Page 108 of Eternal Craving

I met her gaze. “Who does this place belong to?”

She drew in a sharp breath. “The Stone Masters.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

My first run-in with our one true enemy, the Stone Masters, left me unimpressed.

They were no more than a handful of men with little sign of leadership, evidenced by their lack of security. An amateur’s collection of do-gooders that women like Lady Bradbury sought out for help, only to leave without resolution, failed by men unable to grasp the true extent of London’s underworld. These were aristocrats who were awarded responsibility but lacked the power to effectively alleviate what they saw as a threat. Though I had to admit, the same could not be said for their dogs.

We checked into The Fountain Hotel – one of London’s larger establishments – just off The Strand.Guests could come and go with some assurance of privacy, and business and pleasure were agreeably mixed. It would be a temporary residence until we found something more suitable.

Beginning our search, Sunaria and I had gone our separate ways at my insistence. I reasoned that we’d cover more ground if we split up. Despite her protests, I’d given her no choice.

Sleet and hail cleared London’s streets like nothing else. No one would brave such elements – other than me of course. Wheneventually the rain did let up, it left a welcome freshness and the air became tolerable, at least for an hour.

I recognized nothing. I’d flown along the darkest streets to the farthest outskirts and dawn threatened to break at any moment. I heard sparrows break into song.

I’d run out of time to make it home.

Westminster Abbey welcomed me with its familiar perpendicular style, simple lines and minimal artifacts. I strolled down the aisle tempting daylight, passing under wide arches and admiring the stonework and half-finished stained-glass windows – some relaying biblical narratives or perfectly crafted images of serene saints captured in their moment of martyrdom.

I made my way through the nave then down into the cathedral’s lower tenements. With the drop in temperature came the promise of darkness. I peeked into one of the few doors along the corridor and found a burial chamber. Hoping for something more suitable, I trekked on, checking out my temporary dwelling.

I reached a dead end.

My foot splashed into a shallow puddle, and I traced its origin. A trickle of water leaked from the roof and trailed under the end wall. I studied the lower bricks.

I ran my fingers up and along until I found the lone brick that jutted out just a little more than the others. I heaved open the doorway and was hit by a burst of cold air and a puff of dust. Excited by my find, I entered and strolled down a long tunnel. Within a few minutes, I had arrived at the end of the passageway and found another door. My skin tingled – nature’s way of alerting the undead. Unable to resist, I peeked through a keyhole.

Light!

I flinched and staggered back. A stupid idea to take such a risk. Searing pain settled in my right eye, and I bit into my handto muffle a yell. Rubbing my eye, I tried to ease the searing pain. Blinking several times and willing normal sight to return, I headed back. Once through, I gave the wall a shove and secured the passageway.

The burial chamber would have to do.

I banged the door shut. The air felt clean, the chill was quite refreshing. Nearby, water dripped – and it already irritated the hell out of me. When my sight returned, I viewed line upon line of caskets, the scent surprisingly pleasant. From the ornate brickwork and craftsmanship on the dark wood shelving, I could see this place was reserved for the privileged.

A rat scurried around at the back of the chamber. And something else too.A vampire.

“Good evening.” I bowed.

Luminescent eyes glared from beneath his hood, which he’d pulled forward, making it difficult to read his expression. Hidden from view, but detectable, a woman lay just around the corner.

I gestured to the door. “As soon as it’s dark, I’ll leave.”

“Who are you?” he asked with a cockney accent.

“My name is Daumia. And you are?”

“Why are you here?”

He had a tall, slender build – not as tall as me, but almost.

“Did Count Delacroix send you?” His hood flopped back and revealed an eighteen-year-old face.

“Who?”

“To take us back?”