by Deanna Chase
‘I think it’s cool. It’s been a long time since I had a girls’ night out.’
Nell’s eyes gleam. ‘This is what being a vampire is really about. Having fun and damning the consequences.’ She takes a long swig of her drink. ‘I wonder if vampires get hangovers.’
Nicky clinks her glass against Nell’s. ‘Only one way to find out.’
‘We’ve only got about two hours until we head back,’ Beth cautions. ‘We can’t risk getting caught when dawn breaks.’
I’m surprised that she sounds so schoolmarmish. ‘I’d never have thought you were a stickler for the rules.’
‘Those rules exist for a reason,’ she snipes back.
‘Yeah? And so are the rules about there being only five Families.’ The words are out of my mouth before I’ve had time to think and they hang there while Beth frowns at me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was confused.
‘Rules shmules!’ trills Nicky. ‘Let’s dance!’ She pulls Nell up by one arm and a reluctant Beth by the other. Eyeing me with a mischief I’ve not seen in her before, she jerks her head towards the small dance floor. ‘Come on, Bo.’
I glance at Peter. He’s muttering to himself. ‘I’ll stay with the party animal here and keep him company.’
A flash of something I can’t determine crosses Nicky’s face, then she shrugs amiably and guides the other two off, immediately flinging herself into the beat of the song. This is a side of her I’ve not seen before. I guess she didn’t have much opportunity to go out and dance when she was in a wheelchair. Bless her. Nell seems keen to match her energy although Beth, surprisingly, looks awkward. Her expression makes me think that she’d rather have her blood red fingernails pulled out one by one than dance.
The colour of Beth’s nails brings me back to the topic that never seems to be far from my mind. I look at Peter, whose fingers are drumming fretfully on his collarbone.
‘How are you doing with the whole blood avoidance thing?’
‘Huh?’
‘Not drinking. You, Beth, Nicky and I are the only ones who’ve yet to drink blood. The thought makes me feel queasy but I’m finding it harder and harder to not have some.’
‘So why don’t you?’ Peter’s voice is mild and lacking in curiosity but I still feel compelled to answer.
‘I want to be a powerful vampire.’ I force a hollow laugh.
He looks at me over the rim of his glass. ‘Bullshit.’
I’m shocked. ‘Peter, I’ve never heard you swear before.’
‘Well, I’ve never been a vampire before.’ He pours another a shot. ‘I’ve been watching you, Bo. You don’t want to be a vampire. There’s a part of you that’s disgusted by anyone who is.’
‘That’s not true!’ I protest.
‘Yes, it is,’ he replies quietly. ‘You told me your reason for being here. I can’t help thinking it’s bullshit. Are you sure you’re not really here for revenge?’
I am, just not in the way that he thinks. I wonder how to talk myself out of this. He continues before I can think of anything smart to say. ‘It’s a powerful motivator, you know, but it won’t make you feel any better. It’s not a dish best served cold. If you’re planning revenge, you’re better off digging two graves, not one, because it’ll kill you in the end.’
‘I’m not doing this for revenge,’ I tell him, trying to sound sincere. ‘I suppose I don’t really want to be a vampire after all.’ I hope that the half truth is enough to appease him.
He sighs heavily. ‘I feel the same. I can’t help wondering if I’ve made one of the worst mistakes in my life.’ He looks at me frankly. ‘You’re not telling me everything but, for whatever reason, you’re trying to become Sanguine.’
I’m surprised that he’s even heard of the term, let alone linked it to me. He laughs softly at my expression. ‘I did my research before I signed up.’
‘Then you know how hard it is to resist the urge.’
‘I do.’
‘Are you doing the same? Are you trying to become Sanguine?’
He laughs again but there’s a cold, hard edge to it. ‘No. Much as I wish I’d chosen a different path, I’m already damned, Bo. I deserve all this.’
I’m about to ask him what he means when I notice a new customer stroll in. My back stiffens immediately. Lo and behold, it’s Harry D’Argneau.
‘So he’s why we’re really here,’ Peter comments.
