“Her demands? For drawn curtains to keep out the sunlight? And for fresh blood, of course. Does she have you snaring rabbits or catching mice? Visiting the butcher?” Victoria felt the giggle bubbling up inside her and swallowed it back as she thought of George running to and fro betwixt the butcher and the attic to check mousetraps. It was so unusual in her world, in the battle of mortals versus the undead, that she encountered a situation in which she found amusement.

Then her eyes narrowed and all humor fled. “You’d best not be bringing her humans, George. If you are, I’ll kill you myself.” It was a bluff; of course she wouldn’t kill George. He was a human-a member, albeit an insufferable one, of that race she was charged with protecting, no matter what the cost. “No, perhaps I’ll tie you up and set her on you.”

He swallowed and managed an uncomfortable smile. “Too late for that, Victoria.” He released her hand to pull the tall, starched collar of his shirt away from his neck. Beneath were four angry red bite marks. Fresh enough that the inside of his collar was smeared with dark red.

“Aside of that, only brought her two people-” He must have felt Victoria tense up beneath his hands, for he continued quickly. “They were willing. I swear it! Wanted to see what it was like, y’know.” He leaned forward, a sudden leer showing his teeth. “Y’dear friend Lady Fenworth wanted to go, Victoria.”

“Lady Nilly?” Victoria didn’t doubt it for a moment. The twittering old lady had been fascinated by vampires-or at least the romantic legend of them-since Polidori’s book.

George seized the opportunity to press further. “If y’don’t help me, I’ll take her to visit Maybelle.” He seemed to think his pronouncement a perfect occasion to examine Victoria’s dйcolletage more closely.