Undone By Blood (The Vampire Flynn Book 5)

by Peter Dawes

  Gillies sized Robin up before responding. If he was wise to the game being played, he had decided to play along. “No, the previous pages were found in Kilkenny. That is the location where we found the document which follows. Some ramshackle Austrian residence one of our seers investigated the other night, after our sorcerers claimed there had been some magical activity.” Gillies peered at me and shook his head. “All we found were more riddles and a dead body.”

  “A dead body?” I asked, looking in the photograph for some confirmation of this and finding none. For some reason, an inexplicable amount of guilt surged through me, as if I should be held responsible for the young man’s demise, though I could not determine why exactly. Perhaps for failing to shuttle him to safety before Patrick’s lackeys could return. “Why would they do that?”

  “I was hoping Master O’Shane could help us determine that.”

  Robin inhaled deeply and turned to the pages which followed. After reading them the same way he had the previous document, he shut the folder. “What little I can read seems nonsensical,” he said, placing everything down onto Brandon Gillies’ desk. “I would need some time to examine these with a few dictionaries at my disposal and, as you can see, Peter’s mission has me busy. I would like to think that my time is better spent resolving this debacle with him.”

  “All of our time is better spent on that quest, which is why I ask. Our dear friend Patrick Flynn left the first document in a hurry, or that was what we suspected at the time we found it. The other one, though, is curious.” He arched an eyebrow at us. “It seemed he wanted someone to find them. Perhaps somebody who might be assisting him.”

  “Patrick works alone,” Robin countered. “If he left that for you to find, he’s likely taunting you.”

  Robin stood, neglecting the cup of tea and prompting me to do the same. As I pulled out my chair, Robin adjusted the folds of his coat. “Now,” he added, “If you could give Peter back his sword so we can resume our work, that would be helpful.”

  “Certainly.” Gillies stood as well, and while he smiled in an amiable fashion, something about the look in his eyes had me unsettled, weighing on me even when we strode outside the office and turned toward the main entrance. We passed the two assistants, who paused what they were doing to watch us walk past. “Could you kindly retrieve Master Peter’s weaponry so he can be on his way?” Gillies asked the one who had presented us with the manila folder.

  “Yes, sir,” he responded, looking puzzled at the request. I attempted not to be further unnerved by this. Went so far as to tell myself that they had gone through all the extravagance of shuttling us to London purely to prove they could if they so desired. As we emerged from the portion of the building containing the offices, however, the expression on Robin’s face suggested he simply hoped they would make good on releasing us. I received both the sword and the dagger I had kept tucked away inside my coat and held them in hand while exiting the building. This time, there was no contingency of seers and sorcerers to witness our departure.

  The sky bore the dark hue of impending dawn, suggesting we had an hour to get indoors. “We will have to send for the things we left in Dublin,” I said while descending the front stairs with Robin.

  “We have greater concerns,” Robin said. When I shot him a questioning look, he ignored it, walking ahead of me toward an open gate and leaving the property altogether. I followed him, only able to match his pace due to the length of my stride. He waited until we reached one of the Underground stations and disappeared down the escalator with me.

  Once we had managed our way past the turnstiles, he paused on the platform and glanced at me. “Patrick’s trap has been set,” he said. “I don’t know why, but I think he means for the Order to detain us. Or, more notably, detain me.”

  “What?” I barked the question out of confusion, looking instinctively down the tunnel when I heard an oncoming train. The fact that it was headed in the wrong direction made me frown. “What would Patrick stand to gain from your capture?”

  “I don’t know. I just said that.” He glowered when I looked back at him, but I read the fear in his eyes and knew exactly what he had to be afraid of. The Order had been slaughtering vampire elders, and Patrick had managed to paint a target on Robin’s head. When he looked away, I watched him attempt to steady himself and waited for him to speak again before continuing our discussion. “We need to leave London,” he said. “Your friend needs to provide some form of asylum to us while we sort this out, or we’ll be of no help to her.”

