Blood Ties Read online

  Hearing her accent, the clerk offered her a condescending smile and turned around the slip. “You wrote ‘there here in London’ when you meant ‘they’re here in London.’ I can fix that for you if you like.”

  Damn, she could never remember the difference between those words. “Send it as is,” she said. “The extra letter cost is a little expensive, don’t you think?”

  The clerk gave a very ungentlemanly-like snort at that. “But of course.”

  After she paid for the cable and spied Max looking at the cheap wooden toys lining the shelves, she realized she hadn’t yet told Max what she was. Not just the Searcher part, but why she qualified as one in the first place.

  This was going to be an awkward conversation, and one they needed to have soon. She had a feeling he might not be totally revolted by her revelation, but she reminded herself that they hadn’t known each other a full day prior. She knew nothing about him, save that she enjoyed his writing and he was very far above her in terms of class and station. So far, all they had in common were vampire attacks and deep physical attraction. He might not share the latter with her after she told him about the Searchers, and that would be a deep shame. The man was breathtaking.

  She thought it might be best to tell him as soon as they arrived at his uncle’s house. Max seemed to be a reasonable man. Obviously there hadn’t been any time last night to tell him about her particular talent and how she came to inherit it. He might not be so amenable to a proverbial romp in the hay with her after she told him, but she was fairly certain he would still want her help in solving his uncle’s murder.

  “I’ve sent my cable. Are you ready to leave?” she asked.

  He nearly dropped the carved wooden horse he held.

  “Bit jumpy, are we?” she asked.

  “More than a bit.” He had the faintest of dark circles under his eyes, undoubtedly a result of his blood loss and poor sleep the night before, which made Ada realize she probably looked like utter hell. Between her clothing, accent, curly hair that she could already feel escaping from its uncomfortable knot, and her own vampire bite, she was surprised she hadn’t sent anyone crossing the street after they laid eyes on her.

  “Do you collect wooden animals?” she asked.

  He blinked at her, then looked at the horse in his hand. He quickly set it back on the shelf. “No. It was either look at toys or buy a dirigible ticket.” He pointed to the ticket counter. More to himself, he added, “I am not running away from this.”

  “I’m pleased to hear that, because I wouldn’t know the first place to look for your uncle’s house.”

  “Mayfair.”

  “I have no idea where Mayfair is.”

  “We’ll hire a cab,” he said.

  Once outside, he hailed a steam cab, much like the ones lined up outside the Langham Hotel last night, but dingier. Ada spotted a few rust spots and scorch marks on the vehicle’s roof that she couldn’t guess at. Steam-powered cabs were still a rare novelty in New York, and she hadn’t taken one until she landed in Berlin. The interior of this cab smelled strongly of tobacco and spilled gin, but Max seemed unfazed by the odor. Ada didn’t mention it, as she had smelled much worse in her life. It was dirty, but not unsafe.

  “You were able to send your cable without incident?” Max asked.

  Ada nodded. “The clerk corrected me on my spelling.”

  Now, why on earth had she told him that? Max had mentioned attending university and he wrote for a living. Ada left school when she was thirteen and had been slaughtering monsters since then. Once again, she was painfully aware of the gap in their social stations.

  “Your spelling?” He turned to her incredulously. “That’s impolite.”

  Ada let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. “I just told him I didn’t want to pay extra for the ‘e’ in ‘you’re.’”

  Max laughed. “That’s a common error, and a dignified way of covering it up.” His eyes darted to the driver, who didn’t appear to notice his customers as he guided the cab through London’s crowded streets. “You mentioned a group you work for before.”

  “There’s a London branch, but I’m not sure how to get there yet.” The Searchers were deliberately vague about their headquarters around the world, divulging addresses only when necessary even to members. It was a security issue. She would receive a reply and a meeting place when the New York office read her cable and informed London she was there for an extended visit, but that would be at least a day or two away.

  She stole a look at Max. With time and training, maybe he could be a fine vampire slayer, but they didn’t have that right now.

