Page 45 of The Vampire's Guide to Wooing a Curator
He abruptly tossed the dagger. She caught it by the hilt in midair.
“Excellent reflexes,” he said. “Exactly what I’d expect from a hunter.”
The room fell silent. Jonathan edged closer, as if preparing for a fight.
She returned the dagger to her bandolier. “H-How did you know?”
Mordecai let out another laugh. “I have walked this earth for millennia, child. You reek of righteous fury.” Then he waved his hand. “Leave. Flee this place before I am forced to make an example out of you.”
She didn’t want to go, but Jonathan grabbed her arm and dragged her away. As they left, she felt more conflicted than ever. Mordecai had known she was a hunter but had answered her questions, anyway. If he was right, her quest had come to an end.
The anger that had sustained her over the past ten years sputtered out, leaving a gnawing worry. How was she supposed to tell her family about this place? The occupants wanted to die because of everything they had done, all the violence and the hatred and the death they had inflicted upon the world. Some of them had even chosen to help humans, either out of penance or in a genuine desire to do good.
For ten years, she’d stood staunchly on her family’s side of a centuries-long war without truly understanding her opponent. Even her exhibit had been tainted by her anger, as each artifact had been carefully selected to further the impression she wanted to impart: that vampires were without conscience, and therefore evil.
The problem was, she no longer believed that to be true.
“Wait,” she said.
Jonathan turned and placed a hand on his hip. “What now? Did those old ghosts get to you?” He shook his head. “Pity. I had hoped to set you loose on my enemies.”
The back of her throat took on a bitter taste as she imagined plunging her sword through Mordecai’s chest. She’d dispatched dozens of his kind in her quest for vengeance, branding them all guilty and deserving of death without a second thought.
Every vampire in that den was punishing themselves for their sins, while she continued her bloody rampage unbothered.
She was the one without a conscience, not them.
“I… I’m sorry,” she said.
His eyebrows shot up. “A hunter apologizing to a vampire?” He whistled. “Please go on. I rather like this side of you.”
“Stop talking,” she said. She’d threatened to kill him, bound him with an artifact, and forced him to do her bidding. More than once, he’d nearly died. It had been easy to dismiss the vampires she’d staked while patrolling the streets of London because she hadn’t known them. They had been nameless enemies.
Not Jonathan.
Her jaw trembled. “What have I done? I’ve treated you terribly.”
Jonathan’s smile fell. “It wasn’t all bad. Being ordered about by a hunter was a rather titillating experience.”
She couldn’t stand it any longer. Before she changed her mind, she reached up, grasped the beads of the crucifix, and pulled. The string shattered, sending bits raining to the ground. Jonathan stared at them for a long time before clearing his throat. “Well, that was unexpected.”
She couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Do you want me to put it back?”
He recoiled. “Are you trying to chase me away?”
“Maybe I’m just tired of your presence.”
He scoffed. “Impossible. I’m the most charming man in London. Certainly the most charming vampire.”
She grinned. For the first time in weeks, she didn’t feel like she was weighed down by bricks perched precariously on her shoulders.
Her feet ached, but she didn’t mention a cab because she didn’t want the night to end. The Sorrow townhouse was home, but she’d never truly felt like she belonged there. With Jonathan, she felt whole.
It wasn’t until several minutes later, as they followed a dark alley into the fringes of Mayfair, that she realized they weren’t heading to the hunter base. A faint hope sparked to life deep inside her that he’d ask her to stay with him, even though it was impossible. Great-Uncle Ezra was expecting her to return and relay the location of Jonathan’s haven. If she failed to report in, her family would form a search party. After the loss of Winifred and Vincent, Felicity suspected Great-Uncle Ezra would dispatch every available hunter. They would eventually find and follow her trail and any vampire they encountered along the way would be slaughtered.
It wasn’t right.
She stopped so suddenly that Jonathan bumped into her. He put his hands on her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