I shoot him a look. ‘Peter, I’m sorry…’ Guilt blazes through me. Whatever Peter is going through, it’s obviously hell. If things were different then I’d do whatever I could to draw him out. But I need to talk to D’Argneau and get my pound of flesh. My clock is ticking.
Peter pats my shoulder. ‘It’s okay. I understand.’
I don’t think he really does. ‘Look, I won’t be long. I just need to talk to that guy for five minutes. It’s really important.’
He doesn’t appear hurt and gives me a gentle push. ‘Go on. Do what you have to do.’
‘You’re not even curious, are you?’
All I receive in return is a half-hearted shrug. ‘I’ll be back,’ I promise. ‘This won’t take long.’
I grab an empty glass and fill it with ice and vodka. A peace offering might help my cause. Then I walk up to D’Argneau and tap him on the shoulder. He turns and, as soon as he registers my face, his eyes widen and he steps away. I hold out the drink.
‘Please, Harry.’ I keep my voice soft. I’m pretty sure he’s trying to decide whether to run away or not so I try to appear as small and unthreatening as possible. It must work because his muscles relax and he peers at me. ‘You look different.’
‘I’ve been recruited,’ I tell him.
He freezes. ‘Which Family?’
‘Does it matter?’
He grabs my shoulders and grips them tightly. ‘Which Family?’ he repeats.
My eyes scan his face. ‘Montserrat.’
His shoulders slump.
‘What? What’s the problem?’
He takes the drink and throws it back in one swift gulp. ‘You’re an idiot, Bo Blackman. That’s the problem.’
Chapter Twenty-One: Red Sky in the Morning
D’Argneau guides me to a small table at the back where we’re hidden from view. I’m glad; the last thing I want is bloody Beth interrupting. We’re also further away from the speakers here so there’s less need to bellow into each other’s ear. There’s always the possibility that when you do that you’ll be caught out during the abrupt breaks between songs.
‘Talk to me,’ I tell him, once we’re seated.
He raises his eyebrows. For the first time, I realise that they’re tweezed into perfect arches. ‘You’re the one in the Montserrat heartland, Ms Blackman, you should know. Although if you’ve only just been recruited, isn’t it a little odd that you’re out and about?’
I ignore his question. ‘What do you mean, I should know?’
He draws his hands together thoughtfully under his chin. ‘So they’re keeping their own members in the dark? Interesting.’
‘We’re not treated as full members until the lunar month is complete,’ I say, irked by his implied criticism of Montserrat policy. ‘What exactly are we being kept in the dark about?’
D’Argneau leans back, obviously pleased to be in possession of information which I need. ‘I’ve done a little digging since you contacted me. I don’t appreciate being threatened, even if it’s by short females in handcuffs.’
I bristle but hold my tongue. Right now, I need him much more than he needs me. ‘The Families are being hit and being hit badly,’ he says. ‘Everyone has suffered losses. I’m sure you heard about Tommy Glass.’
I shake my head. I’ve no idea who he’s talking about.
‘Sequestered from the real world,’ he half whispers to himself, as if making a mental note. ‘Tommy Glass is – or rather was – a button-nosed, blond cherub of a toddler who was ripped apart four days ago while playing in his garden. His unfortunate mothe
r was there but she was no match against a triber.’
I feel sick. ‘You mean vampire.’
He nods.
‘A Montserrat vampire?’
D’Argneau nods again. I rub my forehead. A toddler? Damn O’Shea and his stupid spell.
‘As you can imagine,’ he continues, ‘there are many humans who are rather concerned by this turn of events.’
‘No shit,’ I murmur. Whoever is behind all this is clearly stepping up their campaign. Discrediting the Families and turning the humans against them is a smart move; it means the new ‘super Family’ can step in and take over. All they need to do is create a little spin about how they saved Britain from being terrorised by the five Families and no one will question them. Not until it’s too late.
‘The tabloids are all on board, of course, screaming for justice, demanding that human laws be put into force against the Families. I think your Lord Montserrat has done a lot to smooth things over but when you’re faced with photos on the internet of tiny Tommy’s mutilated limbs, and the grieving parents are on television every night… ’ He shrugs. ‘Well, he can’t work miracles.’
