by Sophia North
Vlad clenched his fists. The urge to slam them into Darius's face was overwhelmingly appealing. He did not appreciate his personal life being discussed so casually. Especially by Darius. He was still pissed at him for his rather close proximity to Penny at the club.
"It's complicated," he eventually managed to reply through gritted teeth.
Everyone in the room felt the tension and wisely dropped the subject.
After a few moments of silence, Alessio started up the conversation again. "I am still none the wiser as to my son's present location," he said softly. "Perhaps, I've misread the situation. Simone was so convinced by what she'd overheard but maybe she was mistaken."
"Forgive me, Alessio. I've not been completely honest about my knowledge concerning Dante," Darius confessed. "He's sworn me to secrecy. However, according to Penny, Simone is suffering terribly because of his behaviour and I cannot allow his subterfuge to continue."
Vlad leaned forward. "That you've allowed it to occur at all is more worrying. What the fuck were you thinking by letting Dante take off on his wife?" he growled menacingly.
"Easy, brother. Dante's not run away. He's building a new home for Simone as a surprise for their one year anniversary."
"In the fucking Cotswolds? Next to the wolf she was once bargained away in marriage to? Do try again, mate," Vlad snapped derisively.
"Did I say he was building it there?" Darius returned. "You are quick to judge me, old friend. I wonder what I've done to make you doubt my word."
Unable to take it any longer, Alessio bellowed out. "For the love of the Creator, will the two of you cease baiting one another. Darius, if you know where the hell Dante is then please say."
"In the States, building an underground fortress in the Colorado mountains."
"And why is he not returning either mine or Simone's calls?"
"Fuck, Alessio, you are aware America is a continent, not just a country," Darius pointed out. "They may be the wealthiest nation on earth, but even they have shit reception in some places."
Vlad whipped out his mobile. "Let's try him and see if he's managed to find civilisation, shall we?"
Dante's line started to ring before it went to voicemail.
'Simone, darling. I'm sorry to keep missing your calls. Don't worry, all is well with me. I'm working on a surprise for you. I'll ring soon. But until then, keep listening to this message. And remember, dear heart, how much I love you...Vlad! You distrustful bastard. Darius has only done as I made him promise. Cut him some slack. I'll be back soon.'
Vlad ended the call. "He's fine. Clever fuck knew I'd ring to follow-up."
"Are we finished?" Darius asked, rising from his chair.
"Darius?" Vlad said.
"Yes, mate."
"You're still a fucking prick."
Darius grinned. "Cheers, brother. And I forgive you for ever doubting it."
Chapter Eleven
A WEEK HAD PASSED SINCE Penny's night of ecstasy with Vlad and the bastard was still not returning her calls. Nor her texts or the hand-written letters she'd convinced Alfred to deliver to him in Lowerton on her behalf.
Nope, not a blessed thing other than a brief text telling her it was over between them. Oh yes, that's right. He broke up with her the very next night after rocking her world. By text. The coward.
Or perhaps he was just incredibly dense and thought he could simply avoid her forever. Fat chance. She was best friend's with Simone and he with Dante, not exactly the ideal situation to try 'ghosting’ her from his existence.
Well, tonight he was in for a rude awakening. Penny was taking matters into her own hands.
"These are amazing, Pen," Simone gushed from below as she admired her friend's latest Mystery pieces.
"I think I'll call it my 'Discovery' period," Penny called down from her bedroom as she put the final touches to her outfit. Red strappy stilettos.
Simone looked again at the display. "As in the discovery of your Pagan roots?" she asked innocently, her voice drifting upwards.
Penny's heart slammed against her chest at Simone's observation. There was that word again...Pagan. She'd spent hours studying her paintings, trying to convince herself they didn't mean what her instincts screamed they did.
'Och nae, wee Thistle...ye cannae run from the truth ferever.' Her Scottish grandmother's voice echoed. Shaking her head to clear the prophetic statement from her thoughts, Penny slipped on a trench coat and headed down to join her friend.
