"My head aches," Clair muttered. "Too much port after dinner." Her head nestled on the downy pillow, she struggled to come fully awake. "No. I was attacked by a vampire." With a gasp, she recalled that it was two vampires, to be exact.
She moaned, slowly opening her eyes. It was still night. Candles lit the bedchamber, casting shadows on the wall. One silhouette was of her aunt Mary, sitting with her head against the back of an armchair, and her gentle snores were a quiet comfort to Clair. The next silhouette was Asher's. He was seated on her left. Reflecting a weariness of both soul and body, his face was scratched in several places and his left arm was in a sling.
"You're awake," he said quietly.
"You saved my life." Clair's eyes showed her gratitude.
He nodded solemnly.
"The maid?"
"I imagine she's a trifle anemic, but she'll live. I had to erase her memory of the night, however," he replied, watching Clair closely, his pale eyes grim.
"You're a vampire," Clair whispered, wonder in her voice. "And all this time I thought you were a werewolf. What a bacon-brain I am."
"The Wolverton name can be misleading," he said with a smile.
"Yes. It can." She didn't know whether to be embarrassed by her faux pas of mistaken supernatural identities or excited by this, the start of her great scientific discovery. "What happened to Mr. and Mrs. Bear, Mr. Wilder, and Lady Montcrief?"
"Wilder and the Bears are dead," Asher said, a hint of regret in his voice. "Not just undead, but really dead."
"You killed them to save me?" Clair's expression was both solemn and grateful. She smiled sadly. "My vampire in shining armor."
Asher shook his head. "I had help."
"Who?"
"Ian and Galen," the vampire answered reluctantly.
"Where is he? Is he hurt? Was Galen? Oh no! Ian must be dreadfully hurt to not be here with me." Clair weakly tried to rise from the bed, but she fell back with a soft moan as dizziness engulfed her. If Ian died, a part of her would go with him. And she would kill him.
Asher patted her hand. "Calm down, Clair. Huntsley's not badly hurt. Neither is his cousin." Asher ached to hear the worry in her voice and to see the tears of relief in her eyes when she realized Ian was all right. "He's cleaning up the mess. Wouldn't do for the other guests to find dead vampires—truly dead vampires—lying around the place." He wiped a tear from her cheek. "It will be dawn in a few hours. I have much to tell you before I leave."
Clair reached up and held his hand. "You're going away?"
"Yes. The high council will need to hear about the details. It is forbidden by vampire law for those of our species to kill one another."
"Will you have to go before a judge and jury like a human trial?" she asked, concerned. "You shouldn't get in trouble for helping me."
He explained gently, "I will most probably only be fined, due to the circumstances. Lady Montcrief and Wilder were both hunting in my territory against my express wish, and they both intended to kill their meal."
"What happened to Lady Montcrief?"
"She's being punished."
Hearing the tone of Asher's voice, Clair, though curious as always, decided not to ask any more about her.
"When will you be back?"
"After the meetings with the council I have decided to take a brief trip to Paris. I have a friend there, a Mr. Bufet. I'm seeking answers to questions which have bothered me for some time."
"And I imagine you will drink fine wine, visit with old friends, and kiss a few pretty maids all in a row."
Asher chuckled. "Something like that. Now, listen. I need to tell you a few things."
And he did just that, patiently explaining why Clair's research couldn't be made public. He presented her with all the facts in a concise manner—solid reasons such as wide-spread panic, vampire hunts, and human deaths that could range in the thousands.
He told Clair how the high council had been formed over two hundred years earlier, a council which had required that vampires go virtually underground in the seventeenth century and forbade them to drain their victims dry in the eighteenth century. And that had all been in an effort to stop the vampire-human wars.
Asher explained how vampires, werewolves, warlocks, and other supernatural creatures were very territorial and clannish. They didn't mix much from species to species, except in desperate situations. Vampires, he explained haughtily, were at the top of the food chain, while werewolves were earthier and lacking in refinement. He informed her that aging warlocks had a tendency to go crazy due to all their researching of spells, but that they were regarded by vampires as necessary evils since they could work a bit of magic on a nest's enemies. And lastly, Asher reminded Clair that vampires needed to stay a myth, a scary story to tell late at night.
Through this entire astonishing tale, Aunt Mary slept the sleep of the innocent.
Reluctantly Clair agreed to Asher's request, giving her sworn vow to not publish her findings or talk of them with anyone outside her immediate family. It was a hard decision. The scientist in her was screaming "no," and the compassionate part of her was whispering "yes." She had no choice but to agree, she reflected thoughtfully. For her life, she owed Asher a debt of gratitude she could never repay.
As Asher stood to leave, he handed her a folded piece of paper. Then, tenderly, like the soft brush of a butterfly's wings, he kissed her lips for the last time. It was a kiss of love, she recognized sadly.
"If Huntsley doesn't treat you well, let me know. I'll come, Clair. Wherever you are." And with one more lingering glance, he left on silent feet.
