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ability to sense the presence of a vampire by the unpleasant chill over the back of my neck. That, at least, was small consolation.
    As Miss Holmes’s cab trundled off on damp cobblestones, leaving me alone with the night, I closed my eyes and listened to the familiar sounds of sleeping London. There was the faint shhhhhh and the accompanying rumble of a Night-Illuminator meandering its way down the street. On the next block, one of the heavy gates to a street-lift clanged. The air smelled of damp grass and coal smoke, along with the ever-present twinge of sewage—stale, putrid, dank.
    “Waitin’ for something?” said a male voice. Very close behind me.
    My eyes popped open, and I barely managed to swallow a gasp of surprise. “I was simply waiting for you to show yourself,” I replied without turning around. Though my heart was ramming in my chest, my voice came out smooth and steady. I eased a hand toward the pistol weighing down my skirt pocket.
    His low, rumbling laugh sent a prickle of awareness over the back of my neck. It was almost   .   .   .   pleasant. Not like the eerie warning that an UnDead was near.
    “Cop to it, luv,” he said, a heavy dose of Cockney in his tone. “Ye didn’t granny me till I spoke.”
    I turned, searching the shadows. I spied him in a dark nook of the wall, tucked behind a slender bush. I could just make out his form next to the sharp line of the bricks, but no details other than the angle of his hat.
    “Right,” I replied. “Neither your presence nor your absence matters to me.” My pulse had spiked, and anticipation barreled through my veins. At last, something interesting was happening.
    Something dangerous.
    He chuckled again and shifted a little. A splinter of moonlight slashed down from the hat brim to his face, jolting over a shoulder covered in a long, flowing coat. I had the fleeting impression of a dark brow and the quirk of a smile.
    The man eased out of the shadows. He was taller than me and had broad shoulders. I caught the glimpse of a square,clean-shaven chin. Although I hadn’t seen more than an impression of his countenance, from his voice and demeanor, I guessed he wasn’t much older than I. “Pr’aps you were waiting for someone else to appear? Some ’andsome gent t’woo ye in the moonligh’?”
    The cool metal of the firearm felt comforting in my pocket, but I saw no need to pull it free. I was more curious than anything. And even with my unfinished training, I could easily defend myself against a mortal man.
    “I was merely taking in the night air,” I replied. Why was I still standing there talking to him? Unless   .   .   .   “What are you doing, lurking about at this time of night? You must be up to no good.”
    Again he smiled. This time, I caught a glimpse of white teeth and a dimple in his right cheek. “I’m allus up to no good, Miss Stoker,” he said in a voice that dipped low and dark and velvety.
    A little surprised flutter went through my belly— only because he knew my name. Not at all because of the way his voice seemed to wrap around me and tug, deep inside. “You seem to have the advantage of me, boy.”
    But my juvenile insult didn’t have any effect on the young man, who was years past being a boy.
    He gave another of those low, rumbling laughs. “ ’Aving the advantage o’er a vampire rozzer is quite the accomplishment, then, aye?”
    This time, the prickle that squirreled up my spine wasn’t as pleasant. Not only did he know my name, but he knew my secret identity as well? My fingers tightened around the cool butt of the pistol.
    “What do you want?” I asked again. I’d definitely lost my advantage, if I’d ever even had one.
    He seemed to sense the change in my demeanor, for his own easy personality became more intense. “I don’t know all that ’appened inside there tonight, but when the Jacks get called in, even a glocky like me knows ’tain’t for the good. Someone buy it? The Ripper at it