Clicking down the stairs in ridiculously high heels, Penny tried to appear unbothered by Simone's comment. "Horatio always told me there was more to my ancestors then I suspected. So, what do you think?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips and striking a sexy pose.
"I've already said I think they're incredible. I can understand why you are reluctant to part with them," Simone replied, her gaze still firmly fixed on the paintings.
"Not the bloody paintings!" Penny laughed. "Although, I may have come up with a plan to stop that from happening. What do you think about how I look?"
Simone turned to her and gaped at the sight. "Wow. Are you sure you should do this?"
Unashamedly decked out in the sexiest lingerie she'd ever owned, Penny’s eyes hardened in determination. "How can I not?" she snapped. "I'm not letting Vlad call all the shots. He wants to end it with me, does he? Well, he can do it to my face. Should his eyes manage to find their way there."
Dressed completely in red but for her dark grey coat, Penny epitomised the Scarlet Woman. Or for those more inclined towards religious metaphor - the Whore of Babylon.
"But going to Lowerton on your own might be...unsafe," Simone tried to reason. "I should come with you."
Penny scoffed at the proposal. "We are long past the time where we need to keep watch for one another. What are you going to do, stand outside his door while I have my way with him and knock three times, if someone is coming?"
"Well, of course, when you put it like that I sound absolutely ridiculous."
"You said it, sister. Not I." Penny winked in jest. Walking over to the large free-standing full length mirror in the corner of the studio, she grabbed her cosmetic bag and fished out a tube of lipstick. As she applied it to her full lower lip, she could see Simone's reflection in the looking glass.
Incredibly for a vamp, her friend looked paler than usual and Penny worried she was not taking care of herself properly. "Have you checked Dante's message again to see if he's updated it?"
"Hmmm?" Simone responded, pretending to be fascinated by the painting of Penny's ancestors burning at the stake.
Not that she had an inkling of its history. Penny had not yet worked up the courage to talk about what was really happening to her when she produced her Mystery paintings.
"Simone! You're still not feeding properly, are you?" Penny accused. "I know you have ethical issues about it, but you cannae starve yourself."
Her slip into Scottish brogue brought a smile to Simone's face. Penny's roots tended to emerge when she was particularly worked up. "You forget I am only half-vamp. My fae side allows me to go much longer than others between meals. So stop clucking, you're starting to sound like me!"
Penny paused in applying a hint of blush to her high cheekbones. "Then why do you look more deathly than normal? It does not become you."
"You're dithering, what aren't you telling me?" Simone returned, her ice blue eyes flashing their suspicion at her.
Locked in a stalemate of secrets, the two friends watched one another intently in the mirror's reflection. The minutes ticked by.
Pumping the wand of mascara furiously, she leant closer to the mirror and liberally brushed the lashes of each eye. "Fine! You always get me to talk first," Penny eventually snapped. "I'm nervous, alright."
"About seducing Vlad? Pen, you have nothing to worry about. Darius told me he's been locked away in the Grand Archives, researching. He wouldn't say what about, but you know that devil. He was grinning like the Cheshire Cat the entire time he was tell
ing me the tale. The Viking is feeling the error of his ways, in my professional opinion. Resistance is futile."
Vlad, surrounded by books? He must be really fucked up. The news helped raise her confidence tenfold. She may come across as being full of bravado about her plan, but his rejection had hurt her deeply.
She thought they'd turned a page the night he'd hauled her out of Mitchell's, the night he'd given her ecstasy like no other. And even though she had her own reservations about their relationship, that he could end things so coldly seemed completely over the top.
Puckering her lips, Penny spun around from the full length mirror. "So, I ask you again. Will I do?"
"Vlad doesn't stand a chance."
"Many thanks, my friend." Penny tied the belt of her charcoal grey trench coat firmly in place. For a final touch, she tied a scarf around her throat. "Now my brolly, if you please. And Simone, don't expect me to ring tonight. I reckon it's going to be a long one."
IF VLAD HAD TO SPEND one more minute in this dusty tomb he was going to lose his shit. He was the last vamp who should have ever been assigned such a task.
