Past Life

by C S Winchester

  “Will, you have another choice now,” she said softly. “You can let Dante hypnotise you, like we talked about or... you can forget everything that you've seen here tonight. Go back to how you were, blissfully ignorant of vampires and everything that comes with them.”

  Sometimes she wished that she could forget too.

  Will looked at her. “I don't believe you can do that,” he answered flatly.

  “You don't have to believe it, Will, but if it was possible, would you rather know the truth or forget what you've seen here?”

  “It's always better to know the truth,” he said after a few moments.

  “Then you must let Dante hypnotise you.”

  “What if it doesn't work?”

  “It will.” Frankie smiled sadly.

  Frankie felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to Dante, who was still standing just behind her. He nodded that she should step aside and she did. The two men glared at each other and she saw Dante's bright blue eyes darken to a shade closer to midnight blue. They continued to stare for minute or two and then Dante stepped back.

  “It's done,” he told Frankie.

  “What's done?” Will asked, watching Dante as he returned to his seat on the sofa. Frankie noticed that Will seemed calmer and more relaxed.

  “He hypnotised you, Will.” Frankie answered.

  “No he didn't.” Will shook his head.

  “Do you remember what we were talking about tonight?”

  “Vampires, sure.”

  Frankie took out her mobile phone and dialled her home phone number. “Then try and leave a voicemail message about it,” she said, passing him the phone.

  Will took the phone and listened to the standard message. As the beep sounded he opened his mouth to speak but didn't say anything. His eyes widened in shock and after a few more tries he hung up the phone.

  “What the hell was that?” he asked.

  “Post-hypnotic suggestion,” she said. “Now try writing a text message.”

  He entered the texting application but then his hand froze.

  “No,” he whispered. He pulled his notepad from his coat and tried to write a message but again his hand froze. “This is impossible.” He glared at Frankie. “This is brainwashing!”

  “Mind control,” she corrected. His reaction hurt her but she swallowed down her emotions. “He can still make you forget,” she told him. “It's not too late.”

  “I need to think about this,” he headed for the door and Frankie went to follow him but he held his hand up to stop her. “No, I need to be alone, Frankie.”

  Frankie nodded sadly and stepped back. Will shot a parting glare at Dante then left.

  Frankie's strength deserted her but before she could crumple to the ground, Dante caught her and carried her to the sofa. She moved to the corner and pulled her legs under her, resting her chin on her knees. She looked like a scared child.

  “He will get over this,” Dante assured her. “I've seen worse reactions to the news before.”

  “He looked at me like I was a stranger,” she said.

  “Well, you have been hiding something pretty big from him.” He tried not to sound harsh or judgemental. Dante had been through this scenario many times and it never got any easier. “How about that drink?” he suggested.

  Frankie shook her head. “Thank you, but I have to drive home.”

  “I can drop your car off to you later,” he suggested. “I don't think you should be alone right now.”

  “It's Will who shouldn't be alone,” she said with a sigh. “I have a report to type up tonight anyway.”

  “The report will wait. Besides, you need to calm down before I'll let you anywhere near the wheel of a car.”

  “Driving while distressed?” she said with the ghost of a smile.

  “Something like that. How about tea, don't British people find that soothing?”

  Frankie grimaced. “I hate the stuff. How about a coffee?”

  “Okay,” Dante nodded kindly.

  “Thank you.”

  He went to make it and Frankie took some soothing breaths, and decided to have a proper look around the apartment to distract herself.

  Although the decor was modern with clean lines and sharp angles, it wasn't at all cold like some similar places could look. He either had an eye for decoration, or was paying someone who did. She went out to the balcony and leaned against the railings, looking out over the Meadows. Thankfully the rain seemed to have stopped now.

  When Dante found her there, he handed her the mug of coffee and stood beside her. He loved looking out over the city at night; it was so peaceful and beautiful.

  “Your place is lovely,” she said as she sipped her coffee.

  “I'm glad you approve.”

  “Are you?” she turned to him, her expression serious.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don't know,” she sighed and turned to look out over the trees again. “You're unfailingly polite and friendly but... sometimes I get the feeling that you don't like me very much.”

  Before he could answer, her phone rang and distracted her. She pulled it from her pocket and looked frustrated as she answered.

  “Hi Mum.”

  She wandered away from the railing and Dante stayed put. Her insight into how he felt about her was slightly disconcerting. No matter how he felt, it was important to him that Frankie liked him. Was she seeing through his façade to his true feelings? It might just have been an off the cuff remark because she was upset about Will's reaction tonight.

  “You're where!”

  Dante turned at Frankie's exclamation. She looked agitated.

  “Why didn't you tell me?”

  Dante watched as she put her coffee down and began to pace, pushing a hand through her dark hair.

  “I don't have any furniture in the spare room, Mum. If you'd told me you were coming-”

  Obviously she had been cut off mid-sentence by her mother.

  “Okay, fine, I'll be there as soon as I can. We'll sort something out... I don't know, Mum. I'm at work, okay. I'll get there as soon as I can.”

