and parted, and she gasped as a dark shape emerged. Her heart slammed about in her chest like a bird desperate toflyfree.
She saw him then, the vampire, there before her, a handful of steps away. His cloak hung about his tall frame and the low crowned hat was pulled down on his brow as it had been when last he hunted her. Panic clawed at her, though she knew Killian was near, knew he would let no harmbefallher.
Her breath rushed in and out in short, panting gasps. Her arms trembled as she raised her cudgel, her full attention focused on the man who moved toward her, one step, another, bringing him closer and closerstill.
Slowly, he raised his hand toward her. Her heart leapt to herthroat.
The sound of cloth flapping in the wind carried to her, and a dark shape plummeted down from above, black cape rising like wings. She gasped and jerked back as Killian landed neatly on the balls of his feet, directly behind herpursuer.
With a hiss of surprise, the man began to turn, but Killian was on him, his lips peeled back in a feral snarl, his arm coming tight around the stranger’s throat, holdinghimfast.
With his hands clasped around Killian’s forearm, the man struggled to break his hold. His efforts were in vain. Regardless of how he twisted and clawed, Killianheldhim.