Blood Ties

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2016 Jessica Marting

  ISBN: 978-1-77339-104-5

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Melissa Hosack

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  For David and all of his awesomeness. I love you.

  BLOOD TIES

  Jessica Marting

  Copyright © 2016

  Prologue

  1 April 1889

  Dear Mr. Sterling,

  I assure you that despite the date this missive was written, this is not a grotesque April Fools’ Day prank, nor were the other letters and telegrams I and your uncle’s solicitor also sent over the previous three months, which you have also ignored. In the slight chance that you haven’t received them, I repeat their contents: your uncle James has moved on to the next world, and under strange circumstances. I urge you to abandon your gallivanting about the continent and return to London to at least see to your late uncle’s affairs, if not re-settle here permanently.

  As I have written before and will reiterate now, I am fully prepared to continue on my work as butler of your uncle’s home. It, and I, are awaiting your arrival. Please send word as soon as possible.

  Yours sincerely,

  Silas Weston

  Chapter One

  The letter from his late uncle’s butler burned a hole in his pocket, but Maximilian Sterling would not be denied a little pleasantry for his last hours in Paris. It wasn’t his first visit to the La Ville Lumière, but this occasion marked the first time he saw the Eiffel Tower, and the first time he had such a lovely companion to enjoy its tour with, one who spoke fluent English as well.

  Lisette beamed at him from across the table, her face and golden hair illuminated by the hotel’s gas lamps. “Our meeting is such a lovely coincidence,” she purred. She took a delicate sip from the wine glass in her hand.

  Max nodded, unable to keep the smile from his face. It was refreshing to meet someone who spoke to him without waiting to be introduced first, who could keep up with him when he said he wanted to climb as many stairs of the Tower as he was allowed, and happened to be taking on the same dirigible as he was tonight.

  “It is,” he said. “Although I am disappointed in your refusal of my offer.”

  A look of mock outrage crossed her features. “Monsieur Sterling!” She gasped. “You know it would not be proper for me to do so. I know even widows cannot stay in the house of an Englishman!” The twinkle didn’t leave her eyes, but he knew Lisette meant her words. Her stay in London would be spent in a hotel.

  The mention of England sent a twinge of regret through him. Once again, the folded letter from Silas Weston weighed heavily on his mind. He wasn’t returning to London because he wanted to; his blasted uncle had gone and died on him, leaving him with a musty old house in a country he didn’t care for.

  He realized Lisette was still waiting for a reply, so he forced a smile to his face. “Of course,” he said. “I’m merely enjoying scandalous conversation while I still can.”

  “You English worry too much about your manners,” Lisette said. “I suppose I will have to remember that while I am visiting.”

  They had met at the base of the Eiffel Tower only two hours prior, just after dark settled over Paris. Lisette’s reasons for leaving France were still a little unclear, although Max hadn’t been exactly forthcoming about his reasons for leaving, either. He wouldn’t think about it, not until the dirigible touched ground in London. All he knew about Lisette was that she was from Paris and a widow, her husband having been gone long enough so that she no longer wore mourning. “I hope you will still agree to sharing supper with me some evening,” he said. At her raised eyebrow, he added, “At your hotel, in the public eating area. I understand the cuisine at the Langham Hotel is unsurpassed.” He didn’t, as he preferred to stay in his own rented rooms on the rare occasions he was in London, but he didn’t mention that to Lisette.

  He had a big, empty house to take care of in a country where it never seemed to stop raining, and he was already dreading taking care of that monstrosity, not to mention the constant damp.

  Lisette pushed her mostly-uneaten dessert a few inches away and took another sip from her wine glass. Strange, she’d only picked at her supper, but the glass and a half of Bordeaux she’d enjoyed instead didn’t appear to have any effect on her. “We should make our way to the dirigible,” she said. “It leaves shortly.”

  A quick glance at his watch told Max that their time in the restaurant had gone by much more quickly than he realized, and they had less than an hour before their dirigible left. He quickly settled the bill. Once in the street with Lisette, he escorted her into one of the steam-powered cabs waiting outside the hotel.

  His hope for an evening of conversation and wine with her evaporated, dread settling into the pit of his stomach at the thought of returning to England.

  ****

  “Damn it.”

  Ada didn’t know what irritated her the most: that her target was escaping in a cab, that her French was so poor, that she was running low on funds, or that Lisette Babineaux was so frustratingly wily. It was equally irritating, she decided, as she tossed her much-repaired satchel over her shoulder and ran for a cab. Or tried to run; her boots and corset weren’t conducive to such exercises. She ended up having to pawn a great deal of her belongings after she ran out of money in Switzerland, so at least the satchel wasn’t too heavy. She wished blending in wasn’t so uncomfortable when she was hunting.

