Vampire's life

CHAPTER ONE The Taste of Rain Lila Montecroft stood at the window of her third-floor flat on Church Row and watched the rain fall over Hampstead. The water traced silver lines down the glass, and she tried to remember the last time she had truly felt cold. It had been 1886. She had been twenty-four then. She was twenty-four still, though one hundred and thirty-seven years had passed. Lord Cassius Vaughn had seen to that. He had found her at her seamstress's table, needle in hand, embroidering roses onto a gown she would never wear. He had taken her, turned her, made her his. She had been running from him ever since. Tonight, she needed blood. The hunger thrummed beneath her ribs, constant as her own heartbeat. She dressed in a grey wool coat, pulled her dark hair into a knot, and walked south toward Camden Town. She found him behind the music hall—a young man, drunk, leaning against the stage door. His pulse was slow with drink, his blood thin and sweet. "You lost, miss?" he slurred. She smiled the smile she had perfected over a century. "I'm afraid I've taken a wrong turn." He offered to walk her to the station. She stepped closer. His arms came around her waist, and she turned her face against his neck. She bit down. The blood rushed across her tongue, warm and alive. She counted his heartbeats, pulling back before he could be harmed. He slumped against the door, unconscious. She tucked a coin into his pocket—more than he would earn in a week—and walked away. On Hampstead Heath, she stopped to watch the moon rise over London. The city sprawled below her, a web of lights stretching to the horizon. She had watched it burn in 1940, had watched it rebuild, had watched generations live and die while she remained unchanged. Footsteps approached. She turned. A man emerged from the trees—tall, lean, a stake in his hand. A hunter. "I saw you feed," he said. "You didn't kill him." "I don't kill." "All vampires say that." "All vampires lie." She met his gaze. "I'm telling the truth. I haven't killed anyone in over a hundred years." He studied her for a long moment. "Elias Blackwood." "Lila Montecroft." His eyes widened slightly. "Vaughn's lost treasure. The one who got away." "He's still looking for me. He'll never stop." Elias lowered his stake. "Help me stop him first. I need information about the Crimson Circle. In return, I'll help you. When Vaughn comes, you'll have someone watching your back." She should have said no. But she was tired of running. "There's a house in Earl's Court," she said. "Philbeach Gardens, number seventeen. He holds a dinner there the first Friday of every month. That's where he turns them." Elias nodded slowly. "Can you get us inside?" Before she could answer, the wind shifted. A scent reached her—blood, old wood, the grave. Someone was watching. "Cassius," she whispered. "We need to go." Elias turned toward the lights of Church Row. She followed, running through the rain, not looking back. She had learned long ago that looking back was the first step toward drowning. --- In her flat, Lila stood at the window until dawn. For the first time in one hundred and thirty-seven years, she was not running. She was waiting. END OF CHAPTER ONE