Now the Marquis was leaning forward and hanging on her every word as Josephine continued to tell her story.

“So he was just sitting there, surrounded by mirrors?” he asked thoughtfully as he considered her words. “How very peculiar.”

“It was,” she agreed. She was tempted to relate the true strangeness of the sight, but she doubted that Hugo would care about the tiny details she found so jarring. It didn’t matter to him that hand mirrors had been nailed in the gaps between large full-length and smaller vanities, but the effect had been striking to her. There was something about the way the oval mirrors had been scattered at random through the field of almost uniformly rectangular ones that unnerved her. He’d even used a few compacts and put a few shiny pots in the gaps once he’d run the whole house out of mirrors.

That wasn’t an important detail, though, so she continued. “The truly curious thing wasn’t Morty sitting there in the chair. I wouldn’t have put it past him to fake some kind of spell or trance to get the reaction he wanted after our previous encounters. The strange thing was the footman. He’d finally had enough of the charade and had gone into the room to retrieve his master while we were on our way over. By the time we arrived, he’d been standing stock still, frozen in place for almost half an hour.”

“And so Ezekiel decided to go in after them?” Hugo asked darkly. “How very foolish of the old man. I would have expected more from his vaunted instincts.”

The way that he spoke those words made Josephine sure the centuries-old Marquis sitting across from her knew something. He always sounded arrogant when lording secrets over those few foolish mortals that he found amusing. She didn’t let that distract her, though. She’d wait to ask until her tale was complete.

“Not exactly,” she corrected him hesitantly. “Ezekiel thought that he might be able to step in only a few feet and toss a rope over the other man so that we could drag him out of whatever strange, dazzling effect that many reflections had caused on his enfeebled mind. Since neither I nor the priest could feel anything malign, he assumed that whatever had happened was more related to epilepsy or hypnotism than the supernatural, so he planned to go in with his eyes closed to do just that.”

“But he got stuck too, didn’t he?” Hugo asked, with enough certainty that she found herself nodding in agreement until he finished his cryptic statement. “Because sometimes you don’t have to see things. They just have to see you.”

“What do you mean?” Josephine asked, suddenly on the back foot. “Have you heard of something like this before?” She hadn’t even told the Marquis about the brief but overwhelming surge of terror she’d felt at the moment that Ezekiel had stopped moving. Suddenly it was like a landslide was barreling toward her through the ether, just before it reached her, it suddenly vanished into smoke.

She didn’t think she would have to tell him though. He seemed to know much more than her already, and he’d never even seen the room.

“This? Have I seen someone foolish enough to let anything that might be watching view him from every possible angle simultaneously until he’s nothing but a metaphysical lure drifting in waters far deeper than he realizes? No,” he answered with a shake of his head. “But I have seen enough strangeness in the last century to know that what your young client did was a remarkably terrible idea.”

“I agree,” she answered truthfully, “But I was thinking—”

“You were thinking that since I have no reflection, I might be able to go in there and retrieve your friend before anything worse happens?” he asked, interrupting her.

“Yes, that’s it exactly,” she agreed. “I know it’s only 6 hours to sunrise, but I was thinking you could do me a favor and…”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Josephine’s words trailed off as he suddenly vanished from where he was sitting, only to reappear behind her. She could feel the evil radiating from him at that moment, and it was an act of will not to bolt away from him in disgust rather than fear.

“You recall that I offered you a favor, but at the time, you seemed so resistant. I recall you using the word never,” he whispered in her ear, “Now the tables have turned, though, and you reek of desperation, so I must ask, do you recall what I said the price for such a thing would be?”

Goose flesh rippled across her neck and back at his proximity and the way that his accent tickled her ear. It was a good pickup line, and she supposed it worked on almost every other woman, but even his little mind games couldn’t get around her revulsion.

“I remember,” she whispered, drawing her switchblade from where she kept it in her sleeve. “You said you wanted a taste, and I told you that you would never, ever bite me, but the stakes are high, Monsieur, and we are both reasonable people. I’m sure we can reach a compromise somehow.”

As Josephine finished speaking, she flicked open the blade and ran it along her left wrist with her right hand as she leaned away from the vampire looming behind her to let the blood drizzle into her now-empty brandy glass. She’d considered cutting her palm instead, but she didn’t like the idea of damaging her life or her fate lines any more than tonight was already likely to do, so she chose to add one more scar to her extensive collection instead.

Monsieur Monmoreant was fixated from the moment the red drizzle started to slowly fill the glass. And moved to watch it as it slowly inched upwards.

“Very bold, Mademoiselle,” he said with a smile. “I admire your panache if nothing else. I shall accept this token of your… esteem, but only because of your boldness. Please know, though, that the next time you come knocking at my door, the price of my assistance will be higher.”

“Then I shall make certain I never have need of it again,” she said, pulling her wrist away from the now half-full glass and wrapping a clean handkerchief around the wound to staunch the bleeding.

“With the life that you lead and the people that you spend your time with… You’ll forgive me if I don’t find that likely, Mademoiselle,” he laughed.

Then, without preamble, he shot back the contents of her bloody glass and smiled.

“Very earthy,” he murmured. “Very old world. I think that I shall look forward to the next time you find yourself in trouble. One can only imagine how much more delicious the wine is when drunk straight from the vine…”

He smiled then in a way that she was sure would have been seductive if the traces of blood hadn’t been so revolting. That view, at least, dispelled the urge to explain to him why his awful metaphor failed on so many levels. Though she was quick to snap back at other men that talked down to her, so, in this one case, she would make an exception for the good of all parties involved.

“Shall we then?” she asked, trying to keep a cheerful tone in spite of the fear and disgust that warred behind her fragile smile.

“I think we shall,” he agreed, “Though I must warn you that even if I can remove your friend from the gaze that he is enthralled within, he might not survive the experience intact.”

Josephine nodded at that but said nothing as Hugo left the room and started shouting orders at his pet mobsters. “Frank, pay the ladies for me and ask them to come back tomorrow night. I’m sure to work up quite an appetite from tonight’s activities,” he called out, “and Johnny, please bring the Duesenberg around. I think the three of us will be going on a little outing for a few hours.”

“Mr. Monmoreant,” the man that she presumed to be Johnny responded hesitantly, “Don’t you think we should clear something like this with the boss? He said he didn’t want you raisin’ a ruckus like you did the last time without his say-so.”

“I understand, Johnny,” Hugo agreed as he kissed his disappointed companions goodbye for the night. “But this won’t be like last time. This is out in the country to help Josephine’s dear, sick friend. If you drive fast, we can be there and back in just over an hour, which will give me two or three hours to see what can be done about the situation before I must call it a night.”

“Whatever you say, sir,” Johnny said, taking the keys from the peg on the wall. “But I’m gonna bring an instrument or two anyway, just in case.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t put much faith in those things where we’re going,” Hugo laughed. “Now come, Josephine. We must hurry! The sunrise waits for no one.”