My teeth clamped down on my tongue, literally, as I fought the urge to yell at him to spit whatever he was trying to say out. Even I was cracking under the weight of Miranda’s dead ass stare.
“This one was different, a series of disappearances. Young women,” he stalled, as though tripping over his words. For the first time in the last few hours, our eyes met with something other than amusement or hindrance. “There were things I couldn’t explain. Couldn’t rationalise. All my information kept leading me back to the same place. Or, I should say, the same person.”
“Xavier,” I breathed. “You think he’s responsible for the disappearances? Twenty years ago he would’ve been, what, a teenager? He can’t be any older than mid-thirties.”
This time, Miranda and Thatch looked at each other, like neither wanted to take this conversation any further. Yet here they were, stuck between a rock and a hard place. Either they tell me, or I figure it out on my own. I didn’t know how I’d do that exactly, but hey, it was literally in my job description. I was bound to come to some sort of conclusion on my own at some point. There was just a good chance I’d get there too late to save Jocelyn and maybe even Beth.
“I found records of these disappearances going back sixty years,” Thatch mumbled reluctantly. “Every ten years, ten women would just vanish without a trace. Yet they all had the same thing in common. There was also this one place, or this one person, as it turned out.”
“Now I’m confused.” My head was aching and my shoulders were tight and held high with the tension. I rubbed my temples as I tried to keep the cogs turning, but it was useless.
“Xavier Sallow is a lot older than he looks,” Miranda butted in, as though suddenly pleased with herself.
“What, you’re trying to tell me Xavier is some hundred-year-old serial killer? I’m just supposed to digest that shit without question?” The laughter spilled from me quicker than I could stop it, but I didn’t feel guilty. This entire conversation was stark raving mad. “I expected better from you, Thatch.” It was said light-heartedly, but I meant every word of it, and Thatch’s sombre expression told me he felt every word.
“Try a thousand,” Miranda added.
I scowled at her. “Excuse me?”
“According to our research, Xavier Sallow is closer to one thousand years old. There are records of him dating back centuries, and that’s just his immortal form.”
“I think it’s about time you tell me who it is I’ve been working for these last few years.” I directed the question towards Thatch, but he’d turned a sickly shade of pale green.
“We work for the Guardians.”
Another nervous laugh spilled from me without permission and I glanced at Thatch in the hope that he would struggle to stifle that prankster sneer of his. Instead, I was met with an expression I knew I would never forget. He looked how I felt; lost, terrified, and gut-wrenchingly nervous.
“I’m going to need a little more information than that,” I clarified unnecessarily, as Miranda was already building up to her next information dump.
“We maintain a balance between the human world and the supernatural world as best we can. Vampires are just the tip of the iceberg.”
“Vampires?” I said, realising I was standing up. Clearly, my body was trying to tell me that now was a good time to leave the crazy people alone and take off. Yet my feet felt as though they were encased in cement. For the life of me, I couldn’t convince them to take the few steps out of the kitchen and towards the front door. There was something unnatural keeping me in place and whatever it was, I wasn’t a fan.
“Xavier Sallow is one of the oldest vampires we have on our records and the fact he’s taken an interest in you puts us in a good position to finally take him down.”
“Miranda, it was a pleasure to meet you, really. But I think that’s my cue to get the fuck out of here,” I stated, grinning ear to ear in the hope it would distract her enough to let me leave. “Thatch, I trust you’ll find your own ride back to the office. I’ve got a lot of packing to do.”
“Quinn, wait, please,” Thatcher pleaded, his rough hands already gripped around his chair as though he would be fast enough to chase after me if need be.
“Why?” I laughed. “So that I can listen to more of this?”
Miranda took a slow step towards me, her hands raised as though she were trying to convince me she wasn’t a threat. “Leave if you want to, Quintessa, forget any of this ever happened. But for Goddess’s sake, please stay far away from Xavier Sallow. He will promise you the world and then he will crush you.”
Chapter Ten
Against my better judgement, I had waited for Thatcher before I left. I stayed seated in the car, watching as both he and Miranda talked in hushed voices between themselves. No doubt discussing what they were going to do with me now that I knew they were bat shit fucking insane.
This feeling felt so foreign to me, this sudden distrust in Thatcher was something I’d never had before and I hadn’t realised just how much the stability in our relationship meant to me. Before today, I would have trusted him with my life if it had come down to it.
As though on auto-pilot, I had helped him into the car and packed his wheelchair in the back in silence. We remained that way the entire ride home, even through two hours of rush hour traffic on our way into the city. Not a word was spoken between us. The only thing breaking the silence was the occasional rush of police cars and the hum of the radio station. When I pulled up outside of the Friar’s, Thatch didn’t argue. Instead, he watched me with sympathetic eyes as I unfolded his chair and helped him climb into it.
“You won’t leave, will you?” The question was quiet yet deafening and I could feel a smart part of my heart breaking as I considered his concerned words.
I drew in a long breath and shook my head, unsure if I was being truthful. “Not right now.” Images of nights spent with Beth on the sofa in our old flat flooded the forefront of my mind. Her long brown hair pulled up into the messiest of buns as she tried to convince me that the charcoal facemask she was wearing was necessary to her existence. Her broad, white smile would crinkle the thick black substance over her nose as she sipped at her chilled glass of cheap pink wine.
