When he was certain the vampire was gone, Ben rushed to the mausoleum and inspected every inch of the structure. Two hours later, he figured out how to operate the mechanism to open the hidden door. Smiling with satisfaction, he returned to the gatehouse to await the dawn.
As he waited, he checked over his arsenal of vampire-killing implements. His extensive travels made him an expert on local vampire legends all over Europe. He had two stakes carved of ash, though hopefully only one would be sufficient. His pack also held a large jug of holy water with which to drench the creature, an ax to sever its head, garlic cloves to stuff into its mouth, and an iron cross to place over the corpse. The bloodsucking demon would not rise again to ravish another mortal when the hunter was finished.
Ben settled in for the long wait, alternately reciting the Lord’s Prayer and pleading for the duchess’s immortal soul. Perhaps when the deed was done he could tell her of his heroism and console her and help her to cleanse away her sins. He rested his arms behind his head and lay back while he envisioned her petite figure and angelic face, her round, upthrust breasts and luscious lips. He sighed in pleasure as he indulged in a fantasy of her in his arms, clinging to his strength and weeping delicate tears of gratitude.
“Soon, my dear,” he whispered, “Soon you will be safe from that terrible monster, safe with me.”
Twenty-six
Angelica awakened to a strange mewling sound. She lifted her head from her desk and winced as the cramped muscles in her neck screamed in agony. She had fallen asleep writing again. She looked down at the crinkled paper she had used as a pillow, grimacing at the smudged words. I’ll have to rewrite this page all over again. She frowned as she rubbed her cheek and saw that her fingers came away stained with ink.
Loki mewled again. She turned to see the cat on the windowsill, frantically pawing at the pane of glass that let in the early-morning light.
“What is the matter, Loki?” she asked, blinking as her eyes adjusted. “Do you need to go outside and do your necessary?”
The cat let out a plaintive wail. Her heart turned over in alarm. She had never seen the kitten behave in such an odd manner before.
Angelica stood up and stretched, yawning as the bones in her spine popped. Her feet were numb and her legs tingled from being in an uncomfortable position for so long. Rubbing her eyes, she made her way to the window. She peered outside, expecting to see a bird or a squirrel or some other thing that would catch a feline’s fascination. Instead what she saw made her heart stop and her blood freeze. She clung to the window frame and gasped.
A strange man had entered the rear garden. He was right below the window, creeping at a stealthy pace through the cropped grass, headed toward the mausoleum. Slung across his left shoulder was a bulging canvas bag with a piece of wood protruding out of it. In his right hand he carried a wooden stake, the tip sharpened to a deadly point. There was no doubt as to the stake’s purpose. Angelica bit back a moan of agony. Her heart felt as if it were being crushed in a vise.
This is one of the vampire hunters Ian told me about. She put a hand to her throat to stop her pulse from exploding from her neck. And he’s going to kill Ian! Loki growled and leaped to the floor, darting to the door. Angelica fought for breath, fully comprehending his urgency, yet momentarily frozen in terror. Her mind screamed at her to take action, and she willed herself to move. After an agonizing battle, her panic abated slightly and the blood returned to her limbs.
She spun from the window, eyes darting around the small room, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon. There, a sharp, silver letter opener. A small cry of triumph escaped her lips as she snatched the instrument from the lamp stand and ran out of the room. Loki sprinted ahead, barely staying in her view. Bright shafts of sunlight streamed in from the windows, illuminating the swirling dust motes. The servants were still abed. The house was silent and the only sound was her frantic heartbeat roaring in her ears.
She flung open the rear door and choked back a small scream. The hunter had already found his way inside Ian’s marble lair. Frantic hope bloomed in her breast when she saw that he had left the door open. Her pulse raced almost as fast as her legs as she darted through the garden, oblivious to the sharp branches and brambles that tore at her gown and scraped her flesh.
Angelica ran into the gaping mouth of the mausoleum. Ian, Ian! Her mind cried the desperate litany. She stumbled, almost pitching headfirst down the long stone steps that descended into a black, unknown void. Would he awaken? Could he defend himself from an assassin who knew a vampire’s weaknesses? Taking a deep breath, she lifted her skirts and plunged into the darkness, praying she’d get to her husband in time.