His Ruthless Bite | Historical Paranormal Romance: Vampires (Scandals With Bite Book 4) (22 page)

The most interesting thing he’d discovered from his first glimpse in Elliotson’s memories was the fact that Lenore had been a student of his in London, while together they… did whatever it was they had been doing tonight when he’d watched them.

He’d hidden in the shadows of a vacant market stall while Lady Darkwood and the doctor spoke with a group of peasant women. His brow had creased in confusion as they’d spoken of mind control… something only vampires could do. Unless there truly was such a thing as witches, which he’d never believed.

When Lenore had led two of the women to another table and placed one of them in a trance, Justus’s jaw had dropped. What in the name of God did she think she was doing? Vampires were never supposed to reveal any of their secrets to mortals.

Rather than feeding on either of the women, Lenore had then commanded them to feel good about themselves, to have courage and feel peace. Why?

So captivated with the conundrum before him, he nearly forgot about the doctor. Justus had to clap a hand over his mouth to muffle his gasp when he saw that somehow, Elliotson had managed to place his companions in a trance as well. Surely it had to be a parlor trick, but from the glazed look he’d seen in the woman’s eyes, the same rapt look of countless mortals he’d captured, his skepticism wavered. Were witches real after all?

The foolishness of the thought irritated him even as his curiosity rose. After the women left, Lenore once more used her preternatural abilities to convince Elliotson that she’d departed in a carriage when she truly ran off to hunt.

Instead of following Lady Darkwood, Justus stalked after Elliotson. Lenore hadn’t bothered to take a bite. What a waste. Well, he would be certain to rectify that.

The moment Elliotson unlocked the front door of his cottage, Justus was on him in a flash. As the doctor’s blood flowed in his mouth, words and images flashed behind Justus’s eyes. What Elliotson and Lenore had been doing was some practice called mesmerism. They truly believed they could heal people with mental commands. Justus would have laughed if his mouth hadn’t been full. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

If Lenore had let her mortal friend know what she was, he would have the perfect means to destroy her and discredit Rochester. Finishing his meal, he shrugged. It was no matter. What Gavin’s wife was doing was dangerous enough as it was. And Justus knew just how he’d use her actions to his advantage.

“Where are the notes you’ve taken on your experiments with Lady Darkwood?” he asked the brainwashed doctor.

“In my study,” Elliotson droned.

“Bring them to me.” Justus had commanded.

Now, back beneath the castle ruins, he flipped through the journal, searching for every bit of information that was incriminating, or at least could be construed that way.

Rolfe interrupted him with a tap on the shoulder. “It’s my turn to take the watch.”

“That’s all right,” Justus waved him off. “I’m still reading. Go back to sleep.”

The vampire sat next to him. “What are you reading?”

Justus grinned. “It seems Lady Darkwood’s friendship with that London doctor is even more interesting than we’d guessed.”

Rolfe cocked his head to the side. “Is that ugly little troll truly her lover?”

Justus shook his head. “No, nothing so mundane.”

After he finished telling his fellow rogue about Lenore’s and Elliotson’s experiments with the village women, Rolfe scowled. “This doctor can put humans in a trance?”

Justus nodded. “As hard to believe as it may be, I believe he can.”

“In the old days, we killed mortals with such powers.” Rolfe’s voice shook with outrage tinged with fear. “In fact, I don’t think it would be a bad idea if we disposed of this one.”

Justus smirked. “No, I have a better idea.”

His wife was lying to him.

Gavin’s fists clenched at his sides as he watched her enfold a mortal woman in a compassionate embrace. She’d told him that she was paying calls, which may not be a complete lie, depending on interpretation, but the deception weighed heavy all the same. Especially when no less than three society matrons had inquired as to why Lady Darkwood had
not
come round to pay a visit.

Grinding his teeth, he’d fobbed the noblewomen off with the excuse that his new baroness being too occupied with putting his sadly neglected household in order and preparing for her first ball.

Many had offered to come by Darkwood Manor to offer guidance. At first, Gavin had politely declined, but the more he thought about it, the more the idea appeared to offer a solution. If Lenore was occupied fulfilling her duties as a Lady, she’d be far too busy to continue this nonsense with the eccentric doctor.

No, that wasn’t exactly true, he admitted reluctantly. Aside from neglecting to visit the local nobility, Lenore had been a dutiful wife. Together with Elena, all of the preparations for tomorrow’s ball were underway, the ledgers had been combed through and balanced, and the house was well into the process of a much needed redecorating.
And
she mended his clothing. Something about that made him feel warm.

But that did not make her deception acceptable, or her association with these mortals safe in any way. Especially with the sudden prevalence of superstitious literature in the village. Which of course, he hadn’t told her about. So perhaps he was deceiving her too.

Gavin shook his head. It wasn’t the same. He was only concealing information to avoid causing her undue worry. She had no excuse for her flagrant mistruth.

He should march out from his hiding place, seize his wayward bride, throw her over his shoulder and carry her back home where she would be safe.

Yet he couldn’t do it. The pure joy in her face as she helped those women, the tranquil confidence in her voice as she advised them with their troubles, and the shining gratitude in their eyes as they thanked her stayed his hand.

This made her happy. And he’d never seen her more aware of her own power as she was here in this place with these troubled peasants.

Besides, he reasoned, perhaps if Lenore improved the dispositions of the village folk, they’d be less apt to be susceptible to superstitious hysteria and embark on a witch hunt. Furthermore, frequenting such crowded public areas should ensure that she would be safe from that thrice damned band of rogues. Cecil had gotten the scent and look of one of them memorized. A big, barrel-chested male, with dirty brown hair, who he and Benson were now assuming to be the leader.
Not
Justus, to his everlasting relief.

