“The mistress says what a terrible night y’had,” Ella said, closing the top on the trunk with a quiet thud. “You were s’tired when you came in, I thought I was dressin’ a babe for bed. I hope you slept well.”
“I did,” Angelica said. Well, there is the answer to that question. Too bad Maia isn’t here for the confirmation that her sister’s virtue is still, indeed, intact.
Ella came forward, a renewed wave of neroli wafting from the warm towel, and Angelica rose from the tub. As she stood, she noticed two little marks low on the maid’s neck.
They looked like small red dots. Or puncture wounds.
The skin around them was smooth and white, and the circles were neat and each was perhaps the diameter of a tiny pea. As Ella shifted, draping the warm, scented towel around her, two more marks were exposed on the back side of her upper shoulder.
A chill replaced the steamy comfort from Angelica’s bath, and she couldn’t tear her eyes from the marks on Ella’s neck. She was suddenly, uncomfortably certain she knew from where those four wounds had come. If she hadn’t been witness to the carnage from the vampirs last night, Angelica might have thought little of it. But after seeing it for herself, she knew there was no mistaking bite marks.
The maid tucked the towel around Angelica and moved away, seemingly unaware of the horror that must be shining in her charge’s face.
Had she been attacked also? And Voss rescued her as well, bringing her to safety at Rubey’s? Try as she might, Angelica could see no other marks or scars on Ella’s arms or throat, and she was just about to be bold and rude and ask the maid about the marks when a loud shout erupted from below.
Ella turned, holding a chemise, and they both paused to listen. Loud thumps and thuds reverberated, followed by a scream and more alarmed shouting.
“What in heaven?” Angelica said, but she and Ella had both sprung into action. “Someone is in trouble.”
“Stay here,” Ella said, thrusting the chemise at her and then dashing to the door to peek out.
The sounds of what was clearly a struggle had become more violent, causing the little glass bottles on the dressing table to clink together as the walls and floor shook. More shouts and another scream, followed by crashes and a loud thud.
As Ella peeked out the door, Angelica struggled to tug the chemise over her damp body. Her fingers shook as she tied the lace at the neckline, and then the door slammed shut as the maid turned toward her with wide eyes. “They’re coming. I think we should hide.”
Angelica could hear the pounding of footsteps on the stairs and looked around for a weapon. The stool Voss had sat on, the brush and combs on the table, the chamber pot…the fireplace poker. She seized it and swung around, her hair sagging at the back of her neck and the chemise still sticking to her belly and the curve of her rear.
Ella, who had lost every bit of her previous efficiency in favor of stark terror, began to shove at the bed. Angelica recognized her intent and rushed to help her push it against the door. In her haste, she bumped against the flimsy dressing table, sending it and its contents crashing to the floor and against the fireplace brick.
“Blast,” she muttered, avoiding the broken glass and heaving at the bed, poker in hand. Now she’d done nothing but draw attention to their presence.
The ominous thuds of footsteps reached the top of the stairs by the time the bed was in place against the heavy door. Angelica whirled toward the shuttered window to see if it offered some possibility of escape. She felt the bite of glass under her heel and then the ball of her foot, but the sounds of violence in the hall beyond their door had other worries on her mind.
“Can we get out here?” she asked as she reached the window.
Ella had frozen in place. “It’s them,” she whispered, her eyes so wide Angelica was certain they’d pop from her skull. “They’re here! In the day!” Then she gasped and pointed down. “You’re bleeding!”
Angelica’s bloodied foot slipped on the stretch of wooden floor as she worked to unhinge the shutter. “That’s the least of our worries,” she snapped. “Can you help me?”
Where was Voss? Was he in the midst of the fight? Or was he not even here?
“Oh, lordy, lordy,” Ella said, grabbing the towel and thrusting it at Angelica. “Wipe it up! Quick, before they—”
She stopped with a little scream as something slammed into the door. The wooden slats bowed and creaked threateningly.
“Who is it?” Angelica shouted to Ella, who was doing nothing but gaping. The shutter released, opening so hard it rebounded against the wall and then back against her temple. Ignoring the unexpected pain, she yanked on the heavy window frame as she stood in tepid sunshine.
The door protested again under another, more ferocious onslaught, and Angelica gave a brief thought to the possibility that Voss might be the one attempting to gain entrance…but, no—surely if it were him, he’d be shouting at her to let him in.
At last, the window opened, and Angelica stuck her head out into the warm sunshine to look down…and down.
