Frankie remained silent. Keeping a witch of Bradley's power under control would be difficult, perhaps impossible but she wasn't ready to admit that yet. “So, have you ever killed out of malice?” she asked, moving the conversation forward.”
Alex looked into her eyes, his expression haunted. “Only once and he… was my father.”
Chapter Five
“Oh my god!” Frankie exclaimed. “You killed your own father?”
Alex wasn’t sure why he was being so honest, only that he both needed and wanted her to trust him.
“He was a monk at the monastery I later entered. My mother worked in the kitchen, serving the monks. She was young and impressionable and he impregnated her. Confession wiped his slate clean and all was forgiven but the monks weren’t so charitable to my mother and she carried the shame of it and the burden of raising his child alone. She wouldn’t do the noble thing and kill herself so she continued to work there so they could hide her and their shameful secret but she was an outcast, we both were. Often times she went hungry to feed me while he sat upstairs his room and prayed. He did nothing to help her.
“As time went on he grew to despise us. His brothers might have forgiven him but his fall from grace would always be remembered as long as we lived. He tried to kill me a few times that I remember and probably a lot that I don’t. Only the Abbot saved me. He saw right through my father and protected me.
“My mother and the Abbot thought my entering the priesthood, following in my father’s footsteps as it were, would be a fitting way to repay her sin but I wasn’t welcome there, not by my father. Is it any wonder my feelings on the church were somewhat ambiguous?
“Then after I was turned I could feel the power coursing through my veins. I was quite literally drunk on it. I saw then that I could free her from him forever. And I enjoyed it, the fear in his eyes when he realised he couldn’t beat me into submission any longer and that I wouldn’t let him beat her either; the terror when he saw what I was and finally he broke down and cried like a child, begging and pleading for mercy. If he had ever shown my mother an ounce of compassion I might have let him live.”
His voice sounded hollow.
Frankie shuddered as she caught a glimpse of the monster lurking beneath the handsome façade. His beautiful blue eyes had turned glacial with hatred. But could she really blame him? If she had seen her mother suffer for all those years, wouldn’t she want some revenge too?
When she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. “What happened to your mother?”
In an instant his eyes softened and creased up with his smile. “I took care of her. I found a widowed land owner and convinced him to employ her. She lived out her days in his home. After his wife and children had died he became something of a hermit; she looked after him and they were company for each other. He never knew of her past sin.”
“Did you ever see her again?”
“Not for a few years. I sent money regularly and dresses or trinkets I thought she’d like. When I finally felt in control of the blood lust I went to see her. She had realised that it was I who killed my father but she didn’t blame me. After that I returned to visit every few years. Eventually she realised I wasn’t ageing and understood what that meant but she still never turned me away. Even after everything she’d been through, she had the heart of an innocent; she always saw the best in people.”
“I’m so sorry.” That was woefully inadequate but all Frankie could think of. “Wow. And I thought I had issues,”
Alex smiled. “Those were harsher times. Humanity has come a long way since then.”
“We still have a way to go.”
He conceded her point with a nod of his head. “And as much as I am enjoying our conversation, we still have a killer to catch.”
“Right.” It took her a moment to get her thoughts back on the case. She couldn’t believe she’d been so easily distracted, that wasn’t like her at all. “If he sticks to the timetable he’ll kill again tomorrow night but two murders are hardly enough to call it a pattern.”
“Frankie,” he reached out to take her bare hand but stopped as he saw her flinch. He met her gaze. “I realise you don’t trust easily but I need to find this killer. I will continue working on this alone if I have to but I’m not a detective. You are and you know I can help you with this. Will you let me?”
Frankie had been asking herself that question all day. “On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“My say is final.”
“As long as I can argue my case first, I agree.”
She smiled. “You think you can charm me into doing what you want?”
“From what I’ve observed, absolutely not, but I intend to give it my best shot anyway,” he teased. “So what now?”
“Now we have to bring you up to speed. All the files are back at my house if you’re up for a field trip.”
“I’ll get my coat.”
Frankie had had three drinks while in his office so they took his car. She was expecting something flash and grandiose but he drove a Ford Mondeo.
“You were expecting a Jaguar or a Rolls Royce?” he asked, noting her expression.
“I was thinking Ferrari or Bugatti Veyron. This is part of your blending in?”
“Yes. Ostentation draws attention.”
Her house was on a new development near Granton Harbour.
“New build,” he noted as they got out.
“New means fewer psychic impressions have been left. My home is the only place I can really relax so I always buy new.”
“Always? I didn’t realise the spy business paid so well.”
“It doesn’t, but thanks to London property prices I only have a 50 percent mortgage on this.”
At the door she lifted a flap that looked like an electrical socket and typed a six digit code into the keypad hidden there before unlocking the door. “If the code is wrong, the door won’t open.” She explained. He also noticed two cameras covered the doorway.
