Page 62 of Heart of Iron
Outside, sunlight danced over the street.Passersby glanced at him in curiosity, but none said a word.A young woman in embroidered yellow cotton grabbed her son’s hand and dragged the staring child out of the way.Will was tempted to smile at her with bared teeth, but something about what Lena had said to him rang true.He wasn’t a beast.Not truly.No matter what the woman saw when she looked at him.Forcing out a curt nod, he strode past her as if he belonged here.
The night had been long and sleep hard to find.Colchester played on his mind, the adversary he didn’t know enough about.
Yet.
If Lena thought her best defense against a blue blood was to lie down and submit, then she had another thing coming.Last night scared him.Even at a gathering of nearly four hundred people, Colchester managed to get near her.
He found his way to a jeweler’s and strode in out of the wind.A pair of blue bloods were examining the wares at the counter, clad in velvets and lace.One wore a perfumed, fragrant wig, much in the style of Georgian times, and leaned heavily on a cane.Beneath the perfume lingered a faint rotting smell that made Will’s hackles rise.
On the verge of the Fade.The blue blood wouldn’t have much time left before someone decided to put him out of his misery—and spare the city another vampire massacre.
The middle-aged man grabbed his arm as the elder turned, leaning heavily on the cane.“Here, Grandfather.Take a seat.”He guided him to a chair and gestured at the shopkeeper.“Blud-wein.Now.”
Neither of them had smelt him yet.Will prowled the cabinets, fighting the urge to turn and keep them in sight at all times.The scent made his blood chill.He’d only ever faced one vampire.And one was enough, as the scars across his abdomen would attest.They were the only wounds his virus hadn’t been able to heal completely.
In Georgian times, a spate of vampires almost drowned the city in blood.It cost ten thousand lives before the Echelon managed to destroy them all.Now, when the virus finally overtook them and the Fade threatened, a blue blood was closely watched.As soon as his body started paling—his eyes filming over and his teeth sharpening—an ax was sent for.
The shop bell tinkled and a pair of heavy boots strode in.Will caught a glimpse of the newcomer’s reflection in the glass of the cabinet.
A long black great cloak wrapped around the man’s shoulders, with a spill of lace at his throat.His waistcoat was red velvet, a golden pocket watch gleaming against it.White gloves curled around a golden-handled cane and he glanced at the pair in the corner, his lip curling beneath a battered nose.
“Devil take it, Arsen,” the man snapped, tugging out a scented handkerchief.“Haven’t you buried that old relic yet?”
Both of the men froze.Whilst the younger stammered, the elder lifted his pale, powdered face, a hint of malice in those dark eyes.“I’m not dead yet, Colchester.Maybe I’ll take you with me.”
Colchester.
“I should like to see you try, Monkton,” Colchester sneered.“Perhaps I can do the job Arsen’s evidently been neglecting.”
Colchester was younger than he’d imagined, with the kind of smooth cheeks and rakishly tossed hair that might turn a lady’s head.A big, broad-shouldered fellow, he moved with the smooth-limbed grace of a swordsman.
His blue eyes glanced at Will’s attire and dismissed him.That was his first mistake.Any true predator would have looked past the clothes to the man within.Obviously years of rank and position had inured him to the dangers of the world.In the Echelon, if a blue blood had grievance with another, they dueled.Will, however, was used to streets where men took what they wanted with a quick knife to the back.
“Please, Your Grace,” Arsen stammered.“Grandfather doesn’t mean anything by it.We’ve been watching him closely.We just thought some fresh air would do him good.”
“An ax would be better.”
Monkton’s lip curled up.“Aye.Like the one you forgot to take to the late, unlamented Vickers ’til it was too late?”He laughed, a wheezing sound.“Heard it was a glorious duel with the duke’s wig torn off in front of the court and the truth of his condition betrayed.They say it took a week to get the stink of his rot out of the atrium.”
Colchester’s fist tightened unconsciously.“Don’t make a dangerous enemy, Monkton.You’re nothing but a minor offshoot of the House of Malloryn.And Auvry’s a dear friend of mine.Perhaps I’ll whisper in his ear and see the matter dealt with appropriately?”
Both of the men paled.The younger grabbed his grandfather by his velvet-clad arm and hustled him out of the jewelry shop with a steady stream of apologies.Colchester watched them go with a bored expression on his face.He eased a snuff tin from his pocket and inhaled a pinch of it, wincing through his bruised nose.
Their eyes met in the jeweled mirror on the far wall.
“Aren’t you out of your league here?”Colchester asked, tucking his snuff tin back in his pocket.
“You’d be surprised,” Will replied.His hands twitched.One moment of violence and Lena would never have to look over her shoulder again… He took a step toward the duke.
The shopkeeper reappeared with a pair of glasses balanced on a tray.He blinked to find the room empty.Colchester snatched a glass of blud-wein as he sauntered past.
“Really, Griffith.The people you allow in here,” he muttered, peering at an antique cameo.“I might have to take my business elsewhere.”
“Y-Your Grace—” the shopkeeper stammered.
Anger bubbled in Will’s chest.The chance was lost.
Colchester looked up.“You’re still here?”
