Tenderness.
He gave a shake of his head.
There was no place for such weakness among vampires.
Only humans found pleasure in such frailty.
Ignoring the urge to turn about and ensure that Simone made it safely back to the ballroom, Gideon continued on to his carriage. Within moments the groomsman stepped forward to open the door so that he could climb within and discover the slender, ragged youth that was nearly hidden in a distant corner.
He thrust aside his bothersome thoughts to concentrate upon the lad he had hired to keep his ears open for rumors of a Mr. Soltern. Older than most of the other ragamuffins he had put into his service, the boy possessed a calm intelligence that had impressed Gideon from their first meeting.
“I presume this has something to do with Mr. Soltern?” he demanded as he slid into a seat across from his unexpected guest.
“No, sir,” the lad surprised him by admitting in a near whisper. “But you did ask to be informed of any ... unusual deaths in the city.”
Gideon felt a stir of premonition ripple through the closed confines of the carriage. His muscles tightened with sudden anticipation although no human eye could have detected his tension as he leaned negligently against the leather cushions.
“There has been a murder?”
“Aye, a harlot from the Rookery.”
Gideon gave a lift of his brow. “Hardly an unusual occurrence.”
“The girl was found floating in the river with her throat ripped out.”
With a smooth movement Gideon lifted the hatch set in the roof of the carriage.
“To St. Giles,” he commanded in cold tones.
“Yes, sir,” the coachman retorted with a crack of his whip.
With a lurch the carriage was in motion, traveling through the pleasant peace of Mayfair toward Great Russell Street where thieves and whores plied their trade.
Gideon returned his attention to the boy across from him. “Tell me what you know.”
“T’ain’t much.” He rubbed the tip of his pointed nose. “I was lingering outside Mrs. Finch’s establishment, seeing as how most of the fancy gents enjoy spending a few hours with her girls, hoping to catch a hint of this Mr. Soltern when I overheard two blokes talking of a whore they had pulled out of the river. It seems the Watch was right upset when they discovered her throat was missing.”
Gideon drummed impatient fingers upon his knee. Tristan had always been brutal, and with the powers of his bloodlust he could easily shift to an animal capable of such destruction. Certainly he would not put it past the renegade to enjoy such a kill.
“What do the authorities believe occurred?”
“The runners are saying it is a madman.”
“Certainly a madman,” Gideon agreed with a chilled smile.
The usually unshakable youth shifted nervously against the smooth leather of his seat.
“Were you wanting to see the body?”
He considered a long moment before giving a shake of his head. At the moment it was more important that he discover who had witnessed this murder. There had to be someone who had taken note of the whore. And who had been her last customer.
“There is no need. I wish to be taken to where she was last seen.”
“It is bound to be dangerous,” the boy warned. “Gentleman such as yerself will be seen as an easy mark in such a neighborhood.”
The dark eyes glittered with a lethal glow. “There will be none foolish enough to trouble me,” he retorted in silky tones.
Something in the harsh set of his features seemed to assure the boy that he was more than a match for even the most hardened criminal.
“Aye, sir.”
A heavy silence descended as they rumbled down the cobbled streets, leaving behind the tidy squares and gardens to enter the narrow, dark lanes that were crowded with gin shops, slaughterhouses and common lodging hovels. It was a maze of alleys, cul-de-sacs and closed courts that made it near impossible to travel without becoming hopelessly lost. And in the shadows lurked the desperate prostitutes, pickpockets and drunkards that clung to a meager existence.
Gideon’s nose twitched as the pervasive smell of raw sewage, rotting fish and sour sweat filled the air. It was the stench of poverty and despair that was in sharp contrast to the luxury they had just left behind.
It was also the stench of danger, he reminded himself.
Having given in to his savage desires, Tristan may not be able to walk the streets during the brightness of daylight, but during the night his powers would be formidable. Far too formidable.
With a covert motion Gideon reached beneath his coat to touch the cold steel of the dagger he had hidden in a secret pocket.
“That be the street she worked,” the urchin abruptly announced, pointing out the window toward a narrow alley
