^^Above: The Strand, London, date unknown.^^

To my Juliette,

If this is not where you vent your worries,

At least let it be where you express your joy.

I love you, my darling.

—Your Timmy.

16 April.

Langdon Wilkes will be the death of me. All that time we sat in Hyde Park, I kept wondering why we'd been so far apart. Thanks to my sister, he knew my feelings now. But I still hadn't the faintest idea of his. I'd seen the way he looked at me, his bright brown eyes edged in softness. I don't know if that means he feels the same or if he's simply happy we're friends. Friends. As if it might not go beyond that.

Naomi found me that morning, sitting in our father's armchair next to the nearly-dead fireplace. I'd been deep in thought all day, and hadn't thought about going up to bed last night. And somehow, I must have fallen asleep anyway.

I heard her soft voice first, then felt her hand on my knee. When I opened my eyes she was there, kneeling in front of me, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a shawl and her blonde hair tumbling in loose tangles down her back.

"Morning," I said, digging a knuckle into one eye and then the other.

Her brow furrowed as I sat up. "Were you here all night, Wells?"

Sheepishly, I nodded.

She sighed and cupped my chin, turning my face side to side. Then let go. "At least you didn't go off and get in another tussle. Where were you, anyway?"

"If you mean yesterday, I went out for a walk. And told Wilkes what we found out."

Naomi bit down on her lip. I knew her feelings for him lingered, and they probably would, for a long time. Especially if she decided to act on them. "What did he have to say about that?"

"A lot, actually. He had an entire story to go with it."

"A story?" I saw interest spark in her eyes. "Do tell."

"Maybe over breakfast? I'm ravenous."

—

Naomi sat for a long time chewing on the tines of her fork when I finished filling her in. I wondered, as I nibbled at the crust of my toast, when she would say anything.

When she did, it was: "We need to go back to King's Bench Street."

The crust stuck in my throat and I choked, needing a few deep swallows of tea to wash it down. "You're not serious."

"Do you think I'd say it if I hadn't been?" She raised an eyebrow at me.

"You're mad, Naomi. They'd kill you as soon as look at you."

"I'm not, you know why? Because no one's ever stopped to talk to the vampires. They've only ever treated them as vermin. Pests to be exterminated. Creatures for killing. We know so much about them but we never think about what it must be like for them, always forced to live in the most squalid places like the rats do."

And there was my tenderhearted, sensitive sister. If she wasn't so afraid of them, she would save a rat from drowning. I'd never thought of it in the way she'd just laid out, but then again, I knew a little about being different in a way others didn't understand. Not to mention I could be punished for it if anyone else ever found out.

"Fine," I said finally. "But we're not going to linger. We're going to go, do what we have to do, and leave afterward straightaway. Is that clear?"

Naomi's eyes flashed as she lifted her chin at me, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. "You don't have to speak to me like I'm a child, Wells."

"Well, according to the law, you're not an adult," I snapped back. "And until you're of age, I can't let anything happen to you."

"So you think you know what's good for me?" Her body language said anger — brow furrowed, arms crossed, a curl in her lip. But her tone of voice was slightly afraid. I knew why. Once she was eighteen, certain things would be expected of her. Things that only a woman could teach her. And those were hard to come by in this house.

"You're family. Of course I do."

"And if I told you I believe Langdon's good for me? What would your reply be?"

"Naomi..."

"I can't stop my feelings," she said, all her anger gone. Now her eyes swam with tears. "Even though I know you have them too, and...I hate myself for potentially taking something away from you...a chance for you to finally be happy...be with someone..."

I was out of my chair and pulling my sister into my arms in a second as her expression suddenly crumpled. She wept into my shoulder quietly, and I said nothing — just held her and rocked her gently. I kissed her hair, then rested my cheek on it. My sister, who never did anything for herself, never put herself first, never showed an ounce of selfishness, was now berating her own feelings for even existing.

"If you want to pursue what makes you happy, I won't stand in your way," I said, kissing her damp cheek softly. "You deserve happiness. For all the happiness you put into the world."

