Ravenfall

by Narrelle M. Harris

  ‘I know you’re all right. Really. But I–’

  ‘You don’t have to justify a damned thing to me, James, and there are better options than enduring that which doesn’t have to be endured.’ Gabriel patted the bed. ‘Stay here.’

  James took a step towards the bed before he’d even thought about it. Then he took the remaining steps and sat on the edge of the bed. Gabriel arranged himself more deliberately and patted the space between his knees.

  ‘I could go on the other side,’ said James.

  ‘You could,’ agreed Gabriel, but he didn’t adjust his posture. ‘I’m not trying to have sex with you,’ he elaborated at last. ‘It’s more I think you’ll feel better this way. Safer. You said you can hear things while you rest. I know you can rouse quickly if necessary. So why should you be dormant, on your own, and vulnerable, when you can stay here with me? I’ll watch your back and you can watch mine. This keeps us both safe.’

  ‘It’s hardly conventional,’ James offered.

  ‘Yes. Because you and me, we’re all about convention,’ replied Gabriel with a sardonic lift of the eyebrow. ‘Anyway, you’ve already seen me naked. At least I’ve got pyjamas on now.’

  ‘Well, with logic like that…’

  ‘Exactly,’ agreed Gabriel.

  James, dressed but barefoot, crawled onto the bed and between Gabriel’s knees. They arranged themselves: James on his side, head resting on Gabriel’s chest, Gabriel with his right arm curled round James’s back. Gabriel rested his cheek against the top of James’s head.

  ‘Is this all right?’ James asked. He was nestled into the warm nook, one hand curved along Gabriel’s pyjama-clad thigh.

  ‘It’s perfect.’

  ‘You sure this is comfortable? I’m not too heavy?’

  ‘You’re not too heavy. Shh. Get your rest.’ Gabriel pulled the sheet and duvet over the pair of them. He kissed the top of James’s head. ‘Good night.’

  James sank into his dormant state. As Gabriel had stated, he could hear the world around him, but he didn’t listen to it.

  He heard the steady beat of Gabriel’s heart under his ear. Felt enveloped by the heat of Gabriel’s body. Heard his breathing, and felt his even breath as it flowed over his forehead, down the bridge of his nose. The scent of clean cotton, and of Gabriel’s breath and his warm skin, permeated his senses. All noted and present, but not noticed, as such. An ambience. Warmth. Safety. Nest. All the parts of his home, present and correct.

  After a while, James was distantly aware of something moving in his hair. A careful, even stroke, fingers brushing his hair and scalp. Lovely. Pleasant and comforting. He shifted slightly, then settled, content, not fully realising his face was pressed against Gabriel’s throat, where the heartbeat, the warmth, the scent were strongest.

  Gabriel continued to pet James’s hair, feeling the fine, light brown strands against his fingertips.

  James was so still, his body so cool to the touch, it was almost like cradling a dead body. But James did not have that utter heaviness of the truly dead. James wasn’t presently breathing, but he had the carriage of a body held in sleep rather than in death.

  James could have lain alongside him on the bed and been safe in his dormant state, secure that should something threatening occur, he would wake in an instant. But Gabriel liked this. Knowing he held James safe, as James had held him safe today. So here he was, protecting and being protected; holding and being held.

  ‘James,’ he whispered. ‘Jamie.’

  James’s eyelashes fluttered. He could hear, whether or not he actively listened. Nobody but Granda had ever called him Jamie. Even in his detached state, the sound of the affectionate diminutive made him feel safe. More than safe. Beloved. Treasured.

  ‘Thank you for rescuing me,’ whispered Gabriel.

  The corner of James’s mouth curled slightly in a smile.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The day before the ball at Kings Worthy, Gabriel showcased his outfit for the occasion.

  ‘That,’ said James in deep disapproval, ‘is your costume for the Halloween ball?’

  Gabriel swooped the opera cape in a dramatic arc and bowed. He straightened and angled sideways to give James another view of the long black trousers, white ruffled shirt and subtly stitched waistcoat underneath the red-silk-lined cape. The spats, James thought, were just insult added to injury.

  ‘It theemed apt,’ said Gabriel, then pouted his lips around his awkward dental caps. ‘Thethe teeth make it difficult to thpeak properly. How do you manage it?’

