“Miss.”
Both Jacob and I jumped at the gravelly tone. Booker stood under the dark shade of a tree, a glare fixed on Jacob, who reared back from the force of the stare.
“Hello, Booker!” I said, voice too bright to be normal, but I felt a wave of relief at seeing him. “Will you walk me back to the manor, please? That way Mr. Coombs can be on his way back to the village.” I hurried over to Booker before Jacob could answer. Booker stepped in front of me as soon as I reached him, and I was happy not to see Jacob’s face.
I heard a few grumbled words and then, clearer, “Just come to see the loch in the morning.”
I peeked around Booker’s broad back and Jacob’s back was to us, quickly retreating.
“He found me sleeping,” I whispered. Booker grunted, and we waited for Jacob to disappear through the trees, heading away from the loch.
“Come,” Booker said, walking onto the path.
Under the bright sunlight, I realized why Booker had waited under the cover of the tree. The shadows of the leaves had disguised the marble white of his skin and the blue-gray threads that ran under his skin.
“You’re not human, are you?” I asked, finding his arm at his side and wrapping mine around it.
Booker looked down at where I’d linked us, and for a moment, did nothing, then he bent his arm so it was easier for me to hold onto. He looked back up, straight ahead, and shook his head.
“And do you have a lady at the manor of your own?” I asked. “Like the gentlemen that come to visit?”
His brow furrowed at that, and he looked at me, a quiet sort of bafflement in his eyes. Then he shook his head again. A wicked thought began to brew in my head.
“Can you feel, Booker?” I asked. When he remained frowning out at the scenery, I lifted my free hand up to touch at his hand. He looked down to where I touched, and I unfolded his fingers from the loose fist he held against his chest. I turned his hand over and tapped at the center of his palm. My fingernail made a clinking sound. He was polished stone.
“Yes,” he answered.
The puzzlement was gone when I looked up at him, and I wasn’t sure whether or not it was a shadow of sunlight that made it look like he had the faintest curl of a smile on his lips, or if it was really there. Either way, I beamed up at him. I would have to ask Magdalena if I was allowed to play with the butler, I suspected, but if she said yes, I was going to have a grand time finding out how a man of stone might like to be touched.
We walked back to the house through the hush of tall grass and lapping water, and when we were close enough, I saw Magdalena standing on the patio in a black evening gown. I let go of Booker and ran up to her.
“I didn’t mean to attract any attention,” I said in a rush. “I just sat down for a little nap, and then the sphinx came for me, and well…I made a bit of noise and—”
Madame Magdalena’s eyebrows rose higher on her forehead with every word until she was laughing and raising her hands in surrender. “Calm yourself, Esther,” she said, smiling. “I sent Booker when I felt that hay bale sneaking onto our property. You are perfectly welcome to wander, but that young man, in particular, has been a thorn in the manor’s side for almost two decades. You’re all right?”
“Oh. Sure,” I said, waving a hand through the air. “I’ve dealt with that kind of man for years,” I said.
“Hmm, well you shouldn’t have to deal with them now,” Magdalena said. “And you mentioned a sphinx? Was it—”
“Amon,” I said, feeling myself blush. “It was a dream.”
“Ahh,” Magdalena said, nodding knowingly. “Well, I’m glad you’re introduced. You have another gentleman arriving tomorrow evening. Auguste Thibodeaux. He’s…well, I’d like for you to talk to one of our girls, actually. Come inside for breakfast.”
I followed Magdalena inside, Booker trailing us like a shadow, and she led me to an enormous dining room. A little less than half the seats were filled with women in their dressing gowns. They were all smiling, eyes half-lidded still with sleep, and I couldn’t blame them. I heard the kind of evening they’d had and envied not having one of my own.
I scanned the table, looking for the woman I’d seen the night before in the grass, and there she was! A hand lifted to her mouth as she yawned widely, bright bruises littering her throat like colorful jewelry.
“Cassie, darling,” Magdalena said, stopping at a seat where a plump girl with riotous red curls sat, spreading brilliant jam over an English muffin. “This is Esther, she’s new just yesterday. I was wondering if you could tell her about your George. She has her own gentleman coming to meet her tomorrow.”
The girl’s bright blue eyes widened, cheeks filling with breakfast and a smile, and she nodded eagerly, patting the seat of the chair next to her.
I sat, and before Magdalena had really moved away, Cassie was talking, fast and cheerful. “There are vampires, you know, just like in the stories. But much more handsome and sweet, actually,” Cassie said, wobbling her head and taking another bite.
I liked that she talked while she ate, as if she was used to rushing a meal like the other maids and I had been. I was not the only woman here who was less than a lady.
“George is ancient,” Cassie said, grinning, “but he looks about my age. It’s wonderful. He knows ever so much about how to please a woman.”
I thought of the painting in the hall I’d seen the day before, white fangs tipped in red. “And does he bite you?”
“Oh yes,” Cassie said, nodding. Then she reached up to the front of her robe and pulled it aside just enough to reveal a pair of small puncture wounds, perfectly clean and not at all irritated. “He’ll heal them if you ask him to, but I like a little reminder here and there.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Just a little,” Cassie said.
“Then it feels wonderful,” another woman, older and with better table manners said, raising a dark eyebrow and grinning at the pair of us from across the dining table.
“Wonderful,” Cassie asserted. “There’s so many more…places for them than I’d thought of and each one feels different. And it’s not much they take. Just licks.”
“Is it just blood they want?” I asked. There was food steaming in front of me, but I was far more interested in the information.
“Lord no,” Cassie said laughing. “George has twice the appetite for…other things as he does for blood. You’ll see. I practically beg him to bite me by the end.”
My thighs clenched together, and I forced my eyes to the stacks of food to try and distract myself from yet another wave of wanting I couldn’t fulfill yet.
“Take the fruit,” said the woman on the other side of the table.
“Oh, yes, Sally is right. They love sweet flavors in the blood. Especially fresh ones. And chocolate,” Cassie said, snatching up a bowl of strawberries and dropping them onto the table in front of me. “Try not to eat any garlic, although if yours is as sweet as George, he won’t complain.”