The Seeker

by Martyn Taylor

  He reached out to pick it up only to discover he could not. His fingers appeared to have developed volition of their own, halting when they were an inch away and refusing to move any more, even when he grabbed hold of his wrist with his other hand and shoved it on as strenuously as he could. The ring just slid across the surface of the table, an unnoticed facet of the stone gouging a distinct scar in the polished wood. No matter how he tried, it denied him.

  Disgusted with himself, he dropped the paper that had made the parcel over the top of it, picked it up and screwed it into a rough, solid ball, which he replaced on the table, more than a hand’s reach away from him. Obviously, he had no say in which of them was to receive that gift.

  For a while he debated with himself whether he could, in all conscience, give the ring to Meghan. After all, the only evidence he had that she was anointed to follow after him came from Roxane and why should he believe her? Other than that she had been the most powerful vampire he had ever met, until the Roman, and more formidable than any he or his daughter was likely to encounter from now on. Had he not encountered Roxane – Cyrano and Paul too – and come to no obvious harm?

  He concluded that he would let her make up her own mind about the ring, when the time was right. Then he would find a way to give it to her, together with the knowledge of what it represented and who had gifted it to her.

  The other parcel held a ring of four ordinary keys on a battered green leather key fob embossed with a scratched and faded golden flame. He had no difficulty handling them, any more than he was hard pressed to know which house they opened. He was sure he had seen Roxane using the same keys. He turned them over in his hand, realising they represented to booty a Seeker was allowed to take from any vampire they destroyed.

  Did he wish to live where she had lived? Even though it was a richer house than the one he had inherited from his father, he knew he did not want to live there. Whether that was because it would be filled with memories of her or simply because it was too grand a house for him ever to feel comfortable there he did not know.

  If he did move in, surely the neighbours would notice, ask questions, and where was the documentary evidence he had any entitlement to the house? He very much doubted Roxane had left a will making him her sole beneficiary. Didn’t all vampires behave as though they were going to live for ever, until he showed them that ‘for ever’ was a very much shorter space of time than they had imagined.

  Then he noticed a name and telephone number written in Roxane’s hand on the inside of the parcel. The name was ‘Hortensia’ and the number was an inner London landline. Presumably ‘Hortensia’ would be able to explain everything.

  He left both gifts where they lay on the table and went upstairs to sleep, hoping they might be gone when he awoke. Whatever, he had a firm intention for that evening. He would kill vampires, starting with the three surviving members of the nest.

  THE END

  Acknowledgements

  I should like to thank everyone who has contributed towards this book - especially Cathie and the kids, without whom..., The Company of Eight, members of the Newcastle Noir scene, the Elementary Writers and the remarkable Victoria Watson.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Martyn mostly writes 'low' fantasy set in his home North East, although 'When Johnny Struck up the Band' (pubbed by Wild Wolf) is set in swinging Sixties London, while 'Whitechapel' provides a very left field account of Jack the Ripper's London.

  He writes about the worlds that exist just beyond the edge of peripheral vision, where be dragons (although he hasn't written about dragons... yet).