“Do you think Xavier had something to do with Beth’s disappearance?” It had taken me the entire trip back to build up enough courage to ask that question, and even now, with it hanging in the air, I could feel its weight pulling me down into the darkness once again.
Thatcher’s thin mouth was down-turned as his eyes dropped to study the dirty pavement. If he’d been able, I had a feeling he’d have been scuffing his worn boots of the stones to distract himself.
“I don’t know.”
His answer left me feeling even more defeated, especially as I watched him wheel himself away and through the doors of Friar’s. No doubt he would spend the next few hours drinking himself into oblivion until Barb put him to bed in the back room to sleep it off.
Knowing I couldn’t go home, I climbed back into my car and began my journey across the city. Xavier had told me to return to Omen at 9pm, but it was already after ten. For some reason, I had a feeling he’d still be waiting for me to show up.
It was a little early for the nightclub crowds to be gathering outside of the front doors, yet Omen already had a queue right around the corner of scantily clad females and men dressed in black jeans and matching leather jackets. I felt like I was looking at some sort of glitch in the matrix, carbon copies of so-called alternative youths all lined up. Clearly the place was already full, given that the doorman was ignoring the ever-growing line to partygoers and focusing more on his clipboard than anything else. It seemed even the shortest of skirts didn’t distract him, which I couldn’t help but be a little impressed by.
I pulled into a space around the back and took a few deep breaths before I garnered enough courage to finally climb out of my car. The noise from inside was practically deafening, even out here in the streets. Nevertheless, I gave m
yself a metaphorical pat on the back for encouragement as I walked towards the back entrance and rang what looked to be a service doorbell. Presumably it was intended for deliveries, large crates of fancy wines and beer kegs. Weirdly, the door swung open almost instantly and Mariella’s disapproving face was directly in front of mine, bathed in the dark red lights from inside.
“I’ve been waiting in here for two hours,” she snapped, her hip popped to the side and her arms folded, revealing muscular forearms in a baggy black t-shirt. “I don’t get paid to stand in a stock room playing scrabble.”
Despite my nerves, I couldn’t help but laugh as I stepped inside. “That sounds a hell of a lot better than serving drinks in a nightclub if you ask me.”
She didn’t answer straight away, but locked the door behind me and passed me an unopened bottle of beer. “I made you a cocktail to ease the nerves but given that you’re late, I drank it.”
“Why am I not surprised?” I sighed, feeling weirdly at ease in Mariella’s presence. She was so antisocial that it almost spun round a 360. Being with her gave me a newfound sense of confidence to face Xavier. The moment his name rattled around in my head, however, it was accompanied by a whole new host of worries. Bullshit reminders of vampires and Guardians had me stumbling over my own feet as I followed Mariella through the darkened storeroom towards the bar entrance.
“Your vibe feels weird,” Mariella said as she paused, her hand poised over the doorknob and her key card hovering over the access pad. I stumbled, my dazed state almost making me walk straight into her back.
How was I supposed to answer that? I’d never expected the word vibe to come from the mouth of someone like Mariella. That was confusing enough. Still, I shrugged nonchalantly and tried to put on my bravest face.
“I have no idea what that means, but sure,” I replied, knowing fine well that my statement made about as much sense as this entire day had. And God, how I wished it would end already so that I could go home and forget it ever happened.
“Xavier’s waiting for you upstairs, you remember the way?” Mariella asked as her key card finally buzzed and allowed us into the club. I nodded, downing the last of my beer and tossing it into a nearby bin. If I didn’t make my way swiftly upstairs this second, I was at real risk of chickening out completely, packing my bags and getting the fuck out of London without a second thought.
Mariella must have sensed my urgency, because she didn’t question me any further and instantly got back to bartender mode as though nothing had happened.
I jogged up the stairs two at a time until I found the elevator Xavier had used the last time I was here. Pressing the only ascending button there was, I tapped my feet nervously against the aged oak floor as it travelled up towards the floor above. It took just a matter of seconds, but it still felt like hours. When I stepped out of the life and into the long hallway, I was caught off guard by the crowds of people huddled on sofas and gathered by a smaller, private bar in one corner. I ignored their judgmental stares as I counted the number of pretentious paintings on the wall towards Xavier’s office.
Finally reaching the heavy wooden door, I thumped my fist against it, not waiting for him to answer before barging in full force. It was almost as though this damned nightclub gave me a new sense of confidence. That, or it was the beer I’d downed on an empty stomach in record time, but that seemed unlikely given I’d spent years drinking in the Friar on an empty stomach without issue.
“You’re late,” Xavier announced in typical suspicious fashion, from a darkened corner of his office. I watched for a moment as he poured himself a glass of red wine from the decanter on his desk.
“Yeah, well, I had a pretty interesting conversation with Thatcher and a friend of his,” I began, shifting my legs and shoulders to match Xavier’s size, which was impossible given his towering frame. His lips lifted into a smirk as he lifted his wine glass to his lips without flinching.
