Stakes & Stilettos by Michelle Rowen

Author:Michelle Rowen
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Vampires, Incantations, Horror, Paranormal, Fiction, Romance, Fantasy, Dearly, Occult Fiction, Short Stories, Occult & Supernatural, Sarah (Fictitious Character), Love Stories
ISBN: 9780446505840
Publisher: Forever
Published: 2009-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

Interlude

London, England, 1811

Thierry knew it was a trap, but he went anyhow. He had no choice.

He watched from the shadows.

A nightwalker had managed to lure Veronique to an abandoned house in London’s East End with romantic promises. Even Thierry was surprised, despite his wife’s weakness for handsome men who showed her the slightest attention, that she had been so naïve as to be led there near the docks—an exceedingly poor and disgusting neighborhood.

It was true that the nightwalker in question didn’t show any outward signs of what he was. Despite his never going out during the day, he seemed quite normal indeed. A handsome, well-dressed man of means at first glance.

A nightwalker who had murdered scores of women—all of whom were vampires. He was a tool of the hunters who were trying out nightwalkers as secret weapons. Only Thierry knew this. He also knew that the hunters had recently decided it was a very bad idea.

Nightwalkers couldn’t be controlled. To trust one would be a deadly mistake.

Thierry also knew that the rookery where Veronique was being held was being watched by three hunters. They were to wait until the nightwalker had killed Veronique—a vampiress they considered highly dangerous—and then they would slay the nightwalker himself.

He and Veronique hadn’t spoken in months. She’d left him to go to London and play among the rich and fanged citizens, having a string of affairs with men a fraction her age.

Thierry kept waiting to feel jealousy or anger at his wife’s decisions, but he felt nothing at all. This disturbed him. He should mind that his wife was unfaithful, shouldn’t he? But he didn’t seem to care.

Sometimes, late at night, he would stare up at the ceiling and worry that he had no heart. That there was nothing in him that was human anymore. Perhaps the human part of him had died in the plague, now nearing five hundred years ago. It was a long time. It had felt like a long time.

He shook his head. It was no time for dark thoughts. They smacked of weakness.

He slid the mask of the Red Devil in place over his face and slipped into the building.

The nightwalker had already bitten Veronique. The marks on her neck had healed remarkably well, but were still visible. He’d watched from the shadows outside as the monster had swept her hair off her throat and bent to taste her. To begin with, she had welcomed his bite, but it had been obvious that her lust had quickly turned to fear. When she pushed at him he had struck her so hard it had knocked her unconscious. He had tied her up and left her in the room alone. When the nightwalker returned, he would finish her.

She moved when Thierry began to loosen her bindings, and she turned her beautiful face to him, her eyes widening.

“You are… you are the Red Devil,” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“And you’ve come to rescue me?”

The mask felt warm. He hated wearing it for too long. “Yes.”

When the ropes were loose he helped her to her feet.

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