The Spiritglass Charade by Colleen Gleason Read Free Book Online Page A

An’ Bilbo pours a mean’n.” He gestured to one of the settees. “As I recall, ye took a bit o’ likin’ to the sip of a gatter ye ’ad before.”
    â€œI’m not drinking anything from you,” I told him flatly, settling on the larger sofa. “Did you think I’ve forgotten what happened last time?” The tea he gave me as a soother had ended up being a literal one: He’d put a sleeping powder in it so I’d be unconscious as he delivered me home.
    â€œAh, aye. I thought ye might be still brushed up o’er ’at.” The grin flashed, then disappeared. “Bu’ after what ye did t’Marv, I should be feedin’ ye a
lecture
. Did ye ’ave t’break
two
fingers—an’ one on each ’and? Now the bloke’ll be useless t’me fer an ’ole month!”
    Right. “Perhaps you need to reconsider the type of man you have working for you. I can’t imagine he’s useful for much other than terrorizing women.”
    â€œMarv is a dangerous cove. Ye were foolish t’bait ’im as ye did.” His expression turned sober.
    â€œMe bait
him
? He was the one who put his hand on my—who forced me to sit with him. And wouldn’t let me leave. I warned him what would happen if he didn’t release me.” My voice rose. Did Pix really think I couldn’t handle myself? Did he really think I should have allowed that man to put his hands on me and do nothing? Blooming facemark!
    â€œAn’ now ye’ve made an enemy o’ Marv, ’ere in the rook’ry. As if ye weren’t in danger enough as ’tis.”
    â€œHe has two broken fingers. What sort of threat do you imagine he might be? Especially to
me
?” I countered, still furious at his assumption that
I
had caused the altercation. Tempest in a teapot, my
arse
.
    A soft chime interrupted whatever Pix might have replied, and I looked over as my host slid open a small door in the wall. Inside the neat cubbyhole sat two large tankards.
    Right, then. That was how Bilbo managed the bar
and
delivered down here.
    Pix set the tankards on the table in front of me and settled on the settee next to mine. The bitter scent of ale wafted to my nose. As I examined the mug filled with creamy foam, he nudges one toward me.
    Not a bloody chance I’d get even close enough to wet my lips. Especially since I had other reasons for being here. Though I had no idea what he meant earlier when he said he hadn’t expected me to “hear about it,” I intended to find out exactly what he meant—and what he believed had brought me here.
    â€œNow that you’ve gone through all the trouble to get me here,” I said, my voice cool, “giving me the chance to see yet again where you hide all your loot, you can tell me what you know.”
    â€œWot about, luv?”
    â€œYou know why I’m here,” I countered. “No sense in playing games, Pix. Talk.”
    â€œWot d’ye want t’know? I ain’t seen any m’self, but th’ signs’re there. They’re back, is all I know.”
    A cold shock rushed over me.
They’re back
. “The UnDead?” I said without thinking.
Vampires are back in London?
    â€œYe didn’ know? Devil it!”
    â€œI would have known . . . eventually. And I
should
have known. I’m a vampire hunter . . . which, hmm, you knew the first time we met.” I narrowed my eyes, fixing on him darkly. “Now would be a good time to tell me how you came upon
that
bit of information.”
    Pix lounged back in his seat. He’d removed his overcoat and left it lying over the back of the sofa. His shirt was made of fine, cream-colored linen. Much too fine for a resident of Spitalfields.
    He gave a nonchalant shrug, which shifted his sleeve, giving me another glimpse of the device strapped to his wrist. “I know ever’thin’ that