Inside she entered another four digit code on the alarm keypad. “Regular alarm, it’s top spec.” She then closed the front door and entered another code. “Re-armed. Don’t try and leave on your own.”
“Aren’t you afraid, being locked in with a vampire?”
Frankie smiled. “No more than anywhere else I’ve been with you.” She led him through to the living room and he noticed a work area had been set up in the corner consisting of a large L-shaped desk and filing cabinet. She unlocked the cabinet and pulled a large sheaf of papers out.
“These are the police reports, pathology reports and some of the witness statements that have been entered onto the system. A little light reading to get you started.” She said handing him the pile. “I’m going to put some coffee on; can I get you anything?”
“Nothing, thank you.”
He took the papers and sat on the sofa. When Frankie came back ten minutes later he was about halfway through.
“Don’t tell me, you’re a speed reader too.”
“Like most other things, vampires can read and assimilate information much faster than humans.”
“Figures,” she grumbled, grabbing the phone as it rang. A few seconds later she wished she’d checked the caller ID before she picked up.
“Hello?”
“Sweetheart, how are you?”
“Hi Mum, I’m fine thanks.” She closed her eyes and silently prayed that there was some way out of this. “Can I call you back, I’m sort of in the middle of something at the moment.”
“Are you entertaining a young man?” the hope in her voice was almost palpable, even over the phone.
“No. I've told you a dozen times that if there is a significant change in my love life, you will be the first to know, okay?”
“Well really, darling, you aren’t getting any younger. I’m never going to get any grandchildren at this rate.”
“I think it’s time you resigned yourself to no grandkids.”
“You always say th
at but children are such a blessing. I would hate for you to miss out on that.”
Frankie took a deep calming breath. “Mum, even if I had someone I wouldn’t be thinking of having children. I don’t have the time.”
“Well you must make the time, darling. A career is all well and good but it won’t visit you in the retirement home, will it?”
“Nor will I at this rate,” she mumbled.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, Mum. Yes, I realise a career isn’t everything but you should also realise that dating is very difficult for me.”
“Oh piffle!”
“Mum-“
“Not a word about spooky superpowers.”
Frankie gripped the handset so hard her fingers began to ache.
“It’s all that bloody Germain Greer’s fault, putting all that feminist rubbish in your head. A woman does need a man, Francis, and independence is not all it’s cracked up to be.”
“Mother, please! I cannot have this conversation right now.”
“Oh! So there is someone there.”
Frankie gritted her teeth.
“So who is your beau?”
“He is not my beau! We’re working together and besides, he’s too old for me.”
“How old?”
About 700, give or take. “Far, far too old.”
“Well you know even large age gaps can be overcome. Felicity, from my bridge group married a man thirty years her senior. Of course he was loaded, hardly a match made in heaven, but at least her husband died happy.”
“Well, I’ll just pop down to the bingo hall, shall I? See if they have any nice octogenarians.”
“Don’t be silly, Francis, men don’t play bingo. You haven’t got William Campbell there, have you?”
“What? No. Where did that come from?”
“I just remembered you two being involved when you were at university there. And he was older than you.”
“Only five years older.”
“So have you seen him?”
“Actually yes,” her mother could detect a lie at fifty paces. “I ran into him the other day. We had a nice conversation, end of story.”
“Are you seeing him again?”
“Only through work.”
“So you are seeing him again.”
Frankie snapped. “Not socially, mother. Now please drop it!”
“Well, there’s no need to shout.”
Great, now she was crying, or pretending to cry. “Mum, I’m sorry I snapped, okay.”
“It’s just that I love you and I want you to be happy.”
“I know you do, Mum. I’m sorry.”
She sniffled a few times.
“Are you okay?” Frankie asked.
“I’ll be fine, honestly. So this man with you, does he have a name?”
“I’m sure he does.”
“Do you know it?”
“No. I found him on the street. He’s not really talking yet but he keeps making stabbing motions. Do you think I should be worried?”
“Very funny, Francis. Can’t you ever just answer a question?”
“Alex.” She turned and gave him an apologetic smile and mouthed ‘I won’t be long’.
Alex was having a hard time hiding his grin and his eyes were twinkling with amusement. He gestured that it was fine with him and earned himself a glare for his obvious enjoyment of her suffering. She turned her back to him again. This was easier when she didn’t look at him.
“That’s a girl’s name. Oh my, you aren’t… Are you?”
“It’s a boy’s name too.”
“I don’t know any men called Alex.”
“Alexander the Great?”
“Who?”
“Alexander the Great. I don’t know a lot about him, but he was a manly warrior and it’s a fairly safe bet he was also great.”
“Don’t be facetious.”
“Alexander Graham Bell.”
“The phone man?”
“Alexander Fleming.”
“Stop quoting names at me!”
“You asked.”
“So Alex is a work colleague?”
“Not exactly?”
“So it is romantic! I knew it!”
“Mum, even if by some miracle this was a romantic evening you’ve hardly helped my case have you? If he was considering entering into a relationship he now knows that his mother-in-law thinks he has a girl’s name, hardly what a man wants to hear, is it?”
