out of the breast pocket of his buttoned-up shirt. Natalie ignored him.
“Vlad Dracul was the father. We’re looking at his son, Vlad the Third. Vlad the Impaler,” she clarified.
Lucien frowned. “Why do you think Vlad the Impaler might be of help?” He moved to sit on the chair that Rupert was occupying.
“Wait!” She held up a hand and Lucien froze. “Uh, that one’s more comfortable,” she finished lamely, pointing to the empty seat. “The other one has a spring in it.”
“Don’t think I’ve ever been referred to as ‘the one with the spring in it’ before,” Rupert muttered.
Natalie sighed, trying to keep track of the conversation she was having with Lucien. “I think we start with Vlad to search for a heretofore unknown cure for a werewolf bite, especially since he was the first person who understood how to kill the vampires.”
“I thought he was rumored to be one?”
Natalie cupped her hand on her chin, her brows dipping. “I don’t subscribe to that point of view. He may have been a human trying to rid his area of vampires.”
Lucien shook her dry look. “By impaling them?”
“With wooden stakes,” she pointed out.
Lucien’s eyebrows rose. He nodded briefly, as though acceding to her point, and started to read the book in his hands.
“You’re not serious, are you?” Rupert asked as he removed a pouch of tobacco from his cardigan pocket. “A cure for lycanthropulism? My, you do find the most interesting projects. I thought the Cauldron of Daghdha was an ambitious undertaking, but you’ve outdone yourself with this one. Lycanthropulism...” Rupert started to chuckle as he packed the tobacco into his pipe.
“I’ll find it,” Natalie said in response, looking up at her colleague, and turned the page she’d been reading. The Cauldron of Daghdha was an ancient Celtic artifact rumored to leave nobody unsatisfied. At least that project had benefits for everyone. She’d found some maps of ancient Ireland and felt certain she was on the right trail for that.
Lucien looked up in surprise, then smiled. “We’ll find it,” he corrected. “We’re partners now.”
Her cheeks bloomed with embarrassment at being caught talking to the ghost, then realized how he’d interpreted her words.
“Oh, uh—”
Natalie placed her elbows on the table and covered her face with her hands. Ghosts. “That’s not what was meant,” she said, intending the words for Rupert, but glaring at Lucien. “We are not partners. You are blackmailing me to help you find this make-believe cure so that Ned and anyone else I know stays alive.”
“Oooh,” Rupert said, twisting in his seat to stare at Lucien.
“Which goes to prove my point that vampires can’t be trusted,” she said, glaring at the handsome man who sat across from her, staring at her warily.
“I can’t be trusted?” Lucien leaned forward in his seat. “You’re the one whose been playing dead all these years, Natalie,” he argued.
“Because a vampire killed me,” she shot back.
“Not just a vampire, though, right?” Lucien tilted his head and stared at her expectantly.
“Okay, fine. A vampire and a werewolf. Happy? For the record, I don’t trust either breed,” she muttered. She definitely didn’t trust Lucien, either.
She eyed him now. “The sooner we prove or disprove this cure, the sooner you can be on your way.”
Lucien leaned back in the seat and stared at her for a moment, then his nose twitched and he frowned. “Do you smell something?”
She glared at Rupert, who smiled back at her as he chuffed on his pipe. “Let’s just read,” she said tiredly and turned her attention back to her book.
* * *
Lucien glanced over at Natalie. Her chin was cupped in her hand, her eyes blinking ever so slowly, her face pale and drawn. They’d been at this for hours. Natalie had made several trips to the library, and there was still a book trolley with a large number of tomes to sift through. They’d spoken occasionally, when one or the other had found something of potential interest, but had mostly read in silence. It hadn’t felt awkward, though. No, it had been eerily easy to slide back into that comfortable routine of reading alongside Natalie.
She’d changed a little, despite his attempt to cling to the past memories. Every now and then she’d shaken her head or nodded, as though having a silent conversation with herself. It was cute. Now, though, she’d been silent for the last half hour and looked to be fighting a losing battle against sleep. He wondered if she realized she’d been reading for the last two hours with her glasses perched on top of her head.
He closed the book with a snap and set it down on the pile that now reached the same height as the armrest of the chair he was sitting on.
“Come on, we need a break,” he said.
Natalie jerked upright, as though startled awake. She frowned. “No, we can keep—” she paused to yawn “—going.”
He glanced at the window behind her desk. The night sky was beginning to lighten. “I can’t. I have to go before the sun rises, and you need sleep.”
She yawned again then shrugged. “You’re right. I guess I’m not used to pulling one of these study all-nighters, anymore. I’m beginning to skim a lot of this stuff, and I might miss something.”
Or she might face-plant on her desk as she passed out from exhaustion. Lucien refrained from commenting.
“Okay, well...” She rose and walked around her desk as he stood from his chair. “I guess you go to whatever dark place you’ve found for yourself, and I’ll meet you back here tomorrow night.”
He remained where he stood and she had to halt in front of him to prevent herself from walking right into him. He surveyed her carefully. She looked weary. He realized this was her second straight night of little to no sleep, thanks to him. Guilt flared as she weaved a little on her feet, and he grasped her shoulders.
“Go home, get some sleep,” he said in a low voice.
She frowned up at him. “You can’t compel me, Lucien.”
He sighed. “I’m not trying to compel you, Natalie. I just want you to get some rest.”
She grimaced. “Right. So I can be back here, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to help you search for something we don’t even think exists.”
“No, because I actually care about you, and you’re exhausted.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and he frowned. Vulnerability never sat well with him. He hated it, but he couldn’t stop his next words, either. “Will you be here tomorrow night?” She’d said she would, but he needed her to promise—she kept her promises. Or, she had, long ago.
Her eyelids flickered, as though she sensed his vulnerability and was as equally
