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window farther up the block, and she saw a shadow move in front of the curtain.
Crouching low, she crept close to the window and peered inside.
The man sat at a table close to the window, his back to her, pouring himself a drink from the bottle on
the table. The woman, what Colleen could see of her, lay on the bed. Only her feet were visible. Her
boots were still on, and there was mud caked to the soles.
She might have been drunk, or didn't care, since the place was little more than a hovel. The bed had only
a straw mattress, obvious since the stuffing was poking out of a ripped corner. The rest of the room held
only a single ladderback chair and a table. An oil lamp on it shed a dim light in the space.
Colleen began to retreat, then paused when the man got up and walked toward the bed. The action
allowed her to glimpse the woman's face expressionless, as if she had passed out. The bleeding cut on
her head said something more sinister had transpired. Holding her breath. Colleen watched the man raise
a hand, saw the knife he held. He lowered it, only to cut through the fabric of her blouse and part the
halfs.
The woman stirred, turned her face toward him, managed to grip his wrist. He jerked back, slicing
across her palm. Blood flowed. Colleen, hungry, fixed on that, then on the pair.
The woman would surely lose if someone did not help her soon. Convinced that the two of them would
be a match for the man, she rushed to the door, threw it open and ran inside.
Her arrival startled the pair, and as the woman lost concentration, the man sliced down. The knife
moved through her shoulder, her breast, her belly.
Finished with his victim, the man turned to deal with the witness. Colleen backed up a step, and when he
charged, she threw the table down between them. The oil from the lamp flared, catching the dry straw in
the mattress. The woman did not stir when the flames brushed her leg. Already dead, or nearly so.
Colleen turned, tried to run, but he was quicker. Grabbing her by her hair, he pulled her close, clamped
a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry," he whispered as he dragged her outside and toward the shadows
well away from the blaze.
She responded with a hard kick against the back of his knee. He went down sideways, dropping her.
She kicked backward again, less effectively, then scrambled away from him on hands and knees. She'd
just found her footing so she could run when he grabbed her and pulled her down again. Her head struck
the pavement at his feet, leaving her dizzy but still conscious enough to cry out once as the blade
descended. His hand shook but the blade was sharp, cutting upward across her shoulder, her breast and
deep into the side of her neck.
Not a killing stroke, likely not intended to be. "It shouldn't have been you," he whispered, and raised his
knife again.
She made one final weak and strangled cry, more of protest than of pain.
She had gone searching for blood. Now blood was all around her. The scent of it stayed with her as
consciousness faded.
When Joanna spoke of the feelings the arias had raised in her, it was with an intensity Arthur had never
glimpsed in her before. Seeing her passion, he had arranged a box seat for a special August performance
of the London Symphony. After assuring her that the seats would be just as private as the ones at the
opera house, she agreed to attend.
She had no way of knowing that the program a blend of Mozart and Tchaikovsky was odd, only
that the music ran an emotional gauntlet that exhausted her. She commented on that as they rode away.
Arthur, ever diligent to her needs, suggested another trip to Impostors, speaking casually, as if he were
discussing a late supper. She placed her hand on his and nodded. He called a Holburn address to the
driver, and the coach lurched forward.
She said nothing as they traveled, but in spite of her weariness a weariness that should have raised only
hunger an odd and disquieting emotion seemed to have taken hold in her, one that could not be
dispelled by thoughts of the music or the meal to come. She glanced sideways at Arthur, but his serene
expression told her this wasn't some feeling she'd acquired through proximity to him.
The emotion stayed with her at the club. Even those moments when she lay with the pliant
Antoinette such an innocent in her way! could not dispel it. Arthur must have sensed her uneasiness
because he showed no desire to remain with the girl after Joanna had finished with her. Instead he
seemed in a rush to get them on their way.
They'd traveled only a short distance when she thought of Colleen and decided that tomorrow night she
would definitely visit her again, and stay if the girl were not at home. Decision made, she tried to relax but
found that impossible. She shivered, nerves on edge, waiting for something worse, something terrible. A
scream cut through her mind. She winced, squeezed Arthur's hand so tightly he cried out in pain for both
of them.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Colleen," she replied.
"In Chelsea?"
She hesitated, shook her head. "The river& near the bridge by the prison."
"How can you know?"
"The blood we shared makes a bond. I know. Find me there. Come soon."
He wanted to ask something more, but she was already gone. Leaning forward, he rapped his cane
against the driver's box. "Take us to Tower Bridge instead," he called.
"No good part of town this time of night, sir," the driver called back.
"Just go, and quickly."
Arthur sat back in time to brace himself against the hard right of the coach. He thought of Renfield and of
Mina's tie with Dracula and understood what possessed Joanna now. And sadly, he understood all too
well what possessed him to follow her.
Joanna moved as quickly as she was able through the narrow, silent streets. The cries in her mind grew
louder as she approached the river, then stopped altogether. The shadows hid her as she took on human
form once again, and with all senses alert, cocked her head and listened.
Her hearing, so much keener than a mortal's, detected a distant sliding of fabric on stone; and in the
opposite direction, a woman's cry for help followed by a man's bellowed, "Fire!"
She glanced in the direction of the voices, saw a faint flickering glow between the buildings. People,
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