“Which explains the valet.”
“Bless that Grimsby. They can no longer afford the upkeep, but Albemarle is Lord Bowman’s ancestral home and he refuses to leave it.”
“Even if someone with deeper pockets could come along and salvage it?” If the earl viewed himself as merely a custodian of something bigger than himself rather than an owner, you’d think he’d be more than willing to see it restored to its former glory by another.
“Bah! The only ones with pockets deep enough would be vampires and he’d rather die than see fangers occupying the family estate. They already own most of the great houses they haven’t destroyed.”
To some degree, the earl’s reluctance was understandable. Even with the walls crumbling, where would he go that was better? In this world, every home had its dangers. A high-rise in Britannia City increased the risk of encountering dragons or other flying monsters. A cabin in the woods exposed you to shifters and demons passing through. The safest place I could think of was Buckingham Palace and that was only if you were a royal vampire. I certainly wasn’t safe in a house like that.
“What can you tell me about the berserkers?”
“Oh, good. A change of topic.” She played with a false eyelash that had wandered too close to its neighbor and gotten stuck. “There’ve been berserkers in this area for as long as there have been wolves, until very recently.”
“You don’t seem particularly surprised by the change in circumstances.”
“When you’ve been alive as long as I have, very little surprises you.”
“And how long is that? It’s hard to tell.”
She smiled as she managed to separate the eyelashes. “The results are astounding, aren’t they? Takes years off my real age.”
“What kind of magic do you use in the cosmetics?”
“Very subtle earth magic. You’d be surprised what it can do. Such magic is far more versatile than we realize.”
No kidding.
“If you really want to know about the berserkers,” she continued, “you should ask House Peyton. They’re vampires, after all. If anyone knows the history of this territory, it’s them.”
“But they haven’t been here for centuries. Not personally.” Vampires were immortal, but they could be killed and often were. And like Callan, not every vampire was hundreds of years old.
The corners of her mouth curved upward. “Not interested in that option, are you, sweetness?”
“I don’t think either one of us would be.”
The witch’s smile dissipated. “You’ve got that right. A miserable world this is, shrouded in darkness. Why do you think I surround myself with bright colors?”
“I thought those signs outside were more for practical purposes. To attract customers.”
“That, too.”
I had one more question for her. “Can you point me to any wolves who were berserk before the storm but are now…normal?” For lack of a better word.
“I couldn’t tell you any of their names,” she said. “But I can tell you where you might find one.” Her gaze drifted to the window. “The moor. Where the River Dart meets the River Webburn. When you pass through a village called Mirth, you’ll know you’re on the right path.”
“Thank you. That’s helpful.” I hauled myself to my feet.
“Can I interest you in any cosmetics before you go? A beautiful face like yours doesn’t need much, but a touch of lipstick and mascara would enhance your assets.”
I patted the axe strapped to my back. “This is the only asset I need.”
“Just because we’re independent women doesn’t mean we should be alone. I imagine you crave company once in a while.”
“The only thing I crave is a good night’s sleep so I can work the next day without making a fatal mistake.”
“Your eyes betray you,” she said. She splayed her hands on the table and pushed herself to her feet. “I’ll fix Albemarle’s water supply.”
I straightened. “Really?”
“Yes, but only because I don’t want new neighbors. If they’re forced to leave, vampires will be the only ones in a position to take on a house of that size and I don’t want the bloodsuckers any closer than they already are.”
“Then maybe you could use some of that versatile earth magic to help repair the wall.”
She scowled. “Why do I care whether they get wet from the rain?”
I threw her words back at her. “Do things only matter to you when they only impact you directly?”
Her scowl deepened. “Be on your way, knight, before I change my mind.”
I found my way to the jeep that was idle by the roadside. Callan leaned across to open the door for me.
“Well?”
“We need to go where the River Dart meets the River Webburn.” I strapped myself into the seat.
“Because you’re going to repair the water supply?”
“No, because that’s where we might find a former berserker. There’s a village called Mirth nearby.”
He swung the jeep around and joined the road. “Unfortunate name.”
It didn’t take us long to find the route to Mirth. It was an isolated area and the village itself was quiet. Unlike the kind of ominous silence that indicates something wicked this way comes, the current quiet was comfortable. A place and its people at rest.
Callan parked the jeep in front of a general store.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Thought it might be a good time to stock up on supplies.”
“You couldn’t have done that while I was busy with Brumhilda?”
He climbed out of the jeep. “I didn’t want to stray too far in case you needed help.”
“How many times do I need to tell you…?”
I didn’t get to tell him again. A bearded man stepped around the corner with a pistol aimed at me. “Not another step, thief.” His gaze landed on Callan. “Thieves, plural. You’ve taken quite enough from us. There’ll be no more.”
Callan and I exchanged glances. Slowly I raised my hands so the man could see they were empty. “We’re not here to take anything.”
The man narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “No? I suppose you’re all stocked up now.”
I pressed the heel of my boot on Callan’s foot to stop him from launching himself at the bearded man. One sudden move from the vampire and the man would surely shoot.
“We haven’t been here before,” I said, maintaining eye contact with the stranger. “We’re only passing through on our way back from Albemarle and decided to stop for supplies.”
He squinted at me. “What business have you got there?”
“I believe that’s our business,” Callan told him.
“If you lower your weapon, we can talk.” I tried to keep my voice gentle and friendly, although it wasn’t easy when I wanted to rip the pistol from his hand and beat him on the head with it. Thanks to my upbringing, my survival instincts were stronger than my manners.
“Do I look a fool to you? If I lower my weapon, you’ll steal my gun and whatever else you choose.”
“Where did a man like you even get a gun?” Callan asked.