“Damn, a guy could easily get used to this,” he told the jinni, who beamed back at him. “So, where are we heading?”
“The pub, of course,” Brodie answered, and Archie laughed. He’d remembered yet another passing comment he’d made about missing the nights spent down the local having a few beers and some ‘pub-grub’ for dinner.
“And what will you do while I devour the greasiest meal I can find?”
“Join you, of course,” he answered, and Archie went to ask about the dynamics of that, but as they walked up over a ridge, found they’d arrived at their destination and figured he’d see for himself.
It was actually strange watching Brodie eat, but at the same time, Archie was glad he wasn’t ending up eating alone. He thought it’d look very odd if the two of them had come for dinner and yet only one of them actually ate, but he noticed how the food didn’t seem to taste of anything for the jinni. Archie groaned appreciatively at least ten times over the course of his meal, while Brodie simply seemed to be going through the motions.
But at least they were together. The conversation flowed with ease and the evening whizzed away as the two of them stared across the table into one another’s eyes and really talked. Not about Rosa or the hardships ahead, but of their hopes and dreams, and their future they planned to spend together.
It was exactly what Archie had hoped for.
The date was over far too quickly, but as they meandered back to the marina, he was beaming. The handful of whisky’s helped with that as well, but he didn’t mind being a little tipsy. It was fun finally being able to just sit back and enjoy his new life a little. To discard the weight they were constantly carrying and allow themselves to do what new couples did.
“Well ain’t you just a tall glass of milk and honey,” a small woman called to them as they reached the dock, and Archie laughed at first, but turned to Brodie with a confused frown when she hopped onto their boat.
“Who’s this?” he whispered to him.
“She’s a friend,” Brodie told him, and the anxiety that’d just speared in Archie’s gut immediately subsided. He hadn’t realised just how tense their lives had gotten this past year, but he had gone straight to worrying, rather than to greet the woman like he knew he ought to.
“Don’t worry, sugar, I ain’t gonna hurt ‘ya,” she added in her southern American drawl as she eyed Archie up and down, “hey jinni, you didn’t say he was such a cutie…”
“Ach, I know sweetheart. It’s been a long time since a girl tried it on with me, but I’ll tell you the same as I told all of them,” Archie replied with a cheeky smile the woman seemed to lap up, and he found himself having fun with their little tête-à-tête. He then dropped his voice and spoke with a deep, Scottish twang. “I would ruin you…”
The woman burst out laughing and offered Archie a wink.
“Promises, promises,” she teased, and then went over to Brodie and grinned up at him. “Nice to see you in the flesh. Been a long time.”
“It sure has, Miss Vicki. Thank you for coming,” he answered with a kind smile, “now, if you’ll stop flirting with my boyfriend maybe we can have a little chat in private?”
“You got it bad, boy. I like it,” the woman, Miss Vicki, answered.
“Me too.”
Archie watched their gentle back and forth with a smile. They were clearly old friends and it was nice to actually meet someone from Brodie’s past with whom he seemed to have a good history. He climbed onto the boat with them and carefully stashed the only two things he had insisted on buying while they had the chance—two bottles of perfectly aged Scotch whisky.
When he returned to the small seating area under the deck, he found the other two staring at him, all jokes seemingly forgotten.
“You ready, sugar?” she asked, and beckoned him closer.
Archie sat down but looked at Brodie with a frown.
“For what?” he asked them both.
“For the sight, of course…” she answered, but he still had no idea what she was on about, and Brodie seemed to pick up on it.
“Miss Vicki is a voodoo priestess, Archie. She and I go way back, and she agreed to come and meet us so that she could give you the gift of sight. Remember how I told you before about Rafferty?” the jinni added, and now that he mentioned it, Archie did remember. The gift of sight from a witch would let him see the invisible goblin, and Archie knew it would make life far simpler if he could. Nicer to be able to converse with him properly and, if he wanted, high five the guy too.
He nodded and let Miss Vicki take his hand, but when she drew a dagger from her handbag, he had to look away. Archie knew he might not be as squeamish as he’d once been, but he still didn’t want to see whatever it was she was planning to do with that knife, and was glad he’d done so when she started slicing into his palm. Archie felt her draw a large circle and then lines within, a pentagram, or so he guessed. He then wretched at the thought and forced himself to focus on the end result, not the method of getting to it.
Next, his strange companion began to growl and hiss, making guttural sounds as some kind of spell left her lips, and Archie finally cracked an eye open so he could see. Her eyes were closed and she was holding his bloody hand in hers, channelling her power into him. Before long, he could feel himself growing hotter and hotter, and then all of a sudden, a rush of icy wind spread through him and he was flung back in his seat.
Archie then opened his eyes wide and felt the icy heat seem to work its way up and settle inside them, like a shroud, and as the wave subsided, he slumped back and blacked out.
Fourteen
Archie barely remembered getting back to the house, but knew he’d needed Brodie’s help. His date had carried him most of the way through the dark tunnels, and had then given him an arm inside, but he was slowly starting to feel better. Had the whisky really hit him that hard? He didn’t feel drunk.