  James’s teeth descended in a mock-predatory grin. ‘Practice.’

  Gabriel, unfazed, tongued at the points of his dental caps with an air of irritation. ‘I thuppothe I’ll have to leave them in a while, then.’

  ‘You know, I could go as a vampire. Seeing as how I’m the vampire.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculouth, Jameth,’ said Gabriel with mock-hauteur. ‘It’th not a “come ath you are” party. Bethides, I look the part more than you.’

  ‘You’re a cheeky bugger.’

  Gabriel grinned, fake teeth and all.

  James shook his head and retracted his fangs. He knew what Gabriel meant. Creatures of the night, according to the popular culture, weren’t shortish, blue-eyed, stern-faced Scottish blokes with mousy hair. Tall, lean Gabriel with his mad artist hair and lanky grace was much more the Hollywood ideal.

  ‘Tho,’ said Gabriel, ‘What’th your cothtume?’

  ‘Guess.’

  ‘Zthombie Doctor,’ declared Gabriel.

  ‘You are an impertinent bastard today.’

  ‘Give uth…us a ki…kiss and I’ll behave.’

  James ruffled Gabriel’s perpetually unruly hair and kissed him on the cheek. ‘There you go.’

  ‘Not what I meant.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Here.’ James slipped his arms around Gabriel’s waist and gave him a chaste kiss on the mouth. ‘Better?’

  ‘Getting warmer,’ said Gabriel, but he didn’t push the issue. He hugged James and stepped back. ‘Thith ith… is getting easier.’

  ‘Try keeping the fangs inside your lip. You won’t accidentally bite yourself that way.’

  Gabriel gave him a keen look. ‘Did you accthidentally bite yourself at the start?’

  James’s mouth pooched out in a clear reluctance to admit the truth, which he overcame. ‘Once or twice.’

  When he was done snickering at the mental picture, Gabriel fetched the latest volume of vampire case notes from the bookcase. James left him to it. He had a few items yet to prepare for his own costume.

  The next night, they donned their outfits ready for their sortie to Kings Worthy.

  ‘That,’ said Gabriel in a voice of utter delight as James emerged from his room, ‘Is your costume for the Blakely ball?’

  James swept the tricorner hat from his head and bowed low and deep. The end of his cutlass poked into his long brocade galleon coat, lifting it sufficiently high to reveal his breeches and boots. He straightened and spread his arms wide, showing off the flowing shirt that draped nicely over the scarlet sash at his waist. The flow of the shirt mostly hid his service pistol, tucked into the sash at the opposite side to the cutlass. He hoped not to need either weapon, but he’d rather be unnecessarily armed than defenceless.

  ‘Cap’n Kyd, at your service. Aaaaarrr.’

  ‘You look good. Let me know if you need a cabin boy.’

  James shook his head affectionately. ‘You don’t give up, do you? At Gabriel’s apologetic grimace, James laid a hand against his chest. ‘I don’t mind, you know.’

  Everything had been so different since James had rescued Gabriel. Those declarations of love may have been made under the influences of protective rage and mind-altering chemicals, but they’d been sincere. James had taken to staying in Gabriel’s bed, reading while Gabriel slept, watching over him. He went dormant sometimes, cradle
d in Gabriel’s arms. They kissed as often as they hugged now.

  But James had not expressed interest in sex, and Gabriel, while flirting madly, didn’t push for it.

  ‘Whatever you want, Jamie,’ said Gabriel, pressing his hand over James’s. ‘As much or as little. I’m pretty sold on you, you know.’

  ‘Aye.’ Delivered with a little grin, then, ‘My Granda used to call me Jamie.’

  ‘Oh…’

  ‘Granda raised me, along with my mum,’ James went on, quietly reflective. ‘He was my Dad after mine ran off. He was always there when she had tae work. Nursed me through chicken pox. Taught me to play football and how to fix a car. Helped me with my homework, taught me how to cook so Mum could have dinner when she got home. He taught me how to be brave and to stand up for people less strong than me. I learned how tae be a man from my Granda. Everyone else, from Mum to my mates to the army, called me Jim, but I was always Jamie tae him.’

