Page 30 of The Vampire's Guide to Wooing a Curator
Jonathan leaned againsta lamppost across the street from the Sorrow townhouse. It was a narrow brick building squashed between a busy boarding house and the den of a spiritualist. The former was a guess, but the latter was obvious. A stylized crescent moon was painted above the front entrance, and faint curls of smoke exited the only open window that did not have the curtains drawn tightly closed. Twice in as many minutes he’d found his attention drawn to that window, but he attributed this to the Sorrow hunters’ clever protection. He’d walked past their home four times in increasing frustration before realizing Felicity’s family had cast some manner of enchantment that encouraged passersby to overlook the townhouse.
Impressive work. He was almost tempted to kick down the door and watch the hunters scramble like ants defending their colony. But he was not so reckless as to trespass onto the grounds of people who wanted him dead. He’d been able to avoid being recognized by Felicity even after he’d kissed her, and the leader of the Sorrow hunters had not discerned Jonathan’s nature in the museum, but in both cases, the hunters had been distracted.
An icy wind swirled around him, sending leaves skittering. He kept his attention on the shadows moving behind the curtains on the third floor. It was an hour past sunset. If Felicity was going to join him, it would have to be soon. The gambling hall to which he intended to take her only operated for a few hours each night. Most vampires, even those consumed by the vice of gambling, preferred not to risk their own lives by staying out too late.
At last, the door he had been watching creaked open, and a figure stepped out. She wore men’s clothing similar to those she’d worn the night he’d found her on patrol in Whitechapel, which probably meant she was carrying weapons. That was good. He didn’t know what danger they might face.
He waited long enough to make sure she didn’t flee back into the house before letting out a sharp whistle. Her head jerked in his direction, then she scurried across the street. She moved so quickly that her cloak lifted behind her like a cape and when she reached him, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright with excitement.
“There you are,” she said. “I thought you’d changed your mind.”
“And miss an opportunity to introduce you to a world of sin?” He scoffed. “Absolutely not.”
He waved a hand, and a carriage rattled toward them. He helped her inside and then sat across from her. He had been tempted to force her to walk, but that would have been a punishment to him as much as to her, as the rattling in his lungs had worsened and the speed that had once come easily was failing with increasing frequency.
She pulled back the curtain hanging over the window and peered outside. “Where are we going?”
He flipped the curtain shut, then reached into his pocket and removed a length of black silk. “Wrap this around your head.”
She stared at it as if it were a snake about to strike. “Absolutely not.” She shifted in her seat. “I promise not to tell my family the location.”
He scoffed. “You think I would take the word of a hunter?”
Her cheeks reddened. She snatched the length of silk and wrapped it around her head. He liked that look on her, unable to see him. Unaware of what he was doing. If they were in a more private location, he might have considered suggesting a more sensual way to pass the time. But she would surely assault him if he attempted to touch her.
A pity. There were many lovely things that could be done while one was blindfolded.
Chapter Fifteen
Felicity felt likethere was a tightly coiled spring tucked inside her chest, ready to come free at any moment and send her flying out of her skin. She felt Mr. Drake’s knees nudge hers, inhaled the scent of decaying leaves and earth that had to have been coming from him, and heard the rhythmic tapping of his fingers.
Was her sudden awareness of him the result of his bite?
That would explain why it was strictly forbidden for a hunter to allow themselves to be bitten. If Great-Uncle Ezra discovered what she’d done, she’d be lucky to get away with a slap.
It was unfortunate that Mr. Drake hadn’t believed her promise, even if had been a lie. Providing her family with the location of a vampire gathering place might have proven she was worthy of re-joining the nightly patrols, if only as a spy.
The carriage lurched to a stop.
“Have we arrived?” she asked.
There was a creak, and then something cold brushed her cheek. She jerked backward until the back of her head hit the interior of the carriage. “What are you doing?” She reached for the scrap of fabric tied around her head, but his hands caught hers.
“Putting up the hood of your cloak so no one can see your face,” he said. “I will remove the blindfold when we are inside.”
It was, unfortunately, quite logical. What wasn’t logical was how sweat dripped down her neck despite the chill and his ice-cold hands. She shivered.
Maneuvering out of the carriage proved more difficult than she’d expected. More surprising, however, were Mr. Drake’s gentle words of encouragement and overall patience. When she was safely out of the conveyance, he patted her arm. “It’s a straight path from here to the steps.”
Steps! The man was going to take her down a set of stairs while she was blindfolded. She’d be lucky to avoid breaking an ankle.
“Find the wall,” he said.
She grasped until her fingers landed on something smooth and solid. A railing. She grasped it and lowered her foot down until her boot touched solid ground. From there, it was easy to descend all the way down.
“That’s the last one,” Mr. Drake said. “You can remove the blindfold now.”
She did so and found herself in a cramped, dark room. Mr. Drake was still talking, but his voice was muffled by the pounding in her head. She clenched her jaw to keep from screaming as the walls squeezed around her and she was thrust into a memory.
