watched the trio walk through the lumps of cushions, stopping at one not far from ours.
“You,” intoned the Ankh, gesturing with the walking stick. “You are worthy.”
One of the servants bent and assisted a young woman to her feet. Rather than seeming apprehensive, the girl curtseyed unsteadily.
My companion hissed something under her breath, and the Ankh turned suddenly, looking in our direction. And then, as if pulled by an invisible string, he began to move toward us. One servant led the woman he’d already chosen toward the open doors while the second one accompanied her master.
I tensed as the Ankh came closer. I could leap up and attack. Easy to knock him to the ground and take on the servant at the same time. I glanced at Miss Holmes. She shook her head in a short, sharp movement. No.
What the blooming fish was wrong with her? This was our chance! I gave her a violent glare, tensing and ready to spring. My breathing steadied. I curled my fingers around the small pistol in my pocket as the Ankh came closer.
Then Pix’s fingers closed around my arm. “Nay, luv,” he breathed in my ear. “Look.”
Him too? Bristling, I turned . . . then I saw what caught his attention. The two large men who’d tried to capture us at the last Society of Sekhmet meeting stood just beyond the doorway. One of them held a shiny, evil- looking firearm.
Drat and blast! Even I couldn’t compete with a bullet. I settled back onto the cushion, trying to look unobtrusive. As he drew nearer, my pulse sped up again. Could there be a way? If he came close enough? Energy sang in my veins. I knew what to do. I could do this . . .
I cast a quick glance at Miss Holmes. She seemed hypnotized by the commanding person.
When the Ankh did the unthinkable, pausing next to us, I closed my fingers surreptitiously around the pocketed pistol again. Trying not to look directly at him, I readied myself. One . . . two . . . thr—
“You,” said the Ankh. “Come with me.”
Miss Stoker
Miss Stoker Is Taken Off Guard
I wasn’t about to let Miss Holmes be dragged off into whatever danger lurked behind those doors. I began to rise.
But she met my eyes, giving me a mute plea to wait. I stilled, even though every part of my vampire-hunting body wanted to do otherwise.
As she stood, Miss Holmes’s expression changed into a slack, uninteresting, drugged one . . . like that of the other young women surrounding us.
It was difficult, but I forced myself to also appear drowsy and incoherent. The best course of action was to remain unnoticed and not to look at the Ankh directly. I didn’t want to be recognized. But what had drawn him to Miss Holmes?
Then, as if he read my mind, the Ankh’s stare settled heavily on me for a long moment. Every one of my muscles tensed and was ready. My fingers still gripped the pistol, and it was all I could do to keep from bolting up and brandishing it. It was Pix’s presence and his unusual caution that kept me from doing so. From the corner of my downcast eyes, I saw Miss Holmes’s skirts drag over the floor as she followed the Ankh’s servant.
Would I ever see her again?
The Ankh turned and walked back toward the open double doors, nodding to the two large men standing there. I sneaked a whiff from my vial.
As soon as the doors closed behind the Ankh, I lunged to my feet. I reached the hidden side door before I realized Pix had followed me. “Wot do ye think you’re doin’?”
“I’m going after her.” I meant to go back into the hallway through which Miss Holmes had brought me, hoping there was another door into the room beyond. “I don’t know what the Ankh is planning, but it can’t be good. We’ve got to stop it.”
“I can’t let ye—”
I shook off his grip once again. “You can’t stop me. I’m a vampire rozzer, remember?”
“Aye,” he said, his eyes dark and serious. They looked like deep wells of ink. “That ye are. Every bit o’ ye.”
Pix moved toward me, his gaze holding mine. I felt the solid wall pressing against my spine and shoulders. My pulse leapt as he eased closer. I could hardly breathe as heat rushed over me and my knees threatened to buckle. Then his mouth covered mine, soft and firm and warm, sending a shock of pleasure jolting through my body.
His hands, those long-fingered thief’s hands, slipped around my jaw, curving to cup the back of my neck as he kissed me. It was a sleek, gentle sweep of lips over lips . . . and it turned into a tender nibble at the corner of my mouth.
Then all at once, he released me and stepped back. My whole body was hot and trembly. My knees shook, and I could do nothing but stare at him for a moment, my lips moist and throbbing, my heart thundering like a runaway horse.
“Aye,” he said, his voice deep. “Every bit o’ ye, Evaline Stoker.”
I swallowed and tried to find my voice. “How—how dare you.” He was a thief and a criminal, and he was here in the middle of an opium den. Not at all the type of man who should be kissing a young woman like me.
Not at all the type of man a young woman like me should be allowing to kiss her.
Instead of being put off by my outrage, he grinned crookedly and stepped back. “I’ll take care o’ that one,” he said, gesturing to the original guard, who still stood at the other end of the chamber. The one I’d forgotten about in the last few moments, when Pix had had the audacity to push me up against the wall and kiss me.
He’d kissed me.
I reached up to touch my lips, then froze. But he’d already started off and, thank the blooming fish, didn’t see. I needed another sniff from the vial. Head clearer, I slipped the tiny tube into my pocket and let myself through the door back into the hidden side hallway.
In here, the air was cooler and clearer. The last bit of my mottleness faded. I had to find out what was happening with the Inner Circle, but more importantly, I had to drag Miss Holmes out of there before she got herself in trouble. There were times when one couldn’t plan for things. I didn’t know what Pix was doing here, but he seemed perfectly capable of taking care of himself.
First he kisses my hand, then he kisses me? Who did he think he was?
Right. Forget about him. I had a job to do. I focused on that.
I was correct: the side corridor ran parallel all along the chamber where the Ankh had taken Mina. But drat! The hallway was no longer unoccupied.
The woman and I stared at each other in the same frozen moment, but I recovered more quickly. By the time she opened her mouth to scream, I was flying through the air toward her.
We tumbled to the ground. The unexpected force knocked the breath out of her so that she didn’t have the chance to cry out. I shoved her facedown on the ground, my knee pressing between her shoulder blades to hold her immobile. She was unable to draw a deep breath even to speak. I was just about to use the leather trim on my bonnet to tie her wrists together when I had an idea.
She was one of the twin females—either Bastet or Amunet—who’d led Mina and the other girl away. I decided I would take her place. Pleased with my plan, I tore a piece of my petticoat away and tied it over her mouth, then bound her ankles together.
Then I pulled her long, black, shapeless shift up and off and tied her wrists together behind her back. This left her clothed in a plain white chemise and her underthings. She might be a little chilled, but it wasn’t completely improper.
It would normally be impossible to undress myself, with all the lacings and buttons that marched up the back of my clothing, as well as the ungainly petticoats. But since I was wearing a costume borrowed from the theater, it was made to be donned and removed more quickly and easily than a normal gown. Why didn’t they make all gowns so simple to wear?
