“Oh,” Anna said. “I think I can manage something.”

Just before midnight, as promised, Anna heard a tapping at her bedroom window. Matthew Fairchild was there, dancing along the edge. Anna threw it open.

“My my!” he said approvingly. “Are those Christopher’s?”

Anna had dressed herself in her brother’s clothes. The sewing had helped a good deal.

“A disguise,” she said simply.

He laughed, spinning carelessly on the sill. She could see he had been drinking—his reflexes were slow, and he only caught himself a half second before tumbling back out to the ground.

“They suit you better than they suit him, but still … we need to get you something nicer than that. Here.”

He pulled the ascot from his neck and handed it to her.

“I insist,” he said. “I could never let a lady go out in inferior menswear.”

Anna felt herself exhaling slowly and smiling as she put on the tie. The two of them jumped from her window, landing noiselessly on the courtyard in front of the house.

“Where is this place?” Anna said.

“A nefarious corner of Soho,” he said with a smile.

“Soho!” Anna was delighted. “How did you find out about it?”

“Oh, just through my wanderings.”

“You do a lot of those.”

“I have a periphrastic soul.”

Matthew was more drunk than he had first appeared. He rolled back on his heels and spun around the occasional lamppost as they walked. He had been like this a lot in recent weeks—what was fun and light about Matthew had taken on an edge. On some level, she felt a bit of worry rising. But this was Matthew, and he did not do well under confinement. Perhaps the summer night had just gotten his spirits particularly high.

The house Matthew took Anna to was deep in the warren of Soho, off Brewer Street. It was painted black, with a green door.

“You’ll like it here,” Matthew said, smiling at Anna.

The door was opened by a tall, pale man in a maroon frock coat.

“Fairchild,” he said, looking at Matthew. “And …”

“Fairchild’s good friend,” Matthew replied.

Anna could feel the intelligence of the vampire’s gaze, as he took her in for a long time. He seemed intrigued, both by her and by Matthew, though his expression was unreadable.

At last he stepped aside and allowed them in.

“You see?” Matthew said. “No one can resist our company.”

The hall was utterly dark—the fanlight had been covered in a velvet drape. The only light came from candles. The house was decorated in a style that Anna thoroughly approved of—heavy green paper run through with gold, velvet curtains and furniture. It smelled of cigars and strange, tiny, rose-colored cigarettes and gin. The room was crowded with a mix of Downworlders and mundanes, all elaborately dressed.