He fucking hated books.
Give him a stack of company annual reports or financial statements and he'd work miracles. But a bunch of old fucking scrolls and thick leather-bound volumes of words? Forget it.
Yet there he was, digging through the lot, hoping these fucking instincts Wilhalf spoke of would kick in and free him from this particular circle of hell he was trapped in. Thus far, nothing had twinged, tingled or fucking zinged in that department. Maybe he was instinct-deficient? It would explain a lot.
But there was a silver-lining to his hours in purgatory. A budding friendship with Godfrey and total distraction from torturing himself about Penny. It was hard to get aroused by the memories of their night together when surrounded by books and in the company of a mute monk.
Vlad had been avoiding his quarters ever since Penny started sending him letters, which, incidentally, were still lying unopened on his desk. He had to hand it to her, the woman was nothing if not persistent.
Ending it with Penny had been the hardest decision he'd ever made, but he no longer trusted himself to be near her and not immediately take her to bed.
And he could never, ever do that. His vow to never sleep with a human could not be broken - Darius, the shithead, had been right about that.
Still pissed at his brother for keeping Dante's secret surprise from everyone, and causing Simone needless worry in the doing, Vlad had kept his distance from Darius. There was also the memory of him sitting close to Penny at Mitchell's which Vlad wisely locked away...for now. He had enough on his plate without adding fratricide to the mix. So, as long as Darius didn't perform any further acts of stupidity, he was safe from his wrath.
Access to the Great Archives had not posed a problem whatsoever. Hesitant to believe Wilhalf's assurances that Godfrey liked him simply because he'd looked Vlad in the eye, it turned out the old vamp was right. Using the guise of researching the Terrors, Godfrey had been only too pleased to grant him unfettered access. In fact, the odd lump of vamp had been going out of his way to be helpful. And Vlad, in turn, had come to enjoy his company.
They'd spent hours debating the issue of genetic testing in Godfrey's chambers over one of his repulsive cocktail dinks. The vamp could not mix for shit and came up with the most foul tasting concoctions Vlad had ever had the misfortune to taste.
Their conversations were slow going, considering Godfrey didn't speak a word and could only communicate by scribbling his opinions furiously on a slate. Yet, somehow a strange form of communication had developed between them.
Yes, there were many strange things about Godfrey.
A veritable mountain of a vamp, his towering height rivalled Vlad's. But it was the contrast between his meticulously shaved bald head and young round face that really made him stand out. Godfrey had not aged a day since he'd ascended sometime back in the fifteenth century and was believed to be the second oldest vampyre after Wilhalf.
No one could explain his lack of aging, and no one was brave enough to ask.
The sound of shuffling drew Vlad's attention from a particularly boring passage in the book he was reading. "Who's there?" he called out. "Godfrey, if it's you, I hope you've brought a bottle. I need a fucking drink."
Silence. Okay, not so unexpected from a vamp unable to speak. Yet, Vlad could not make out any further sound. It was fucking creepy. He'd been sensing someone watching him on and off all week.
It was probably some fucking gnome or faery Godfrey kept hidden. The monk was into that sort of shit.
Vlad reckoned Godfrey's obsession with old legends and fantastical tales related to him being born in a time when chivalry was in fashion. But the poor bastard took the stories far too literally.
Again, a distant rustling noise interrupted his concentration. Vlad smacked the book he'd been reading closed. Fuck this shit. If he couldn't find hide nor hair of Haan's papers after a week of searching, clearly they no longer existed.
Pushing back his chair, Vlad stood and made ready to leave. He piled the books he'd taken neatly on a table and picked up the oil lamp. It served as the only source of light this deep in the crypt.
"Listen, pixie or whatever the fuck you are, I'm leaving. The place is yours," Vlad called out, as he made his way past the tall shelves full of books and scrolls towards the spiral stairs. He'd have to climb three flights before he'd get to the lowest level that the Archives lift went.