I feel a rush of sympathy for Michael. No wonder he thinks I’m involved, he must be desperate to find someone to blame. Then I remember the cold look in his eyes the last time I saw him.
D’Argneau watches me, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. I realise he’s not finished talking.
‘What is it?’ I ask him.
He runs his tongue over his lips. ‘Tommy Glass is public knowledge.’
I wait. He’s like an eager puppy straining at the leash and proud to show off what he knows. ‘What’s not public knowledge is something you may find more interesting.’ His eyes dance. ‘I didn’t mention the last time we met that a Family hired me to go after O’Shea. That same Family is reported to have someone in custody who has information about the perpetrators of the recent attacks.’
I grip the arms of my chair. ‘Who?’
‘I don’t know who they have in custody.’
‘But you obviously know which Family,’ I growl. If it’s Montserrat, I’m going to be seriously pissed off. Like ‘ripping someone’s head from their shoulders’ pissed off.
D’Argneau leans back. ‘Naturally.’
My frustration is building. ‘Who?’ I snap again.
He cocks his head. ‘Tell me, Ms Blackman, what do I gain by passing on this little titbit? I can see what’s in it for you; you seem to be inextricably tied up in all this. But what’s in it for me?’
I’ve had enough of this. ‘You forget I’m a vampire now,’ I snarl.
He lifts up his index finger. ‘Actually, looking at you, I don’t think you are. Not yet. You’re different from before, certainly, but I don’t sense vampire.’ He smiles unpleasantly. ‘You’ve not drunk yet, have you?’
I glare at him malevolently.
‘And,’ he carries on, ‘that means you’re still as weak as a human. Probably weaker.’ He lowers his voice. ‘I’ve heard the cravings are enough to drive you insane.’
‘You don’t know enough about vampires to tell whether I’ve drunk yet or not.’ I’m taking an educated guess here.
‘Show me your fangs then.’
I scowl. The lawyer is more confident now. He grins. ‘As I thought.’
‘Harry. Please. Tell me which Family.’ I abandon my attempts to threaten him.
He throws back his head and laughs. ‘Or what? You’ll screw me outside on the pavement?’
I wince. I knew I was going to regret that little episode.
‘Look,’ he says. ‘You rub my back and I’ll rub yours. Quid pro quo. You’ll simply owe me a favour. It’ll be of my choosing and I’ll call it in when I see fit. I could benefit from a vampire on my side.’
I have a bad taste in my mouth. There’s no telling what he could ask for. Initially I thought that he was a good guy; now I’m not so sure. Of course, Michael Montserrat currently wants my head. And even if he doesn’t take it, whoever wants to supplant all five Families seems likely to achieve their goal. If that happens, it’s unlikely I’ll hang on to my life. If I’m dead, D’Argneau can’t collect. I’m not completely stupid though.
‘You realise I won’t be able to go against the Montserrat Family, no matter what happens? As a full vampire, my loyalty to them will be absolute.’ I neglect to mention the Sanguine part. I think Mr D’Argneau already knows more than is good for him.
‘I understand that,’ he says. ‘And I’ll be kind and include your own blood family in that.’
I think about all the other people he could make me hurt. ‘I won’t physically harm anyone. Not unless there’s a very, very good reason.’
‘Favours come in all shapes and sizes, Ms Blackman. I’m sure I can come up with something that will keep your conscience clear.’
I stare at him. He’s trying to play hardball and there’s a part of me that likes him for it. ‘Fine. Tell me which Family.’
‘Give me your word.’
‘You have it.’
‘Very well.’ He leans forward, picks up his glass and drains it. He swirls the remaining ice cubes. ‘Bancroft.’
‘You’re sure?’ It would make sense if they were involved. Bancroft has the only female Head. She has a good reputation and she’s immune to O’Shea’s spell, regardless of what form it takes. Maybe she’s had enough of playing in a male-dominated world. I can’t help wondering whether Montserrat has thought of this; surely it’s crossed his mind.
‘Thanks.’ I stand up. D’Argneau does the same, as if in some old-fashioned show of gallantry. It seems so unfitting for the occasion that I smile.
‘What’s going on here?’ says Nicky, appearing at my shoulder.