"What about you?" she asked, pulling away to cup my jaw. As she blinked a few more tears emerged, rolling slowly down her cheeks. "What will you...? If Langdon...?"

"Don't worry about me." I wiped them away with my thumb. "I'll be fine. I always am."

She swallowed hard, but said nothing. And I knew she didn't believe me.

—

We waited until early evening, just as the sun was setting, to depart for King's Bench Street. We'd spent most of the day planning out the visit: we'd go in, with no weapons except a set of wooden stakes each, in case things took a turn for the worse. We'd ask to see the father and the mother, because the children were too hungry from sleeping all day to think of much except feeding. Then, once we'd gained an audience with the parents, we'd keep everything diplomatic and only ask the pertinent questions regarding Trenton Wilkes, Marcus Trotter, and the blood-bond. No hunting at all. And hopefully we could glean some answers.

Neither of us dressed like hunters either. I wore my best cutaway coat and matching trousers, both dark grey, a tan waistcoat, and a black cravat patterned with a faint white check. Naomi had selected a dark green dress, with few ruffles and thin black stripes, paired with black gloves and a small black hat, pinned in place above her loosely gathered chignon. Even as we climbed into the hackney I could see curls escaping it.

"Yer sure King's Bench is where yer wanna go?" asked the driver. "Dressed awful fashionably. Ain't slummin', perchance?"

"No slumming, sir, I assure you," Naomi said. "We've got some business that needs attending to there."

"Dunno what yer'd want there," mumbled the driver, but he still climbed up on his perch and flicked the reins.

"Remember what you're supposed to do if things go bad?" I said to my sister on the way. "Get yourself out. Find help. Come back when you've got reinforcements."

"Yes, but..." She shook her head. I knew she didn't like it, but it was the only way. "I hate the thought of leaving you, Wells. Assuming it's you who's left behind..."

"Better me than you," I said, making her flinch. "Vampires go after men more often than women anyway."

She sighed heavily and looked away, towards the darkening street. "I'm not leaving you. Because we're leaving together."

It made sense. And I understood her reluctance. Neither of us could hunt on our own, or keep Father comfortable, or do anything useful, really. We were best together, operating as a single unit.

"Then we stay close," I said. "We stay together. And we don't pose a threat. Even if they become one."

She laid her hand over mine and laced our fingers together. I turned my hand over and gave hers a gentle squeeze. I knew she would never leave me to fend for myself, even if things turned bad.

Finally, the driver let us off at the top of King's Bench Street. I remembered it from the first visit, narrow and crooked with a thin stream of water trickling down the middle. Piles of refuse, rubbish, and human lay slumped against the sooty brick walls. Now it made sense — we certainly were overdressed for a visit to a slum housing some of London's poorest people, and if we weren't careful, could be mugged or jumped by desperate thieves who thought we might have money.

"Are you ready?" I asked her, once we'd picked our way down the street to the crudely-made set of doors that marked the entrance. I tugged at my lapels and shot my cuffs, but I couldn't help feeling a little nervous.

"As I can be," she answered, and I saw her swallow hard. Vampires could smell fear on humans, which made their hunger sharper. Hopefully the parents had fed recently.

I leaned forward and rapped on the rough wood. For a moment nothing happened, and I tried to calm myself by thinking about what we'd do once we were inside. It seemed simple — but then again, everything did when viewed at a distance.

The door creaked open, revealing a pale white face floating on a black background. Its red eyes narrowed when it caught sight of us.

"What do you want, human?" hissed the vampire, revealing its sharp bloodsucking teeth.

"We would like to speak to the father and mother of your Family," Naomi said, her tone polite and neutral. "It's a matter that could be very pertinent to both human and vampire alike."

"They are sssleeping," said the vampire. "Come back in an hour when they are awake."

"Wait," I said, stopping the door with my hand as the vampire made to shut it in my face. "Please. We won't take long. Promise. Then we'll leave you alone."