  The scenery changed when they rode into Mayfair, and Ada had to force herself not to let her jaw drop at the opulence passing them by. The homes here were massive affairs that undoubtedly held only a respectably-small family and an army of servants. The gardens and the streets themselves were immaculately clean. Even the sky was a clearer blue here than it had been near Max’s Marylebone flat, and Ada found that to be a lovely area as well. Certainly nicer than the narrow townhouse she shared with her brothers and a sister-in-law back in Brooklyn. She had read about clean, sterile streets as these, in Max’s stories in fact, but never thought they really existed outside of the pages of a novel or periodical.

  She was out of her element. She was more uncomfortable here than she had ever been facing a vampire, stake in hand. These little castles weren’t supposed to exist outside of fairy tales.

  Neither should vampires, she reminded herself.

  The driver let them out in front of an imposing brick home, the shades pulled over all the windows. Ada looked up at all three stories and couldn’t suppress a shiver, nor a small nudge of indignation. The house looked large enough to contain the entire row of townhouses her home was in the middle of, and as far as she knew, only Max’s uncle had lived in there.

  And now it was Max’s. She saw by the set of his shoulders as he walked briskly to the front door that he didn’t seem terribly thrilled about the prospect.

  He opened the door himself and held it for Ada.

  The foyer was brightly lit, with electric sconces lining the walls. The carpet under their feet was a deep blood-red, and so thick it muffled their footsteps. The furniture was dark wood, heavy and uncomfortable-looking. It felt more like a mausoleum than a home. Immediately, Ada could see why Max didn’t like coming back here. The house was too cold for someone as warm as he was.

  “Sir?”

  The voice sounded from a corridor off the foyer, and the shuffle of feet whispered over the carpet. An older, silver-haired man quickly hastened his pace when he saw Max.

  “Hello, Weston,” Max said wearily.

  “Let me take your coat, sir.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “I’m very pleased to see you,” the old man said. “Please allow me to reiterate my deepest condolences on the loss of your uncle.”

  “James’s passing is why I’m here, Weston, and I apologize for not arriving sooner.” Max straightened, his coat over his arm. Weston’s hand gripped the garment, and Max finally relinquished it. “Weston, this is Adaline Burgess, a friend of mine from America. I’ll need a room prepared for her.”

  “Of course, sir.” Weston turned to face her, an expectant look on his weathered face.

  Oh, hell. Ada knew her manners were lacking, but until now she didn’t know just how badly. She bent her knees, starting to curtsey, but a cough from Max had her straightening up. “Your coat,” he murmured.

  Oh, that. Ada exhaled and pasted a smile on her face. She let Weston help her out of her coat, and he accepted her satchel without a word on its shabby condition. “Thank you.” Was she supposed to thank servants? She would in New York, if she’d known anyone with a butler; it just seemed the polite thing to do.

  If she made a faux pas, Weston didn’t let on. “Your rooms are ready, sir,” he said. “I’ve been expecting you. I can have some dinner prepared, if you like.”


  “I’m not hungry, but tea would be appreciated. Ada?” Max turned to her.

  The scone she’d wolfed down earlier in the morning was a long-ago memory. It was a bit early for a midday meal, but as long as Weston was offering… “I would like something to eat, please,” she said.

  Weston nodded. “Very good. I will prepare a tray for you.”

  He put away their coats and led them up a curving, carpeted staircase. The balustrade, like everything else in the house, was dark wood, so highly polished Ada didn’t want to touch it and leave fingerprints behind. A small landing separated a pair of staircases leading to separate wings, and they turned left.

  Hm. Maybe she and Max would have rooms close to each other. If he was still amenable to a romp, that would prove convenient.

  “Will the blue room be sufficient for your guest?” Weston asked.

  “The blue room is fine, Weston, thank you.” Max opened the first door they passed and looked inside. This must be his space.

  The butler opened the door to a room next door and gestured inside. “Will this be suitable, Miss Burgess?” he asked.

