Wicked Lord: Part One by Shirl Anders Page B

him.
    "Why play with Beth?" he muttered. The
nature of that taunting hunt was as intimate as it was confusing.
"It's nearly as if you knew her, beast. You could have killed her
at any moment before I arrived."
    Trinity stood, stretching his tall body. He
circled the site with his sharp gaze magnifying each torn leaf and
broken twig. He easily found the direction the murderer left and he
searched to see if any small amount of his blood could be found.
Perhaps the woman had scratched him or a branch had gouged him. One
small drop of the vile monster's blood left that he could taste and
he would know him the next time they met, by instinct alone. There
was none, so he followed the trail, noticing how well the murderer
ran through the forest without colliding with large branches or
falling over limbs. Night vision?
    "It has to be," Trinity muttered, stopping
his search in one spot, where he could tell the murderer paused.
"Humans do not have night vision," he affirmed, looking around the
area. "Here, the monster turned back."
    Trinity looked back toward the direction of
the mansion where he knew Beth came from, while attending a ball.
"Bloody hell," he snapped. "He turned back for her." Trinity
looked around the area again. "He was leaving, but he turned back
for Beth."
    The first edges of dawn filtered through the
leaves overhead and he knew he had to go and leave further
investigation until the next night. Nevertheless, he felt wildness
pushing at him, making him edgy and straining his control. The foul
beast that murdered women, ripping them apart for no other reason
than some distorted and malignant passion, was connected to Beth
somehow.
    Moments later, he left the forest atop his
stallion at a strong gallop. He was going to find his brother
Baptiste, the scientist. He had questions his brother might help
answer. Hence, when he arrived at Blacknall mansion, he went around
back, specifically to avoid Church. He wasn't ready for a question
and answer parry with his older brother.
    He left his stallion with the grooms. All
servants at Blacknall estates were well-paid to not worry about any
strange events they might witness. Over the years, it was proven
money worked better than force to keep the staffs’ tongues silent
about the affairs of the Lords of Blacknall.
    Trinity didn't turn toward the main
entrance. He walked in the direction of the tower on the west side,
and then he opened the heavy plank door to the dungeon beneath.
Baptiste had taken over the dungeon for his private work when he
wasn't working at the Royal Society with an august group of
scientists.
    The curving, stonewalled stairs leading
downward were dark with no light from oil or wick. Vampires didn't
need such trivial human confections. He could easily see his way as
though it were an overcast day. The steps were many, and they
curved in a circular fashion into the bowels below the mansion.
Trinity noticed, as he neared the entrance to the main chamber,
that it was glowing with light. That meant Baptiste had humans
confined in the dungeon.
    His brother forever leant his scientific
studies to the many unique traits of vampires. Baptiste had proved
many of the characteristics such as the process to create new
vampires. All the brothers adhered to strict rules against it. As
Baptiste learned about their growing traits such as night vision or
how much blood they needed to survive, he increasingly returned to
the plight of the feeders.
    Feeders were hopeless human beings that some
vampires used only to feed upon. They were enslaved but never
turned. These poor people were mere shells of themselves, often
emaciated of body and soul. Baptiste worked tirelessly trying to
find a way to return them to their former health and wellbeing of
mind. Trinity knew Baptiste had found the bodies of the lost souls
easier to treat than their minds.
    When he entered the chamber, he could sense
two humans were about. His sharp gaze picked out a man crouched in
the shadows on the far