The day dragged after Patrick left for Whites and the others made their way to the Princess's home. Violet tried to lie down as Angelica had advised, but she couldn't bring herself to stay in bed. She felt surprisingly good for someone who had been sick twice that morning.

Bess rubbed against her legs as she entered Patrick's library. The scent of books surrounded her, bringing her pleasure. Maybe later, when Patrick came home, she would ask if he had a book written by Rumi, the poet Ismail had quoted.

Mrs. Devon's scent intruded in her thoughts and had her turning towards the library door.

"Yes Mrs. Devon?"

"A messenger just brought a note for you," the housekeeper said with obvious confusion. "Do people not know that you cannot see miss?"

"No, people generally do not, though even fewer people know that I stay -" suddenly Violet knew just who the note was from. "Mrs. Devon, would you be kind enough to read the note?"

"Of course, seeing as you cannot..." Violet heard the rustle of paper, then the housekeeper spoke: "Walk out of the house and turn left. Someone will be waiting for you at the end of the block."

It was time. Daniel had sent her the message and five days early! The men and women Patrick had arranged to follow her for protection were not ready. She was going to have to go by herself, she couldn't risk waiting and ruining everything.

She had to go, she could not fail Patrick. Not again.

"Mrs. Devon, I need your help. I am going to leave the house now. I need you to wait for precisely a quarter of an hour before sending this note to Lord Bruce. He said he would be at Whites."

"As you wish," Mrs. Devon said, sounding more confused than ever.

Violet did not have time to explain. She moved quickly, and within a few minutes she had retrieved her cloak and was walking out into the winter air.

The street was crowded despite the cold. She breathed deeply as she turned left and began walking to the edge of the block. There were horses and people a plenty. A woman passed by; Violet wondered if she knew that her vegetables were going bad. The smell of daisies and dirty clothes was followed by that of the heavy scent of a chimney sweep.

Violet sneezed, some of the smoky coal having gone into her nose, when a man grabbed her by the arm.

"This way slayer," he said in low tones. His breath smelled of human blood and made her shiver.

"Where are we going?" she asked when she had her voice under control.

"You'll see soon enough," the man promised. He did not like her, Violet felt it in her bones. If she gave him the smallest reason, this vampire would not hesitate to harm her.