  She threw herself into the back seat of the steam-powered cab, ordering the startled driver to follow the two vehicles ahead. “As quickly as you can,” she said, noting the wince on the driver’s face at her accent. It made Ada cringe, too, and hope that wherever her mark and her unlucky companion were going, it wouldn’t be too expensive. She needed to return to New York and her version of normalcy as soon as possible, for her own sanity. She had long since given up on the hope of returning to Germany to complete her much-needed holiday.

  The driver grumbled about idiot Américains, but followed Madame Babineaux’s cab through the gas-lit streets of Paris to an airfield. Ada was immediately disappointed at the thought of spending more money on an airship ticket, but on the upside, her target wouldn’t be able to escape so easily. While vampires could fly or shift into bats, her boarding an airship meant she probably didn’t intend to pull off such a stunt.

  “Merci.” She paid the driver and let herself out of the cab without another word. The driver shot her a dirty look and drove away, steam issuing from the vehicle’s vents.

  Madame Babineaux and her friend took places in the queue for first class passengers. Ada took her place in line for deck class, keeping her eye on the vampire from beneath her hat brim. She wondered where this airship would take her, if she would have enough time to stake the vampire and dispose of her ashes before the journey was over.

  When it was her turn at the queue, she smiled as nicely as she could manage and said, “Un billet, s’il te plaît et merci.”

  “Sens unique?” the clerk asked. One way?

  Ada didn’t have any intention of returning to France. “Oui.”

  The ticket the man sold her was stamped with the words Londres/London. Well, that was a bit of a relief. She wou
ld only have to worry about stuffy etiquette and stuffier people than trying to speak the language. She doubted she would have enough time to handle Madame Babineaux onboard, but she would tail the vampire until she found an opportunity to stake her. She might even have enough time to do a little sightseeing. It wouldn’t make up for her aborted trip to Dresden, but it might mean that her time overseas wasn’t a complete wash.

  The airship was a small one, meant for short journeys, and didn’t have any passenger berths, just big common areas. Her ticket entitled her to a spot on a bench on the airship’s deck, under a wide awning. The first class passengers’ compartment was covered and probably heated, if its windows fogging up from bodies and the spring chill outside was any indication. Of course its well-heeled occupants didn’t give any notice of the passengers outside, Ada thought irritably. She tugged her coat around her a little more tightly and slipped on her gloves, which she hadn’t had to wear since her trip to Bern two weeks prior. She’d managed to stake a vampire who escaped her in Berlin, but it had been … messy. Her gloves were still stained with greasy ash. Ugh, she thought, looking down at the ruined material.

  Through the first class compartment windows ahead of her, she spotted Lisette Babineaux and her companion, getting a good look at him for the first time. Ada’s heart sped up a little at the sight. Damn, but he was a handsome man, and exactly the sort she tended to go for: tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair and eyes. Judging from the cut of his coat—obviously not a ready-made, either—he looked firm, a rarity in Europe’s upper classes, Ada had noted over her time there. She hoped Madame Babineaux didn’t eat him or, worse, turn him, before Ada could introduce herself.

  Forget Big Ben. A few hours with the man would be all the memories of merry old England she wanted.

  Through the foggy glass, the vampire looked up abruptly, the smile on her beautiful face wiped away. She looked over the crowd in the first class compartment, scanning their faces. Ada quickly leaned down, pretending to inspect her boot, and re-tied its lace to give herself some more time. Dhampir-descended Searchers could sense vampires, but most vampires could not sense Searchers. It was impossible to know which ones could, as it was an unusual talent for vampires. Unusual, and frightening. There were fewer Searchers than vampires, and it was vital to keep their identities and headquarters secret.

  She kept her head down until the airship lifted off. Ada stuffed her hands in her armpits to ward off the cold, knowing it was only going to get worse when they started over the English Channel, and she was right. It was cold, miserable, and—lucky for the poor bastards strapped to benches outside—starting to drizzle. When she looked up, she saw the vampire and the man accepting glasses of wine from a liveried footman, and the suspicious look was gone from her face. Ada discreetly kept her eye on the couple through the window the entire journey, tuning out her fellow passengers and ignoring hawkers selling watery tea and hard tack-type biscuits.

  The trip was over forty-eight miserable moments later, and Ada was the first passenger out of her seat and down the gangplank. Once back on land, she waited for her quarry to disembark.

  They were among the last to leave the airship, laughing gaily at something. One of the electric lamps that threw light over the airfield sizzled and burned out as they passed beneath it, but Ada wasn’t deterred. Pushing her satchel over her shoulder, she kept at a discreet distance and followed them.

  ****

  Night was rapidly falling and with it, an urge to go out and find what amusements, if any, London had on offer. He wanted to do anything but go into his late uncle’s mausoleum of a house, Max thought, then quickly pushed it away. Uncle James’s passing would not be something he would dwell on tonight. He had a lovely, charming woman at his side and he wasn’t yet ready to leave her.

  But Lisette’s demeanour changed when they slipped into a steam-powered cab. The vehicles in London were newer than their Parisian counterparts, and the cab nearly sailed over the street in the direction of the Langham Hotel. She craned her neck and looked through the cab’s small, round rear mirror. “Is everything all right?” Max asked. “You seem nervous.”