Clair opened his note, tilting it to see in the candlelight:
Clair fell asleep before she could wipe away the single tear that rolled down her cheek.
The next time she awoke, night had faded. The early morning sun filtered in through the window. Clair felt the warmth of someone's hand squeezing hers tightly, like a lifeline. That warmth gave her a sense of peace. It was Ian, and he was gazing at her with all the love in his heart. His fortress of solitude had crumbled and to his island there was a bridge.
Ever so tenderly, he leaned close and rested his forehead against hers. "Oh God, Clair. I was so worried."
Galen leaned against the far wall, a weary smile on his face. His arm was in a sling.
Clair smiled briefly at Galen; then she tenderly stroked Ian's cheek with her hand. "Asher said you got hurt. How badly?"
"Some bruising, and I took a deep cut to my thigh. But I'll be fine in a day or two."
"Asher said you and Galen helped rescue me." Clair cradled his cheek in her hand. "Thank you, Ian. Galen."
Ian's cousin nodded briefly, embarrassed by the warm sincerity of her praise. "Now that Sleeping Beauty is awake, I think I will go and have a spot of breakfast," he said.
"Thanks, Galen," Ian replied, adding his own heartfelt gratitude.
Galen shrugged and left the room.
Clair turned her attention back to her true love. "I'm sorry I don't remember what happened after Lady Montcrief slapped me. I can't believe a lady can hit that hard."
"The bitch is a vampire. She could have killed you with that slap."
Ian's features were grim, his eyes burning with a fierce light. Clair had never seen such raw rage.
"When I saw you there… God, Clair, I thought you were dead. I felt like somebody reached inside my chest and ripped out my heart." He gathered her into his arms. "Don't ever do that to me again," he scolded. "You can't die on me. Promise."
Studying his beloved face, his deep green eyes glistening with unshed tears, she nodded, awed. "My darling," she said, hugging him back, "I love you too."
He released her, sitting back down in his chair. "Asher was your vampire."
"I know."
Glancing at the open note on the end table by her bed, he added solemnly, "He's in love with you."
"I realize that too."
"And?" Ian asked, his fists clenching and unclenching.
"I respect Asher. But I respect and love you. Forever." It made her feel good to know that Ian was so concerned about her well-being. He was part of her destiny. And that was a miracle.
Ian brought her hand to his lips, gently turning it over and kissing her palm. "Marry me, Clair. Now. Today. I can't bear to lose you. I don't care anymore about your research. If you want to work on your paranormal theories, I won't complain as long as you're with me."
"About the research…" Clair tried to explain.
"I'll support whatever you do."
"About the vampire study—I got most of it wrong," she admitted, looking forlorn.
Ian took pity on her. "You were right about Wilder from the start," he reminded her.
"Yes, I was. But then I decided I wasn't. And Asher wasn't a werewolf. And I didn't even suspect Lady Montcrief or those horrible Bears—although I did think Mr. Bear had terrible taste in whom he let into his bed," she added thoughtfully.
Ian gave her a hug. "Clair, anyone can make a mistake. I'm sure that on your next project, your spectacular research will astonish us all."
"You're trying to placate me," she accused.
"Is it working?" Ian asked with an incorrigible grin.
She touched his hand, needing to tell him that she had promised Asher to give up her vampire thesis. And after seeing injuries to both herself and Ian, she'd decided vampire sleuthing was just too dangerous. Wisely, she decided to add werewolves to the mix of what to avoid. "Ian, about my research—"
He interrupted. "I told you it was fine with me. Do whatever you want, as long as you'll be my wife."
Regretfully she explained, "I can't reveal what I know about vampires. Asher revealed much to me. But it's too dangerous letting the human world know that theirs and the supernatural world coexist side by side."
Ian nodded. "No prestigious award?" he asked.
"I guess not. All my big dreams," Clair said. She hesitated, gazing at Ian, wondering why she didn't feel worse. Then, suddenly, a big grin split her face as she realized a fundamental truth. "You are my award, the only prestigious and precious award I need."
Ian could scarcely believe her words, but the truth was there for him to see, shining in Clair's eyes. "I love you, Clair Frankenstein," he repeated. "Marry me."
On the other side of the bed, Clair's aunt, who had slept through Asher's confessions and Ian's vow of love, awakened at the word "marry."
"Marriage!" Lady Mary trilled. "How perfectly divine, and such a surprise! Truly, a marvelous surprise. We'll have the wedding at St. George's Cathedral in three months. That will give me long enough to plan the wedding." Giving Ian a hard look, the woman added, "And you, young man, stay out of my niece's bed. I'll have no six-month wonder baby to present to my friends."
Clair choked as Ian matched her aunt look for look.
"I hate to disappoint you, Lady Mary, but I am getting a special license. Clair and I will be married in three days."
His statement got Lady Mary's back up. She puffed out like a bantam rooster. "That cock won't crow, young man. You'll be married in two months with four hundred of our closest friends invited to the wedding."