He was almost at the foot of the staircase when the hairs on the back of his neck tingled to attention. Shit, was this it? Instinct. Vlad was more a gut man, or so he thought, as the tingling in his body grew stronger.
Drawn to the opening of a row of shelving, Vlad peered down. Pitch black, wonderful. Didn't magical shit glow or something? This game of hot and cold could take ages before he found what he was looking for.
As if in answer to his prayers, a soft blue glow appeared at the far end of the aisle he'd been staring down. Now, this looked promising. Freaky blue light from nowhere had to be a good sign.
Zipping down, Vlad halted in the light and looked around. There on the bottom shelf sat a large iron box covered in sigils, wrapped in silver-linked chains and an incredibly large padlock.
Eureka, he'd found it. Hauling it up, he realised he needed to take it with him. But how would he smuggle it out without Godfrey noticing? It wasn't like he could slip it into his pocket and say 'cheerio' as he strode past.
The iron box began to tremble in his hands. Alarmed, Vlad sat it down on the floor and stepped back. On and on it vibrated until – poof! - it shrank to the size of a snuff-box.
Problem fucking solved. Whistling, Vlad reached down, picked up his prize and slid it into his pocket. He was now starting to have a much greater appreciation for magic.
Chapter Twelve
"ELDER BARATH!" BANG, bang, bang.
"Fuck, I'm coming!" Vlad yelled, tying a linen sarong around his waist. He'd been standing for the past half-hour under a hot shower, trying to rid himself of the smell of musty old books.
"This better be important," he barked, flinging open the door to his quarters to find two Keepers standing nervously outside. "Speak!" he demanded, water glistening in his damp blonde locks.
"A thousand pardons, Elder, sir," stammered Keeper Jones, another new recruit from up North. "But she insisted you were expecting her...and we, like...we couldna take any more of her tears, like."
She, tears? What the fuck?
"Aye, Elder Barath. She be very temperamental like," the other Keeper chirped in. "So we thought it best to bring her here. Her presence at the main entrance was starting to cause trouble."
"Who the fuck are you talking about?" he bellowed. Either he was losing his mind or these two useless cunts were really fucking thick. At no point in their ramblings had they made the slightest bit of sense.
"Me."
Penny stepped from behind Keeper Jones, her eyebrow
raised as if daring Vlad to deny her existence.
"Return to your posts, vamps. I'll take it from here," Vlad ordered, staring long and hard at her. "Oh, and Keepers. You will forget what you've seen and encourage anyone else who may think they know something they don't.
"Yes, sir. Right away, sir. Ah, Elder Barath, I mean."
Vlad grabbed Penny as soon as the two fools were out of sight. "Have you lost your mind? You cannot be here!" Vlad closed the door and leaned back on it.
Penny ignored him. She was much more interested in checking out where he lived. And she had to admit, it was nothing like she'd expected.
"Seems I cannot be or do a lot of things lately," she commented, walking slowly around the room. "Bloody hell, Viking. You live like a Spartan. Where are the furs, the golden goblets encrusted with precious stones?"
"Dragon, my lack of comfort is the least of your worries," Vlad warned ominously. "How did you find Lowerton? We're not exactly listed."
Penny looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. "It's amazing how much GPS tracking has advanced for us civilians in recent years. There's a fabulous shop in Convent Gardens that caters to all manner of surveillance needs. Alfred, bless him, provided the necessary data."
Vlad tilted his head back and laughed heartily. "I will enjoy rubbing some more salt into an already tender wager wound."
"Alfred mentioned a wager between the two of you, but refused to tell me what it involved. Care to enlighten me?"
Hmm. How best to phrase the truth? He'd bet Alfred he couldn't keep track of Penny for twenty-four hours after firing yet another private investigation firm for their failure to do so. But he couldn't exactly tell her that. He was pretty damn sure she'd have a problem with the notion of being under surveillance.
"I bet him he would not be able to keep up with you for a day without your becoming aware of it. He claimed there was nothing a human could do that he couldn't match. And knowing your stamina, love, you seemed the ideal candidate to test his theory."