"They do not like being woken on ssssuch sssshort notice," said the vampire.

"Please." There was a begging note in Naomi's voice. "We promise we won't take up more than a half-hour. Twenty minutes. Please."

The vampire smiled at her, its eyes glinting with something like lust. "I do like a human that begsss. Wait here. I will sssee what I can do."

The door closed again. I inched sideways and took my sister's trembling hand in mine. I'd heard once that fear in a human's blood was like a spice on food — it tasted sharp and tangy, like taking a large whiff of peppermint.

"I'm scared, Wells," she said, her voice cracking. "I didn't think it through when I said it..."

"We'll get what we came for," I said, although I wasn't confident we would. "We'll be fine, you'll see."

"I hope you're right," she said, and her hand squeezed tight.

The same vampire was back minutes later. It motioned us inside, and we followed. The first thing I noticed was that it was different from last time we were here — the wooden fences around the entryway were gone, and the entire workhouse floor was clear of dividing walls. The vampires were gathering at the bottom of the stairs, their shapes bat-like in the fading light. Naomi's grip tightened, and I felt her trembling running all the way up my arm.

"They're staring," she whispered, inching closer to me.

"I know," I said. I didn't like it either. The way their red eyes riveted on us made my skin prickle uncomfortably.

"Thissss way," said our vampire escort, parting the knot of them in the way and waving us through. I scanned the faces for Gifford, but I didn't see him. Most of them looked the same, all white-faced and red-eyed.

The vampire led us to a peeling wooden door, the word Foreman just barely visible on the glass window. The rest had flaked off. It knocked, and waited. I heard no reply, but the vampire did, turning the knob and pushing the door open.

I tried not to gag at the smell that flooded out: blood, sour and metallic, decay, rot, and possibly, human waste. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the colour drain from my sister's face as she covered her nose and mouth.

"You're letting the warm air out," rasped a voice. "Sssshut it, quickly."

The vampire stepped sideways and pushed us through, then slammed the door shut behind us. The room went pitch-black, and a second later I realised I was standing in something squishing and wet. I tried not to think about what it was.

Then there was a hiss and a scratch of a match being lit. I saw a ghastly white face behind the flame, and I heard Naomi squeak in fright.

"Human," said the same voice. "Two younglingssss."

"Let me sssee," said a second voice, and a second white face appeared beside the first. I had no doubt this was the father — his skin was so tightly drawn over the bones of his face it looked like a skull, his hair was a wisp of whitish strands above both ears, and his fingers were long and crooked like claws. "Yesss. They sssmell fresssh."

"W-w-we're...not here f-f-for a f-f-feed," Naomi stammered. "We w-w-want to...talk t-t-to you."

"No human jussst talksss," hissed the father, and suddenly he was right in front of us, holding up a wax-crusted candle to look at us. He took my jaw first, his fingers digging into my skin, and turned it side to side. "You are a ssstrong young man. Healthy. Perfect ssslave material."

I said nothing. I knew what slave to the vampires meant: dosing a human with vampire blood made them dependent on it, like a drug. They weren't dead like the vampires, but they were close to it, always craving the blood. Not to mention they'd do a vampire's bidding. Anything they wanted.

"How about thisss one?" The mother vampire was on Naomi, forcing her chin up to meet her eyes. "Young and virginal, jussst the way we like them."

"Don't touch her," I hissed, as the mother vampire eyed the pale vulnerable skin of Naomi's neck.

"You, boy, are hardly one to give usss ordersss," the father rasped. "Humansss walk willingly into our lair, what are we sssupposssed to do?"

"Jussst a tassste," crooned the mother, her long white fingers cradling Naomi's cheek. "I have a particular craving for a virgin'sss blood."

"No," I said. I winced when my voice cracked. "We've come to talk. That's it. You won't be getting any blood if you don't let us walk out of here unharmed."

"Very well," the father said, and I saw his red eyes narrow. "Talk fassst. We are hungry."