No, Ian thought, this cock won't crow, but it will stand to attention. There was no way he was waiting two months to have Clair back in his bed. "One week," he bartered.
"I haven't said yes," Clair interjected. Neither Ian nor her aunt paid her any attention.
Lady Mary ran on like a train on a one-way track, butting heads with the equally stubborn baron. "Seven weeks and not a day sooner. Victor and Frederick must come to London, and Frederick must get some new clothes. He takes forever to outfit, you know."
Ian rolled his eyes. Just what he needed, a monster and a quack at his wedding. "They can wear what they have on," he grumped.
"Poppycock." Lady Mary snorted indelicately. "Pure poppycock. Whoever heard of the bride having no one to give her away? And a Frankenstein bride at that!" She was indomitable, her family stubbornness rising to the occasion. "Clair will need a dress befitting the grand occasion," she went on, "and she will, of course, wear the Frankenstein veil. It has been handed down from bride to bride for over two hundred years."
Ian heard Clair moan. Surprised, he patted her hand.
Clair's moan wasn't from pain, but from disbelief. The Frankenstein veil was a curse. It was so ugly, no self-respecting bride could possibly want to wear the hideous thing.
Oblivious to all but her wedding plans, Lady Mary continued. "I, of course, will wear a light shade of blue, I believe. It will take the dressmaker quite a while to sew all the little flowers I will need on my gown."
Ian was not to be outmatched by the feisty little Tartar, even if he was surprised by her suddenly crotchety attitude. She was actually quite contrary when crossed. He wondered if Ozzie knew this less-than-attractive side to Lady Mary's character. "Ten days," he offered.
Tugging on Ian's arm, Clair once again tried to gain his attention. "I haven't said yes."
Lady Mary was just as determined as Ian, and she intended to gain the time she needed to plan the wedding of the century. Her plan had worked out, after all; she deserved to benefit from it. "Six weeks," she suggested.
Clair yanked on Ian's arm again. "I haven't said yes!" she shouted.
However, no one was paying the least attention.
"Two weeks," Ian bargained, his expression blank. It was his poker face. And though these stakes were high, he wasn't bluffing. And he was sure he would win. Though his Plans A and B had failed miserably, his Plan C had been a success. He was finally marrying Clair.
"Five weeks."
Ian shook his head. Clair's aunt was a Trojan, standing firmly against his formidable Huntsley will.
"One month. It is my last offer," Lady Mary said. Inside, she was beaming. She had the crafty baron cornered. One month was what she had wanted all along. One month to plan the wedding. It was enough time for her to get everything ready, and also a short enough spell in case Clair was already with child.
Ian nodded, shrewdly judging his opponent's joy. "You win, Lady Mary. One month."
"I haven't said I'd marry anyone!" Clair shouted for the umpteenth time.
In perfect unison, both Ian and her aunt turned to stare at her, both arching their aristocratic brows and making her feel like a child. Then, without further ado, they went back to discussing the wedding plans.
Clair would have stomped her foot if she could have gotten out of bed. She would have yelled some more, but she was so tired. She would just sleep a little and then argue with these two impossible idiots afterward. She had to admit, they were idiots she loved.
She fell asleep before Ian's tender kiss, and so she missed all the discussion of her wedding. Thus she ended up wearing the Frankenstein veil, that veil guaranteed to make any bride cranky. When she woke, she would put it all in an update to her friend:
Dear Jane,
I wasn't speaking to Ian, but now lam again. In fact, I am in love with him! We went to a house party at the Earl of Wolverton's where I had hoped to get the evidence I needed to prove my hypotheses. Unfortunately, I almost got myself and Ian killed. The Honorable Christopher Wilder—who was not so honorable—is now quite dead. Truly dead and not just undead, for he was a vampire. So were Mr. Bear and his wife, along with Lady Montcrief. Aren't you glad you weren't at this house party with all these vampires? Imagine the stakings your father would have required!
Anyway, the Earl of Wolverton is not a werewolf and Ian is wonderful. Have I told you that before? I am in love, and we are to be married.
Oh, and the Duke of Ghent is really a chef, not a warlock, and he wishes he wasn't a duke. He is courting Aunt Mary. Isn't that marvelous? He was once a suitor for my aunt, before he had to marry into a great deal of money. Well, he didn't actually marry the money, he married the heiress who had the money.
I wish you to attend the wedding—my wedding to Ian, not Aunt Mary to the duke. Although they may marry in the not-so-distant future. The wedding is in four weeks. (My wedding.)
With fondest affection,
Clair
P.S. Great-aunt Abby is giving me the city of Alexandria as my wedding gift. Yes, I knew you'd understand.
P.P.S. I am also being forced to wear the Frankenstein family wedding veil. Each night I am leaving it in the attic unwrapped, in hope that large rats will take a liking to the hideous thing and eat it. Wish me luck!