London, 1971
"Who are you? What you are doing here?"
Alex turned toward the fragile sounding voice.
"Old soomka."
An old woman stood at the top of the stairs. She was gorgeously elegant; her pure red mouth matched the velvet of her morning-gown, and the lilac satin ribbons of her dress were almost iridescent. Despite her misty surroundings, she was pristine.
"Filthy youth. " The woman sounded more matter-of-factly than angry. Her accent had touch of something... Middle-European. "No matter."
She started to climb down the steps, holding her hems. "I just woke up and have not drunk anything tonight."
"Drunk?"
"Yes," Baroness Meinster said. "Blood is clean even in filthy creature like you."