"Have you been approached by a man called Trenton Wilkes?" I asked, when Naomi said nothing.

"No," said the father. "Not usss. Our children, possssibly. They are curioussss about humansss and their world."

"Have they ever...mentioned a Wilkes? Any of your children?"

"The new one did," said the mother. "The babe."

Gifford. I knew it. "What did he say?"

"He sssaid the Wilkesss boy wasss hisss friend. When he wasss human."

"H-he remembers Langdon?" Naomi asked softly.

"Yesss," said the father. "That issss the only thing he remembersss from hissss other life. He rememberssss the Wilkes pup. He wantssss him to come back."

Wilkes would, if he knew. But he wouldn't come back here alone, not if I could help it. "We have reasons to believe his father's using blood-bonds to control other creatures. Including vampires. Specifically, your vampires."

"Why ourssss?" the mother asked. She was still looking hungrily at Naomi, and I knew she would try to feed off her the first chance she got.

"Trenton Wilkes has an elaborate plan to turn his son into a vampire hunter," I said. "Because one of yours killed his wife. Would you remember anything about that?"

The two old vampires looked at one another, and then back at us. I couldn't read their expressions in the sputtering light from the candle, but some kind of understanding passed between them. I felt the shift in the air.

"Yessss," said the father finally. "I wanted her for mysssself. Pretty and hardworking. I am ssssure ssshe tasssted ssssweet."

"Who gave the order to go after her?" I asked. My stomach turned at the thought of a vampire lusting after a particular human's blood. They were as single-minded as a zombi in that way.

"I did," the father said. "I wanted her back here, alive. But we sssshould not have trusssted our child on hissss own. He wasss too young and inexperienced. Temptation wasss too much."

"And it got him killed," I said.

The father's chin dipped down, just barely. A nod. "You mussst undersssstand, it wassss not our intention to kill. We do not want to sssslaughter our prey."

I shuddered at the word prey. That was all we were at this point. A captive meal.

"Thissss Wilkessss you mentioned," said the mother. "You ssssay he issss blood-binding?"

"Yes," I answered. "We don't know why, or what he's trying to accomplish. But he seems to have been close with a man called Marcus Trotter, who taught him."

That drew a visceral reaction from the creatures. They both hissed and backed up, lips drawn back like wolves about to attack. The candle light shivered off their long, bloodsucking canines.

"He wasss here," said the father. "Trotter. He sssstole one of our babessss. He wassss going to experiment."

Now things were starting to make sense. "He never said how?"

"No," said the mother. "But we never ssssaw our babe again."

"Was it just Trotter? Or has Wilkes been doing it too?"

"Babessss all over the city are misssssing," the father rasped. "They are mosssst vulnerable. Becausssse they know no better."

"But not Gifford," Naomi said. "They haven't touched him...right?"

"No," the father answered. "But they will. Ssssoon."

"You've been very helpful," I said, before they could keep us here any longer. "We'll be going now, and leave your Family to their hunts."

"Why would we, when we have ssssome fressssh human here already?" The mother gained her courage back first, gliding towards us. She was on Naomi again in a second, catching her face and pulling her close. "I will have my virgin blood tonight."

That was when it happened. The mother shoved Naomi into the wall, and before she could get away one of the vampire's long-fingered hands came down over her face, forcing her head back and exposing her neck. I saw Naomi's breath quicken, and her whole body trembled visibly.

Without thinking I yanked my stake from my belt and stalked up behind the mother. I raised my hand so the point of the stake hovered above the back of her neck.

"Let her go," I growled. "Now."

A hand closed on my shoulder. "You threaten her, you threaten me, human."

I spun around, stake brandished in his face. "Let go of my sister."

"Nonsssenssse. My mate issss not the only one who likesss a tassste of a virgin'sss blood."

I pressed the stake into his cheek, nearly nose-to-nose with him. "Call off your mate. Now."

"Wells!" Naomi cried behind me.