“Did he finally let you in on his little secret, then?” His voice remained deep and steady, pissing me off to no end. I’d hoped that he’d at least show a little emotion.
I cleared my throat, hoping to build up enough courage to ask the real question. “Is it true?”
My voice was more of a whisper, but Xavier had no difficulty in hearing me. With care, he took one more gulp of his wine before placing it gently on his desk. His movements were fluid as he prowled towards me.
“What part?” He asked, peering down at me through thick black lashes, the scent of his aftershave mixing with the floral notes of the wine on his lips. Sweat made my palms sticky while my legs trembled beneath my weight, but I dared to move.
“Any of it… all of it. If it hadn’t been for that run in at Lily’s flat, I wouldn’t even be considering this as an option. But if trying to believe in things that go bump in the night is going to help me find Jocelyn and the other girls, then so be it. I’m willing to embrace the crazy.”
“You’re shaking,” Xavier purred, his hand left to caress the bare skin of my forearm with a featherlight touch. Strangely, I didn’t flinch away instinctively, but had to force myself to take a step back from him. Once there was space to breathe, I could feel my thoughts clearing.
For a moment I could’ve sworn that Xavier’s rock hard expression lapsed, and he looked almost disappointed. I scrutinised each of his movements as he walked back to the desk and perched on the edge.
“Did they tell you this was all my fault? That I’m the big evil monster killing innocent people for my pleasure?” It sounded a lot like a rhetorical question, but I still felt the urge to answer him—I just didn’t know how to.
“At this point, I’m not sure who to believe.” Honesty seemed like the best policy in this case, plus, I hadn’t had a chance to control the words that spilled out of my mouth. It had been weeks since I’d had a decent night’s sleep. I hadn’t been eating properly or taking care of myself. If I was being truthful to myself, it had been more than a few weeks. Ever since Beth disappeared, I’d been searching for answers. An explanation. There was a good chance I was going crazy, that this was all some made up fantasy my brain had created to help me come to terms with my own loss.
“Believe me.” Xavier’s voice caught me off guard and my eyes shot up to meet his. He’d moved closer to me once again, and as his hand shifted to push a rope of loose hair behind my ear, I melted into his touch. “There is evil out there, Quinn, and I’m not asking you to believe that I’m not one of them. I’m asking you to trust me when I tell you I will help you find those that are far worse than I am.”
My breath snagged in my throat. “You’re asking me to trust you over Thatcher.”
“I’m asking you to trust both of us. Your boss might think he understands this world, but he’s barely scratched the surface.” He paused, his gaze melting into mine and causing my heart to race. “Let me help you.”
Something in his face told me I could trust him, that he was telling me the truth. Still, with uncertainty, I held my open palm up between us and, without hesitation, his own hand swallowed mine whole. The cold skin of his grasp against my feverish skin made me shudder, as though something inside me knew nothing would ever be the same again. Xavier’s darkness could either be a weapon that would help me find Jocelyn and Beth, or it could be the one that spilled my blood. Whatever one, I’d made a deal with the devil and there was no going back now.
Chapter Eleven
That night, I woke with a scream still lingering in the back of my throat and a sheen of cold sweat pooling at my collarbone. I wasn’t normally one for nightmares, but tonight was the exception. There had been no escaping the images of monsters and shadows that danced in my peripheral vision. What little sleep I’d had had been riddled with fear and paranoia, so paralysing that no matter how hard I tried, I could still taste it in my dry mouth.
My hand, trembling from the remnants of the nightmare, reached to the side of my bed for the drop of water left in the plastic bottle I’d brought through from the kit
chen the last time my dreams woke me. Going by the time on the clock, that had been just an hour ago. I’d managed an entire two hours of sleep altogether. When I’d arrived back at my modest flat, it had been well past midnight and it had taken me hours just to calm down enough to climb into bed, never mind drift off. The good thing was, I wasn’t planning on heading into work in the morning. I’d given myself permission to stay home and try to figure out what I was supposed to do with everything that had happened in the last couple of days. Not that I thought it would help, but I wasn’t in the mood to see anyone. More specifically, Thatch.
Although he’d been responsible for picking me back up when my life fell apart after Beth’s disappearance, I wasn’t sure even he could put the pieces back together this time. The world I thought I’d figured out by the age of sixteen had done a full 180, and no part of me had the strength or determination to talk about that with anyone. That also included Xavier.
Last night, he’d insisted he had someone drive me home, which was the same driver who’d delivered me to his home a few weeks ago. I’d argued, of course, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Especially given that I’d thrown back at least three stiff drinks after our conversation. Mariella had been more than happy to oblige. She seemed relieved to have someone to drink with other than the rowdy patrons of Omen. The only downside was that I’d have to somehow get back out to Omen to pick up my car, but not today. Not on two hours’ sleep and not this close to a nervous breakdown.
With my water finished and my mouth still feeling like sandpaper, I made the ridiculously tough decision to climb out of bed and get more. I’d left all the lights on when I went through to my bedroom. The small child in me seemed to think that it would keep me safe. Thankfully, I hadn’t yet resorted to hiding under the duvet, despite feeling like the monsters were huddled under my bed waiting to strike.
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