Dawn Thompson Read Online Free PDF Page A

the docks. They didn’t see where he left me in the shadows, and I dragged myself back to the street and took a hackney cab back to the family townhouse. I was in no shape to ride, Clive.”
    “You didn’t realize what had happened to you?”
    “I was in a fog. I didn’t realize anything untoward had occurred until Archer, my man at the townhouse, pointed out the marks on my throat when he shaved me the next morning. Then I vaguely remembered . . . something. It still isn’t altogether clear.”
    The vicar’s eyes flashed. “Can you still stand the sunlight?” he asked, giving a lurch.
    Jon nodded. “Yes, though it hurts my eyes and gives me dreadful headaches. It’s as if I am viewing everything through a red veil. And I’m lethargic during the day. Much like several symptoms Cassandra complains of now.”
    “Go on.”
    “You know the rest. The cravings began—the hunger for raw meat running with blood; the insatiable thirst that nothing but thick, warm blood will quench. At first it was small creatures: rabbits, squirrels . . .”
    “Have you . . . killed—taken a human life?” the vicar murmured.
    Jon shook his head. “No,” he said. “Just animals. I have thus far been able to stop short of killing humans.”
    The vicar’s posture relaxed somewhat. “Have any of these symptoms begun to intensify?” he asked.
    “Slightly. Do you—”
    “I want to know how much time elapsed once you were bitten before that occurred.”
    “I-I don’t recall exactly. Is it important?”
    “I’m trying to estimate how much time we have before you will no longer be able to come here for sanctuary if this condition is progressive in you. Have you not wondered why Sebastian could not tread upon this sacred ground while you can?”
    “Of course. What are you getting at?”
    The vicar hesitated. “You say that the girl is not fully
made
,” he said. “I don’t believe that you are, either. I pray not. It is either that, or your condition is simply manifesting itself gradually, in stages, and sooner or later you, too, will be denied sacred ground.”
    Jon’s scalp receded and his eyebrow lifted. Was there hope? “My God, is it possible?” he murmured.
    “I know not, Jon, I know not. That is why you must be honest with me. You say what has happened to her is your fault. How so?”
    Jon hesitated. His mind was racing with more than he could take in. “The Reveres had pegged me for their daughter Estella, not Cassandra, her companion,” he said. “The attraction was mutual between Cassandra and myself, and we took to meeting on the sly. No! It wasn’t like that, Clive,” he hastened to add as the vicar’s hands clenched. “You know me better than that. We met in public places. We had ice at Gunter’s, took a stroll in Hyde Park—quite acceptable, though at Vauxhall Gardens there are secluded walks that lend themselves quite well to assignations of an amorous nature. It was in one of these that Sebastian found her waiting for me. I was going to tell her I planned to travel to Cornwall and seekher mother’s permission to wed her. I had no idea then of the magnitude of my situation. I was detained at White’s. I was with one of my colleagues from University, who had been gaming, and there was a dispute over vowels. Twilight had fallen by the time I reached our trysting place. Sebastian had hold of her—he was draining her. I can still see it, Clive. He had her on the ground . . . she was semiconscious. I flew at him, caught him unaware. We fought, and he bit me again in the struggle.”
    “Did you lose consciousness?”
    “No. Neither did she.”
    “And Sebastian?”
    “Others were near. We heard voices and he ran off—disappeared. It was my fault she was attacked. He’d been stalking me. He knew who she was. It was deliberate. If I hadn’t told her to meet me there . . .”
    “You aren’t to blame,” said the vicar.
    “I am, Clive. She knew I would come. She never would have stayed past sunset