I spun around. The mother had my sister laid out flat on the ground, one hand latched tightly around her throat and the other splayed across her face, pinning her cheek to the floor. The vampire's open mouth was lowering by degrees towards Naomi's neck, right where her pulse beat beneath her jaw.

I leaped forward, aiming a kick with my boot heel at the vampire mother's face. It made contact and she went crashing back against the wall. I hauled Naomi partially upright, then spun her behind me as the father came straight at me. I curled my fist and whipped it right at his cheek, the contact very much like punching a tapestry against a stone wall.

Then I was dragging Naomi to her feet and we were running, out of the lair and down the stairs and out of the workhouse. We splashed through smelly, dirty puddles and hurtled down crooked, narrow alleyways. This slum was nowhere to be after dark, but I couldn't seem to spot a cab anywhere. All I saw were the city's poorest — chimney-sweep boys, ragpickers, guttersnipes, prostitutes, drunkards, even an old toothless woman in a shawl shovelling horse manure.

"Wells, stop..." Naomi begged, clutching onto my arm. "Please...stop a moment..."

I turned to her. The green silk of her dress was stained with a black mucky substance, and so was her hair, most of it free from her chignon by now. She looked scared, but otherwise seemed unharmed.

"Did she bite you?" I asked, because in the dim light from a nearby shop window, I couldn't tell.

"No, I'm fine." She swallowed hard. "It's...only, I...the mother, she..."

I grasped her upper arms and held her still. "What did she do?"

"She wasn't going to let us go," she said softly, trembling in my grip. "She knew that if she bit me, I would be hers...and there would have been nothing you could have done. She was the one who bit Gifford, Wells...she made him her slave. Only later he was made a vampire."

"How did you...?" I searched her face. "How do you know all of this?"

"She was hissing it. Into my ear. Standing next to me and sniffing at my skin." She shuddered. "That was why she...she kept calling me virginal...she smelled it on me..."

"The next time you have an idea like that, give it some more thought, understand?" When she didn't respond, I said it again. "Naomi. Do you understand?"

Very slowly, she nodded, but didn't say anything. And a little seed of worry sprouted in my chest.

—

She disappeared the second we got home, saying she was going to draw a bath. I let her go, resolving to check on her in a half-hour. Then I hurried to the dining room, where our research was spread over the table, and dug around until I found Trotter's book. I flipped to the back and leafed through the index until I found Wilkes. He was mentioned a few times, especially in a chapter close to the end of the book called "Practical Uses." Under that, a section titled Vampires. Then, there it was, about halfway down the page: the sentence that made the whole conversation with the vampire parents click.

A vampire babe is the easiest of their species to bind, it said. A close friend mentioned before, Mr Trenton Wilkes, has devised a set of tests to ensure efficacy of the bond.

"Bloody hell," I said. I'd had no idea Wilkes was living with an evil mastermind, but this just confirmed it. And he had to be stopped. Or else he would bring the entire system crashing down.

I sifted through some more until the clock struck the half-hour. No peep from Naomi, which was either very good or very bad. I arranged everything I'd already skimmed into a pile and then took the stairs two at a time to the bathroom. The door was cracked open just slightly, and thin fingers of steam were escaping through it.

Just as I raised my hand to knock, I heard a faint splash and then her voice. "Wells? Is that you?"

I inched the door open with a finger and poked my head in. Naomi sat in the copper tub, knees drawn in close to her chest and her arms wrapped around her shins. Her damp hair fell down over her bare shoulders and spread across the surface of the water.

"Are you all right?" I asked. "You've been quiet up here."

"I don't know," she said softly.

I slid through the doorway and pushed it nearly shut behind me, then crossed the floor to the chair next to the bathtub. "You can tell me. You know that, don't you?"

She nodded, then set her chin on her knees. "I was thinking about...what you told me this morning. About Langdon and the Selling girl."

"What about them?" That surprised me. She was hardly one to give herself over to envy or jealousy, although I knew to some degree, all women, regardless of their age, felt it. I'd never met Marjorie Selling, but I'd seen her once, on one of my visits with Father to the guild before the ghost-madness caught him. She'd gotten her father's fair skin and blue eyes, but her mother's light brown hair and delicate features. On a surface level, a very pretty girl.

