I raise my hands indulgently. “Gentlemen.” My voice is so smooth, it shocks me. “I don’t know if anyone’s informed you, but within these very doors, a certain Aloysius Ermengarde Beecham the Third has been performing crimes against God, science, and man. He’s also broken atleastthree sections of the Hippocratic Oath.”
They remain rooted in place, exchanging wary glances.
“You might find some survivors inside, or not. But you should look, just to be sure. Diligence and all.”
And, with that, I saunter south on Gill Street, much too high on my freedom from that claustrophobic infirmary—and possibly still laudanum—to care what passersby are whispering about my torn, bloodied attire.
It’s not long before the autumn afternoon is filled with bellowing screams and more gunshots. I should be fleeing the scene, or burning down the building,or maybe even mourning, but the only thing I runtois the one I want to save.
All I can think of is her. Seamstress and part-time shop runner at Lewis & Allenby’s. Possible accomplice to my enemy. Love of my godforsaken life.
It seems mostof the town has flocked down to Gill after hearing the commotion. By the time I turn onto Limehouse Causeway, the only sign of life there is Annie, who bursts into the road just in time, flinging Amah’s door wide open.
All it takes is one look and the uptick of her hammering heart, and my teeth elongate, the tips pulsing into my bottom lip.
The unmistakable timing with my erection is comical. There’s probably some correlation there.
I’m instantly sobered when she tugs out a travel trunk more than half the size of her body and heaves it onto the sidewalk. Her face is blotchy as she glances about the other shops before her gaze comes to rest on me.
“Annie.” I approach her urgently—but slow, startled, the moment I realize her face is splattered with blood. The tips of her fingers are smeared in red.
The slap that cracks across my face echoes off the surrounding buildings.
“You did this to me,” she snarls through her tears. There are no fangs—not yet—but the hunger I’d seen in myself the night before blazes through her eyes, wild and ravenous as they comb me.
My torn, bloodstained garments. My teeth.
“What have you—” She glances down at her hands, trembling violently. “What have I done?” She looks more pissed than afraid, but she also doesn’t come any closer.
Merde. I stagger back, uncomprehending. I hadn’t been…this…when we’d made love. Hadn’t bitten her, though God knows I’d wanted to. We’d been careful.
Unable to help myself, I reach for her; Annie stumbles back, nearly tripping over the travel trunk and staring into the open apartment.
Amah braces herself in the doorway. Blood darkens the collar of her white blouse while one of her hands clutches her side. Her glazed eyes find her granddaughter’s, then mine. Then, they lower, perhaps not wanting to see what I’ve become.
“She needs help.” Annie looks like she’s ready to fall to her knees. “I didn’t mean to—I got so angry when she said she’d sent you off. I lost control. I don’t know what came over me.”
She then turns to vomit in the street.
Annie somehow understands what’s happened to me, yet doesn’t recognize the striking resemblance in her own violence.
“Oh, I think I do.”
Her eyes flash at my response, just as I turn and catch Amah just as she collapses against the doorframe. She’s still conscious, the wounds at her neckline and ribs, shallow from what I can tell. She must be shaken.
“I asked you to stay.” Annie wipes her mouth on her sleeve. “I was trying to protect you!”
“So you knew nothing of this?” My gaze pins her, dragging from her face to her throat. My fangs have started to throb, and all I can think of is tasting her. It’s almost as if she can sense it too, because Ifeelher fighting her instincts. “You didn’t know what you were protecting me from?”
“I thought you were wanted for some sort of crime. An unpaid bill, or an unfinished operation.”
“So you were fine with me potentially getting my kneecaps shattered, but growing fangs and adeep craving for your blood is where you draw the line?” I want to lunge. To pin her against the wall in my betrayal and hunger. The only thing keeping me anchored is the shivering old woman clinging to my waist.
Annie’s silence speaks volumes.
“Your grandmother believed it was a good idea either way.”
“You don’t understand what Beecham promised her,” Annie snaps. “What it meant to someone like her. Legal standing, protection for the shop. I didn’t carewhathe’d approached her for—I agreed to help. To send an incoming inspector his way, until you came into my shop. And Itriedto get you to leave. To leave me alone.” Tears of hatred form at the corners of her eyes. “Amah didn’t mean any harm. She didn’t mean it. She didn’t mean to hurt you.”