Her presence is so unexpected that I jump. That’s not as bad as D’Argneau, however, who drops his glass onto the floor where it shatters. He lets out a muffled curse and crouches down to pick up the larger shards.
I wink at Nicky. ‘Just getting to know this gentleman a little better,’ I murmur, before I bend down to help D’Argneau.
I’ve barely reached his level when I smell it. I don’t need to see him sucking on his finger to know that he’s cut himself; there’s a cloud of iron-rich air circling round him. A deep animalistic rumble that I’m barely aware of begins in my throat and my eyes fix on the thin trail of blood rolling down his skin. It looks so good. Behind me, half-smothered by the music and the loud drumming of my own heartbeat, I hear Beth snarl. I don’t care. D’Argneau has ceased to be a person; now he’s just food.
He glances up at me, eyes widening as he registers my reaction. Immediately, the scent of his fear mingles with that of his blood. If anything, it makes it more alluring. He’s prey and I am predator.
I leap forward, my mouth wide open like a cavernous killing machine. Nicky’s presence annoys me. I want this flesh all to myself. I knock her out of the way as I fly, landing on D’Argneau’s chest and making him fall backwards with a heavy thump. He tries to push me out of the way but his hands are weak, flailing. I slap them aside and curve my head down. I may not have fangs yet, but I can still taste.
Then something is pulling me off the lawyer’s body. I howl in frustration and kick. Whatever is holding me tightens its grasp. I shove my elbows back and my captor gasps but still doesn’t let go.
‘Get him out of here,’ a voice says.
Beth: the knowledge flickers in the recesses of my brain. I don’t like Beth. I don’t trust Beth. She’s stopping me from getting what I want. I kick back harder.
‘Bo.’ She sounds calm. Bitch. ‘Bo Blackman. Remember who you are and stop this now.’
I snarl. Nell picks up D’Argneau and drags him out of my line of vision. I lunge forward but I can’t break Beth’s hold.
‘Bo,’ she soothes, ‘he’s gone. You need to calm down and relax.’
I twist to my left and then my right. The bartender is staring at me with wide, frightened eyes. I jerk in his direction and he takes an involunt
ary step backwards. Then I sniff the air. The reek of blood remains but it’s dissipating fast. My heart pounds painfully against my ribcage and I squeeze my eyes shut.
‘He’s gone, Bo,’ Beth repeats, loosening her grip slightly and reaching up to smooth my hair. The part of my consciousness that is really me returns.
‘Sure?’ I croak.
‘Sure.’
I start to tremble. ‘I almost…’
‘Shhh,’ she says. ‘It’s okay.’
Wrenching myself from her hold, I turn to face her. ‘No. Beth, it’s not fucking okay. It’s never going to be okay. I…’ I can’t finish the sentence.
A large figure comes and stands beside us. ‘You need to leave.’ The bouncer’s expression is grim and his arms are folded across his chest. ‘Tribers aren’t welcome.’
Beth grabs my arm. ‘We’re going.’ She searches my face. ‘Are you good?’
I’m still shivery and shaking, but I know what she means. I nod and we walk out of the door. ‘Is he definitely…?’
‘He’s gone.’
Nicky, Nell and Peter are outside, huddled across the street and watching us wide-eyed. We cross over and Peter impulsively draws me into a hug. ‘You didn’t do it, Bo. You didn’t drink,’ he whispers.
But only because of Beth. If it hadn’t been for her, I’d have ripped out Harry D’Argneau’s throat.
I look at the other three. ‘Why was it just me?’ My words are quiet but I can hear the heartfelt plea in them. ‘Why was I the only one who went for him?’
‘As soon as I smelled the blood, I got Peter out,’ Nell tells me. ‘When I came back in for the rest of you, Nicky seemed okay and Beth was wrestling you like it was a prize-winning fight.’
My eyes flick from Beth to Nicky and back again. Beth looks uncomfortable although Nicky seems unconcerned. I’m glad this hasn’t upset her too much. All I can really focus on, however, is that I lost control and they didn’t. My chances of lasting to the end of the month are slipping away in front of my eyes.
‘Dawn’s not far away,’ Nell says, her eyes scanning the lightening sky. ‘We need to get back.’