  She didn’t detect a hint of condescension in the butler’s voice. Maybe the citizens of Mayfair weren’t as snobby as she’d been expecting.

  She stepped into a beautifully-appointed room, much more masculine than she anticipated, but still far more luxurious than she was accustomed to. A four-poster bed rested in the middle of the room, flanked by heavy nightstands on either side. Weston opened the drapes, letting in morning sunshine.

  “This is perfect,” she pronounced. “Thank you, Mr. Weston.”

  “Just Weston,” he gently corrected her.

  “Weston, then.”

  “I shall have that tray fixed for you, Miss Burgess.”

  She thought about asking him to call her Ada, but had a feeling he wouldn’t. Instead, she nodded.

  “Weston,” Max called from his bedchamber, “have that tray put together in the dining room, and make yourself available. We need to speak with you.”

  A murmur of acknowledgement and the sound of footsteps over the carpet told her Weston was complying. Ada unwrapped the scarf from her neck and touched her healing wound. She then checked it in the large looking glass positioned against the wall. It was healing nicely, and she decided to leave the scarf off. Dark circles ringed her eyes, but there was nothing she could do about those.

  She unpinned her hair, and as she massaged feeling back into her scalp she couldn’t keep a moan of pleasure from escaping her.

  “That’s the happiest I’ve ever seen you look.” Max’s voice was low in her ear, full of suggestion.

  Ada turned around. “Will I scandalize your butler if I go down for lunch with my hair undone?”

  “He’s too professional and used to the eccentric ways of the Sterling family to say anything.”

  “So you often left your rooms with your hair unbound?” she teased.

  “Always.”

  The look in his eyes sent a wave of heat through her body, and she leaned forward. Her belly quivered in anticipation, remembering the kiss they shared at the hotel last night, and how it wasn’t nearly enough for her.

  His mouth found hers, teasing her lips open. His hand found her hair, fingers running through it. “This is lovely and it’s a shame you keep it tied away,” he murmured against her mouth.

  Her stomach growled, ruining the moment. She pulled away reluctantly. “Um,” she said.

  “Blood loss will make you hungry,” he replied sagely.

  His words reminded her that she still hadn’t told him about why she was a Searcher, and she needed to do that, as soon as possible. “Max,” she said, but he had already taken her arm and was leading her out of the room, down the corridor.

  “Yes?”

  His voice still held the lazy trace of lust it took on when he looked at her, and she hated that she might be putting a damper on those feelings. “I need to tell you something,” she said urgently. “I should have before, but, you know … vampires.”

  “Is it about the vampires?”

  “Sort of. And me,” she added.

  They descended the stairs, and Ada could picture dukes and duchesses doing the same thing, on the same stairs, before adoring crowds of well-heeled friends. “Are you a vampire?” he asked lightly, but she detected the wariness in his voice.

  “No.”

  “You have an uncanny ability to detect them,” he said.

  So, he noticed that. Maybe her confession wouldn’t terrify him. “I’m human,” she assured him. “But not all of my ancestors were.”

  He didn’t push her arm away, but she felt the muscles in his tense, waiting for her next words. “My grandparents were dhampirs,” she finally said. There. Now it was out there.

  He was quiet, guiding her into an opulent dining room that was far too dark for so early in the day. A meal of cold roast beef and rolls was set out, along with a steaming teapot and matching cups.

  He held out a chair for her, and she sank into it. He took a seat opposite her.

  “Aren’t you going to say anything?” she asked.

  “I would, but I’m not sure what a dhampir is.” He poured tea for each of them. His voice was still cautious. “Are you telling me that you’re some sort of supernatural creature?”

  Ada shook her head and helped herself to the food. “Descended from them,” she said. “A dhampir is the offspring of a vampire and a human.”

  “Vampires can reproduce?” His hand hovered above the table, and a drop of tea splashed to the white damask cloth.

