by S J Williams
Hah, Sebastian thought. Not so clever now, are you?
At almost the same moment, Apollo speared Bartholomew with a glare.
“Lucien speaks the truth. We have been deceived.”
Sonya raised her hands, evidently trying to re-establish some control over the council.
“This meeting, I remember it now. It was a demonstration of anatomy. It could not be more natural for Bartholomew to attend because that was the core of his study and the genesis of our elixir. Besides, whatever his intentions back in the fifteenth century, it is clear he wants to work with us now. We cannot toss this elixir aside because of our distaste for its maker.”
Zaya gave her a scornful look. “Whatever his intentions? This diary clearly shows that, all along, he intended us to take the brunt of whatever fallout would come from revealing ourselves to the mortals. These are not vampires whose portraits have been taken.”
“Perhaps he couldn’t be sure that vampires would survive, given how efficient we have been at killing them.” Sonya hedged, looking decidedly uneasy now.
Zaya smiled. It wasn’t a kind expression.
“Perhaps. Or perhaps he just wanted to save his own skin and foresaw a time when having some way of drawing the attention away from him would be beneficial. Whatever you say about working together, I for one do not trust that a vampire will so readily change his nature. He will play us like fools then throw us to the human dogs when he is done.”
As she had been speaking, Lucien had been laying out more sheets of paper on the table, this time print-outs of the emails Effie had received when the book had first been published.
“Here is more evidence of Bartholomew’s betrayal. These emails show that he prepared the mortals to be ready for the portraits when they were published. We have emails from the lawyers representing Oscar Mansfeld’s family asking about the details which they could use in their case against him. They cite Albini as their source in their requests for more information from Effie.”
“What’s this?” Oscar squawked, snatching up the email. “It’s true!” He yelped a moment later. “You backstabbing scum. You played me.”
The table was mobbed as other councillors rushed to read the emails, exclaiming and cursing when they found attempts had been made to target them personally.
“What I want to know, Sonya,” Harper circled round the table, his eyes on his prey, “is how and when you got involved in all of this.”
Sonya backed away, her mouth opening and closing helplessly. Then her faced firmed into a hard glare. Whirling around, she pressed a hand to the wall and disappeared through a door that slid shut behind. Bartholomew had already gone.
With Effie.
Sebastian sprang forwards, barely seeing the immortals and furniture in his way as he fought to reach Sonya’s table. Beside him, Catarina and Henry had also leapt into action and were battling through bodies and tables to get to where they had last seen Effie. Lucien, swamped by councillors demanding more details, hadn’t noticed Effie’s abduction.
“Hey!” Harper shouted, running to the back wall to pound on the panels. “Fuck!” He kicked the wall. Turning back to the other councillors, he snarled, “how the fuck did she manage that?”
Most of the councillors, still crowded around the print-outs, blinked at him, then looked around, clearly only noticing for the first time that Sonya was no longer in the room.
“The vampire has also fled with the potential immortal.” The deeply resonant voice of Apollo drew all their attention. The African immortal towered over the rest of the council. His broad forehead was heavily lined in a deep frown.
“We have been deceived.” He said again, his bass voice effortlessly carrying through the room. “But we must not continue to bring shame on ourselves by acting like fools. The vampire has escaped. We must find him and bring his vicious life to a just end. We may argue about what has been revealed this night later. For now, we hunt.”
Apollo turned to Sebastian.
“Find Bartholomew. He must not escape this city tonight.”
“And Sonya?” Sebastian checked. It had to be asked, even if every particle in him was screaming to get on with the hunt.
“Sonya is ours.” Harper growled. There was no mistaking what he meant. “I’ve been wanting to take that bitch down for the last century.”
Sebastian spared him only a brief nod before jumping over the table, using his telekinesis to clear it. Henry and Catarina scrambled to catch up with him.
“Henry!” He barked. But Henry was already frozen, his eyes staring at what no one else could see.
“This way.” He ran to the wall and, without hesitating, pressed his hands against it, activating a hidden door. A panel shifted back. Sebastian didn’t give it time to settle. Grabbing it telekinetically, he wrenched it from its moorings and flung it aside.
“Go, go, go.” He ordered, taking point.
Hold on, Effie, he thought, keeping the prayer deep within his heart. I’m coming.
19
Effie was floating in a cloud. She thought she might be moving, but she wasn’t quite sure. There were no reference points, no passing scenery, not even the sensation of movement to guide her. But still, she was sure she was moving, nearly one hundred percent.
Abruptly, reality came back. The change was so swift, Effie felt like her brain had done a cartwheel and left her behind. For a sickening moment, the world was upside and still spinning.
Air slammed into her lungs like she hadn’t been breathing before. Had she been? She had no idea. Her brain wasn’t being very helpful either. Sensations against her skin, both soft and luxurious and hard and cold crowded into her mind, confusing her. She couldn’t see, she couldn’t hear. Why couldn’t she do anything?
Then her eyes focused. It didn’t help much. She didn’t recognise where she was. She had no idea when she was either. All she knew was that it was dark. She squinted, trying to get her bearings. She was crouching in a tunnel. The ceiling was low, the walls close, claustrophobic. And she wasn’t alone.