“How can he tell what I’m saying?”
“You aren’t keeping your voice down and he has very good hearing.”
“He can’t be that old then, can he?”
“Mother, one more word from you and I’ll find myself a nice young woman to hook up with and we’ll adopt Chinese babies with HIV together.”
The hiss as her mother sucked air in through her teeth was audible. “Francis Mary Wright, how dare you say such things to me!”
“Mum, I’m hanging up now. Tell Dad I’ll call him soon and he can-”
“What’s wrong with calling me?”
“Dad doesn’t give me the fifth degree about my love life and he actually has proper conversations with me. I’m hanging up now.”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Bye, Mum.”
“If you-“
Frankie hung up, dropped the phone onto the armchair and turned to apologise.
“I’m sorry. She means well. She’s just a good Christian woman with all the tact of a sledgehammer.” She perched on the sofa beside him, stiff with tension.
Alexander thought it was the funniest thing he’d heard in a long time. “She doesn’t know about your gift?”
“Oh, she knows, she just doesn’t believe. Anything that doesn’t fit with her world view gets ignored.”
“But surely one of your parents has some supernatural ability. These things are usually hereditary.”
“Ah, well, there’s the rub. I’m adopted.” Her tone of voice told him it wasn’t a subject she was comfortable with so he didn’t question her further.
“Would you like me to kill her for you?” he teased.
“Oh, would you?” she gave him her doe-eyed look.
“Of course. Any self-respecting young beau would, my darling.”
“Thank you, but I’m not sure you can even be my beau with a sissy name like Alex.”
“Oh, no. the pain of it!” Alex clutched his breast. “Why, oh why didn’t my mother call me Colin? I would still kill her for you though?”
“But she has to pay for the wedding first. We can’t kill her yet!”
“Gosh darn it, Francis, can’t we elope?”
“Well, we could live in sin, I suppose.”
“Your mother would kill me!”
Frankie finally gave into the giggles and collapsed back on the sofa. She was wiping tears away when she finally stopped laughing. “Thank you for that.”
Alex gently pushed a strand of hair off her face, careful not to touch her though there was nothing he wanted more. Frankie’s breath caught in her throat as he held her gaze.
“You’re welcome.” He smiled tenderly.
Frankie suddenly felt uncomfortable. This wasn’t something she should be getting into. Being attracted to a vampire was never smart. She sat forward.
“Hey, maybe I should tell her you’re a seven hundred year old vampire. What do you think?”
“From the sounds of things, I don’t think she’d care.”
“No, you’re probably right.” She picked up the papers Alex had been reading. “What do you think?” she asked.
“You want my opinion?” he was surprised.
“Fresh eyes always help, and you have a fairly unique perspective. Anything strike you as odd or stand out?”
“The pathologist report says a knife was the murder weapon.”
“And?”
“Well, it’s rather prosaic for a witch. If he is as powerful as we’re giving him credit for, he could kill these girls fro
m a distance using a simple spell. No need to get his hands dirty.”
“True, but maybe he gets some satisfaction from being there.”
“He could still use a spell. It’s safer and leaves less trace evidence.”
“Okay, so maybe he wants to get his hands dirty,” she thought out loud.
“Perhaps...” He sounded doubtful and Frankie shot him a questioning look. “Or perhaps blood has to be spilt.”
“You mean these murders are part of something bigger?”
“It’s possible.”
“Okay, well let me tell you what I’ve learned.” First she told him about not getting any impressions from the symbols on the walls.
“Is that unusual?” he asked.
“Very. In fact it’s the first time ever.”
Alex looked thoughtful for a few moments before turning back to her. “What else have you discovered?”
“I caught a glimpse of him, only a glimpse, I couldn’t draw him from that but he looked… clammy.”
“Clammy?”
“Pale, pasty; almost unwell.”
“Maybe he is unwell, too sick to perform magic.”
“But still healthy enough to murder?”
Alex conceded her point with a shrug. “Go on.”
Frankie told him about her conversation with Clara and the copy of the Munich Manual grimoire Bradley had been hunting for.
Alex looked grim. “I know of it. It sounds as if he’s found a copy.”
“Why?”
“Remember what I said about blood being spilled? Well grimoires are essentially dark magic manuals. This one deals with necromancy and, more importantly, demonology. The rituals involved in invoking a demon often call for both sacrifices and blood.” He looked worried.
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking our man has reached the limits of his power; that he’s looking outside of himself now, and enslaving others to do his bidding.”
“But I thought he was an uber-witch?”
“He is but there’s still a limit to how much power one man can channel, like there’s only so much electricity a circuit can carry before it burns out. A lone man could probably levitate a small car but if he wanted to levitate a lorry, he’d need help. Usually that would mean forming a coven and combining their power but for whatever reason, our witch doesn’t want to share.”
Past Due Page 6
