The Kindred of Darkness by Barbara Hambly

rest of mankind. Many masters choose those whom they wish to possess, as well as those whom they simply wish to use.’ He brushed Nan’s gloves to his cheekbone, then tilted his head, eyes half-shut, listening.
    â€˜Nothing.’ He set the gloves aside. ‘Thus it happens that many choose fledglings of lesser intelligence, seeking those who will not challenge their dominion. Then when the master
does
perish, it is often without teaching the fledglings all that they might know about the vampire state. This being so, they cannot pass the knowledge along in their turn.’
    â€˜Like the reading of dreams?’
    â€˜That and other matters. Walk with me, Mistress.’ He took up her jacket from the bed, and held it for her to put on. ‘Walk and tell me what you will need, to find this interloper’s lairs.’
    Obediently she donned the garment, removed her spectacles, locked the door behind them and followed him downstairs, where the lobby clerk sat gazing at his copy of
The Illustrated London News
without seeing it – or them – as they passed.
    â€˜I take it your master didn’t believe in keeping his fledglings ignorant?’
    For a moment, as they went beneath the gaslight in the lobby, she saw his face turn human as he smiled. ‘My master – Rhys the White – like myself was curious about the vampire state. He said that he thought the reading of dreams was originally a hunting skill, in the days before there were many cities, to draw prey from far off, or to find sleepers by their dreams. ’Tis a skill that grows slowly, and not many teach it now. And indeed why should they? We ourselves are safer in cities, where neighbor knows not his neighbor, and money can buy protection from those who do not inquire for whom they work. The poor die unheeded, so what need of stealth and skill?’
    Beside the door of All Hallows church Lydia saw two men lying, bundles of rags ranged along the wall, asleep on the sidewalk with greasy caps over their faces, as oblivious to the clatter of the luggage-vans and cabs rattling within feet of them as the hurrying cabmen and drivers were to them. Tramps from the provinces, hoping things would be better in the city. London was full of them.
    For a long while Lydia didn’t speak.
    Then Don Simon asked again, ‘Tell me what you need,’ in a voice so gentle she wondered if he read her anger and her confusion. ‘Banking records, you said?’
    She took a deep breath, let it out. ‘A vampire fleeing unrest in the Balkans would need a means to transfer his money here, if he wishes to acquire property.’
    â€˜And the method described in romantic novels, of paying for everything in ancient gold coin, would cause more talk than the occasional corpse drained of blood with puncture-wounds in the throat.’ He steered her gently past a crowd of coster Don Juans clustered outside a sweet-shop, buying ices for their
donahs.
The glare of electric lights turned the girls’ gaudy dresses to jewels. ‘At least in London, it would.’
    â€˜We’re probably looking for a single gentleman rather than a company,’ Lydia went on. ‘Though I expect
you
operate through a corporation of some sort … The name might be Zahorec or Bertolo, and he’ll have started withdrawing cash here around the seventeenth of January. He came here from Cherbourg, so there may have been withdrawals in Paris also.’
    â€˜Duly noted, Mistress.’
    â€˜Can you …’ She hesitated. ‘Can you do that?’
    His slow smile in the electric glare was once again completely human. ‘Think you it lies beyond my measure, Lady?’
    â€˜How—?’
    â€˜How indeed. Do you not trust me?’
    â€˜I do.’ She was aware that she should be ashamed of herself for meaning it. ‘And I’ll need access to records in the Bank of England.’
    He tilted an eyebrow.
    â€˜I promise I