Blast! The street was two levels below, and she couldn’t see any way to—
There was a loud splintering sound behind her and Ella screamed again. Angelica turned, her heart in her throat, and reached for the poker. The door sagged and she could see two powerful arms reaching through a ragged hole, and just then, a booted foot smashed through near the bottom.
With no other choice, she rushed toward them, swinging the poker, slamming it at the fingers as they tore, bare-handed, at the iron-bound wood. She smashed the poker against one arm and then used its pointed end to stab at the other, then down at the foot kicking at the large hole.
Nothing seemed to stop the intruders; they kept ramming against the weakening door and Angelica tried to fight them back…but only moments later the pieces of wood fell away and two men burst into the room.
Angelica had the impression of hulking figures, burning eyes and the gleam of feral smiles. For a moment, she lost her breath, freezing in fear. But when one of them grabbed Ella and the other lunged for Angelica, she came back to life and swung her poker.
Her cut foot slipped again and she nearly lost her balance, but the poker met its mark, slamming into the side of the fiery-eyed man who reached for her. The blow didn’t seem to affect him, and he shoved the metal rod away as if it were a twig, sending Angelica skidding aside as Ella’s screams filled the room.
Somehow, Angelica managed to evade the grasping hands and dive under the bed. She lost the poker in the process, and huddled in the corner, frantically trying to think of an escape. If she could get past him and dash toward the doorway….
Suddenly, the bed rose, lifted straight above her, and then flew against the wall. Wooden pieces and bedding crashed in all directions, raining on her and giving her a moment in the flurry to dash to her feet.
She stepped on glass and tripped over a sheet, staggering against a piece of splintered bed frame. Terror gripped her as she fell and one of her attackers moved, trapping her where she crouched in the corner.
He paused, looking down at her as if to give her fear a chance to build. A tall man with broad shoulders and a long face, he had the glowing eyes she’d come to recognize as belonging to the vampirs. His hair was short and thick and curling, and he might have been considered attractive if it weren’t for the wildness of his smile, the pointed length of two of his teeth, and the murderousness in his eyes. And what looked like a streak of blood on his jaw.
Oh, God, help me.
Those eyes bored into her as a half smile twitched his lips, and he waited as if trying to lull her. Meanwhile, his chest rose and fell as if his own anticipation was heightened.
Angelica realized at that moment that silence had fallen. Even Ella was quiet. The only noise was her own gasping breaths and a soft, eerie gurgling sound that made the hair on her arms rise.
Something heavy and metallic-scented filled the air, and in that frozen moment, she realized it was blood. Lots of blood.
A horrified gasp escaped her and her fingers groped for something on the floor—a broken bottle, a piece of the bed, a pillow—anything. Her hand slipped through the puddle of blood gathering beneath her foot, roaming over the uneven wooden planks.
“Woodmore,” said the vampire. “Art thou Woodmore’s sister?” He stepped closer. “Speak now, or meet thy fate.”
A flicker of his attention to the opposite side of the room tricked her into looking there, where Ella lay half-sprawled across the tilted dressing table. The other intruder bent over her, his hand curled up into her hair. She’d stopped screaming and fighting, and even in her quick glance, Angelica saw the faint twitching of her feet and one hand. Blood stained the front of her gown and tinged her fingers.
“I am,” Angelica whispered, hoping that was the proper thing to say. The answer that would save her life…or gain her some time until Voss arrived.
Where was Voss?
“Chas Woodmore’s sister?” the man demanded in a voice that could only be described as disappointed. “The hunter?”
Hunter. Suddenly something snapped in Angelica’s mind—a vague memory crystallizing into a surge of hope. Stories from her childhood.
A stake. Right. A wooden one. Where? In the…in the heart.
“Yes,” she said to him as much as to herself. Yes, that was how the story went. Not the metal poker; that wouldn’t help. But wood.
A piece of the bed.
Now she felt blindly on the floor with purpose.
His eyes bored into her and she felt a surge of fear. He looked as if he wanted to tear her into pieces. His smile revealed two sharp incisors and as his grin widened, she saw that his teeth and gums were stained red.
With blood.
“Methinks you lie,” he said. A hand swung down and grabbed at her, but before he could drag her to her feet, an emphatic No! erupted from the corner. The grip released and she sagged back onto the floor.
He turned to glower at his companion, who, as Angelica watched, dumped the bloody mess that was Ella onto the ground. It landed in the faint square of sunlight. In the moment of distraction, she found what she sought and her sticky fingers closed around a splinter of wood.
