Page 10 of Wynter's Bite

Justus cuffed his captive so hard the vampire spat blood. “That’s enough talk until Lord Darkwood comes to question you.”

As swift as possible, he dragged the rogue to Darkwood Manor, and after making sure the human servants were otherwise occupied, tossed him in a cell in the hidden dungeons. The rogue’s curses echoed behind Justus as he made his way out of the dungeons.

Blasted curs. Rapists, thieves, and careless ones who broke the law and killed humans, rogues were vampires exiled by their lords when a death sentence seemed too harsh, or perhaps they simply lacked the stones to execute a criminal. The rogue could then become a citizen of another vampire’s territory if they applied for lenience. However, such was rarely the case. Most Lord Vampires killed rogues on sight. Some threw them off their property to be killed by another. Lord Darkwood was especially prone to killing rogues, though at least he gave each one he captured a fair trial first. Only one had become a Rochester vampire as Gavin discovered that the vampire had only been exiled for courting a vampire in another territory without permission. Three he chased off when he was in a merciful mood. The other scores had been beheaded and taken out to the garden for the sun to burn away their remains.

Justus shook his head. The system and reasoning in dealing with rogues was impractical and often hypocritical. Far too many lords were opting for exile rather than execution. It seemed there were more rogue vampires about every night. Were Lord Vampires growing so lax they were failing to give death when deserved? Or were all vampires to blame for not being more careful on who they Changed? It was only a matter of time before efforts to prevent rogues from banding together would fail and someone would have an insurrection on their hands.

By the time he met up with Benson, the vampire was pacing around the oak tree in front of his house. “Late again,” Darkwood’s third in command snapped. “Don’t expect me to keep that from His Lordship.”

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself, I’ll tell him,” Justus said airily. “You see, I’d caught a rogue on my way to meet you.”

Benson stepped back, flushing in embarrassment. “I see. Well, very good. His Lordship will be pleased.” The corner of his mouth twisted in irritation. “Blast it, how do you do it? I swear, you’ve captured more rogues than Darkwood and I combined.”

“In this case, it was sheer luck. The sod was creeping around behind the Chatterton stables. I merely caught him on my way out. Convenient, but hardly anything admirable on my part.” Justus shrugged. “In other cases, perhaps I merely get lucky then as well.”

Grudging respect glimmered in Benson’s eyes. Taciturn and steadfast, he and Justus always clashed, although if it came down to it, each would die for the other. “See that you maintain that luck. Now, how fares the southern half of the territory?”

“Fairly quiet, aside from the rogue I captured.”

Benson nodded in satisfaction at the thought of order. “Good. Things in the north region are peaceful as well, though I did have to have a word with one of the younglings about being more discreet in the hunt.”

Justus held back a yawn. It wasn’t that he wanted trouble in Rochester, exactly. But did things have to be so dull around here? Maybe he’d ask Gavin to send him on another mission to spy on his neighboring Lord Vampires. London would be good. The Duke of Burnrath, the current Lord of the City, always merited some scrutiny.

“Well, let us fetch our people for the Gathering,” Benson finished and started down the dirt path illuminated with dappled moonlight.

As they walked, Justus attempted to strike up a conversation. “I just finished reading The Monk. Quite salacious. Have you read that one?”

Benson’s lips curled down with a touch of derision. “I am far too busy to read.”

Justus sighed and fell silent. Perhaps he should loan the book to Miss Mead. On second thought, to give a maid such a torrid novel would likely cause a scandal.

Benson didn’t talk much as they rounded up the Rochester vampires, instructing them to go to the Gathering place, beneath the ruins of Rochester Castle.

Gavin awaited them, pacing on the dais, his hands behind his back. Benson and Justus joined him on either side, facing the incoming vampires with mild, yet stern gazes.

Once the chamber was full, Gavin raised his arms for silence and greeted the assembly. “Vampires of Rochester, it brings me joy to see all of you present and well...”

Although Gavin was called “Ruthless Rochester” under the breaths of the common vampires, he truly did care for his people. It was just that he had little tolerance for disobedience. If one were to be honest, no tolerance at all. Justus knew that Gavin had been brought up in the monastery, to train for the priesthood, and that something had happened to him to make him not only abandon that course, but had also made him overly harsh.

This Gathering was more sedate than others as no one had stepped out of line and thus no punishments were to be meted out.

Instead, Gavin related what information he thought his people should know, and then in turn listened to news and grievances from them.

Dull. Even his report of the rogue in the dungeon did nothing to liven up the evening.

“And to close this meeting, I am pleased to announce that it is Alexander’s fifty-fourth year as a vampire. Alex has been a Rochester vampire since the night he was Changed by Susan and....”

As Gavin went on about Alex’s accomplishments, Justus’s attention wandered. Against his better logic, his thoughts strayed to Miss Bethany Mead. Her inquisitiveness, her intriguing air of mixed innocence and wisdom. How her wide blue eyes had lit up with joy at the sight of a dusty old book. How her succulent curves had been emphasized by her pretty muslin dress.

Applause rang out for the guest of honor, and Justus joined in a moment too late, earning a black look from Gavin. Everyone made their way to the banquet hall, where tiny cakes and miniscule glasses of champagne were spread across the large table, portioned so as not to impact a vampire’s digestion. Gavin nudged Justus with his elbow.

“You seem preoccupied.” The words seemed like an accusation.

Avoiding his lord’s gaze, Justus swigged one of the miniature champagne glasses, enjoying the tickle of the bubbles on his tongue. “My apologies, my lord. I’m still pondering a novel I finished. Kept me awake half the day. The Monk?” he inquired hopefully. Gavin had a large library that he constantly added to, but only read sporadically.

“I’m afraid I haven’t gotten around to it yet,” the Lord of Rochester said, scanning the room as if trying to spot a sign of discord. “I’ve been too occupied watching the Lord of London. Cecil brought back the most fascinating report.”

Justus rubbed the bridge of his nose. Did no one read anymore? “I thought I was to look in on London for you.”

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