Christine Warren - Huntress

“Well, that’s to be expected this time of year,” Ginny said. Suddenly her hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, dear Lord! I entirely forgot about your guest!”

My eyes widened. “We have a guest?”

“Yes, I told him y’all weren’t here yet, but he said he’d wait. I put him in the parlor an hour ago. You vampires are so fiendishly quiet I forgot he was there.”

“Did he give you a name?” Michael asked.

Ginny bobbed her head. “Warden Grady.”

All four of us groaned. I think we were all looking forward to one evening of quiet to get settled before we started demon hunting.

“Well, we mustn’t keep the warden waiting,” I muttered.

“Would you like me to fetch y’all some tea?” Ginny asked.

Before I could answer, Michael said, “Miss McCready, I think you’d better break out the whiskey.”

My husband knew me so very well.

As promised, Warden Grady was waiting patiently in my parlor. He had helped himself to a glass of cognac and was stretched out in one of the wing chairs in front of the fire.

“Warden,” I greeted him as we entered the room, “I trust we didn’t keep you waiting long.”

“Not at all,” he replied, rising swiftly to take my hand and execute a courtly bow. He then greeted Michael, Devlin, and Justine. As we all took a seat he continued, “I apologize for showing up on your doorstep before you’ve even had a chance to settle in, but I appreciate you coming so quickly. I just arrived back in town myself yesterday.”

Devlin leaned forward. “I take it there has been some new development,” he said, his gravelly voice sounding surly, even to me. “Or surely tomorrow night would have been soon enough to call.”

Grady looked at him nervously. Devlin was the oldest of us, the leader of The Righteous. That, coupled with the fact that he was nearly six and a half feet tall and built like a brick wall, was enough to inspire respect, and perhaps a bit of fear, in any sane vampire.

“Another vampire disappeared last night,” Grady said.

“Something must be done before the Ripper decimates the entire population of the city.”

“What Devlin is trying to say,” I explained gently, “is that since we’ve literally just walked in the door, I haven’t yet had the time I need to look through my spell books, which I keep in the library here.”

Grady looked disappointed, as if he had assumed that because I was a witch I should somehow instinctively know how to vanquish demons.

“But you do have something that will stop him?”

“I know that there is part of a spell in one of my books. I need to acquire the ingredients that fuel the magic, though. Ginny, is there still an apothecary shop on Panton Street called Little and Sons?”

Grady glanced at Ginny as she filled our glasses. “There is,” she replied hesitantly.

Ginny glanced around the room at everyone’s expectant looks, and leaned down to whisper, “As a matter of fact, you know how I said I have a new beau? His name is Warren Little and he happens to own that particular shop.”

She needn’t have whispered. With our keen vampire hearing, everyone in the room knew what she’d said.

I blinked up at her. “Oh. My. Well, that is fortuitous. We shall pay him a visit tonight and that will bring us one step closer to tracking down this monster.”

“And until we slay him, though,” Devlin said to the warden grimly, “keep your vampires off the streets. Tell them not to go out to feed unless they absolutely have to. And if the blood will come to them, so much the better.”

Grady nodded. “The Regent hasn’t left his mansion in weeks,” he replied. “The blood whores are brought in to feed the court.”

A blood whore was exactly what it sounded like, a human who sold his or her blood, and often their bodies as well, to vampires. It was a very lucrative and tightly regulated business, but blood whores were considered a delicacy, and only those in the upper echelons of vampire society were able to afford to drink from them on a regular basis. As a result, there were nowhere near enough blood whores in London to feed the entire vampire population. Unless we caught this bastard soon, the vamps would eventually have to go out to feed. And the Ripper would be there, waiting.

Our carriage pulled to a stop in front of the apothecary shop on Panton Street. Michael leapt from the box and opened the door with a flourish, interrupting Ginny’s discourse on the hiring of Will, my redheaded footman, and his young bride Amy, who was apparently my chambermaid. Thankfully, they had their own lodgings and did not live in my house. It would be hard enough to explain why all the windows were shuttered during the day without having them underfoot all night as well.

Ginny and I descended from the carriage. Devlin and Justine had stayed behind to look through the books that were in my library. I’m not an accomplished spellcaster—my magic tends to be a bit more active—but I have acquired quite an abundance of books on spellcraft and the arcane over the years.

As Ginny rang the bell, I paused in the shadow of the carriage. Pulling Michael’s head to mine, I kissed him quickly but thoroughly.

“What was that for, lass?” he asked.

“Just to remind you that I haven’t forgotten what’s been promised to me,” I said, trailing my fingers across his chest, then lower, smiling contentedly when the muscles of his stomach leapt to my touch.

The jingle of the shop’s bell drew my attention as Warren Little opened the door. A bachelor, he lived in the small apartment above his shop. It was apparent that he’d already settled in for the night. His dark hair was rather a mess and the buttons of his shirt were slightly askew, as if he’d dressed in a hurry.

“Miss Virginia!” he exclaimed, and then softer, “Ginny.”

I winked at Michael. “We’ll be back shortly,” I said, leaving him to mind the horses.

“Warren,” Ginny said, “this is my employer, Cin Craven.”

Warren looked startled, and why wouldn’t he be? Two women showing up on a bachelor’s doorstep in the middle of the night was highly improper, but time was of the essence. I couldn’t go out in the daylight and I knew what I was looking for. Coming to the shop tonight was the most efficient use of our time.

Warren finally regained his composure and bowed to me.

“Mrs. Craven,” he said, “won’t you both come in?”

I wasn’t prepared for the memories that assaulted me when I entered the shop. So much had changed in the world over the last century, but this shop was exactly the same. I closed my eyes and inhaled. It even smelled the same. I had played here when I was a little girl, my mother having also been a witch and a regular customer of this establishment. I knew there was a private room in the back of the store that sold anything a witch could want. I stared at the counter and the jar of peppermints that still sat there, the bright red and white candies beckoning me. Silently, I crossed the room and ran my fingers over the glass. Warren’s grandfather, Archie, had always given me one or two when Mother and I had come to shop. I looked up at the ceiling. Somewhere upstairs was the bedroom where I had woken the night I’d become a vampire. It was also the same room I’d sat in as I’d watched Archie Little take his last breath in this world.

“Is she all right?” Warren whispered to Ginny.

“She’s fine,” Ginny whispered back. Louder, she said, “Cin, may I introduce Mr. Warren Little?”

I reached up and brushed a tear from my cheek before turning back to them. Warren was the very image of his father and a more handsome version of his grandfather. He was a big man with dark hair and dark eyes. And, like his father and his grandfather before him, not the sort of man you’d expect to find behind the counter in an apothecary shop.