A Vampire's Rise (43 page)

“What kind of business?”

“I’m severing ties with an old fraternity.” I picked up one of my knights and feigned interest in moving the piece. “Their purpose is obsolete.”

* * * *

I donned a disguise.

With a gentleman’s attire of hat, a well-tailored suit, and over that my finest long, black jacket, I bestowed an air of confidence. Wearing tinted, horn-rimmed glasses, eager to obscure my eyes, I strolled with an assured step.

During the short time in Archer’s study, I’d rummaged through his papers, leaving the notebook in his walled safe so that it appeared undisturbed. And yet I’d studied the contents, reading the accountant’s notations, revealing what they spent their money on, and discovering the locations where the Stone Masters liked to stay.

The Manor Grand, famous for being one of London’s better hotels, provided a discreet meeting place for lawyers, businessmen, and politicians alike. It was popular amongst those who desired to stay in the heart of the city.

Just inside the lobby, an elderly night porter snoozed in his high-backed chair. Reading upside down, I checked the guest book. Archer had signed in under the name of Salisbury. Had we been better acquainted, I’d have offered advice on keeping a low profile.

Taking three stairs at a time, I made my way up to the third floor. Strolling along the corridor, I wondered how many of the other rooms had been taken by Archer’s men.

Listening at the door, checking for the presence of Archer, I made sure the room was empty. Upon the bed rested a well-traveled suitcase, already packed. This didn’t appear to be one of the hotel’s better suites. With its virtually bare décor and poor view, it reflected how business took precedence over luxury. Against the left wall was a writing bureau, upon which rested a letter that Archer had begun. He must have become distracted, leaving the missive unfinished. Within the hearth, cinders faded.

A creak in the floorboards out in the corridor gave away the person fast heading my way.

The door opened and my gaze connected with a well-dressed, burly looking, bearded man. He went for me and I stepped back, ready for the second punch he threw. I dodged the strike and my spectacles fell off.

“I have an appointment with Lord Archer.” I tipped my hat.

He picked up my glasses.

“I’m completely blind without them.” I reached for them and wrapped my fingers around his wrist and thrust him back, cracking his head against the brick. I could smell his fear.

Archer glared at me from the doorway. I let go of the man, tilted my head, and gave a roguish smile. Archer gestured for his colleague to leave.

The bearded man was clearly shaken. “Sir, I’m not leaving you alone with it.” He rubbed the back of his head.

Archer patted his friend’s arm. “Five minutes.”

“I’ll come back with the others.” He handed Archer the spectacles and left.

“He referred to me as an ‘it’” I tut-tutted. “Most rude.”

“My men are well trained.”

“It’s good to see you.”

“Wish I could say the same.”

“How’s that arm of yours?” I gestured for my glasses.

“This disguise doesn’t work.” Archer dropped them.

“Nice.”

He sighed. “I’m done pretending that any interaction with you is acceptable.”

“Good thing I’m not easily offended.”

He approached the writing desk and peeked at the letter, checking to see he hadn’t left anything important out.

My mind raced with the idea that he wanted to slay me. I neared him. “1212, a good year for the Stone Masters?”

He raised an eyebrow and turned away. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

“The fire wiped out one-fifth of the city’s population.”

Archer strolled over to the window. “I may have misjudged you.”

“Let me clear that up for you. Yes, you have.” I joined him and stared out at the bleak view. “I’m the son you never had.”

Archer glared. “Careful.”

“I intrigue you. My world offers mysteries that yours lacks. A freedom from the weight on your shoulders that’s so heavy, you find yourself daydreaming about alternatives.”

“You obviously have a death wish.”

I gave a smile. “I find myself rather enamored with you. The feeling is of course mutual.”

“My men are outside waiting for my order.” Archer’s glare traced my face.

I picked up my spectacles, the frames smashed and the glass splintered. Archer turned to me, his fists clenched.

I shot him a wry look. “Yet your thoughts say otherwise.”

“Take a good look at the stars. It’s your last.”

I nudged Archer and he frowned. I beamed at him, and he sighed in response, running his long fingers through his silvery-grey locks.

“What part did the Stone Masters play in the massacre?” I asked.

Archer’s expression changed.

“Your ancestors started the fire, didn’t they?” I said. “They believed the fire would destroy disease-ridden London.”

“People were convinced that it was the cats and dogs in the city, the animals believed to be spreading the sickness. They slaughtered them immediately.” Archer’s voice was grim. “It was rats carrying the virus. They’d wiped out their natural enemy. Disease became rampant.”

“That’s what you were told?”

“And I believed it.”

“Too young to be trusted with the entire truth?” I shook my head. “Not yet initiated into the old man’s club?”

“The disease spread at an alarming rate, and yet your kind was unaffected.”

“That’s how they justified it?” I said. “What is the age that a son is initiated into your order?”

“Don’t go there.”

“Do you remember that first taste?”

Our gazes locked. A knock at the door, and then it opened.

“I’m all right.” Archer raised his hand insistently.

The door shut.

He turned to me again. “What do you know?”

“That you’re planning on repeating history.”

“Who told you this?” His right eye twitched.

I remembered Felipe twitching like that. His expression had been still, like Archer’s, but fear had shown in that reflex. And yet something about Archer drew me to him, making the risk of coming here all the more worth it.

