Page 33 of The Highwayman's Bite

Chapter Twelve

Only three nights hadpassed since Aldric sent his fiery retort to the kidnapper’s demands. Now he’d come to regret it.

He’d scoured all of Blackpool and every surrounding town and borough and hadn’t found a trace of his missing niece or her companion.

The kidnapper was far cleverer than Aldric had anticipated. None of the farmers had any knowledge of the situation in their minds as he’d crept into their rooms and fed on their blood and memories.

The Horne widow at Berwyn Farm had given him a stab of remorse, as her thoughts were consumed with how she’d break the news to her children that they were to be evicted. Nightmares taunted Aldric’s day rest. What if the criminal had given up on the chance of ransom money and slit Vivian’s throat and tossed her into the sea?

Had Aldric’s pride and anger killed his niece?

Things were not supposed to have gone the way they had. The whistling drunk should have been the kidnapper, but the scent of the man had been all wrong, along with the lack of recognition in his eyes.

And while Aldric had been occupied questioning the drunk, the man he was after managed to seize the note Aldric had written and flee the area.

The question was, did the kidnapper arrange for the drunk to wander in and keep Aldric occupied, or had he merely taken advantage of the situation? Aldric should have fed from the man and read his thoughts to see if he’d been complicit, but he’d been so enraged by the fact that the kidnapper had swept right under his nose and back out again that he’d instead chased after the criminal in a fruitless pursuit.

By the time he returned to the cemetery, the drunk had wandered off.

Next time—if there was a next time—Aldric wouldn’t let himself be taken in like that.

When the butler delivered his mail, Aldric’s breath caught as his gaze lit on an envelope with no return address. It was sealed with the same cheap blot of wax as the ransom letter.

Apparently, the next time had arrived.

Aldric tore open the envelope like man possessed. Inside was a folded square of foolscap and a lock of Vivian’s hair. Disregarding the note, he seized the severed bit of dark tresses and brought it to his nose. Aside from his niece’s scent, all Aldric could detect was a thick reek of wood smoke, a slight tang of salty sea air, and the vague essence of leather.

Blast it!The whoreson had worn gloves.

However, that evidence gave him pause. Had the kidnapper known that he had to conceal his scent, or had he simply been cold? The smoke smell indicated that he was either holding his captives outdoors, or in close quarters, perhaps a small cottage.

Aldric inhaled the lock of hair once more, straining his preternatural senses for more clues. There was a decided lack of fear sweat, which at least reassured him that Vivian and her companion were unharmed. He also thought he detected something unidentifiable, yet familiar, but that was likely wishful thinking.

With a sigh of disappointment, Aldric unfolded the letter.

Bury the money beneath the stone angel in the Wigleigh Priory cemetery in Mythop at noon on Saturday. Or next time, I’ll send you her finger.

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