Aldric stood over Madame Renarde’s bedside and frowned as the companion thrashed and moaned in the throes of her fever. She had not awakened since their talk in the kitchen last night.

He thought of the kidnapper’s last ransom letter. The one containing the lock of Vivian’s hair. “Next time, it will be her finger,” it had read.

Instead, the man had sent back Vivian’s companion. Had it been only because Renarde was ill? A servant wasn’t valuable in a ransom situation, aside from the purpose the villain had outlined in his first missive. To vouch for Vivian’s virtue.

That made Aldric wonder if Renarde had been released as a message that the kidnapper intended on compromising Vivian, along with the other message he did indeed deliver.

“I know what you are,” Renarde had told Aldric before she collapsed.

The man who held Vivian hostage didn’t only want Aldric to know that Vivian was now alone, unchaperoned with a man. He also wanted Aldric to know that she was alone with a vampire.

Aldric’s fists clenched at his sides as the possibilities of what the vampire could do to his niece flitted through his mind. The vampire likely already had fed from her. An action that filled Aldric with distaste, though he could accept that because she at least wouldn’t endure lasting harm for it.

But a vampire could also mesmerize Vivian with his mind and make her do... whatever he wanted. And leave her with no memory of bending to his will, if he was merciful.

Impotent rage curdled in his gut as he imagined his dear niece being at the mercy of such a dangerous creature. True, most of their kind were imbued with laws and morals. However, whatever vampire that had taken Vivian had already flouted the law when he’d abducted two humans and revealed his nature to them. What care would such a creature have for lesser laws, like the prohibition of rape?

The urge to call his people and spread out to all neighboring territories and demand that all Lord Vampires account for their subjects roared forth once more. Yet Aldric had to refrain from such a foolhardy move. No one could know that he harbored a human who knew of their kind. And most of all, no one could learn that his niece knew.

Aldric would have to learn the identity of the culprit on his own. An easier feat when Madame Renarde was awake and able to tell him all she knew, but there were things he could deduce on his own.

His first thought was that a rival lord had taken Vivian, but Aldric immediately dismissed the notion. He hadn’t made any direct enemies of any lords, though he supposed the Lord of Grimsby and the Lord of Liverpool may bear him ill will for fighting against them during London’s little civil war when another vampire tried to overthrow the interim Lord of London. A Lord Vampire would demand more than two hundred pounds. Most Lords wanted more land to rule over, not money.

A common vampire was more likely, but Aldric had determined from the last Gathering that none of his own were guilty. They had all been at the Gathering the night Vivian and Madame Renarde were taken, for one thing. Furthermore, he was generous in his loans, so if any of his people needed money, he knew they would not hesitate to ask.

Would a vampire of one of the neighboring territories dare risk his own lord’s wrath by committing a grave crime against another lord? Aldric doubted that very much.

All those facts led to the conclusion of what sort of vampire Aldric was dealing with.

A rogue vampire.

He shuddered at the thought. Unfortunately, logic dictated that this was most likely the case. Rogues could not stay in the same place for long, lest they risk being hunted down, so they were always in need of money. Two hundred pounds would be a king’s ransom for that sort.

And since rogues were already exiled for breaking the law, they had no reason to live by the rules. Aldric loathed the system. It only bred more crime, in his opinion. So very few could be reformed, so it was best to kill them if they were caught on his land. He’d only made citizens of a handful during his two-hundred-year reign over Blackpool. One an alleged thief, who Aldric believed innocent, another who’d had an affair with his lord’s mistress, and the last, a vampire whose only crime was to have been Changed by another rogue.

Aldric stiffened as the memory brought him back to the present. What if that was this rogue’s threat? What if the rogue intended to Change Vivian if he did not pay the ransom? That would be far worse than if he defiled her. Naturally, Aldric would legitimize her, but he wouldn’t be able to do so without notifying the Elders.

Then the Elders would naturally inquire as to how it had come about that his niece had been Changed by a rogue. That would be a blow on their regard to his leadership. A blow he could not afford. Not with older, more powerful vampires arriving from the Continent and eyeing new lands.

He had to awaken Madame Renarde. He needed every bit of information the companion had to locate the rogue and save his niece from the vampire’s clutches before the unthinkable happened.

Yet when he looked at Renarde, his stomach sank in dread at the sight of her ashen pallor and fever-reddened cheeks. Although she was a large woman, she’d clearly lost weight. Her rattled breathing and intermittent coughing battered his ears. Vampire blood could heal, but for a lung ailment as severe as Renarde’s, it would take time to cure her without Changing her, something he still hoped to avoid. A vampire could only Change one human every hundred years. Aldric wished to conserve his power so that he would be able to Change Vivian if he had to.

But perhaps a few drops now would be enough to rouse Madame Renarde.

Aldric pierced his finger with one of his sharp fangs and placed the digit between Renarde’s lips. For a moment, she didn’t respond, and his heart quickened with fear. Then her mouth tightened around his finger and she suckled the blood from his wound.