He reached inside his inner jacket pocket for the wooden stake he had hidden there.

“Now that’s impolite.” I raised an eyebrow.

Archer withdrew his empty hand and glanced at the door.

“You will not start this fire,” I said.

“London is awash with rodents and the disease continues to spread.”

“Again, you use this excuse to take more life?”

“We will extinguish the disease.”

“Thousands of innocents will die.”

Archer grabbed my shirt. “And your kind will die with them.” He let go and wiped off the droplets of sweat from his upper lip.

My stare lingered on his mouth, and then rose to his deep, brown irises.

He turned away. “No.” His breathing increased, his chest rising and falling, and he gazed at me with those soulful eyes, seemingly affected by that familiar pull, the promise of what my blood bestowed. His lips formed words, but he didn’t speak them. Archer’s grip on his desires weakened, and I sensed him yielding. If I had wanted to, I could have seduced him merely with the power of my presence, and entrance him to the point of bondage.

And he knew it.

Retracting my supernatural hold, I gave Archer’s arm a squeeze. He straightened up and tried to conceal his arousal.

I rested my hand on his shoulder. “London must be rescued. This is wrong.”

“Wrong, like taking a life night after night. Wrong, like saving thousands of lives by sacrificing a few.”

“So glad we got that cleared up.”

“Immortality has affected your brain,” he snapped.

“So I take it there’s no invitation into the old boy’s club?” I handed him back the wooden stake that I’d just pick-pocketed.

“All your exits are blocked.” Archer clutched the end of the stake. His knuckles were white.

“You personally plan on starting another fire, don’t you?” I asked.

Archer’s face flushed with misery.

“No one would suspect.” I sighed.

“You once asked me about my father.”

I gave a nod.

“He inspired me,” he whispered, staring off. “He served the cause. Gave his life for it.”

“What happened to him?”

He tried to close his mind.

I rifled through his thoughts. “You won’t neglect your own son.”

Archer looked fazed. “I can’t let you go this time.”

“Do this thing and you’ll bring down the wrath of our kind on your family.”

“Perhaps if you agree to share your knowledge, they won’t torture you.”

I gave an incredulous smile.

“You are a vampire, after all.” Archer pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. “The chess piece that you gave me, the rook, it has a meaning?”

I studied my shattered spectacles, symbolic perhaps for everything that I touched, though here, now, I did something good. My desire to save London was evidence that I still had the ability to care, and still possessed sensibility.

Archer was staring at me.

“You’ll make a fine father to your son,” I said.

He let out a long sigh.

I held his gaze. “Don’t do this thing.”

“You really are arrogant, aren’t you?”

“That’s part of my charm.”

He smiled, but it quickly faded. “I’ll make sure that your death is quick.”

Archer turned away in response to the insistent rapping on the door. By the time the echo of the knock had faded, I was gone.

Chapter 52

MY DESIRE TO PUT mayhem behind me felt achievable.

Bored with the smoke and mirrors of secret societies and ancient cults, I wanted to leave it all behind, relax and enjoy time with my son. Sunaria and I also needed to spend more time together. I missed her.

Belshazzar’s offered up its quiet familiarity.

Halfway up the stairway, the patter of paws came first, then four bloodhounds appeared on the balcony. Barking, they scampered around my feet, acting as though I’d been away for days, not hours. Patting each one, I tried to extricate myself from their unending need for attention.

Violin music struck up. Taking three steps at a time, I flew along the east wing and the dogs bolted alongside me. Rachel was silhouetted at the window, caressing the strings with her bow. She stopped abruptly.

Jacob sat in the corner. “Isn’t she talented?” He rose out of his chair to greet me.

Rachel lowered her bow.

“Where’s your brother?” I tried to keep the anger out of my tone.

“Don’t know,” she said.

“Doesn’t she play beautifully?” Jacob beamed a smile.

I gave a nod, and Rachel, still clutching her violin, headed for the door.

“Thank you for playing for me,” Jacob called after her.

When her gaze caught mine, she quick footed it out.

“The music’s morose,” I muttered, “the last thing you need to hear.”

“She plays like an angel.”

I suppressed a cringe. “What did you two talk about?”

“You mostly.”

“Really?”

“Turns out you’ve been keeping a secret from me.”

I tried to discern whether the trepidation was mine or his.

He pointed to the violin. “Play for me.”

“Perhaps later.” Unable to look at him, I strolled over to the window. I had just violated his privacy and stolen his thoughts.

Jacob approached me and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “What other talents are you keeping from me?”

Rachel had merely told him that I also played the violin. Across the street, a woman was shouting at a man, standing on the street corner. He was either deaf or ignoring her.

I craved peace, a drama-free life. My nights had more than enough excitement. My son’s happiness and safety took precedence.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he said.

Yet his were free. I would not read them again. A vow I intended to keep. “Have you ever taken a boat down the River Thames?” I asked.

“Are you changing the subject?”

“Apparently, the view from the Thames is extraordinary.”

“You are changing the subject.”

“Wear something warm.”

* * * *

The river boat swept along.

The broad strokes of the oarsman guided us down the River Thames, and Jacob, Marcus, and I viewed the ever changing vista. England had recently endured some harsh weather, but spring had morphed into summer. Having endured the bitter winter, we were grateful for the warmth. Despite the sun having set an hour ago, the heat lingered.