Page 27 of The Highwayman's Bite

Chapter Ten

Rhys crouched behindthe trunk of an ancient oak that spread its wide branches over the eastern corner of the ancient parish graveyard. He reached in his pocket and carefully opened his pocket watch at an angle that would not reflect the moonlight.

A quarter past eleven. Blackpool was late. Or rather, that was what the Lord Vampire likely wanted him to think when in fact, Blackpool was likely circling the area, searching for him.

Just then, a tall, stately figure strode into the graveyard. Authority and power radiated from the man. The Lord Vampire of Blackpool had arrived.

Rhys’s breath tightened in his lungs as Blackpool approached a moldy headstone with the name “Burlingame” carved into its rectangular stone face. The Lord vampire looked around the cemetery one more time before reaching in his pocket and placing a leather pouch atop the grave.

This was the most dangerous part. If the wind changed direction or if Rhys moved at the wrong moment, Blackpool would sense his presence. And the longer it took for the second half of his plan to commence, the greater the risk of discovery.

Speaking of the second part, Blackpool wasn’t the only party who was tardy.

That sodden fool had better follow through with his task, or Rhys would give him a thrashing. Just as his knees began to cramp, Rhys heard the distant sound of whistling approaching the graves.

Blackpool stiffened. As expected, he heard it too.

The whistling grew louder as both vampires tensed. The moment Rhys’s hired decoy strolled into sight, the Lord Vampire of Blackpool was upon him. He seized the drunken sailor, lifting him by his shoulders until his feet dangled in the air.

“Where is she?” Blackpool snarled, baring his fangs.

Rhys blinked at the brazen reveal. That was a foolish error of judgement right there. He would have expected better of a Lord Vampire.

Sam, a man Rhys had bribed in a pub just this evening, squirmed in terror. “I don’t know who you’re talking about! I only came to visit my grandmother’s grave. She raised me since I was a boy.”

Very good, Sam,Rhys thought. Play the innocent bystander. There was a chance that Blackpool would feed on the man and learn the truth, but even if he did, Rhys had been disguised with a false bushy red beard when he’d paid the man a dear sum simply to pretend to visit a grave at this late hour.

Rhys didn’t wait to see if the ruse would be uncovered. While Blackpool continued to interrogate Sam, Rhys dashed to the gravestone with preternatural swiftness and seized the leather bag. He ran on past the other headstones and out of the cemetery, not daring to look over his shoulder.

Only when he was miles away did Rhys stop and enter a pub in a village halfway to the No Man’s Land. Technically, he was still in danger as this was under the Lord of Lytham’s domain, but Rhys had learned that the His Lordship turned a blind eye to rogue vampires passing through so long as they did not cause trouble.

The barkeep regarded him with a look of irritation, for strangers who arrived at such a late hour were often looking for trouble. Rhys ordered the cheapest ale available with hunched shoulders and a lowered tone to put the man at ease. And once he took his cup and slunk away quietly to a table in the far corner, the barkeep relaxed and turned his attention back to the men playing cards near the fireplace.

Rhys sipped the ale, surprisingly good for the price and rough location, and withdrew the leather sack that Blackpool had left on the grave.

Something didn’t feel right about the bag. When he opened the sack, he immediately saw why. Rather than two hundred pounds of coins, Blackpool had stuffed the bag with chunks of coal. Rhys blinked in astonishment. Did the Viscount of Thornton truly not give a whit for his own blood? He hadn’t anticipated that. What would he do with Vivian and Madame Renarde in that case?

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