A Field Guide to Vampires (7 page)

He paused, and when he spoke again it was quietly. “She can’t protect herself if she’s worried about protecting you.”

Ouch. Direct hit. The indignation whooshed out of me, leaving me feeling deflated and foolish.

“Oh.” I really hated it when he was right. “All right. Fine.”

I was spared his self-satisfied reply when his cell phone rang discreetly from inside the pocket of his black cargo pants. He barely glanced at me.

“Go home. Now.”

He walked away, leaving me staring at his back. I retrieved my phone to text Solange:
I do not like your brother.
I stomped all the way back to the car. The dogs had abandoned me to follow Nicholas, growling low in their throats. I kind of hoped they’d bite him. Right on the ass.

Just as I was reaching for the car door handle, a hand clamped over my shoulder and spun me around. Before I could make a single sound, Nicholas’s mouth covered mine completely. He yanked me closer. His eyes were the misty gray of rain. His lips moved, briefly. It wasn’t even a whisper but even that sound was hidden under the almost-but-not-quite kiss.

“We’re not alone.”

I stiffened.

“Shhh.” He bent his head. Anyone watching would have assumed he was kissing me and enjoying it. I admit, I was enjoying it too.

A shadow moved near the hedges, too quickly to be natural. The crickets went silent. Knowing the sharpness of vampire hearing, I darted a glance pointedly over Nicholas’s left shoulder. He didn’t speak, didn’t even nod, but I knew he understood. He kept
kissing me, his tongue darting out to touch mine. It was totally distracting. He was edging me away from the car, guiding me backward, toward the house.

“Don’t run.” He nipped my lower lip.

“I know.” Afraid I was the only one experiencing all these interesting feelings, I nipped back. His hands tightened. His mouth was on my ear when we reached the porch. By the lower step his palms moved over my waist, my hips. His lips were clever, wicked.

Perfect.

At the front door he stopped and shoved me abruptly into the foyer. I stumbled, knocking over a vase of roses. Glass shards, red petals, and water scattered over the stone floor. My lips felt swollen, tingly.
Focus, Lucy
. The hallway was already full of grim-mouthed Drake boys before I’d even caught my breath. Solange’s mom pushed past me, leading them out. Nicholas was a blur between the oak trees. There were the unmistakable sounds of fighting: grunts, hissing, bones snapping.

“Are you okay?” Solange practically leaped on me.

“I’m fine.”

She was heading out after her brothers when her father’s voice cut through the foyer.

“Solange.”

She stopped, looked over her shoulder. “They might need help.”

“No.”

“Dad.”

“No. They’re here for you. If you go out there, it will only make things worse.”

I knew that look on her face. She was biting her tongue. I knew how much she hated this. Helena was the warrior in the family, had been even when she was winning martial arts competitions as a human, and she’d trained her children well. Even I’d gotten the benefit of a few tricks, but none of it would do us any good tonight. Still, I was really glad I knew how to break someone’s kneecap and three ways to incapacitate using only my thumb. And to think I used to worry about midterms.

The foyer was warm and civilized, lit by warmly glowing Tiffany lamps. Liam stood between us and the battle raging in the bedraggled garden. He was nearly tall enough to obscure our vision, but we leaned sideways around him. Part of me didn’t want to see what was happening; the rest of me absolutely couldn’t handle not knowing. The shadows coalesced, and I watched fangs gleam and bodies jump higher than they should have been able to. The snarls lifted the hair on the back of my neck.

Nicholas was fast and clever but I’d never seen him like this before. His face was hard as he leaped and dodged, sent his boot into the midsection of a vampire not much older than us, with long blond hair. They both tumbled, but only Nicholas landed on his feet. I felt inordinately proud about that.

All of Solange’s brothers held their own, but only Quinn appeared to be enjoying himself. He grinned even as a fist, moving so fast it was a flesh-colored blur, broke his nose. Blood trickled down to his lip and he licked it. Helena laughed behind him, somersaulting out of the way of a stake and landing behind her attacker. He disintegrated in a cloud of dust at her feet.

“I want one alive and able to speak,” Liam called out. He shook
his head at Solange. “Honestly, your mother’s worse than the boys. Helena”—he raised his voice slightly—“leave me one, damn it.”

“Spoilsport,” she muttered before reining herself in. Her flying kick only knocked the vampire into a tree instead of shattering his ribs. Hyacinth made a small sound behind us. The jet beads around her neck caught the light, glimmered.

“That’s hardly ladylike,” she said disapprovingly. Which was amusing since I’d heard the stories of what she did in her spare time—and it wasn’t taking tea and eating cucumber sandwiches.

A vampire fled, disappearing into the woods. One of them shuddered, turned to ash, and drifted into the hedges. The stake tumbled to the ground. Solange’s oldest brother, Sebastian, wiped his hands off dispassionately and then turned to help his mother drag the half-conscious vampire she’d thrown into the tree toward the house. Connor was speaking quietly into his cell phone to Bruno.

I pressed my back against the wall as a parade of teeth and feral smiles passed me. When they were all gathered in the parlor, I followed. I went to my favorite purple velvet armchair by the fireplace. Solange stood next to me, her eyes never leaving that of the young man currently being tied up. His shirt was torn, his dark reddish brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. His eyelids fluttered but didn’t open. I wouldn’t have opened them either if all seven Drake brothers were standing around me, glaring. Never mind Helena, who waved them aside with barely a flick of her wrist. She sniffed once, delicately.