Someone’s hand was on her forearm, which was covered in a silk glove.
Effie’s memories came back to her in a rush. The party. Bartholomew’s demonstration. The vampire’s hand seizing her upper arm. The dots connected with a crash.
Mind control. Serious mind control. Much stronger than she had ever experienced before. Bartholomew had got stronger… somehow.
Her brain was still working on that one.
Her eyes finally adjusting to the light, she looked down at the hand on her glove. Bartholomew had been controlling her, but he wasn’t any more. Not that he knew that yet, she noticed, as she followed the hand up the arm and to the body beyond.
God, my mind is slow. She thought with frustration, struggling to reclaim her normal bodily functions.
Her stomach threatened to rebel. Bad timing, she told it with an internal groan.
Her hearing came back, along with some more logical connections. She had lost all sense of self when Bartholomew’s hand had been on her bare skin. Now that it was on her glove, his control was returning to the level she remembered from their interview at the university.
He’s distracted, she thought as she tuned in to what he was saying, he hasn’t realised he’s no longer in control. All she had to do was work out how to keep it that way.
“I’m not going to give you the girl or the recipe.” He was saying to a woman too shrouded in shadow for Effie to see. “Your grand plans have failed. We’ll do this my way from now on.”
“Do you take me for a fool, vampire, that I will trust you completely?” The woman hissed, her voice very familiar.
Sonya. More connections clunked into place. Sonya had somehow spirited Bartholomew out of the room and now she wanted payment.
“As I see it, you don’t have much choice.” Bartholomew lifted Effie’s hand and waved it at Sonya’s face. “If you want the elixir, you’ll have to trust me and get us both out of here now. There’s no way Sebasti
an and his bloodhound won’t be on our trail as we waste time arguing here.”
“How can I be sure you won’t double cross me, vampire?” Sonya asked. Effie supposed all that talk of trusted colleagues had got old very fast.
“I am not the one who fucked up my role in this plan. You were supposed to bring the immortals on board. By all accounts, you failed miserably.” He snarled back. “You will at least do something right and get me out of here. Then, we can start negotiations.”
“You are in no position to criticise me, vampire.” Sonya said haughtily. “I need a pledge now or I leave you to your fate.”
Sonya still wants to produce the elixir, Effie thought fuzzily. That couldn’t be for any good reason.
Bartholomew scoffed, his hand shifting. Effie held her breath as it edged dangerously close to her bare skin again.
“Do you really think you can come back after this, as if everything was normal? You’re just as much a renegade as I am now.”
“You don’t know anything about it.” Sonya snapped.
She’s good, Effie thought absently, I couldn’t hear any doubt at all in her voice. Good, or utterly deluded.
Sonya paused for a moment. Effie’s eyes were fixed on Bartholomew’s hand. Any second now, he was going to realise his focus had slipped and then she would be back to that strange floating.
“Fine.” Sonya said. “I’ll get you out of here. But if that elixir doesn’t come to me, there won’t be a place on this earth where you will be safe. Do you understand me, vampire?”
The rustle of rich fabric as she began to move again. Bartholomew shifted his hold and Effie’s world went blank again.
When Effie next slid back into her own mind and body, the change was gentler, slower. All her senses came back like stars coming into view in the darkening sky. It didn’t help with the nausea, however.
Effie groaned and rolled onto her side, willing herself not to throw up. Something hard and cold dug into her cheek.
She sat up, batting it away. Her fingers met diamonds through silk gloves. She froze, staring around the empty room. Apart from some basic items of furniture, there was nothing to distinguish it.
Her eyes fell on some stationery on the bedside table. “Paris Grand” and a logo headed the paper and scrolled around the body of the pen.
She was in a hotel room. And she was alone.
On the tail of that thought, the door opened and a man slipped inside.
She glared as Bartholomew smiled at her.
“Alone at last, my dear.” He said, advancing on the bed. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment. And look how you’ve dressed up for me. It’s better than I ever imagined.”
Her glare turned into a scowl.
“What do you want, vampire?” She asked coldly.
“Now, now, my dear.” Bartholomew sat on the edge of the bed. She shifted her feet away from him, twitching her skirts to make sure no part of him was touching her. “Is that really the way to welcome an old friend? Surely not after all we’ve been through together.”
“I would think, given all I’ve ‘been through’, that is precisely how I should react to you.” She countered.
Bartholomew raised his eyebrows, pretending to consider what she had said. “True, very true. I suppose I couldn’t blame you for thinking that. But,” he said resting one hand on the bed, leaning closer to her – her back hit the headboard – “you had best get over your aversion soon. We will be spending a lot of time together in the future.”
“I wouldn’t count on it.” She said, hoping that wasn’t just bravado speaking.
“Oh, you think your lover will be along to save you?” Bartholomew chuckled, shaking his head, his expression one of mock despair. “His track record isn’t good in that respect. You should really know that, my dear.”
“His neck isn’t broken this time, Barty.” Effie hissed.
