It was Christophe’s turn to shrug. “I get by.” But then an inconvenient twinge of duty nagged at him, and he sighed. “You planning to kill any humanity tonight?”

“Any humanity?” The vamp floated a little closer, but carefully still out of reach, his pierced eyebrows drawing together as he studied Christophe. “What are you talking about?”

Christophe slid the dagger from its sheath and studied its liquid silver gleam of reflected moonlight, not raising his gaze to the vamp. “Duty, sacred oath, blah blah blah. If you’re planning to kill any humans, I need to end you.”

“I’d be stupid to say yes, then, wouldn’t I?” The vamp’s voice held genuine curiosity, and not a little wariness.

“Stupid. Vampire.” Christophe shrugged again. “Yeah, those words have gone together a time or two.”

“No.”

“No?”

The vamp eyed the dagger. “No, I’m not planning to kill anybody tonight. Or ever, for that matter. Who needs all the trauma, with synth blood and donors?”

Christophe judged the vamp to be sincere enough. He considered killing him with a thrown dagger anyway, just for something to do, but didn’t really feel like chasing his dagger all that way down after it sliced the vamp’s head off. Especially since his night wasn’t over—he still had to go steal one of the Crown Jewels from the Tower of London.

He slid the blade into its sheath and shot a considering stare at the bloodsucker. “So. Here’s a question. Was Jack the Ripper a vampire?”

Campbell Manor, Coggeshall, Essex

Fiona pulled the scarlet leggings up, then the trousers, tying them at the waist, knees, and ankles, and fastened her belt over her jacket. Technically, it wasn’t ninja gear, but it was so important to have the right accessories these days, although no fashion magazine would ever feature her hand-worked leather tool belt with its many compartments on an Up-and-Coming Trends page.