He went to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water, and soon realised he wasn’t more than tipsy. Maybe he’d just fallen asleep and was feeling out of sorts. That had to be it.
He finished the water and then decided it was time for something stronger. A glass of his new whisky would do nicely, and Archie grabbed a small tumbler from the cupboard.
“Hey Rafferty, we got any ice?” he shouted, his head in the freezer, and then he jumped back when an arm reached down and pulled open the bottom drawer to reveal a bag of the stuff. Archie stared at the pale limb and then followed it back up to a broad set of shoulders, followed by a squared jaw and eventually a blonde tuft of hair. “Holy shit!” he cried, it all coming back to him. “Raff?”
“In the flesh,” Rafferty replied, grinning down at him.
Archie straightened up and took him in.
“Jeez, you’re much better looking than I would’ve thought. Makes me feel a bit rotten for all the times I’ve walked round this house looking like trash,” he joked. “And you’re fucking tall. Aren’t goblins meant to be little?”
“And aren’t humans meant to be humble in the face of the supernatural?” Rafferty joked back.
“I’ve seen far too much shit this year to be humble, mate,” he answered, and grabbed the offered ice and plopped it into his glass. “It’s nice to finally see you, though,” Archie added, and he poured a couple of shots worth of whisky over the ice before giving it a swirl.
“Nice to be seen,” Rafferty answered with a smile, and Archie nodded. He figured it must be hard being invisible, and raised his glass to him.
“Still think we need to ugly you up a bit. Don’t let Rosa see you like this, she’ll fall head over heels,” he teased, making the goblin laugh.
“I think I liked it better when you couldn’t see me,” he joked in response, and Archie pouted up at him but was soon laughing off Rafferty’s banter.
It was good to have a laugh and in that moment, he felt right at home again. It was their corner of the world, just two humans and a pair of creatures he would’ve never even believed in a ye
ar before. Their life together was damn good, maybe not be everyone’s cup of tea, but it was fine by him.
***
Wynter was restless. There was nothing for her to do and no one to keep her busy. Marcus was working hard to train up his new Supervisors and as the days passed, it felt like they were going slower and slower. As if her life was spent doing nothing more than standing still.
It was time she did more than just walk around chatting nonsense to the humans in her husbands keep. She was no psychologist and knew she wasn’t helping them, not really. All she was doing was facilitating in them coming to terms with the inevitable. They were owned. Part of a team with a master who would never put their needs first, and then there was the feeding element of the role. All of them were stock. Cattle. A sure supply of the good stuff.
And she wasn’t going to keep on shepherding them for Marcus.
She went to his office, where she not only found the door closed, but also guarded. The alpha was blocking the entrance with his arms folded over his immense chest, and with a look she knew would ensure nobody dared try and get past him. Wynter didn’t falter though. She walked right up to him and sneered.
“Demoted back to doorman, I see,” she teased, but the grey-skinned soldier didn’t respond. She was about to throw another insult his way, when he stepped aside and allowed her to pass, and Wynter couldn’t hide her shock as she went around the behemoth and then turned the knob.
She’d guessed Marcus had to be done with his feed or else he wouldn’t ever have allowed her in. She knew that much now at least, but was surprised to find him still hunched over the young man he must’ve invited to his office to tend to his needs. At first, she figured he had to be drinking from the guy’s wrist, but then she saw the plastic tube in her husband’s mouth and did a double-take.
He wasn’t taking the vein. Wasn’t forcing the Blood Slave at his mercy to succumb to the desires associated with his bite. Not imposing the affects upon him, and she had to wonder, had it been the same for all of the others? Strangely, she hoped so. Him sharing that experience with the other Supervisors hadn’t been something that’d come easily for her, and Wynter found herself feeling reassured at once. And sure enough, as she examined them further, there was a cannula in the young man’s arm. Marcus was drinking from the tube like a straw, but there was more. He was also letting some of the blood trickle into a bag by their feet.
When he was finished, her husband offered her a bloody smile and then tossed her the still warm bag.
“Feed your hordes,” he told her, and then pressed a button beneath his desk, which opened up some kind of hidden storage unit behind his drawers. It was refrigerated and inside Wynter saw there were more than a dozen of the same red bags. “Take one per pit. They’ll share and have just a few drops each. Keep them wanting, thirsty, and ready to serve you.”
She simply nodded to him, thinking there was so much she could say, and yet wasn’t ready to. Wynter felt like thanking Marcus for having respected her enough to not drink from the veins his slaves would so readily offer him, but refused to give him the satisfaction. It was a quiet victory she would gladly not bring to light, because really, the idea made her feel incredible. There was no sharing him. No having to endure the connections he was cultivating with others like she had once been. The feed was merely a transaction now, and she adored it.
With her arms full, Wynter then crept away and back out into the hallway, where the alpha fell in step beside her and then escorted his so-called queen through the gardens to where the pits lay beneath the ground.