He repeated those same rationalizations to Cecil later when his second asked why he was allowing Lenore to continue with her work with Elliotson.

“And speaking of those rogues,” he continued, trying to hide his impotent fury. “Have you found any trace of them?”

“Actually, yes.” Cecil’s voice didn’t sound as jubilant as one would expect. “We caught one, but the rest scattered.”

“Wonderful.” Fierce triumph welled in Gavin’s chest… and a tremor of unease. What if it
was
… he broke off the thought. “After we question him, we will be able to find out where the rest have hidden.”

His third in command looked down at his feet. “I don’t think he’ll be forthcoming.”

“Why not?”

“He’s dead,” Cecil said quietly, still preoccupied with the dead grass.

“What?” Gavin growled. His lungs compressed. What if…
What if?
No, he told himself, Cecil would have said if it were Justus.

Cecil spread his hands helplessly. “The bloody cur attacked Benson, stabbed him in the chest. Missed his heart, thank whatever god looks down on our kind, but he also had him pinned on the ground, fangs buried in his neck, trying to drain him. I had to separate them with my sword.”

“And you separated his head from his shoulders in the process,” Gavin surmised, struggling to maintain his composure.

“Yes, my lord. I’m sorry.” Abject shame shrunk the vampire’s form. “I know you wanted them taken alive.”

“Not at the cost of one of my people,” Gavin placed a hand on Cecil’s shoulder and spoke firmly. “You acted exactly as you should have. That is why you are my second.” Though he meant his words, he couldn’t help but think that Justus would have done things differently. None had been as quick and clever as Gavin’s former second. Justus wouldn’t have allowed anyone to catch him unawares.

Gavin closed his eyes, a wave of regret washing over him as he remembered the look of hurt betrayal in his former second’s eyes when he’d been forced to exile him. Technically Justus’s crime merited a death sentence, but he couldn’t bear to kill his best friend. He shoved away the memory. “How is Benson?”

“At home, recovering. I carried him there myself and fed him from my own vein.” Relief shone in Cecil’s eyes that his compatriot had survived. “Jenny is there nursing him. I think she fancies him.”

“That is a monumental relief. I will look in on him before dawn.” Another thought occurred to him. He had to know. “Where is the rogue’s body?”

“I placed it in the dungeons,” Cecil said quickly. “I thought you might like to examine it for evidence and whatnot.”

“Quick thinking.” Gavin clapped him on the back, fighting his mounting anxiety. “Let’s see to the body now. I do not want my wife to see it.”

“Just as she does not want you to know what she’s up to.” His third’s voice was so chiding, it rankled.

“Cecil,” Gavin growled a warning.

“My apologies,” Cecil said with a wry grin. “All I meant was that I am glad I don’t have to suffer being leg shackled and all the inconvenience and deceit that one has to contend with.”

“I am contending just fine.” Gavin raised his gaze heavenward. “You forget that I have done this before.”

“As you say.” The skepticism in Cecil’s tone was thick enough to choke on. “At least Elena was more obedient.”

Gavin sighed. He would have to deal with Lenore’s recalcitrance soon, or lose face among his people. His turmoil was forgotten as they entered the secret passage to his lower dungeons, where he kept rogues and traitors. When Cecil opened the cell to reveal the corpse, Gavin’s gaze flew straight to the severed head… with its
yellow
hair.

Not red.

He released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. It wasn’t Justus.

Only then did he realize how much he’d dreaded the prospect of seeing his friend dead. Shaking his head, Gavin returned his focus on the corpse. “Well, I suppose we should go through his pockets.”

Unfortunately, there was little knowledge to be discerned from the corpse. All they found was ten quid, a tarnished brass pocket watch, and a tattered handkerchief.

Gavin’s shoulders slumped as he crouched by the body, slightly queasy at the sight of the headless form. Just as he was about to rise and issue a command to dispose of it, his gaze lighted on a strand of hair on the rogue’s ragged coat.

Throat tight, he plucked the strand from the corpse and held it to the light. It was long and glinted with crimson fire… just like Justus’s fiery locks.

Could it be? He wondered, even as he dismissed the notion, contemplating more plausible sources. A woman most likely, given the length. Probably a mortal he’d drank from.

Justus
couldn’t
be here, leading a group of rogues. Although he was an excellent leader. But Gavin could not fathom Justus being so foolish as to return to Rochester.

Because then Gavin would have to kill him.

***

With a heavy heart, Justus slowly walked back to the hidden lair under the catacombs of the cathedral. They’d killed Charlie.

But as much as he wanted to curse Benson and Cecil to the deepest pit of hell, he couldn’t. Charlie’s death had been a natural consequence of his own stupidity. Damn the fool, what had he been thinking, not only attacking one vampire who was thrice his age and power, but with another right there as well?

But Charlie had always been impulsive to the point of hazard. That was why he’d been exiled in the first place only last year for killing a mortal in sight of others. The foolish lad had been lucky his former Lord hadn’t put him out in the sun the next day.

And now his luck had run out.

The moment Justus entered the chamber where they spent their day rest, Rolfe, who was on guard, took one look at his stricken face and his brow furrowed in concern.

“What happened?” Rolfe demanded.

“They caught Charlie.”

“Bloody hell!” Rolfe’s eyes widened in shock, outrage, and finally fear. “Do you think he’ll tell them where we are?”

Justus sighed and spoke through a lump in his throat. “No chance of that. They killed him.”

“My God,” Rolfe gasped. He remained silent and trembling, a suspicious sheen that looked like tears gleamed in his eyes, reflecting the lantern light. Then his eyes began to glow in unholy rage. “Those blasted curs, I’ll kill them with my bare hands when I get the chance!”

“No,” Justus commanded soft, but firm. “It was Charlie’s damned fault.”