  “Not very easily, and it’s quite rare, but when the circumstances are right, newly-turned male vampires can have children with human women.” She looked at him across the table, and he set down his teacup, untouched. “Vampire and dhampir descendants can detect vampires. I get a headache when I’m near one, sharp pains right at my temples.”

  Weston entered the dining room before Max could reply. Ada tensed, unable to read Max’s expression.

  “Is the meal to your liking, Miss Burgess?” he asked.

  She hadn’t tasted the roast beef yet, but she was sure it would be delicious, better than anything she’d eaten in Europe so far. “It’s perfect, Weston, thank you.”

  “Weston, please sit down,” Max ordered.

  The butler did so, a curious look on his weathered face.

  “You may think me mad, Weston, but I believe I know who may be responsible for Uncle James’s murder,” Max said. “But I would like to hear your theories first. You must have read the papers.”

  Weston paled. “I identified his body, sir,” He paused. “You may think me mad if I tell you what I think happened. I haven’t mentioned it to the constables. They wouldn’t believe me.”

  “Our theories may be similar. Weston, tell me.”

  “He was drained, sir.” Weston’s voice had dropped to a whisper.

  Ada’s suspicions were correct, and the broadsheet writers weren’t that far off the mark with their theories.

  “There isn’t any way anything natural could have done that. I didn’t write the exact details in my letters to you because I didn’t think you would believe me, either. I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t seen your poor uncle with my own eyes.”

  “Weston, would you believe me if I told you that I and Miss Burgess were attacked by vampires last night?”

  Weston stilled, his gaze pinned on Max, who took a shaky sip of tea. He turned wide, terror-stricken eyes to Ada. “Sir, I would,” he said, his voice a harsh gasp. “I wouldn’t have six months ago, but now…”

  “Do you think Uncle James was murdered by a vampire?” Max asked.

  Weston nodded, his face still incredulous. “I do, sir.”

  “Weston, I’m a member of the American branch of the Searchers, out of the New York office,” Ada said. “I’m descended from dhampirs, as I was explaining to Mr. Sterling just now. I’m human, but I can detect nearby vampires. I kill them for a living.” Not a great one
, but it kept a roof over her head, even if she had to share it. “I’m still waiting on word from the London office. There’s a significant vampire infestation in London.” She corrected herself. “There are infestations everywhere, actually, thanks to airship travel. I met Mr. Sterling last night, as a vampire tried to eat him.”

  “Sir!” Weston looked at Max, horrified.

  “She saved me,” Max said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  His voice thawed a few degrees, and Ada let herself relax slightly. Maybe he wouldn’t be as disturbed about her ancestry as she thought.

  Weston looked away. “It’s a pity Miss Burgess couldn’t have saved your uncle. Or if you were here, perhaps you could have persuaded him to give up his obsession with that woman.” He nearly spat out the last word in his distaste.

  Ada and Max stilled. “What woman?” Max said.

  Weston looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Dr. Sterling’s companion.”

  “Tell us about her,” Max said urgently.

  “I’d never seen anyone so besotted,” Weston continued. “She seemed to adore Dr. Sterling. He was lonely, you know, since your aunt died. He kept mistresses occasionally, but…”

  “I don’t need those details, Weston.”

  The tiniest of sighs escaped Weston. “I suppose you don’t. It may be easier for me to explain what I suspect led to your uncle’s passing if I showed you his laboratory.” Glancing at Ada, whose hand hovered over a roast beef sandwich, he added, “After Miss Burgess has finished her meal.”

  Well, if that didn’t make her feel like even more of a gauche American… Max eyed her curiously across the table, but she didn’t detect any fear or disgust from him, setting her a little more at ease. “I’ll be quick,” she said. “Why don’t you tell us what you can? Believe me when I say that nothing you say will sound too insane.”

  “I imagine not, if you were attacked by vampires last night.” Weston’s expression grew more panicked, and his next words were rushed, as if he had been waiting for an eon to tell them and know they would be taken seriously. “Dr. Sterling was in love with a vampire himself.”