  ‘If you don’t want me to–’

  ‘I do, though. Say it again.’

  ‘Jamie,’ said Gabriel softly.

  ‘Aye,’ sighed James contentedly. ‘That sounds good.’

  ‘Sounds good to me too. Jamie.’

  James, smiling, lifted Gabriel’s hand to his mouth. ‘I hear you’ve got the hang of the teeth, there.’ He kissed Gabriel’s knuckles then let his hand go.

  ‘Practice,’ Gabriel grinned. He drew himself up to fully present the cape and the foam of white lace that bloomed at his throat. ‘I’ll do?’

  ‘You will. Gabriel. I like your whole name. Like the archangel.’

  ‘Hardly,’ he laughed, though obviously touched by the sentiment.

  ‘Well, it’s true he had a flaming fuck-off sword. Are you armed?’

  Gabriel held his cape back. The garlic-smeared silver knife was in its sheath at Gabriel’s belt.

  Satisfied that they were prepared for whatever West might bring, Gabriel and James went to their hired SUV for the drive to the Blakely Estate in Kings Worthy, Hampshire.

  The drive west to the M25, then south through Farnborough and Basingstoke towards Winchester took nearly two hours. They filled the time initially by going over their plans and contingency plans until they were both on edge. After that, Gabriel found a classical music station. James hummed along with a few of the pieces, and made Gabriel laugh when he confessed to recognising them from childhood cartoons, and advertisements for laundry detergents and luxury motor vehicles.

  James, at the wheel, rested one hand on the seat between them from time to time. When he did, Gabriel placed his palm over James’s hand, brushing James’s fingers with his own, as natural as if they’d been like this for years.

  They turned off Basingstoke Road at a field still redolent to James’s senses of the resident dairy herd. The narrow lane led to Lord Blakely’s Frankenstein mansion. Only portions of the west wing had stone-and-mortar continuity with the building’s Restoration origins. In the intervening 300-odd years, neglect, fires, and the indignities of changing architectural fashion, had given it a “made from leftovers” feel. It had also been altered to be used as accommodation for children evacuated from London during the Blitz and as a hospital for returned soldiers.

  Since the 1970s, the Blakely dynasty had invested large chunks of their land-and-portfolio-derived fortune to restoring some continuity to the manor.

  ‘I hated the Halloween parties my father dragged me off to there, when he couldn’t be bothered to find a babysitter,’ Gabriel had told James during the planning. ‘The adults were so boring. I’d slip away to the east wing and study the portraits of Old Blakeley’s ancestors. The ghosts were better company than the people. I thought the old man in the wig was funny. The little boy in the soaking wet breeches showed me the bricked up door in the old kitchens. The soldiers who’d died in the war hospital made me sad, though. They were always so bewildered.’

  The Blakely manor’s long, laurel-hedge-lined driveway was filled already with limousines, spotless four-wheel drives, one or two nondescript black sedans, and the occasional actual horse and carriage. The horses shied as James walked past, instinctively reacting to his otherness.

  They stopped in the shadows beside a silver Jaguar and regarded the short stone staircase leading to the front entrance of the wide, whitewashed central section of the building. Without a formal invitation to the party, that wasn’t an option – the elegant version of a bouncer was inside the entrance hall, checking arrivals against the guest list.

  ‘You’ve been here,’ said James. ‘How do we get in?’

  Gabriel indicated the bare grey stones of the west wing. ‘Damn. I thought the second floor would be best, but that wall used to be covered in ivy. I assumed we could climb up.’

  James followed Gabriel’s gaze. ‘That part’s not the problem. I’ve just thought – won’t they notice we don’t belong when we get inside?’

  ‘You’ve clearly never been to one of these posh country house shindigs. Everyone will assume that since we are inside that we do belong. If we can sneak in unseen, it’ll be fine.’

  James peered at the stone wall they were meant to climb. ‘And you said the alarms won’t be on.’

  ‘They won’t be armed because of the party.’

  ‘Good. I can see where we can get up to the second floor.’

  Gabriel followed James to a buttress at the corner of the west wing. No windows here. It was as private as they were likely to get.

  ‘You’re not afraid of heights, are you?’ asked James.