  “Frankie, what's the matter?” Dante asked as she hung up.

  “My parents are here, waiting outside my house for me. They didn't bother to tell me they were coming.”

  “Is that usual?”

  “No. Apparently my cousin is getting married this weekend and they thought they'd come early and drop in on me. Or use me as a cheap hotel.”

  “Without telling you?”

  “Oh yes. You see, women have no purpose in life but to seek out a husband and have a family. As one of the unsuccessful women without both a husband and children, I obviously have nothing better to do.”

  Dante didn't think that he was imagining the bitterness in her tone.

  “Oh, this is all I need,” she wailed.

  “Frankie,” Dante caught her by the shoulders as she passed him and he pushed her into one of the outside chairs. “Everything will work out. Trust me.”

  She didn't look convinced.

  “Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to find a hotel near you and make you a reservation, then I'll text you the details. You will take them out for a meal, then drop them off at the hotel at the end of the evening, okay?”

  “I can't believe this. First Will hates me and now my parents are here. Who did I piss off to deserve such bad karma,” Frankie groaned and buried her head in her hands.

  “Look at me,” Dante said as he wrestled her hands away from her face. “Now, I know how you feel about me using my mind control on your friends so I'll only ask this once and I only ask at all because I've never seen you this agitated before and it's slightly alarming.” He paused to make sure he had her full attention before he continued. “Would you like me to make your parents go away?”

  Quite unexpectedly since he anticipated being told to go to hell, she hesitated before answering.

  “Oh, that would make things so much easier,” she said with a wistf
ul sigh. “But no. I lived with them for seventeen years, I can put up with them for a few days.”

  “If you're sure. The offer's still there,” he told her. “Just say the word.”

  “Thank you.” She got to her feet and Dante walked her to the door.

  “Frankie,” he wanted to make everything better, to take away her pain and have back the slightly caustic woman he was used to, but he knew there was no quick fix to either situation. He had used mind control to calm Will's emotions slightly, but he knew that completely repressing someone's feelings and trying to make them accept the situation didn't work; emotions always found an outlet. So instead of an insightful speech that would fix everything, Dante simply said. “You know, Will also doesn't have to consent to forget.”

  Frankie tried to smile and almost succeeded. “I know but I can't do that to him. It has to be his choice.”

  “Okay,” he hugged her. “Call me if you need a friend.”

  “I will,” she lied as she pulled away.

  She turned to leave but Dante grabbed her arm. She looked down at his hand in confusion until he brandished her scarf. She gasped as her hand flew to the bruise on her throat, that Bloody Mackenzie had given her.

  “Oh God, I don't know if I'm coming or going.” She grabbed the scarf and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

  He waited until the lift doors closed before going back into his apartment. He logged onto his computer and began searching for hotels near Frankie's home.

  When he left the apartment building, Will began walking. He didn't have a specific destination in mind, he just needed the movement; there was something soothing about it.

  He considered collecting his car from where he'd left it, outside Frankie's house but he didn't want to risk running into her yet. Besides, he knew that he would have to face her at some point and collecting his car seemed like a good excuse.

  Will had both walked and driven every street in Edinburgh dozens, if not hundreds of times. Aside from a gap year and attending Manchester University, he had lived in Edinburgh all his life. He knew the city like the back of his hand, yet now he realised that he didn't know it at all.

  Almost everything he had taken for granted was wrong and his world had been turned on its head.

  He knew that Frankie had been trying to tell him about the supernatural but somehow he had been able to excuse it all. Spells were just a self-fulfilling prophecy and if you believed something enough, you could make it come true. Witches were just misguided teens or new age hippies. Demons were just a story from the bible. Shapeshifters were just a story, or perhaps people born with freak genetics, who had too much bodily hair or a vestigial tail. As for Frankie's own gift, well that was just luck or intuition or a combination of the two. He respected her wishes when he visited her but he had never truly believed that she was psychic, no matter how many times she had proven herself.

  Now he realised all his assumptions had been false because if blood sucking vampires were real, then quite literally anything was possible.

  The old town was full of people and as he passed them he wondered what each was hiding. Were they vampires too? Witches? Werewolves? Satan worshippers?

  And how many of his cases were abnormal? How many people were murdered, or made to murder thanks to witchcraft or vampire mind control? How many people were killed by vampires each year? How many car accidents were really caused by these sirens? How many accidents had a helping hand from a witch?

  It wasn't right that there were so many dangers out there that people remained oblivious of.

  Frankie parked her car behind Will's, since her parent's car was in the driveway. She took a moment to compose herself, then she checked that her scarf was covering her bruises and took a deep breath as she summoned some enthusiasm.

  “Mum, Dad, it's good to see you!” she said as she got out of the car.

  She hugged them both, being careful not to touch their skin.

  “Sweetheart, we're sorry, we thought it would be a nice surprise.”

  “Don't worry, Mum, it is a surprise. How long have you been on the road?” she asked as she opened the door and turned off the alarm.

