“A solicitor?” Ava asked.

I nodded and continued my search for a suitable hat. Yesterday I had enough to keep a hat collector satisfied for a hundred years. And today they had evidently disappeared.

“What are you looking for?” Katherina asked from directly behind my left ear in her voice like water pouring. There were times I wondered if the Brides enjoyed their attempts to surprise me- this was usually followed by the realization that yes, they did.

“A hat,” I said through tight teeth.

“Like this one?” I turned around. Katherina held up a black silk top hat she had evidently pulled out of the air; when she saw me staring she grinned and put it on, angling it just so. The contrast with her pallid blonde hair and pale skin was almost surreal. Her eyes were the brightest things in her face. They looked like full moons, or sapphires, or-

“Give it to me.” I took the hat from her and tried to wear it in a fashion that would hide my face. The brim was not nearly big enough. The entire thing sat on my forehead similar to a dead bird. In retrospect, I should have simply tied a scarf around my face or kept my head tilted down. Katherina let out a high-pitched giggle.

“There you guys are,” said yet another voice. I looked up and of course Elizabeth had come in. Standing beside Ava, the sisters looked almost eerily alike; the same dark hair- though Elizabeth’s was curly, and Ava’s was straighter- the same large red eyes and lips, the same translucent skin. After three hundred years, I still found it hard to believe sometimes that fortune had favored me so much.

“A solicitor is coming,” said Ava. “Same thing we told you about three times already.”

“For the London house,” I said, fastening a cloak over my shoulders. “He’s going to help with the transactions.”

“London house?” Elizabeth said blankly. I raised an eyebrow- I’d already told her everything, but she tended to be a little hare-brained sometimes- Ava closed her eyes, and Katherina shot her a look.

“I’m buying a house in London,” I said slowly. “I’ve told you this.”

“Ah. That’s right.”

Ava rolled her eyes.

“Where are you going now?”

“I have to pick up the solicitor.” I closed one eye. “Harker Jonathan, I think.” I fixed each woman with a dark stare. “You will not touch him. You will not look at him. He will not see you. He will not know that anyone resides in this castle besides myself. Understand?” I didn’t ask for an answer, just adjusted the hat again. “Does this cover me?”

Katherina considered and tilted it back down.

“Thank you. I left some food for the man on the table. Please do not touch.”

“You can cook?” Katherina said with evident interest. I shrugged.

“I didn’t know that,” Elizabeth said thoughtfully.

“I have to go.”

“When’s the last time you cooked?”

“I have to go.”

--

The innkeeper was a small old woman, dressed modestly in a ruffled dress and apron, which dragged along the floor. Her powdery gray hair was held back in a loose bun, her skin barely hanging off her skeleton. A rosary, dark, beaded wood and a small, delicate cross, hung around her throat; every so often she touched it gently, as if to assure herself it was still there. She swept the entryway of the inn carefully, leaving no thread of dust where it was, as if this task was what she had been born to do.

I reined in the horses. They were skittish and spooky, and it took several tries to get their attention enough to slow them to a stop. Even after I let go of their bridles, they kept shuffling their hooves and twisting their heads anxiously.

Okay. Now. The hard part.

I adjusted my hat obsessively again, took a deep breath, and approached the old innkeeper. Best to get it over with and fetch Mr. Harker.

I don’t think she noticed I was there, as it wasn’t until I was standing an approximate two inches away that she looked up. Her eyes were a dull, wintry blue, but foggy, and widened at the sight of me.

The innkeeper gasped audibly and took a knee-jerk step backwards. The broom clattered to the floor as one veined, knobbed hand flew to her throat and clutched the crucifix. “Our Father, which art in heaven, hallowed be thy Name,” she choked out from somewhere deep inside herself. “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven.” She would have continued, possibly preached a whole sermon, if I had not raised one hand and silenced her.

“I am here for Harker Jonathan.” I didn’t want to hear the Lord’s Prayer if I could help it.

Tears began to stream down her cheeks. “Oh, fiend, devil, spawning of hell, why do you torment us so- to destroy the soul of a youth, new in this land- give us our daily bread-”

“I-”

“And forgive us our trespasses-”

“Am-”

“As we forgive them that trespass against us-”

“Only-”

“And lead us not into temptation-”

“Here-”

“But deliver us from evil-”

“For-”

“For thine is the kingdom-”

“Jonathan-”

“The power and the glory for ever and ever-”

“Harker!”

“Amen!”

We glared at each other with open animosity. I made a mental note to tell Katherina to injure this woman later. As I watched, those misty eyes focused behind me; I turned around, as more as of an unthinking reaction than a deliberate one.

A tall man in a suit, back to us, was making his way to the carriage- I had evidently missed it in my quarrel. Mr., Harker. As I watched, he paused to stroke the long black nose of one of the horses. It stopped fretting momentarily.

“Never mind, then,” I said under my breath. I tipped down my top hat again and started towards the driver’s seat and eventually, the sanctity and comfort of my castle.

“Demon,” she hissed, and buried her face in her hands. I ignored her and took my seat at the head of the carriage.

I wanted desperately to give Mr. Harker the obvious once-over, but if he managed to see my face and realized I was a count in addition to being a carriage driver, the visit was probably going to head downhill from there. I ignored him as best I could, at one point looking almost straight down to avoid meeting eyes and from there having to look up and have an actual conversation.

As I started the skittish horses, I noted the townspeople coming out. The men wore beards and angry expressions; the women shed some quiet tears for the young, plainly naïve boy. The mothers scooped up their children, whose wide and innocent eyes followed the coach as it trailed quietly away. I wanted to turn away from their dark and prying eyes, but they watched from every angle, weighed from every possible direction as an uncomfortable pressure.

I don’t go into town much.