Her lashes fluttered and at last her eyes opened, still glazed with fever.

“Thirsty,” she croaked.

Aldric grasped the glass of water from the bedside table and held it to her lips. She managed two greedy gulps before her head fell back on the pillows.

Her eyelids began to close and Aldric seized her shoulders. “Madam! The man who took you and Vivian. Tell me his name.”

She groaned and sweat beaded on her forehead. Her pupils contracted and dilated as she struggled to focus on him. Her lips trembled with effort to form a word. “R-Rhys,” she gasped at last.

“Rhys what?” A full name would help immensely.

A brittle sound that may have been a laugh clacked in her throat. “Je... ne... pas.” She’d reverted back to French, but Aldric was thankfully fluent. I don’t know. She licked her lips. “He... was careful not to... give his surname.”

Another of those racking coughs exploded from her lungs, deep enough to make the bed shudder. Aldric wiped the phlegm from her mouth and thanked the heavens that there was no blood in her spittle. That gave him hope that she’d recover. Also, the sweat soaking her garments gave sign that her fever was breaking at last.

He frowned suddenly. She was still garbed in the clothes she’d been wearing when he found her last night. That could not be comfortable

“Madame Renarde,” he said, gently as possible, “I’m afraid if we’re to keep your secret, I will have to undress you. You’ll be more comfortable in a bedgown.”

For a while, Renarde lay so still that he thought she hadn’t heard him. Then she nodded, and her hand flapped on the counterpane as if to say, Get on with it.

Physically male she may be, the task still felt like undressing a helpless female. Aldric kept his eyes averted as much as possible, rolling her and lifting her as necessary to unfasten and take off her gown. He cringed at the sight of the corset, binding her stomach and chest. Little wonder she had difficulty breathing.

After no small amount of struggling with the laces, he removed the offending garment. The chemise and stocking came off easier, and he managed to avoid glimpsing anything private, unless one counted her chest, which was hairless and had enough paunch that it was no wonder they passed for breasts.

At last, he pulled a soft linen bedgown over her head and helped her get her arms through the sleeves before tucking her back under the counterpane.

“Much... better,” she panted. “Thank you.”

Her eyes closed once more and Aldric debated whether or not he should attempt to question her. It would be cruel in her weakened state, and possibly misleading, as she was almost certainly delirious.

Suddenly, she seized his hand and jerked her head toward the pile of her discarded clothing. “Le...” She coughed and took a breath. “Le...” Her face reddened and contorted in effort to speak. “Lettre,” she gasped, and then collapsed on the pillow.

“There’s a letter?” he asked, but Renarde was already snoring, exhausted from her feeble efforts.

Aldric snatched Madame Renarde’s dress from the floor and ran his hands all over the wool until he felt the crackle of paper. He withdrew the missive from a cunning pocket in the skirts and returned to the chair beside the bed to read it.

Instead of the kidnapper’s handwriting, he recognized that this missive was penned by Vivian.

Dearest Uncle,

I hope you are well and not too worried about me. My host has provided the utmost hospitality, but due to my stay being extended, he found it necessary to tell me some things of a rather personal nature.

Uncle, I know your secret. The man who I am with is like you. My host had intended to send a letter to you informing you of that fact, but since Madame Renarde has fallen ill, he was gracious and compassionate enough to instead send my dearest friend and companion home with this letter so that you may send for a doctor.

Please take care of Madame Renarde and treat her gently. She is very dear to me and more discreet than you know. Go to Bamber Bridge on Sunday and bury the money beside the gravestone of Anne Blackburn and I will be returned to you the following Tuesday.

With love,

Vivian Stratford

The two-night delay between the payment and Vivian’s return did not surprise Aldric in the least. The rogue vampire was clever enough to know that Aldric could have his people surround the graveyard and seize Rhys the moment he arrived. Likely the rogue would employ a mortal, or Vivian herself to collect the money during the day. Then he would take Vivian to another location, leave her there, and send a note to Aldric telling him where he could collect her. If Rhys had not been working against him, Aldric could almost admire his wit. Every communication had come from a different source, and he’d given different locations for Aldric to deliver the ransom each time, so that there would be little hope of tracking down his location.

Rhys also acknowledged Aldric’s own intelligence. That was clear in the note he’d doubtless dictated to Vivian, for this time, there was no threat if Aldric did not comply with the rogue’s demands. After all, it wasn’t needed, given that Vivian now knew that Aldric was a vampire. Some of the words did seem to be Vivian’s own, however.

He glanced over at his resting patient. The request to treat Madame Renarde gently stung in a way. Did she believe that he would kill the companion, either for what she knew, or simply for her failure to protect his niece? And what did Vivian mean, that Renarde was more discreet than he knew? Was it a promise that she would not reveal his secret, or a subtle request to not Change her into a vampire? Or was there some other coded meaning?

Perhaps he would learn from Renarde herself. He would give her more blood tomorrow and pray that she would be recovered enough to speak with him.