  “Oh, nearly eight hours,” her father said. “Still, we made good time, I think.”

  “Well, let me put the kettle on for you.”

  “Where should we put our bags?” her mother asked.

  “I've booked you into a local hotel,” Frankie said.

  “A hotel? You mean we won't be staying with you?” Her mother sounded hurt.

  “I explained that I don't have any furniture in the spare room, Mum.”

  “That's the problems with surprises,” her father said. He would never go so far as to suggest that this was his wife's fault, but it was clear to Frankie that he blamed her.

  Her mother simply sniffed. “Well I was taught that a hostess should give up her own bed to a guest.”

  “Mum, you know I have O.C.D. That sort of thing is very difficult for me.”

  “We never had conditions like that when I was younger either.”

  “Look, I'll pay for your hotel, Mum, you don't have to worry about that.”

  “It's not the money, Francis. We wanted to spend time with our daughter. But if we're too much trouble for you and your mental health issues, then we'll go to a hotel. Far be it for me to stay where I'm not wanted.”

  Frankie took a calming breath and tried her best to relax.

  Chapter Five

  “You're right, I'm sorry, Mum. You two take my bed and I'll sleep on the sofa but I can't just take time off work while you're here, so you'll have to fend for yourselves.”

  Her mother sniffed.

  “Don't worry, Mum, I know that you think that I should be a stay at home mum and that I should do nothing more with my life than wash clothes and change nappies and keep house! Unfortunately I have other skills; skills the government thinks it can make use of. They pay me to help keep this country safe and that's what I'm damn well going to do, whether you like it or not. If you want to spend time with me, then you need to let me know so that I can get time off.”

  Frankie almost regretted snapping and was about to apologise, until she saw the distaste on her mother's face. She thought that being a spy was a very unseemly profession for a woman.

  Frankie finished making their drinks and got them some biscuits.

  “I thought we'd go out for dinner,” she said. “I need to change the sheets on the bed and then get ready. Make yourselves at home and I'll be down soon. I have an en-suite, so you can use the big bathroom upstairs for now if you want to freshen up.” She disappeared before her mother could say anything else, though Frankie was sure that she would soon be bemoaning the lack of a home cooked meal to her father.

  Alone in her bedroom, Frankie sat on the edge of the bed and buried her head in her hands. She couldn't believe she'd just given in so quickly. Frankie knew that being prepared was a large part of winning with her mother, and she suspected that was why they had surprised her but if she wasn't careful, she could well kill her mother before the night was over; though she knew that how she was feeling wasn't all her mother's fault. Frankie was still worried about Will, and that wasn't helping her temper in the slightest.

  She took out her phone and scrolled through the contacts to Will's number. She hesitated then scrolled back up to Dante.

  “Frankie, is there a problem with the reservation?”

  “What? Oh, no. I mean yes, there's been a change of plans and they're staying here how. Sorry.” She rolled her eyes at her own clumsy language and was beginning to regret making the call. She took a deep breath. “Thank you for making the reservation and sending me the information.”

  Dante laughed at her. “You are quite charming, you know. So what else can I do for you?”

  “Um. I, uh, I was wondering...” she took another deep breath. “Okay, I know you don't eat but I was wondering, and feel free to say no but... is there was any way you could come to dinner tonight? I'm sor
t of worried that I'll lose it if I'm on my own with her for any length of time.”

  “I'll pick you and your parents up in half an hour.”

  “You mean it?”

  “Of course. “

  “Thank you, Dante. You're a good friend.”

  Dante hung up and Frankie set about changing the sheets. Thankfully she had a plastic mattress protector for when she travelled. That coupled with the sheets should stop her parents leaving any impressions on the mattress. She also had quilt and pillow protectors which she put on under the new bedlinen.

  With the bed made up, she set about getting ready. She changed into black trousers and a black polo neck jumper (to cover the bruise on her throat) then knowing her mothers thoughts on colour, she added a bright red necklace over the jumper, a red belt and a red pashmina. She hoped that her mother wouldn't make too much fuss about the red, because that was the only colour she had matching items in. Generally speaking Frankie liked dark colours, they were easier to mix and match.

  She gathered her hair into a bunch, twisted it and pinned it up with a claw clip, before quickly retouching her makeup. Finally she pulled on a pair of red satin gloves.

  Hearing someone go into the main bathroom, Frankie slipped downstairs, hoping that her father was the one left down there. He was. He was sitting in her chair watching the television, and she paused in the doorway to watch him for a moment.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “Frankie!” his face lit up. “You look very nice. I'm so sorry about all this, it wasn't my idea, you know?”

  “I know it wasn't,” she said, perching on the arm of his chair, as she had when she was a child. “So how is life treating you?”

  “Not too bad, not too bad,” that was his standard reply. “And how about you. Is work good?”

  “Busy but good. And I love being back in Edinburgh.”

  Her father took her hand in both of his. “I'm glad you found your calling, love. I've never seen you look happier.”

  Frankie thought that she had certainly felt happier than she was right now, but she didn't say anything.