  ‘Not if I don’t look down.’

  ‘Don’t look down, then. Hang on, tight as you like. It’s not as if you can choke me, and you don’t weigh much.’

  Gabriel clambered onto James’s back, wrapping wiry arms across his broad shoulders and chest, long legs around his waist. James jigged up and down to test the security of Gabriel’s grip, then bent his knees and jumped straight up.

  The leap took him to the angle where the buttress bent inward. His fingers grasped rough corners and edges in the stone. He jammed his feet hard against the wall and, after a moment to again test weight and balance, he began to climb.

  Gabriel tucked his head against James’s neck, the brim of James’s tricorner bumping against his forehead. He saw the ground lurching away from them, then shut his eyes against the vertigo. He concentrated instead on the curious and appealing sensation of James’s muscles moving as he climbed, creating very distracting sensations against Gabriel’s torso, arms and thighs. More distracting still, Gabriel’s abdomen and spread legs were snugged against James’s lower back.

  ‘Sorry,’ he muttered, because there was no way that James couldn’t feel Gabriel’s physical response to that proximity.

  ‘Nae problem,’ muttered James in reply, accent thicker than usual. Gabriel pressed his pleased grin into James’s skin and decided to enjoy the ride before the serious work ahead of them.

  They attained the second storey without mishap. James crept sideways until they reached the lip of a marble balustrade attached to an unoccupied balcony. With a little manoeuvring, James held into the base of a marble column with one hand, steadied Gabriel with the other, and helped him climb to the safety of the balcony before following. James didn’t even lose his pirate hat.

  They had fetched up on a small balcony away from the primary festivities. James waited while Gabriel used a credit card to slip open the hook on the inside of the balcony door (he decided not to ask where Gabriel had learned that trick) and stepped inside a darkened guest room.

  ‘Please, Dr Sharpe,’ Gabriel whispered with unnecessary dramatic flair ‘Do come in and make yourself at home.’

  James stepped over the threshold.

  ‘Excellently done,’ said an urbane voice in the shadows, ‘But I could have arranged a proper invitation for you both, Gabriel, if you’d asked.’

  James inserted himself between Gabriel and the voice, hand moving for the cutlass, fangs descending
involuntarily as his eyes adjusted to the feeble light.

  ‘Michael.’ Gabriel’s tone was filled with shock.

  The light clicked on – half blinding James for a second – to reveal Michael Dare at the bedroom door, one hand on the switch.

  Despite differences in height and build, Michael was very clearly Gabriel’s brother, with those piercing, intelligent green eyes and natural grace. The differences were all too clear as well. Michael was a razor-sharp line next to Gabriel’s rough and colourful stripe of paint.

  It was as though Gabriel – with his unruly hair, the perennial paint smears on his skin, the barely restrained energy buzzing in his veins and the boyish vulnerability under his shield of aloofness – was a vivid impressionist painting. Michael on the other hand was a complicated diagram. All the poshness that was mostly veneer on Gabriel went all the way through the older brother. He was the antithesis of Gabriel’s windswept flair – his hair was elegantly cut and combed; his expensive suit tailored to the perfect fit; his shoes and watch terribly expensive, as was his cologne.

  ‘And Doctor Sharpe, you may sheath your fangs. They are hardly necessary here.’

  That jolted James like ice water to a sunburned neck. His stance remained battle-wary. Gabriel’s rapidly thumping heart and scent of adrenalin indicated that this was no trap of his – he was genuinely startled by his brother’s deadpan observation.

  ‘Truly, Doctor Sharpe,’ Michael said, unfazed by the vampire’s bared teeth. ‘I represent no danger to you and less still to my brother.’

  ‘Forgive me if I don’t believe you,’ said James coldly. He was counting exits, calculating speeds. He could be out and away in moments, but what about Gabriel? Was he in danger too? Where could they go? Home hardly seemed a safe option.

  ‘I appreciate you are concerned,’ Michael responded. ‘But I give you my word, as long as you’re no threat to Gabriel or to the community, I’ve no intention to deprive you of your liberty or your… life.’

  ‘You think I’m no threat?’ He remained between Gabriel and his brother, ready yet to attack or cover Gabriel’s retreat as opportunity and cause presented.