  “We can try and make a case to Evie, but as I understand it, they tend to stay away from such matters.” A few passengers stepped off the train when it stopped at the station. I waited for them to pass and lowered my voice, stepping closer to Robin to be heard over the sound of the train departing again. “How are you so certain of this? What did you see in those notes?”

  His gaze returned to me, brow furrowing as he evaluated the seriousness of my question. “Do you not remember that writing?”

  “It looked familiar.”

  “As it should. Patrick found the journals in which I had copied notes from those scrolls we destroyed. The very ones – I feel compelled to add – which brought him and his ilk back to life. If that was why he rifled through my shelves, he didn’t need to keep the notes he wrote out. He did that simply to implicate me.”

  “Tell me how. And why we should not return to the Order’s headquarters and explain this to them.”

  Robin sighed, the sound belabored, and turned to face me once the train and its trickle of early-morning passengers had left us alone again. “Those notes are portions of the spell,” he said. “The fact that I even remember that would be enough for the Order to want my head. If that spell can be recreated in any fashion, then it poses a grave danger.”

  “Because it can be used to bring others back.”

  “Including any they might have already killed.”

  My stomach sank, my head threatening to pound again. “He has a sorceress,” I muttered, my thoughts straying toward my wife. “A being with one foot in the light and the other in the dark, if she is powerful enough to fill the role. But could he duplicate the spell merely with what you wrote in your journal?”

  “Potentially. Though I have no idea why he’d advertise this to the Order. They’ll figure out that contains a spell, if they haven’t already.” Robin frowned. “Unless it was his goal simply to get me out of the way.”

  I mirrored his frown, as much as my head had begun to spin dizzy with the thought of how he might he using Monica. A few minutes later, our train arrived and by then, the pre-dawn commuters had joined us on the platform and made further discussion more improbable. As much as I wanted to find some comfort for Robin – that his long-time lover had not sentenced him to die – I could find no basis on which to make that reassurance. Likewise, I could not see past the idle notions I continued to entertain.

  “A being with one foot in the light and the other in the dark,” I mused aloud, looking out the window of the train. Glancing back at Robin, I lowered my voice. “Is this why he had me turn her? For her to cast that spell again?”

  “It’s possible, though I think counting on her leaves too much to chance.”

  “He seemed more in pursuit of her than of me.” I furrowed my brow at the connecting thought that idea inspired. “Maybe that was why she scolded me in Italy for rescuing her. Whether she knew she was a ticking time bomb otherwise. Maybe Sabrina had revealed the role she was to play, even if she kept Monica from knowing about Patrick’s involvement.” When something about that did not seem right, I sighed. “I have no idea, and my focus seems lacking all-of-a-sudden.”

  “There’s no way we can know that for sure, Peter. Without any further insight as to his plans, we’re grasping at straws. It might have been a part of his scheme. It might have become one. We might not even be at the end of what lies in wait.” Robin placed a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t drive yourself insane thinking of w
hat you could have done better. We are where we are right now and have to make do with that.”

  I nodded, attempting a half-hearted smile which failed in its execution. When we arrived at Whitechapel, we exited the train and raced into our hotel room minutes before the first rays of sunlight had crested the horizon. Robin disappeared into the shower, warning that we had a sleepless day ahead of us.

  As much as I should have been concerned of the immediate threat surrounding us, I became fixated on thinking through the role Monica was meant to play. Reliving the moments leading up to her departure, then backing up further toward the days which preceded it, I thought of seeing Julian again and fought against a flight of nerves managing to break through the veil protecting me. I remembered my initial fears, not spoken for fear of them being true.

  Casting the scrolls could finally push her headlong into dark magic. If she had not already –

  ‘We need to find her,’ I thought toward Flynn, interrupting that train of thought. ‘We might not have much time left to bring her back.’

