The Reluctant Vampire - Lynsay Sands [35]
“He was right.”
Drina smiled faintly, and then sighed with disappointment when he withdrew his hand and picked up the wine bottle to pour more of the pale liquid into both their glasses. Setting the now-empty bottle down, he then glanced around, relaxing when their waiter immediately appeared at the table.
“So how long were you a madam?” Harper asked once the waiter had nodded to his request for more wine and slipped away.
She picked up her glass and took a sip before answering. “Quite a while, actually. The women all knew what I was, so my not aging didn’t matter. I was never seen entering or leaving the brothel without a veil, and I didn’t stay there all the time. I had a big brawny fellow act as bodyguard for the women on occasion so I could travel, and when I traveled, no one knew I was a madam.” She shrugged. “Of course, as time passed, some of the girls left, either to marry, or to work a respectable job. One or two saved every penny they made and set out to start their own business, but Beth, Mary, and several others worked until they got too old. Then I shut the doors and bought another, smaller, house, which I turned into a retirement home for the half dozen who remained.
“They were so excited,” she recalled with a soft smile. “It was far enough away that they could tell their new neighbors that they were retired widows or whatever they chose. They could be respectable, make new friends among the respectable matrons around them, and enjoy their waning years among the family they’d made in each other.”
“It sounds like a happy ending,” Harper said, smiling.
“It should have been,” Drina agreed, her own smile dying.
Harper stilled, concern entering his expression. “What happened?”
“I set them up, saw them settled, and then left to travel, promising to visit frequently. But it was almost two years before I returned.” She shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t mean to stay away so long, but time slipped away from me.”
“It tends to when you live as long as we do,” Harper said, as if trying to mitigate the guilt he could sense in her words. “What happened to your girls?”
“Nothing until just before I returned. According to Beth, they made friends in the area and were all happily enjoying their new home and retirement . . . but then another immortal happened upon the women. His name was Jamieson. I don’t know if that was his first or last name. Beth just called him Jimmy.” Her mouth tightened. “He was rogue.”
“Oh no,” Harper murmured, reaching for her hand again.
Drina turned her hand over under his and their fingers closed around each other’s, and then she said wearily, “I don’t know if he was just passing through the area and came across one of them, read her mind, and saw her history with me, or what, but something made him pick them for victims.”
When she paused again, Harper squeezed her fingers gently in sympathy. Drina shook her head, and said tightly, “He installed himself in the house and turned them all the same night in one horrible blood orgy. I guess it was horrendous; screaming old ladies watching each other being bled, and then having his blood forced on them, followed by the convulsions, the agony, the screaming.” She shook her head, trying hard not to think about how it must have been for those women she had come to care a great deal for. She continued grimly, “One of the women didn’t survive. Her heart couldn’t take it, and she died during the turn. But Beth, Mary, and the remaining five survived.”
“The one who died may have been the lucky one,” Harper muttered, though she saw a haunted look in his eyes and realized she’d inadvertently reminded him of his Jenny.
Trying to pull his attention back from the ghost of his previous life mate, Drina quickly continued, “They woke from the turn confused and terrified, and were informed that now that he’d made them young and beautiful again, he owned them and they would do his bidding.”
“He wanted them to prostitute for him?” Harper asked with a frown.
Drina shook