Suddenly, she burned with a need to ask him to explain everything: the working of men’s hearts (or at least that of one Scotsman) and her own confused feelings. Why had he left her, and why had she allowed it?

The vampire would know. He had everything. All the wealth he needed, any information he craved, avenues of manipulation, and immeasurable power. And he had time to use it, all the time in the world.

“Lord Akeldama, may I ask you an impertinent question?”

“Gracious, my diamond girl. How exciting. I adore impertinent questions. Ask away!”

“What would you do, if you were I and had only the one life to live?”

“As if I should remember what it was like to be mortal? Preposterous. You know what I did. I chose not to live it at all. I chose to step outside of time.” For one shocking moment, a slight twitch of his eyelid, and Preshea thought he might regret that choice. A vampire, regret immortality? Surely not.

“I find myself at an impasse.” She decided to explain a little. In case he really didn’t understand her plight. “I’ve served my indenture, relatively untroubled. Thank you for that. I’ve gained through the experience modest wealth and standing. I’ve no need to ply the trade for which I was trained, although I am good at it. The days stretch out before me with little to occupy them.”

“Go shopping,” he said promptly.

“Yes, I was considering Paris.” A dig there, at a man who was trapped forever within a mile or so radius of his London home.

“Touché.” He followed her exactly. “Travel, then, star of the night. Travel.”

“Is that what you would do?”

“It’s what I did. I was a great traveler before I grew my fangs. Trotted over most of the known world. Of course, it wasn’t as big back then.” He gave one of those tight vampire smiles, showing no teeth, meaning no insult.

“And was that enough?” Preshea wasn’t certain what she wanted out of this conversation. Actually, she was, but wasn’t sure why it had to be Lord Akeldama. I want him to tell me to go to Gavin. Why is it an ancient vampire with a predilection for spying whose judgment I need? What is Lord Akeldama to me? An old master. An old monster. Certainly not a friend. Why do I require him to tell me what I already know?

Because he is old. Because if he tells me to do it, it’s as close as I may come to the wisdom of the ages. Because he has made the same choice a thousand times. I have seen him do it. I only need to know if it was also right when he was mortal.

The vampire was frowning – eyes serious, unblemished forehead creased only slightly. “What do you need me to say, little jewel? I am one for riddles as a general rule, but I do not like to be confused by mortal waffling.”

“Did you love them all? I mean really love them?”

“My darling drones?”

“Yes.”

“Every single one.”

“And before there were drones. When you were traveling the known world. Did you love him?” For there must have been a him, even then. Not matter how long ago then was.

He froze; all light and feeling fled his face, leaving him truly corpselike. Which he was, of course – only, normally Lord Akeldama didn’t actually look it.

“Very much.” His gaze focused on some ghost no one else would ever see and no one but he remembered.

“And would you do that again, if you had the chance?”

“Without question.” He looked pained, but in the way of vampires. For all his hurt was so long ago and so desiccated by history that it had become bloodless – aching, no doubt, but bloodless.

His focus returned to her, and in one of those lightning movements, almost too fast for the human eye to follow, he was sitting next to her on the settee, her small hand in his cold one.

“Listen to me, my deadly little pearl. Choose love. Always choose love. If the decision is between love and anything else, choose love.”

“And if he hurts me?”

“It is worth it.”

“And if I hurt him?”

“My dear, you know hundreds of ways to kill a man. Simply ensure that you put him out of his misery quickly.”

Preshea did not ask him to be serious; Lord Akeldama had clearly used up all his seriousness for one evening. She was lucky to have gotten even that much out of him. Also, she understood what he was really saying. It was Gavin’s right to take the risk of being hurt, just as it was hers.

So, I will see if he would like the opportunity.

* * *

Gavin returned home after a night of unsatisfactory cards and disappointing company. Mawkins dismissed, he turned towards his bed.

There she sat, cross-legged, as if she had always been there. She was wearing some diaphanous garment that made her look part angel, part seductress.

“Holy hell, lass, where in God’s name did you spring from!” He sloshed his glass of claret.

“Language.”

“You truly are some mythic creature.”

She only smiled. “Come to bed, Gavin.”

“Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming.”

She patted the pillow next to her, waiting.

“How did you find me?”

She shook her head a tiny bit at him, raising her eyebrows. “You do remember what I do for work, don’t you?”

Gavin decided perhaps he would not open his mouth again until he had his brain in order. So, he stripped – he’d been about to do that anyway. He set aside the claret. He’d found, since returning to London, that he needed the wine more than before. Now his ghosts were more often Preshea-shaped than not, and they visited more frequently. And yet there she sat, apparently in the flesh.