42
“Only that my father kept records of Serena Lark—meticulous records of her life. From records kept by the people who raised her—apparently from Mr. Bridgewater, who died shortly after she left their care—when she returned looking for answers.”
His mentor’s face jerked up. “From Bridgewater? But why—” Ashcroft broke off and passed a gloved hand over his jaw. “I had no idea your father and he corresponded. It was dashed unfortunate that Bridgewater and his wife died.”
“I believe my father was keeping these records for you, sir. He was planning to unveil his discovery—the way to stop the creation of a vampire.”
Ashcroft was trembling. “I never saw his journals, Jonathon. He never showed them to me.”
Jonathon put his untouched brandy on the desk. Frustration surged in him. “I’m still searching for the journals. I’ve tried every blasted property belonging to the estate—and I’m back here, none the wiser. In that unfinished letter he was gloating over the grand discovery. Why would he hide it from me?” He could understand his father’s care in hiding the books, but not why his father would have left no clues for him. “I’ve been trying to work from the laboratory books prior to those that are missing—to see if I can replicate what he found.”
“But you don’t know that this discovery is in any way related to Miss Lark.”
“It was, sir. In the journal I did find, my father specifically says that he believed he had a better use for Miss Lark than waiting for her to transform, then cutting her open—” Jonathon’s stomach lurched as he remembered what his father had planned to do. In the name of protecting humanity, his father had dispassionately listed the procedures he would perform on Serena Lark’s corpse.
“And that use would be?”
“Proving, with her as example, that he could prevent the loss of soul. That he could reverse the transformation.”
“Impossible!” Ashcroft shouted. “We must observe what happens—Sommersby, we will never have this chance again.”
“She’s a living, breathing human being, not an experiment.”
Wheezing, Ashcroft shook his head. “She is a vampire, Sommersby. This is her destiny.
Imagine how many others could be saved.”
Jonathon clenched his fists at his sides. He remembered Lilianne’s eyes—that moment of trust, of hope. “I cannot sacrifice Miss Lark.”
“You will have no choice. You do not have your father’s notes. You can’t replicate his discovery, can you?”
Jonathon gave a curt shake of his head. No. No, he had no idea what his father had done. “His journals are somewhere. I will find them.”
With a groan and a pained grimace, Ashcroft lifted from the chair. “Sommersby, your duty is to the Society, to England. To mankind.”
Jonathon closed his eyes. Remembering the mantra—think of the innocent lives a vampire will claim. One life sacrificed to save many.
He heard Ashcroft’s rasping voice. “I have watched her grow from infancy, Sommersby. A vampire who would live as a mortal until the prime of her life, then transform into a being more powerful than any we have ever known. Since her birth, I have kept her under control…waiting for this…waiting for the moment of change. I had to take great care—she was my precious secret.”
“But you told my father.”
“Of course. I could trust your father.” Ashcroft clapped a weak hand on his shoulder. “Lady Brookshire informed me that Miss Lark is determined to hunt Lukos. She wants to destroy him before he goes after her. Sommersby, we cannot take the risk of letting Miss Lark get near Lukos.
Your mission is to protect her—to keep her away from Lukos.”
“Lady Brookshire is a vampiress,” Jonathon pointed out. “A good one. She has never killed.”
Blood Rose ©Sharon Page 2007 Email: [email protected] 43
He thought of Lilianne again. His pretty fiancée had not been a “good” vampire. He had lost her to one of the
“Only that my father kept records of Serena Lark—meticulous records of her life. From records kept by the people who raised her—apparently from Mr. Bridgewater, who died shortly after she left their care—when she returned looking for answers.”
His mentor’s face jerked up. “From Bridgewater? But why—” Ashcroft broke off and passed a gloved hand over his jaw. “I had no idea your father and he corresponded. It was dashed unfortunate that Bridgewater and his wife died.”
“I believe my father was keeping these records for you, sir. He was planning to unveil his discovery—the way to stop the creation of a vampire.”
Ashcroft was trembling. “I never saw his journals, Jonathon. He never showed them to me.”
Jonathon put his untouched brandy on the desk. Frustration surged in him. “I’m still searching for the journals. I’ve tried every blasted property belonging to the estate—and I’m back here, none the wiser. In that unfinished letter he was gloating over the grand discovery. Why would he hide it from me?” He could understand his father’s care in hiding the books, but not why his father would have left no clues for him. “I’ve been trying to work from the laboratory books prior to those that are missing—to see if I can replicate what he found.”
“But you don’t know that this discovery is in any way related to Miss Lark.”
“It was, sir. In the journal I did find, my father specifically says that he believed he had a better use for Miss Lark than waiting for her to transform, then cutting her open—” Jonathon’s stomach lurched as he remembered what his father had planned to do. In the name of protecting humanity, his father had dispassionately listed the procedures he would perform on Serena Lark’s corpse.
“And that use would be?”
“Proving, with her as example, that he could prevent the loss of soul. That he could reverse the transformation.”
“Impossible!” Ashcroft shouted. “We must observe what happens—Sommersby, we will never have this chance again.”
“She’s a living, breathing human being, not an experiment.”
Wheezing, Ashcroft shook his head. “She is a vampire, Sommersby. This is her destiny.
Imagine how many others could be saved.”
Jonathon clenched his fists at his sides. He remembered Lilianne’s eyes—that moment of trust, of hope. “I cannot sacrifice Miss Lark.”
“You will have no choice. You do not have your father’s notes. You can’t replicate his discovery, can you?”
Jonathon gave a curt shake of his head. No. No, he had no idea what his father had done. “His journals are somewhere. I will find them.”
With a groan and a pained grimace, Ashcroft lifted from the chair. “Sommersby, your duty is to the Society, to England. To mankind.”
Jonathon closed his eyes. Remembering the mantra—think of the innocent lives a vampire will claim. One life sacrificed to save many.
He heard Ashcroft’s rasping voice. “I have watched her grow from infancy, Sommersby. A vampire who would live as a mortal until the prime of her life, then transform into a being more powerful than any we have ever known. Since her birth, I have kept her under control…waiting for this…waiting for the moment of change. I had to take great care—she was my precious secret.”
“But you told my father.”
“Of course. I could trust your father.” Ashcroft clapped a weak hand on his shoulder. “Lady Brookshire informed me that Miss Lark is determined to hunt Lukos. She wants to destroy him before he goes after her. Sommersby, we cannot take the risk of letting Miss Lark get near Lukos.
Your mission is to protect her—to keep her away from Lukos.”
“Lady Brookshire is a vampiress,” Jonathon pointed out. “A good one. She has never killed.”
Blood Rose ©Sharon Page 2007 Email: [email protected] 43
He thought of Lilianne again. His pretty fiancée had not been a “good” vampire. He had lost her to one of the
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