Bartholomew reared his head back in exaggerated surprise. “Oh, so you remembered that, did you? Makes me wonder what else you’ve remembered.”
Effie frowned at him in puzzlement before she could stop herself. He laughed at her confusion. She was tempted to kick him, even though she was sure he’d make her regret it.
“Never mind. I’m sure those memories will come back to you in time. For now, I intend to create some new ones. I’ve been fantasising about you, fresh from the vein. There’s only so much plant food a vampire can take before he needs his blood hot and pumping.”
He reached up to caress her cheek. She slapped his hand away, glad she was wearing gloves to do it. She couldn’t bear the thought of his skin touching hers, even without his enhanced mind control.
“Did you lie about that?” She asked quickly, hoping to distract him from the rage that leapt into his eyes at her rejection. “I thought your elixir cured you of that hunger.”
“Oh, no, little Effie. Not entirely, in any case. Besides, the effects are wearing off now and I find my appetite has come roaring back.”
Good to know, Effie thought. If the elixir gave Bartholomew enhanced mind control, it might be that the enhancement was also wearing off. Now, all she had to do was survive long enough to take advantage of that fact.
Bartholomew leaned towards her again, letting the monster inside him stain his eyes red. Effie tried pressing back further, but she had nowhere else to go. And she knew she’d never be able to outrun him.
“Why me?” She blurted out, desperate to keep him talking.
“I beg your pardon?” Bartholomew paused in his approach and frowned at her quizzically.
“Why me? Why not some other potential immortal? Vampires are supposed to be better at finding them, aren’t they?”
Bartholomew chuckled faintly and shook his head in wry amusement. “You really don’t appreciate just how special you are, my dear. Reborn immortals are rare, so much more so than potential immortals. It makes you quite the delicacy.”
One of his hands snapped out, quick as a striking snake, to grab her arm. At the same time, she jerked away violently. His fingers scratched at her glove instead of catching her arm, tearing the silk from her. She let it go, using her momentum to propel herself from the bed and onto the floor. One of her pretty heels caught in the bedspread and twisted her ankle, making her land awkwardly on her hip.
Bartholomew was on her before she could do anything more than register the hard floor beneath her, covered only in a thin, cheap carpet.
“Now, now, my dear.” He chided, lifting her from the floor like she was a child, except she hoped no one ever held a child tight enough to bring bruises blooming to the skin. “There’s no need to make this more uncomfortable than it has to be.”
“Uncomfortable?” She gasped in disbelief. “You’re talking about turning me into some kind of blood cow and you think this might be uncomfortable for me?”
“Oh, it won’t be for ever.”
“No.” She sneered. “Just until I’m dead, then? You planning to kill me again, Bartholomew? Like you killed my parents?”
Bartholomew’s eyebrows lifted in feigned surprise. “Killed your parents? What’s this?”
“My parents. They disappeared while travelling around Europe last spring. You must remember.” She gave him an ironically chiding look. “After all, you were so insistent that I work on the gallery with you to distract myself from my grief.”
“Ah, yes. I remember now.” Bartholomew said as he deposited her back on the bed. Effie bounced lightly, but his hand on her leg prevented her from making a second escape attempt. “And what makes you think I was responsible for their disappearance? I was, after all, clearly in Durham for all of that season.”
She rolled her eyes in frustrated exasperation. “Don’t give me that. We both know you have plenty of means at your disposal if you want something doing.”
“I have no idea what you mean.” He said, giving her an innocent look that was spoiled by the cruel amusement she saw in his eyes.
“Just answer the questio
n.” Effie said, too angry and frightened to join in with his mind games. “Did you or did you not kill my parents?”
“You have to admit, it was rather convenient to have you all to myself.” Bartholomew said slyly. That was probably as much of a confession as she was going to get.
“So that’s it? You’re going to milk me until, what? Until you get bored, then throw me on a fire again?”
“Must you hold that particular crime against me? I have already admitted that my actions were a little rash back then. No, I will not kill you again. I have a far better plan in mind.”
Effie stilled at those words. She knew she wouldn’t like what was coming next.
“After all, it would be a shame to waste all of that potential.” He continued, leaning over her and pinning her to the bed. “You will make such a lovely vampire, Effie. I can hardly wait.”
Effie’s world narrowed to a pinpoint. “Vampire.” She managed to get out through a throat that had become painfully tight. “You can’t.”
Bartholomew cocked his head at her, raising his eyebrows in a silent, teasing question. Then he gave her a truly evil smile.
“I assure you I can. And there is nothing you or your immortal knight can do to stop me.” He almost purred.
Effie didn’t think, she just lashed out. One elegantly shod foot connected with his groin. The vampire hissed with pain, his body jerking away from her as he tried to avoid her kick.
“Go eat dirt, you blood-sucking scum.” She spat.
Bartholomew surged up, fury and the possibility of murder very real in his reddened eyes.
“It seems”, he grabbed hold of her wrists before she could do anything to defend herself, “that I will have to teach you some manners before I do anything else.”
Effie’s heart stuttered in her chest. She had nothing left to throw at him, either verbally or physically. He made a dive for her throat, fangs sliding through his gums.