  Flynn refused to answer. Robin emerged from the bathroom, partially clothed with the remainder of his suit in his arms, which he spread out on top of his bed. As he finished dressing, I watched him, transfixed, until he made eye contact with me. Wherever my mind had wandered, his attention brought me back to reality, forcing me to see the amount of concern his expression held. “We need to leave London,” he said. “Once we have, we’ll determine what to do next. We’ll send for Katerina and if we need to eschew the risks of using her, we will.”

  “Trapped like rats, either way,” I said, though the words felt like they had spilled past my lips without consent. My gaze flicked away from Robin before I forced it to return. “No matter what we do. No matter where we go. They are always one step ahead of us. We are trapped like rats.”

  Slowly, Robin set down the suit jacket he had been tending to, freeing both of his hands. Tilting his head at me, he raised an eyebrow. “Hardly sounds like you to be so resigned to your fate.”

  “Is it resignation, or an acceptance of reality?”

  A sensation bearing dark overtones swept over me, a shift so seamless taking place that I had no chance to be alarmed. The silent assassin rose to prominence and as I stared at Robin, a chilling smile tugged at the corners of my mouth; cold surety creeping into my chest. My thoughts gained a voice as the feelings they inspired became manifest. “Tell me,” I said, “How you are going to creep into the inner sanctum of a man who had you fooled for nearly ten years? You seem so willing to throw yourself at a hopeless cause, as well as jeopardize the woman I love in the process.” I shook my head and tsked. “Lonely for someone to drown in misery with you, or feeling suicidally guilty?”

  Robin drew a deep breath inward and held it. “Flynn,” he finally said, breathing my name in an exhale. “You’ve been quiet as of late.”

  “Observing, like you taught me to.” Slowly, I lifted to a stand. As I flexed my fingers, I felt the seer’s energy coursing through me and smirked at how thin the line between us had become. “Feels as though we could do more than summon a petty reflection at this stage of the game. I find it odd that Peter’s so reluctant to tap into his gifts for little else than feeling walls, but he always has been the sober one of us.”

  “More respectful of the power he wields.”

  “At a time when discretion is hardly called for.” As I paced closer to him, I crossed my arms behind my back. “A weak boy scout and an intellectual who can do little more than run when the Order bares its teeth. You’ve known the risks you face and never once did you simply think about surrendering.”

  “Can’t claim to be anything other than a stubborn Irishman.” Robin retreated a few paces, coming closer to the window. “The Flynn I remember wasn’t one for surrendering either, unless it involved plunging between the Mistress’s thighs.”

  “Jealous?” I paused when I saw him touch the curtain protecting us from what sunlight had managed its way through the murky grey of London’s skies. Watching his fingers gather a fistful of fabric made me laugh. “Is this what it’s come down to? Your great reckoning with me? Petty jabs and threats I know you won’t follow through with.”

  “Don’t be so certain I won’t,” Robin cautioned. “You were the one who called me suicidal.”

  “How will you atone for your sins if you are dead?” I countered.

  Lifting a hand, I pointed my palm at Robin, using telekinetic force to grip onto his neck. He gasped against the hold, attempting to fight when I began to pull him away from the window. As I suspected, he released the curtain when continuing to hold onto it stood the risk of exposing us. Once he had been pulled far enough away from the window, I locked him into place.

  “You’re tampering with something that doesn’t belong to you,” Robin said. His arms now forced to his sides, he could only defy me with the expression on his face. “To what end? Has Sabrina enchanted your mind again?”

  “Hardly. I know what I want and have been told how to get it.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “I want my dark angel back.” I could not help the way evoking Monica caused my expression to falter. While I could not – would not – surrender to any form of melancholia, that dagger which had pierced me into the deepest parts of my soul could not have been denied. “For so long, I told myself I didn’t deserve her, that she belonged to someone else, but here you both are squandering her. I let the seer try to be her master when we turned her, but it’s obvious now who her true master is.”