"The moment you mentioned it, I knew I stood no chance," Naomi said, with a note of sad bitterness. "She has and is everything I am not. If she and Langdon were to..."

She stopped herself, raking one hand roughly through her hair. I said nothing, knowing how that sentence was going to end. I thought of it too. Losing Wilkes to a woman wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, but if that woman was a Selling, I would never see him again. And I didn't want that. As much as I hated to admit it.

"Langdon would look well with her," she went on, when I kept silent. "But what I wouldn't give to be in her position...just for a day..."

I sat forward, elbows on my knees. "Naomi..."

"No, Wells." She shook her head. "I know enough of the world now to see I can't have him. In any capacity except...a friend."

There was that word again, friend. It seemed too impersonal to describe what we both saw in Wilkes. What the Sellings needed was competition, people who would fight harder than they would for Langdon Wilkes, while we — mainly I — figured out what our relationship was going to be.

"What are you thinking?" Naomi had shifted position, arms now on the rim of the tub and chin on her stacked hands. I could see the long crooked slashes from the vampire's claws still marking her shoulder. They were healing nicely, but they'd leave scars, just like the ones I had covered with ink on my arm.

"That it's about time the Sellings had to actually fight for something."

Her brow furrowed, but interest sparked in her eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

"Don't rush it," I said, slapping my palms against my knees as I stood up. "The greatest schemes take a good deal of careful planning."

I saw her smile. "I hope you plan to include me, dear brother."

I kissed the top of her head. "Don't you worry. Of course I will."

—

19 April.

It took a couple more days for me to come across Wilkes again. He was walking along the Strand, with Marjorie Selling on his arm. The two of them did make a good pair, although I felt my teeth grind when I realised it. Both were dressed in light pastels: she in a pale blue watered silk dress, he in a dove-grey cutaway coat and brocaded waistcoat. It irked me how carefree they seemed to be.

Which was why I could only manage a grunt as I bumped his shoulder when we passed.

"Wilkes."

It took him all of two seconds to recognise me. I heard his footsteps stop. Then: "Wells?"

I turned on my heel. "You'd better watch where you're going."

Wilkes's face broke into a grin, contrasting Marjorie's expression of affront. "Good to see you too."

"Langdon?" I saw Marjorie's hand squeeze Wilkes's elbow as she threw a glance at me. "Who is this?"

"Oh, right." Wilkes gestured towards me, and I took a couple steps forward. "This is Wells Hudson. Wells, Miss Marjorie Selling."

"Miss Selling." I took her offered hand and gave her gloved knuckles a brush with my lips.

"Mr Hudson," she said, her politeness slightly disrupted by confusion. "The two of you know each other quite...well, it appears."

"We crossed paths on a hunt, Miss Selling," I said. "A vampire."

"Are you part of the Guild?" I saw Marjorie's interest spark. "If you are, I can't say I've ever seen you before."

"My operation is independent, actually," I said. "Although you may have heard of my father. He used to be."

"Uncle Gus did mention him, yes." At that her smile finally came. "One of the best, he said. Before...the incident. Of course."

"Yes, that." I tried not to talk about it in polite company — not that I had much of it — when I could help it. "He would be happy to see your family getting along well."

"You're very kind to say so, Mr Hudson."

"Miss Selling and I were about to walk down the Mall," said Wilkes, when I didn't reply. "Perhaps you'd like to come with us?"

"Of course," I said, although what I really wanted was a few minutes in private, to tell him about the things I'd found in Trotter's book.

"If we'd only brought a picnic," said Marjorie, as we started off towards St James's Park. "Then perhaps we could turn this into a proper visit."

At that I thought of my sister, and I knew she'd been entirely right the other night when she'd said Marjorie Selling had everything and was everything we weren't — and knew it. And for some reason, that made me resent her a little more.