  She faced him, an overly bright smile pasted on her face. “Of course,” she said. “I am simply not used to England. The cabs are so much faster.” She turned around and squinted at the dark road again.

  Were they being followed? Max also turned around, but saw nothing except carriages and steam cabs behind them. “Shall I expect a fight later on in the evening?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

  She turned back to him, the light from the gas lamps outside showing the irritation flashing across her elfin features. “Non,” she replied. Her eyes darted back to the road for a second before meeting his. “I apologize, Max. I am simply tired. I hadn’t expected to meet you or climb the Tour d’Eiffel tonight.”

  Max was used to long journeys and little sleep, and it was easy to forget that most people weren’t accustomed to as much exertion as he was. Lisette had remarkably kept up with him, so it shouldn’t be a surprise for her to be tired.

  The bright street lamps of Regent Street greeted them, splattered lightly with rain. When the cab stopped in front of the Langham Hotel, Max quickly paid the driver before getting out to help Lisette from the vehicle. She looked up at the building, and then smiled at him.

  “I think you should visit me tonight,” she said.

  Max’s eyes widened in surprise, but he wasn’t about to turn down the offer. “Are you certain?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Just for a few moments.”

  Max offered her his arm and tried to inject just the right amount of suggestion into his voice. “My dear, I’ll need more than a few moments.”

  ****

  Lisette’s rooms were waiting for her, as well as a pair of trunks that must have been sent before they boarded the dirigible to London. She turned on a few lamps, throwing yellow light over the luxuriously-appointed room, and gave him a sly smile as she draped her coat over the back of a chair.

  “You must think me terribly of me,” she said. She opened a bottle of wine left on a table, pouring some into a pair of glasses. She pouted at the room, at her coat. “No lady’s maid.” She sighed. “I will have to see about that later tonight.” She held out a wine glass to him.

  More wine? While Max was an adventurer, even he couldn’t spend a day and night drinking, if only due to the boredom it would eventually bring on. He preferred his mind to be as sharp as possible. “I have to decline,” he said.

  She frowned before taking a generous sip from her glass. “Please, I insist.”

  Why not? Max knew he wouldn’t be getting any writing in tonight, so he may as well indulge. He would enjoy one more glass of wine and a romp with Lisette, and … then what? Go to the flat he maintained for such visits? The idea felt a little lonelier than usual.

  His hand clenched around the glass, only relaxing when Lisette touched it. “I would like a toast.”

  “Of course. To new friends.” Max met her eyes, clinked his glass to hers.

  But there was something strange about Lisette’s eyes. They bored into him, and his head felt heavy, his body bolted to the floor. He tried to look away, but found he couldn’t.

  “I apologize, Max,” Lisette said, but her voice sounded far away. The air grew thicker, and it became harder to breathe.

  “What?” He barely managed to get the word out. Dimly, he was aware of his hand relaxing and his glass slipping out, wine splashing across the pristine carpet.

  “You are a very nice man,” she said, but her voice sounded garbled behind the pair of fangs that now extended over her lips. She leaned toward his neck, breathing deeply. “You smell divine.”

  Fangs? That was impossible.

  “I see you’re not completely under my thrall,” she said softly. “I apologize for that, too, because it will hurt.”

  Max still couldn’t move, not even when she jumped up and sank her fangs into his neck.

  Chapter Twor />
  Ada mentally tallied the amount of money she was going to demand from the Searchers as soon as she returned to New York. After bribing a clerk to find out Madame Babineaux’s room number at this gilded monstrosity of a hotel, she was officially out of money. At the very least, she would have to dig through the vampire’s personal effects and hope she had a few pounds on her to get her through the rest of this trip.

  She took an ornate elevator to the vampire’s top floor room, ignoring the way her stomach flip-flopped at its movements. No wonder everyone here was so soft, she thought, looking at the elevator operator and the other passengers. They spent as much time as they could thinking up ways to avoid straining their bodies. It wasn’t healthy.

  Except for that Englishman, she remembered. Who could very well be the vampire’s evening snack about now.

  That thought spurred her to the front of the elevator car, and she was the first one out, walking as quickly as she could to the last room on the floor, a corner one. All those windows would make it more difficult to make the room light-tight, but if Madame Babineaux had had enough of a meal beforehand, a little sunlight through the curtains wouldn’t be a problem for her.

  Ada never stopped wishing that vampires were as vulnerable to sunlight as they were purported to be. It would make her job so much easier.

  As she tiptoed along the corridor’s plush carpet, she retrieved a silver necklace with a cross dangling from it and an icepick from her bag. The cross went around her neck; the icepick was looped over one finger. Then she withdrew a short, sharpened stake and mallet from her bag, tucking them under her arm.

  She pressed her ear against the door and heard a surprised yell, followed by a distinctive hiss only vampires could make.