Page 1 of The Count

PROLOGUE

COUNT DMITRI ALUCARD

Inever much liked coming into London, but business was business. A longtime acquaintance of mine and my family, Dorian Gray, had alluded to a proposition that I couldn’t turn away from, so I made the journey from my home in Edinburgh to the rather drab streets of London. Gone were the tall trees and brilliantly colored flowers blooming in the gardens of my family estate, replaced by the concrete jungle that was the capital of England.

The things I had to do to make money.

I looked out the window, losing myself in all the shades of gray. The sky was covered in clouds, the constant threat of rain always upon us.

My eyes flicked to a street sign. Malet Street. We were driving through the University of London campus.

I allowed myself to enjoy the impressive architecture of each of the buildings along the side of the road. The school had been founded in the mid-1800s and they had done much to keep the grandeur of the original construction. I squinted up toward the cloud cover, blinking several times as the sun broke through the thick haze. When I couldn’t bear the bright light any longer, I looked out the window and that’s when I saw a sight that would change my world forever.

Her.

Like an angel fallen from heaven.

From the moment I first laid eyes on Jasmina Harker, I knew she was mine. I didn’t know her name back then, but it didn’t matter. I’d find it. I wouldn’t stop until I did.

The sun streamed down from the break in the clouds, almost like a spotlight. She was with a friend, but I didn’t even glance at her long enough to notice her hair or eye color or even what she was wearing.

Jasmina became my entire focus.

Dark mahogany curls cascaded down her back, bouncing with every single step. I wanted to grasp it in my fist. I wanted to hear her quiet mewls of pain when I pulled it tight. Her pale skin practically glittered in the sunlight. It would mark so beautifully from nothing more than my hand. She laughed and threw her head back, her radiant smile holding me completely captive.

I rolled down my window, needing to see better.

Her richly colored caramel irises sparkled as she glanced over her shoulder, seemingly looking straight at me and directly into my soul.

It felt like destiny. In my heart, I knew that one day she would be mine.

She looked back toward the university building and jogged up the stairs, grabbing at her friend’s wrist and pulling her along.

I would see her again. I was sure of it.

I also knew that one day I would make her my wife.

I spent the rest of that drive thinking about her, not even noticing when we passed by St. James Street and drove into Piccadilly Square. I pursed my lips, immediately displeased by the choice in location for this introduction that Dorian had arranged for me. There was a homeless man on the corner pushing a cart, trying to escape the endless stream of tourists strolling up and down the sidewalks. When the car finally drew up in front of Barrington’s, I cringed a bit.

It was a public gentlemen’s club that was trying in some form to be like the much more magnificent private gentlemen’s clubs here in London, but they weren’t doing a good job, not even remotely.

With a sigh, I climbed out of the car. I looked around for a moment, adjusting my tie while I took in the seedy ambience of the entire place. My bodyguard climbed out of the passenger seat. In his hands were the funds to acquire a new product, all discreetly hidden in a black briefcase.

It was time to meet Edward Hyde.

Dorian had informed me that an acquaintance of his had provided several of my more lower-class colleagues with copious amounts of high-quality benzoylecgonine. When I had inquired if he had anything more exclusive than that, Dorian had arranged an in-person meeting. From the information I’d gathered beforehand, Hyde was a struggling university research scientist on a budget, but he was smart and inventive. I’d only gotten bits and pieces since then, but the drug he’d alluded to seemed especially promising.

If this turned out to be everything that I thought it might be, my clientele would be very, very pleased to pay whatever amount I asked for it.

I liked making money. I didn’t much care if it was done legally or illegally.

I walked in the door, nodding to the front desk attendant. I didn’t check in and she didn’t stop me. This place already knew my name.

I strode through the hall into the back room. There was a full bar and to the undiscerning eye, it would have appeared grand, but I saw through that façade. The wood was scratched in places, deep gouges that spoke to the kind of client they entertained here on occasion. It was unpolished. I could see a thick layer of dust on the upper shelves that would have never been allowed in the type of clubs I would have preferred to frequent.

This place wasn’t my choice though. It was Hyde’s.

Off to the side, I saw Dorian. His suit was decadent among the rest of the rather mundane off-the-rack polyester suits that were in the room with us. He was sipping a glass of wine. Knowing him, it was probably an impeccable vintage. I wouldn’t make the mistake of asking him about it. I didn’t have time for the full explanation today.

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