He crouched at the edge of the water.
I grabbed his arm and yanked. Hard. He landed on his backside.
The vampire snarled. “What the devil?”
“Don’t look at your reflection!”
He frowned at me. “What’s the matter? Worried I’ll fall in love with myself and become a flower? I’m a vampire, remember? Can’t see my reflection.”
Okay, I’d acted on impulse. But still.
I pointed to the water where another face was now visible. Callan’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly.
“It’s a cochlea demon,” I said. “If they get a lock on you while you’re looking at your reflection, they can inhabit your body.”
The vampire thrust a hand into the water and pulled the demon out by the scruff of the neck. The current body had shriveled beyond recognition. The demon spat a mouthful of water in Callan’s face. The vampire simply blinked away the invading droplets.
“They’re like snails,” I explained. “They outgrow their host body and need to replace it with another one.” Which meant they were always on the hunt for a body in good shape which Callan’s most definitely was. In fact, the demon could live the rest of its unnatural life in a body like the vampire’s.
Callan studied the demon as it writhed in his grip. “I feel sorry for the poor sod who gave his life to this thing.”
“Don’t throw it back in the water. It can’t do any harm out here. It needs water to survive.”
“It won’t take long for it to crawl back to the lake if we don’t kill it.”
The demon hissed in response.
I debated the options. It seemed wrong to kill it when it was helpless. On the other hand, if we left it to kill another day, we were dooming another innocent life.
“We didn’t pass any water between the road and here.” Maybe there was a cave with a pool of water nearby. If the cave was secluded, there’d be little chance of someone wandering in there and peering at their reflection.
Callan frowned at the demon. “Are you certain that’s what you want to do?”
The demon hissed, but the worst it could do in this position was spit. “Yes.”
“Very well then.” He tossed the demon over his shoulder like he was carrying a jacket. “Let’s find a cave pool.”
As I filled the container with water for the jeep, the demon decided to make its last stand and wrapped its desiccated arms around Callan’s neck.
Big mistake.
The vampire flipped the demon onto the ground with preternatural speed. The demon’s throat was slit before I had a chance to move. Thick purple liquid oozed from the wound.
Callan raked a hand through his dark blond hair as though surprised by the change in plans. “Some species have no sense of self-preservation.”
“You were really planning to let it live, weren’t you?” I asked.
He looked at me. “As a favor to you, yes.”
Huh.
We walked the two miles back to the jeep in silence. RIP cochlea demon.
8
With a cooled engine and empty stomachs, we arrived at our destination.
Callan slowed the jeep to a stop in the middle of a long dirt driveway that led to the house. “This is Albemarle?”
The vampire sounded unconvinced. His misgivings were understandable. The house had seen better days. As Romeo mentioned, one side was missing an entire wall. Cracked windows. Crumbled stone. Missing shutters. Holes in the roof. The rest of the house wasn’t in much better shape.
“Are you quite certain someone lives here?” he pressed.
“According to my client, yes.”
Callan stared at the rambling country home. “I don’t understand why anyone would live like this.”
I thought of my adolescent years spent in the tunnels below Britannia City. “Probably because they have no other choice.”
He parked the jeep outside the house and we exited together. We strode to the entrance and I knocked on the door that hung slightly askew. I glanced up to see the top hinge was broken.
A portly man greeted us at the door. His brown hair was combed to the side. He wore a black jacket and white shirt without a tie.
“Lord Bowman, I’m London Hayes and this is my associate, Mr. Lincoln. I understand you’re expecting me.”
The man offered a slightly amused smile. “I’m the valet, Grimsby. Lord Bowman awaits you in the study.”
My eyebrows crept up. The house was in pieces yet the earl still employed staff?
We followed Grimsby through the massive foyer and I noticed a sparrow perched on the railing of the dilapidated staircase. It seemed to sense my attention because it chirped and flew away.
The flagstone floor was surprisingly clean considering the interior was somewhat exposed to the elements.
Grimsby stopped outside an open doorway. “May I present Miss London Hayes and Mr. Lincoln, my lord.”
“Thank you, Grimsby.” Theodore Bowman sat behind a large desk made of dark wood. He was a slender man of average height. The arm of his glasses was attached by a piece of clear tape that had been wrapped around multiple times. He wore a long-sleeved cotton shirt in dark green with a round neckline. His white hair was slightly disheveled and looked as though he might’ve trimmed it himself without a mirror.
I approached the desk with my hand outstretched. “Nice to meet you, my lord.”
“A pleasure,” he said, shaking each of our hands. “Please call me Theodore. I insist.” He motioned to the threadbare chairs in front of the desk. “Sit down and we’ll have a nice chat.”
My butt wasn’t padded enough to be comfortable on the hard seat. I’d endured much worse discomforts though.
“Tea?” he offered. “We’re fortunate to have a selection. We can live without a wall but life without tea—is that even living?” His brow creased. “No sugar or milk, I’m afraid. No such luxuries at Albemarle.” He didn’t wait for our response. “Tea, please, Grimsby.”
My gaze swept the large room. It would’ve been very grand once upon a time. The only evidence of it now was a shelf that spanned the length of the room lined with decorative blue plates.
“Lovely pottery,” I said.
Theodore broke into a broad smile. “An incredible art form. Wouldn’t you agree?”
I’d read enough history books to know that pottery had once enjoyed prominence during Ancient Roman times. It seemed to be enjoying a resurgence in the earl’s household.
“I’m sorry my wife isn’t well enough to join us,” Theodore said. “She took to her bed earlier today with a headache.”
“Is that unusual?” I asked.
“Not for Madeline. One of the pitfalls of dehydration. Not to worry. Our water supply will be repaired soon enough and Madeline will mend.”
I worried about many things in connection with survival in the city, but my water supply wasn’t one of them.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
It had been the sentiment I was about to utter but, surprisingly, Callan beat me to it.
Theodore emitted a small sigh. “Ah, well. You’re not here to talk about our woes, are you?”
Grimsby entered holding a tray with a teapot and three cups on saucers.