Page 41 of The Shadow of the Count

He would eat the eggs. Peter didn’t mind them soft.

Together they cleared the tray, then they dressed and got prepared to face the crew.

“Promise me we get a bath sometime soon,” Peter muttered. “I am foul.”

“You’re fine,” Donald said. “Remember Egypt.”

“Don’t torture me,” he said. “That was—sand in all places. I itched like I never had before in my life.” There had also been bugs. Sand fleas. Beetles. God, it had been horrid.

“Yes. I swear to you, I will bathe you when we return.” Don did make the best promises.

“Thank you.”

“Ah, Donnie and Peter,” Douglas called when they walked into the morning room, where a lunch collation was laid out. “Have you dined?”

“After a fashion.” Don smiled at his brother. “Did you sleep?”

“I did.”

Charles came to kiss his cheek, then Donnie’s. “I was at the hospital when you arrived. I have much to tell you about Reynaud.”

“Reynaud?” Don shivered, and Peter had to force himself not to go and hold him.

“Yes. The sanitarium patient? He’s quite the case. Richard had to go back, in fact.” Charles was so oddly matter-of-fact.

“Is he okay? Richard, I mean?”

Peter felt a frisson of jealousy at the concern, but he refused to give it voice. Donnie was here with him, after all. Not at the hospital with the good doctor.

“Yes, his patient is very agitated and unhappy. Swears the count promised him eternal life and more. He keeps cutting himself with wherever he can find.”

Peter frowned deeper, his eyebrows drawing down. Cutting himself? Why? To draw the monster?

Clark strolled over, munching sausage rolled in some kind of dough. “Blood to call to his master, I would bet.”

Peter couldn’t stop his nose from wrinkling. That sounded awful. Just horrifying.

“What will that do, exactly?” Douglas asked.

“Well, Reynaud thinks his master just cannot find him,” Charles said. “Which seems odd for someone powerful enough to grant eternal life.”

“The eternal life is attached to the blood, Charles. There’s no skill involved in that.” Clark looked up from his brandy. “He’ll come for the man, no question.”

“Damn.” Douglas shook his head. “I almost feel sorry for the fellow.”

“He’d be better off dead,” Jeb said. “Trust me.”

“We can only hope that’s the answer.” Clark sighed. “The doctor will have to protect him tonight. We have other duties.”

“We do.” Jeb looked at Donnie. “I’ll say it again. You ain’t got to come.”

“Of all of you, only I knew him well. I didn’t think I could do this, but I will.” Donnie squared his shoulders.

“You are a good man.” That was Yvgeny, who had hung back. “I will go to the doctor, to defend him, if I’m needed.”

“Thank you,” Don murmured. “He might need it indeed.”

Yvgeny smiled a bit. “He may have the science, but I have the folklore. We will need both.”