Page 1 of The Shadow of the Count
Prologue
October 14, 1924
My Dearest Grandson,
One again I must prevail upon you to do the work I am too aged and too infirm to do. I fear events have been set in motion, this time not by me, that we must interject ourselves into, both for the good of your fellow Peculiars, and for the rest of society. A great danger has been awakened once more in Romania. Oddly enough, you will first need to go to London. Be prepared to travel at a moment’s notice, and know that this situation will require all your particular skills.
I loathe asking you to do this for me over and over. I wish I could leave you to your life as you would live it. But this is our family calling, and none of us can escape it.
Please have a special care for young Donnie Fitzhugh. This will be another trial for him, and I fear he is reaching the end of what he can endure. I have sent you the readings you will need to be aware of the situation. Unfortunately, you will still be reacting rather than preempting, as it so often works. Be on your toes and stay alive, my boy.
Your loving grandfather,
Grant
One
Los Angeles, 1924
“Dammit, Peter. Really? The Carpathians? Why on earth are you going there?” Donnie Fitzhugh trailed along behind his…what? Did he call Peter Hilliard his lover? His very particular friend?They had been a pair since the desert in Egypt, where they’d gone on their first adventure together.
Right now, Donnie felt rather like a backdoor prostitute, so he wasn’t sure what to signify Peter as. They’d spent hours together, loving one another, touching and kissing, talking about their dreams.
None of it seemed to mean anything at the moment. Peter was making a very stupid decision.
“I told you. I’m classifying a library at an estate there.” Peter’s stiff shoulders and his refusal told Donnie a great deal about how much his pride was involved in all this.
“You’re running away from me.” They’d been traveling and staying in the same rooms, in the same bed, since they’d left Egypt nearly six months ago. Last night, Donnie had finally declared his love. He’d told Peter he wanted to spend the rest of their lives together.
Now Peter was suddenly fleeing the sunny shores of Los Angeles for the wilds of eastern Europe.
“I am not running away. I have to work, Don. I’m not like you. I have nothing to fall back on. This job pays well enough to provide my living for a long while.”
“Fall back on…” He supposed Peter meant his brother Douglas, who was a darling of Hollywood and had amassed quite a fortune. “I just thought you were part of the team. A Peculiar.” They were a team of adventurers who did tasks at the behest of their benefactor, the mysterious Monsieur M. Grant, of Paris.
“I am, but there’s been no call for us, no use for me. What we are—what we do, Don. People judge it harshly. I don’t know how—I believed myself to be as a eunuch might be, and you quite disabused me of the notion.”
“I did. I understand that you’re worried, Peter, but—”
“Do you?” Peter sighed. “Your brother has the money and prestige to be a confirmed bachelor, Don. I don’t. We’re not spinsters who can wind wool and keep gardens in the country without tongues wagging. Our idyll has been lovely, but I need to get back to work.” Those dark eyes wouldn’t meet his, Peter keeping his face turned away just slightly.
Donnie blinked, his heart hurting, it was beating so hard. He felt as if he had mere moments to convince Peter to stay with him, and he had no idea what to do. “I meant what I said last night, Peter.”
“I know. I do. And I—I return the sentiment. Let me do this. Let me come to you on equal footing, as someone worthy of your declaration.” Peter’s cheeks were flaming red. Now they came to the real crux of it, didn’t they?
“Worthy of!” Donnie threw up his hands. “How can you not be worthy?”
“I need this.” Peter finally stared at him, into him. There was something Peter was trying to say that he just wasn’t understanding. How could he when he just wanted to be with this man? Peter was all the things Donnie desired in the world. “If we are to flaunt convention, then I must be able to protect us, Don. You deserve that.”
“I wish it were different.” They all did, didn’t they? But it wasn’t.
“I do as well. But if I can make a name for myself, if I can do a few large jobs…then we can go to Europe.”
They would be together. He believed it. Donnie wanted to argue so badly, but he stopped himself. What could it hurt to let Peter prove himself? To let Peter miss him? So Donnie changed his tack. “Will you wire me when you get there? And write often?” He was desperate to believe this wasn’t the end, and that he was right in thinking that Peter would come back to him sooner rather than later.
“I will. Why don’t you go to London? I know you have an invite from that old school friend of yours.”
“I would be closer, and that would allow us to travel together for a while…”