When she reached the first one, Wynter had the alpha lift the heavy manhole and she spirited inside, and was met with the throb of a crowd rapidly forming around her. The soldiers were thirsty, but it appeared they were also desperate to see and touch her. To have Wynter reach for their hands like before, and so she did. She could read them all and sensed their desire like those needs were part of her own agenda somehow, and when she passed the closest vampire the blood bag and placed the tube between his blue lips, even she felt hungry.
She then watched as he took a sip and passed it along, and the next vampire did exactly the same before giving it to the next soldier in line. Not a single one of them had more than their fair share, and by the time they’d all been given a sip, Wynter was in awe. They were so dedicated it was astounding, and as she stood there feeling all sorts of things, she realised they were responding to her without her having to say a single word. The connection was there, no matter what, and a sense of pride swept through the throng like a wave of strength that then resonated through her army.
Damn, they truly were the ultimate fighting team, and she finally saw just why they were needed in this dark world. Should she give the word the human race would fall. It was a power she hadn’t asked for, but one she readily accepted because the alternative was the unthinkable. Marcus would’ve been the only other choice and with him at the helm, this same force would be unstoppable—making him unstoppable in return. He was bad enough as it was already. That much was true in how and where he’d utilised his army in the past. His personal vendettas had been fought and won thanks to the hordes, and she knew he would not have stopped there. At least this way, they would do no harm unless she commanded them to. Wrong no one without her say so. A far better alternative.
When she’d done the same with the other pits full of vampire soldiers, Wynter ghosted back up and out, where the alpha met her. He was looking down at her with that intense red stare again, and she glared back up at him.
“Why,” she asked incredulously, “why me?”
He simply stared back at her and offered Wynter no response. There seemed to be no soul behind his dead eyes and this time, he offered her nothing. No smile. No frown. Nothing but the look of a mindless, robotic, loyal minion, and not to her. Rage bubbled up inside of her and she shook her head. “You basically are just a fucking zombie, aren’t you? Why don’t you think for yourself? Say something? Be your own man?”
He simply continued to say and do nothing, and so Wynter turned and walked away. She headed straight for her little office so that she could be alone with her thoughts, even if they were what were driving her insane right now.
She sat at her desk a few minutes later, feeling sorry for herself and decided it was time she truly took stock of her life. She wanted more. Not necessarily an empire like Marcus had built, but more than just the few thousand vampire soldiers she barely had to lift a finger to command. Once again those feelings of worthlessness were chiding her, and she felt lacking in purpose. She needed to learn more about what she truly was, and knew the answer. She needed her mentor. Brodie had a lot left to teach her, and Wynter found herself missing him.
As if she knew, Marcella then appeared out of nowhere and, even though things had been stretched between them after their last altercation, it seemed she was ready to extend the proverbial olive branch. She reached out her hand and in her palm was the black and white bracelet Wynter had used to wear. The one she’d been led to believe had connected her to Brodie.
“I kept this, and didn’t know why, but now I do. You need him, and he needs you,” Marcella whispered and then, when she took it, disappeared without another word.
With a petulant huff, Wynter slipped the bracelet onto her wrist. She was sure nothing would happen, but the second she did, she realised that it did indeed still connect her to the jinni who had later given her immortal life.
She closed her eyes and focussed, and quickly found she could sense him. Her maker. They were bonded, just like vampires with their slaves.
Brodie was still on the island, Wynter could somehow tell, and he was happy. He was moving forward with his life and yet she knew he’d been thinking of her too. Part of her wondered if maybe they’d been connected even without the material link? Like some kind of bond that’d linked them even after all this time.
She still had so much left to learn from Brodie and found herself contemplating how she might go to hi
m. How she could instigate some freedom from Marcus’s prison and what she might have to sacrifice in order to make it happen. After all, this was the key to her finding herself, she realised.
Wynter needed to make amends and reconnect with her friends. She needed to learn everything she could and, most importantly, needed to find herself in the process. Thanks to the bracelet on her wrist, the pull to Brodie was as strong as when Marcus would call her to his side using his hex before. It was intense, and Wynter spent the rest of the day in a haze, focussed only on getting herself to her mentor’s side.
And so, she thought how she might go about buttering her husband up. Her plans to behave and take her life for what it now was had done her well. She had earned Marcus’s trust and now had an entire vampire army at her back, but she didn’t need them for this task. No, this favour would need the oldest trick in the book—some good old fashioned seduction.
As the humans in their keep finally began settling down for the evening, the constant flow of visitors to Marcus’s office finally stemmed and Wynter crept inside, watching him work. He had his head down and seemed focussed on the papers in his hands, but she wasn’t so convinced. She knew how susceptible he was to her lure, and so stepped over to him silently, her feet merely billowing on the ground like the cloud she often was.
She went around behind him and decided it was time he was wearing far less clothes, so made quick work of sliding loose his tie and then discarding it on the ground. Next, she plucked open the buttons on his crisp blue shirt, but rather than remove it, Wynter had another idea. She pulled the back taught and lifted it up over the back of his chair so that Marcus’s hands and arms were forced backwards and he dropped the paperwork down onto his desk.
Even in Death Page 13
