Page 6 of The Stalker

Well, not all of it. It had given him his Annabel, after all.

She pressed her soft cheek to his spine and said, “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to. We can fuck off to Australia or somewhere. Live in the outback.”

He tightened his hand over hers. His sweet, sweet girl. “No, we can’t. But thanks for pretending, baby.”

“Always.”

~*~

Dr. Edwin Talbot stood on the wide top step of the manor house, watching the driveway where it emerged from the trees, bubbling with childish excitement. It was an effort not to pinch himself; he couldn’t believe this was finally happening. After decades of research, lobbying, brown-nosing; after countless sleepless nights and a ruined marriage, he had his position at the Institute. He hadthe brothers, waiting for him insideBlackmere Manor. And right now he was waiting to meet the oldest living wolf in existence.

He might faint with elation.

He cast another glance over his shoulder at the Gothic masterpiece of a home, its narrow, mullioned windows, its dangerous eaves, its rain-streaked stone façade. The stone gargoyles on the roof seemed to move if you squinted, their lips peeled back in constant snarls, wings spread threateningly. Tucked away deep in the woods outside of Richmond, the house couldn’t have looked more out of place in Virginia if it had tried, seemingly snatched off the cover of a novel, plucked from a dark and stormy English countryside.

The inside had been dusty and in need of a good airing out, cobwebs spun between the high-backed dining room chairs, but it was the most decadent, dark, romantic thing Dr. Talbot had ever seen. And thebasements. Three levels of them: stone, and steel, and impenetrable. Exactly what he needed for his research and…containment cells.

He heard the rumble of an engine and whipped back around.

A dusty black ’69 Cadillac DeVille cruised up around the circular drive and came to a stop in front of the dry fountain. Under the layer of road dust, the car was flawless, not a single dent or nick. Lovingly cared for, obviously. It had probably only ever had one owner, after all.

The passenger door opened, and Dr. Talbot’s breath caught in his chest as he watched the baroness step out into the gray daylight. He’d seen photos of her, scratched and sepia-toned, but the photos had failed to make her seem alive, somehow. She stood looking up at the house, one hand on the car door, and she seemed like an ordinary girl: very pretty, dark hair curled at the ends, dressed in cutoffs and a man’s flannel shirt, scuffed black boots, a jangle of silver bracelets at her wrist. She looked young, barely out of high school. She looked like her skin would be warm if he touched it – like aperson, and no longer just a legend they gossiped about.

The driver door opened, and a tall, slender man unfolded from behind the wheel. His shiny black hair fell to the middle of his back, pulled back along the crown to reveal his high forehead and cruelly beautiful bone structure. Aristocratic. A prince stepped straight from a painting. He wore a black shirt under a red leather motorcycle jacket. Polarized sunglasses with blue lenses. He walked around the car to his wife and revealed black jeans and combat boots. A bored rock star on a country vacation. Magnificent.

He took his wife’s hand and pulled her arm through his, shutting the car door with a negligent movement of his hips. Together, they ascended the stairs toward him. Lord and Lady Blackmere.

Dr. Talbot bowed deeply, his heart jumping in his chest. “My lord. My lady. Welcome.” He beamed at them.

The baroness smiled, cute and friendly. “Hi there. You must be Dr. Talbot.”

“Yes, I am. How lovely to meet you.”

The baron gave him a flat look, eyes hidden behind his shades. “Where are they?”

“Ah. Well.” He hadn’t been expecting niceties, exactly, but was still thrown by the baron’s cold disinterest. “In subbasements one and two respectively.”

The baron snorted. “And you think you have them contained properly?”

“Oh, yes, quite. The younger one is retrained, I assure you. And his older brother, well – that’s the reason I’m so glad you’re here. We’d like to wake him up.”

The baron snorted again, this one sounding more like a growl. “Why the fuck would you want to wake him up? Isn’t one bad enough?”

This was what Dr. Talbot had feared. He took a deep breath. “Badis exactly my worry. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of my work” – he got a grimace in response – “but long story short, I’m trying to extract the medicinal properties from their blood. The younger brother is…volatile. To say the least. But I believe the older brother might be of great help to my project.”

“Hmm.” The baron nodded. Then he reached up and pulled his sunglasses off, hooked them in the V of his shirt collar. His eyes were bright blue. “You think he’ll help you.”

“Yes.”

“And you think whatever help he might –might– provide will outweigh the consequences of waking him up?”

“If the stories are to be believed–”

“Stories?” he barked. He stepped in close, leaning down into Dr. Talbot’s face, eyes flashing. Crazily, Dr. Talbot noted that he had two thin braids, one behind each ear, studded with tiny blue flowers. “How old are you, fifty? You’re achild, Dr. Talbot, an idiot kid with a hard-on for monsterstories. What you brought back from Romania aren’tstories. They’re living, breathing animals, more dangerous and violent than you can even begin to comprehend. You have the scourge of the Ottoman Empirein your basement, and you want me to wake him up?”

“Well. Yes.”

“You’re fucking stupid.”

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