“He smells like kith.” She whispered but shook her head. “Kind of.”

Liam frowned, sniffed as well.

“Something’s not right.” His gaze narrowed, sharpened. “Left arm.”

We all looked even though I didn’t know what I was looking at. The tip of a tattoo poked out from under his pushed-up sleeve. It looked like a stylized tribal-style sun but I couldn’t be sure.

“Damn,” Nicholas muttered. “Helios-Ra.”

Everyone looked totally bummed out over such a comic-book name. He stirred. There was a gentle waft of lilies and chocolate, almost right, but not quite. Everyone else was still scenting the air like hunting hounds, nostrils flared.

“What?” I whispered to Solange. “What’s with all the sniffing? It’s creeping me out.”

She didn’t have time to answer because he opened his eyes, suddenly, as if he’d been poked with something sharp. His eyes weren’t pale, not like every other vampire’s I’d ever seen.

They were very black and very hostile.

Violet Willoughby doesn’t believe in ghosts. But they believe in her. After spending years participating in her mother’s elaborate ruse as a fraudulent medium, Violet is about as skeptical as they come in all matters supernatural. Now that she is being visited by a very persistent ghost, one who suffered a violent death, Violet can no longer ignore her unique ability. She must figure out what this ghost is trying to communicate, and quickly because the killer is still on the loose.

Afraid of ruining her chance to escape her mother’s scheming through an advantageous marriage, Violet must keep her ability secret. The only person who can help her is Colin, a friend she’s known since childhood and whom she has grown to love. He understands the true Violet, but helping her on this path means they might never be together. Can Violet find a way to help the ghost without ruining her own chance at a future free of lies?

When a cute guy dressed like a Victorian pirate kneels in front of Eloise the day after her seventeenth birthday, she knows that something strange is going on-and that’s before he vows to be her champion.

But this appearance isn’t a coincidence, and when Eloise is attacked and pushed into an alternate world called Faery, she becomes embroiled in the underground politics of their world. Her captor is Lord Strahan, the ruler of Faery, who is desperately clinging to his throne and will do anything to keep it. The only one who can break his power is his wife, Eloise’s aunt Antonia-and Eloise has become his bargaining chip.

Now Eloise must find a way to save her aunt from Lord Strahan, and she’ll need the help of her best friends Jo and Devin, along with the other Fae captives of Strahan’s hall, including his son, Eldric. With a whole world of Faeries out to get her, Eloise must stop Strahan before both worlds are thrust into complete chaos.

1872

A
lady does not dance more than two dances with the same gentleman.

The daughter of an earl precedes the wife of the youngest son of a marquis but not the wife of the youngest son of a duke.

And I was the daughter of a Spiritualist medium lately from Cheapside.

I was used to simple rules:
don’t get caught.

I went back to memorizing the many intricate and involved rules of the British aristocracy, because as convoluted and boring as they were, it was still preferable to talking to my mother.

A lady eats what she is served at dinner without comment.

I was usually hungry enough to eat what I was given without comment, but if the earl served boiled tongue or calves’ foot jelly, I fully intended to wrap it in my napkin and hide it in the nearest umbrella stand.

A well-bred lady always removes her gloves at dinner but never at a ball. She should also travel with two sets of silk gloves and one of kid.

Never mind that I had only two pairs of gloves to my name to begin with, I wasn’t a well-bred lady. I might look the part in my secondhand dresses with the added silk ruchings and delicate embroidery, but I’d done all that work myself, sewing until my fingers bled, to have them ready for this journey.

It was all a pretense.

And it might work well enough in our London parlor for an hour or two, but this trip was a different matter altogether. I’d never dined with earls or dowager countesses or even wealthy tradesmen. Frankly, I’d rather walk alone on the outskirts of Whitechapel. At least I knew what I was about there; I knew what the dangers were and how to avoid them.

An earl’s country estate might as well be deepest India.

When the train reached the next station, I slipped onto the platform before my mother could start another lecture on regal bearing under the cover of the noise of the crowds and the steam engine.

I knew I shouldn’t venture out into the crowd unaccompanied, but I needed a few moments away from my mother and the starched and proper aristocrats with whom we shared the car. They knew we didn’t belong there.
I
knew we didn’t belong there. Only my mother seemed determined to ignore that fact with sniffs of disdain and complaints about the violent rocking of the train and what it was doing to her delicate sensibilities.

Mother was delicate the way badgers were delicate.

Since this was likely to be my last moment to myself until later in the evening when we reached Lord Jasper’s estate in
Hampshire, I rushed out, accidentally bumping into a countess with a tiered bustle that took up the space of three people. I didn’t even stop to apologize properly.

Because if I had to be shut up in that box for another minute, I’d run mad.

Mother would say it was frightfully ungrateful of me, but it was true nonetheless. She’d been hours without her glass of medicinal sherry and that alone was enough to make her cross, never mind the fine ladies looking down their noses at us.

We were situated in the first-class car, which was far and above the most luxurious place I’d ever seen. It was set with chandeliers hanging from the decorated ceiling, carved mahogany tables, and blue silk cushions and was better appointed than the parlor in our house. The movement might have rattled my teeth alarmingly, but I didn’t care. I did, however, feel rather bad for Colin and Marjorie stuck in the last car, with no walls to shield them from the elements or the dust and no seats to speak of. At least it wasn’t raining.