  “Her true master has been Peter. Like it or not, without intervening circumstances, he was doing an exemplary job looking after her. You’re the one trying to forge a monster.”

  “Not a monster. A killer, just like me. Just like all of us.” I encroached upon where he stood, walking around the bed standing between us. The more I thought of her, the deeper it afflicted me, like thorns burrowing through my skin and sinking deeper and deeper inside. Everything grew in severity within my head, that surety I had begun the conversation with blossoming into something darker. Something more sinister. Any trace of a smile vanished from my expression while I regarded Robin.

  And just like that, I felt her again, gliding through that passageway which linked our souls and across that bridge she had built between us. A flash of memory, of her whispering into my ear countless times while Peter slept, preceded her appearing beside me, placing a hand on my back and resting her head against my arm. A rush of magic ran through me, and while it felt like I had already bent a knee to her, resisting her suddenly became impossible.

  If I had to be honest, however, I wanted to succumb.

  Monica slid her hand from one shoulder blade to the other. “Are you ready, my devil?” she asked. “Are you willing to do whatever it takes to bring us together again?”

  “You know that I am,” I whispered. I felt my fangs straining to descend, not seeing Robin before me any longer, but a means to an end. A means with which to have her. “What would you have me do?”

  “Who are you talking to?” Robin asked. His expression shifted, inhabiting a form of befuddled. “That can’t be Peter speaking to you. Who is it?”

  “For me to know,” I said before lining Monica in my periphery. “Should I keep him contained?”

  “Yes. The master is coming to collect him,” she said. Walking around to face me, she lifted a hand, reaching for my cheek. Regardless of how intangible she might have been, I felt the pads of her fingers graze across my skin and peered into her eyes, a deeply-seeded form of devotion blossoming in my heart. Monica smiled as if sensing it, lifting onto the tips of her toes and brushing noses with me. “Make sure he doesn’t get away,” she continued, lowering her voice to a whisper, “And we can be together.”

  “Whatever my beloved wants.” I fought the urge to claim her lips, wanting to desperately, but following some subliminal warning that I had not earned that right yet. Instead, I lifted a hand to settle on her shoulder, skimmi
ng across the fabric of the low-cut, ebony shirt she wore. “He will be here, waiting.”

  “Good boy.” Monica nipped at my bottom lip before pulling away. Shifting to my side again, she stood with me and together, we directed our attention back to Robin. The fear which surged in his gaze felt intoxicating to behold.

  A slow smirk traced its way across my lips. One arm wrapped around my dark accomplice’s shoulders as she inched against me, prompting me to gather her closer still. As we regarded Robin, he sobered, recognizing that whatever had happened, I had become lost to him.

  “Sit tight,” I said, “And don’t think of doing anything stupid. Your lover is coming to fetch you.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I had allowed him to sit – even permitted him to take out a book and read it after I had ensured he knew better than to leave the room. While the day progressed with him turning pages and me keeping watch, the moments in which he seemed determined to engage me in conversation were often marked by points in which I lit a cigarette. The hour neared sunset when he made his next attempt.

  “You make me wonder what I ever did to deserve this,” he said. I felt his gaze settle on me, remaining there even when I trained my focus on setting the cigarette down in an ashtray and pocketing my lighter. Either way, I could still envision the frown of disapproval on his face. “I’ve spent years attempting to reason through your first betrayal. This almost stings as much.”

  “Really?” I chuckled, glancing up at him through the lingering haze of smoke. “You’re going to compare this to getting stabbed in the chest?”

  “Any offense coming from you, yes.” His expression turned neutral even if his gaze still held dismay. “I have been the one constant in your life since your genesis. It was you at the door of my home in Kilkenny as much as it was Peter and that was why I let him in.” Robin raised an eyebrow, a dare latent in the action. “He mentioned you, Flynn, and I opened my door.”