Alistair’s eyes burned with anger. He paced around the room, his hands moving in a flurry. I should’ve been there in the room with them to make sure she was all right. I can’t believe I left her with the vamps, he signed.
Westie felt her cheeks warm when she remembered the lusty sounds she’d made, and Costin’s hands and teeth all over her. She felt guilty, which made her cross. She had nothing to feel guilty about. It wasn’t like Alistair loved her. Loyalty was not something she owed him. She could tell herself those things until her tongue fell out, but it wouldn’t matter. The guilt had set up camp and was there to stay.
“Neither of you should’ve been there,” Nigel replied. With a sigh he turned to Westie. “You should eat hot oats, something that will be gentle on your stomach.”
She put a protective arm around her plate so Nigel wouldn’t take it from her. “I want steak. Don’t you see I have my appetite back? I feel good, Nigel. Better than I have in a long time.”
She ate her food and drank her glass of apple juice.
“Normally you would ask for a glass of wine with your steak,” Nigel said.
Even the mention of wine made her stomach clench. “I’d rather drink hot piss.”
“Lovely.” Nigel shook his head and dropped his shoulders in resignation. “You’re definitely back to normal.” He looked at Alistair, who continued to pace the room. “Alley, would you be so kind as to fetch more devil’s claw root from my office? And bring clean sleeping clothes for Westie from the washroom.”
Once Westie and Nigel were alone, he turned to her, a serious look in his eyes. Westie knew she was about to get an earful of something.
“I can’t believe you would break the law and go to the vampires for help when you know how I feel about Costin. Not only did you put your own life in danger, but you put Alley’s life on the line as well.” He folded his arms over his chest. Westie grumbled and sat back, waiting for the rest of the tongue-lashing to go by so she could finish her meal. Nigel was no slouch when it came to sermons against brothel vampires. Only what she thought would be a lengthy speech fell short, and his chin began to quiver.
“After Alistair being shot and now you nearly being poisoned to death, I don’t know how much more I can take. The two of you are all I have left in this world.”
Westie’s throat balled up with emotion. It wasn’t what she’d expected him to say. She struggled to swallow her mouthful of food. As often as she’d disappointed him over the years, it was hard for her to believe he truly cared for her. She’d often wondered if he wished he’d never brought her back from the Wintu village.
“You are my child,” Nigel said. “Parents should never outlive their children. Don’t frighten me like that again.”
Westie shook her head. “I won’t. I promise.”
Twenty
Three days passed before the effects of vampire blood poisoning finally wore off. Westie crawled out of bed and stretched, spine popping, making a sound like dragging a stick across a picket fence. It was the first time she’d been out of bed since being home.
After a bath, she stepped out of her room and was met by the dim chatter of conversation. When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she nearly ran into a rotund man in a white baker’s cap wheeling out a cart of flour and sugar.
“Whoa,” she said, dancing away just in time to avoid the collision. “What’s that stuff for?”
He had streaks of flour across his face and dots of sugar absorbing his sweat. When he noticed her mechanical arm, his eyes widened and he took a step back. “Ingredients for a cake, miss,” he said with a wobble of fear in his voice.
“Where are you going with them?”
“I’m taking them back to the bakery, since the party has been canceled.”
Canceled? No. The panic of missing out on a perfect opportunity made her heart speed up. How else was she to learn more about the Fairfields without it being obvious she was snooping? The party had to happen, even if she had to drag people by the scruff of the neck and lock them inside.
“Take the cart back to the kitchen. The party isn’t canceled,” she said.
“But—”
Westie balled her copper hand into a fist. “Put. It. Back.”
His eyes opened wider. “Yes, miss.”
Others were leaving the house as well. She sent them back inside, including a pretty female elf who’d made clever clockwork invitations that opened with a push of a button.
“Make two more, please,” Westie said. “Address them to James Lovett and the Fairfields, and send them to the inn by telegraph bird at once—Nigel will pay extra.”
The house was swarming with workers packing their things and preparing to leave. She found Nigel and Alistair in the dining room, overseeing the exodus.