Alexander-Fyn-Sanguinarian

behind him. Anyone but a vampire would never have heard so low a cry lost in the wind screaming about the tower. Horror clutching at his insides, Raven knew at once who watched him. He turned slowly to see Evangeline, her back to the wall, her hands covering her mouth, eyes wide with disgust and fear.
    She began to scream.
    On his feet in an instant, wiping blood from his mouth, Raven advanced on her. Her fear was palpable in the air about her. “I can explain, dear child,” he said desperately, catching her as she fell to the ground in a faint.

    * * * *

    Evangeline lay on her bed which the servants had pushed closer to the hearth for her comfort. For a few seconds she feared she had come down with scarlet fever like poor Mrs. Brackett. Then she remembered going for a walk to still her restlessness and hearing voices at the top of the west tower steps. So she had followed their voices outside and seen Mr. Shipman, his eyes staring at the night sky, his face as empty as a death mask, and Raven on his knees lapping like an animal at the dead man’s blood.
    Raven had murdered Mr. Shipman in order to drink his blood. He was a vampire and Mr. Shipman had become his innocent victim. In that instant she had realized that the scream she had heard the very first night was also the scream of an innocent victim, a woman that time. Lord Ravenscroft was a vampire and a murderer, and she had been a fool to believe his story about only taking blood from those who offered it freely.
    She opened her eyes to see a somber young maid sitting beside the bed watching her. The characteristics of the vampire—the serious 206
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    expression, the skin pale from lack of sunlight, the solemn demeanor—all jumped out at her. She saw now many of the same characteristics in them all. Was she the only normal person there?
    “You fainted, Miss,” the girl said. “Do you feel better? Would you like some tea or wine?”
    Evangeline sat up. She must get away from Castle Haven at once.
    “How is Mrs. Brackett this evening, do you know?”
    “I believe she is as well as can be expected, Miss.”
    “She is in Munk’s own room, isn’t she?”
    The girl shook her head. “The one right next to it I believe, Miss.
    The farthest from the kitchen in the servants’ quarters. But I haven’t seen her.”
    “It’s very good of Munk to take care of Mrs. Brackett,”
    Evangeline said. “I don’t need anything. You may go.” The maid rose and curtsied.
    Alone, Evangeline put on her outdoor shoes and cloak and hurried out into the dark passage to make her way downstairs.
    The weather had turned very cold this evening and there was a long walk over the moors to safety. She doubted they could make the trek in less than two and a half hours. But could Mrs. Brackett manage such a hike when she was ill?
    Standing with her back to the wall in a dark recess opposite the servants’ hall door, Evangeline was about to step out when Munk herself strode down the passage, disappearing through a doorway at the end.
    Evangeline waited, watching. Was that Mrs. Brackett’s room or Munk’s own room? After many minutes, when the woman did not reemerge, she assumed Munk had gone to bed and the room next to it must be the one Mrs. Brackett occupied.
    On silent feet she hurried along the stone passage and halted outside the door. Looking over her shoulder to ascertain no one was watching, Evangeline opened the door onto complete darkness and tiptoed in, confused to find no fire in the hearth and no candle beside Sanguinarian 207
    the bed. “Mrs. Brackett?” she whispered, then louder still, “Mrs.
    Brackett, it is I, Miss Evie. We must leave the castle tonight. Are you able to walk?”
    Behind her a light flared, illuminating the bed which was empty and the fireplace which was unused. “Where is Mrs. Brackett?” For one awful moment she thought the woman was dead. “What have you done with her?” She whirled around expecting to see Munk.
    “She’s not here.” It was Raven, not Munk, who stood in the doorway. He placed the candle on the table beside the bed.
    “Get away from me! What have you done with her?”
    Munk appeared in the doorway behind Raven, took in the scene at once, and looked at his lordship. “Tell her, Munk,” he ordered. “Tell Miss Rutledge the truth.”
    “If you are sure, my lord,” she said. “Mrs. Brackett is not here, Miss Rutledge, she never was. She is quite safe, rest assured, and perfectly healthy. She is