Winterly (Dark Creatures Book 1), стр. 136
“But I never saw your ring nor heard those words! And never would I have cast that ring to the fire! You must know I could never hurt you that way. I love you, Markus!”
“Then it appears we have both been played for fools.”
Emma thrust her hands into his cloak and wrapped her arms around his waist. “So you believe me?”
He stroked her upturned face with a light brush of his thumb. “You have never been particularly adept at lying, my lady. Yes, I believe you. But at the time…well, I could only remember your tone of voice as you cast me out of your sight, and as that was our last exchange, I could not help but be possessed of the awful suspicion that you hated me; that I had slayed whatever you’d once felt for me. Therefore, how could I doubt but that you’d sent my ring to the fire.” He kissed her brow. “How could you believe I would ever write such cool words to you? When has there been anything but heat and fire between us?”
“Who deprived me of your letter, Markus? Victoria?”
He chuckled, though it held little warmth. “Our sister is no particular admirer of yours, but I happen to know that she was in Hull that night, seeing Gabriel and Marbod off. Victoria is an audacious virago at times, but there is a limit to what she would dare.”
Emma nodded. “Then who?”
“No one may enter my house without my leave, especially not a witch. And the only creature I cannot account for is your sister’s little cat.”
“Boudicca?” Emma screwed up her mouth. “But—”
“Strange, is it not, that your cat happened to find herself adopted by your sister almost the eve of your departure for Winterthurse? A cat that was permitted entry. A cat that kept itself hidden and never made a sound but to squall at the wolves. And then your sister was bitten and the creature could not abide living in the same chamber as her. Am I wrong to suspect that your Boudicca is and always was, in fact, Mina.”
“Mina!”
“I believe the cat is her familiar, yes. And it would explain how my letter was liberated from my own chamber whilst you slept.”
“And I had no idea!” She gasped. “Think of all I might have confided in her presence!” A positively heinous violation of her privacy. “And the raven?”
“The witch Diana.”
Emma nodded. He had spoken of familiars before—she already knew who the snake and the spider belonged to. “How was I so easily manipulated?”
“Because you’ve a wholesome character and expect those around you to possess the same.”
“You mean I am naïve.”
“Even gods are not immune to human folly, Emma. You may live an eternity and still understand very little of the world, take my word on it. But,” he said, taking her face gently between his hands, “I find I like to be surprised now and then. And you, my sweet rose, were the greatest surprise of all.”
Emma breathed in his beloved scent as he tucked her head beneath his chin. If only Milli were safe and Nicholas alive, nothing on earth could be more perfect than this moment. Emma had to believe Milli would be found soon, for who could possibly outwit Markus? And who could outrun the Valkolaks whose fangs ached with retribution? No, they would rescue Milli; Emma could believe nothing less. “You still owe me a wedding night, you know,” she said, peeking at him through her lashes.
“That’s all very well, Lady Winterly, but where do you propose I might remedy that unthinkable oversight?” He looked about him. “In the cabin with young master Valko?”
She chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
“Ay, a hinterland honeymoon seems just the thing.” And then his mouth drew into a stern line. “But not before you’ve taken a meal.”
“You say meal, I say murder.” Emma curled up her nose at him. “Can I not just—”
“No, you may not drink bovine blood, it won’t sustain you.”
But the thought of human blood still horrified her. Well, it had until the captain unwittingly filled her nose with that salty bouquet of juicy—no! Good God, what was she thinking? Her parents were mortal still, for goodness sake! She’d been perfectly civilized up until tonight. Perhaps it had taken this long for her transformation to be complete? For her abdominal hunger to rear its deadly head. “Can I not just take a little blood—a sip here and a sip there?”
“And leave in your wake a steady supply of wights?” He gave a scoffing shake of his head. “We’ve been over this already. Have you forgotten so soon what happens to a mortal who dies with only vampyre venom in his heart? Or has Skinner’s winsome features quite escaped your memory?”
“It is hopeless then,” she said. “I am forced to be a murderer.”
“Then be an angel of justice instead.”
She looked up, intrigued. Like her husband, she could go about hunting a very specific prey and do the world some good by ridding it of wastrels. Yes, that might do very well, indeed. “I suppose I might try. Can vampyres eat witches?”
“Witch blood is the most delicious blood,” he said, smiling.
Her mouth filled eagerly.
“You see, eternal darkness need not be so bland, nor so useless to mankind.”
“Do you know, I thought I’d miss the sun, but the night world is so beautiful and so rich with color.” She thought back to a sermon she’d heard in London (one that felt like a lifetime ago now) about the Book of Revelation, and the fall of the dragon. Warnings about straying from the light. Yet here she