Jacob moved away. “It doesn’t change anything.”
Catherine inclined her head toward him. “But why not tell us?”
“I know a lot of vampires.” I shrugged. “I own a bar for God sake.”
Catherine turned back to me. “Lucas filled us in on what you failed to tell us.”
“It changes nothing,” Jacob said.
“How do you know Lucas?” Alex asked, looking like he was the last one to know.
I answered with merely a raise of an eyebrow.
“I’m not sure why that surprises me,” Alex said.
“Can we please refocus on the issue?” I asked, keeping my tone polite. “My personal life pales in comparison to the fact that vampires are dying.” I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts, searching the darkness as though the answers lingered just beyond and might just emerge from the shadows.
Silence ensued.
Jacob straightened his back. “I’m afraid you’re on your own, William. For now anyway.”
“I’ve been waiting here, losing time,” I said, suppressing my panic.
“Jacob, you can’t just abandon us,” Alex pleaded. “We’re not even sure how much time we have.”
“Who mentioned anything about a time limit?” I saw Jacob’s expression and cringed. “You’re suggesting I may run out of time to revert?”
He stared off past me.
“Great,” I snapped. “How much time are we talking about exactly?”
“Days, weeks, perhaps,” Jacob answered.
“Where did this time thing come from?” My hands started shaking again.
“This isn’t the first time this has happened,” Jacob said, “two vampires joined like you.”
I opened my mouth to speak and then closed it quickly again.
“Say it.” Jacob stepped into my line of sight.
“I don’t trust any of you,” I said flatly.
“We have a name,” Catherine sounded rehearsed. “A vampire that has direct knowledge of what’s happened to you.”
“Who?” I muttered.
Catherine’s frown deepened. “More like what.”
My focus lingered on each of them waiting for someone to continue.
It was Jacob who did, saying, “His name’s Paradom.”
“How do you know him?” I asked.
“Through Lucas,” Jacob said. “His charity serves the homeless. That’s where Lucas came across Paradom.”
“Paradom’s homeless?” I asked, hating the sound of this.
Catherine raised her chin. “Go take a look at him and you’ll soon want to reverse this mess.”
My gut wrenched as my imagination spiraled.
“Our priority must be to find out what is going on in London,” Jacob said, “before it migrates to other cities.”
“It’s self-limiting,” Catherine said. “Vampires can’t catch it from each other.”
“We’ve only seen cases in London, so far,” Jacob added.
“What can I do?” I offered, though it didn’t seem to convince any of them.
Catherine’s frown deepened. “Don’t get in the way.”
I responded with a careful silence.
“You have our permission to leave here,” Catherine said. “But one of us will be keeping track of you.”
I stepped toward Jacob. “Where will I find Paradom?”
“King’s Cross, beneath the tube station,” Jacob answered. “Paradom’s been seen there on more than one occasion. He moves around.”
“Once Lucas has the scrolls, you’ll let me know?” I asked, scrutinizing Jacob’s face for reassurance.
“Of course,” Jacob said.
I shook my head in frustration. “So that’s it?
“Circumstances have changed,” Catherine said coldly.
Jacob wagged his chin. “The needs of the many . . . you know how it goes.”
“I don’t think he should leave here,” Alex said.
Catherine rolled her eyes. “Alex, remember who we’re dealing with.”
I stretched the tension out of my hands but it didn’t help.
“You’re trapped in your own personal hell, Orpheus,” Catherine said. “Ironic, don’t you think?”
Chapter 4
WAITING PATIENTLY ON King’s Cross’s tube station platform, I watched the other passengers disappear out of sight. The ground rumbled as the train pulled away; the air forced out from the tunnel billowed my coat.
It doesn’t have to be this way, uttered my conscience, entertaining the same idea I’d ruminated over since yesterday when I’d left The Mount. Death is a reasonable alternative to being stuck in this body.
Ah, but the possibilities, came that quiet musing of my ego.
As soon as everyone had deserted the platform, I leaped onto the track and flew along it, listening out for any noise that might hint to a lurking nightwalker.
Something crunched beneath my feet and I cringed at the sight of scattered fine animal bones.
Following the trail of skeletons, the apparent remains of rodents led me to a faded red doorway hanging off its hinges. Easing my way through, I sensed someone watching me, though glancing back I saw no one. Spreading out before me was a long service corridor about five feet in width, running the full length of the track.
A blur of movement shifted just up ahead and then something scrambled away in the opposite direction, scurrying upside down along the arched ceiling.
I bolted after it, whatever it was, trying to keep up with the creature that was picking up speed, its claws scraping the brick work and sending dust flying.
Closing in again I flew through the hole right behind it, landing straight back onto the same track I’d just come from, blinded by a train’s headlights speeding right at me.
Barely missing the first carriage, I darted upward and clung to the jagged bricks above, my coat flapping wildly, deafened by the screeches of metal on metal. The train rocketed beneath, down the pitch-black track.
When the last carriage finally passed, I flung myself toward side of the track, hoping to avoid repeating that same mistake.
That dark phantom had seemed more like a large rodent than a vampire.
“You’ll soon want to reverse this mess.” Catherine’s words still rung in my ears.
Nausea came out of nowhere and I wretched against the wall.
Wiping my mouth with my sleeve, I headed back up the track trying to shake the feeling of being watched again from the shadows.
A flash of electricity lit up the tunnel and there, standing just a few feet away, was a familiar green-eyed, titian-haired vampire staring back, a man who could have just stepped out of a painting by Botticelli. His steeliness reflected a timeless intensity, a proud and effortless stature eliciting an array of emotions and stirring memories spanning centuries; enough devilish adventures to spill tears of laughter from both of us.
Having rescued this wayward nightwalker over four hundred years ago, it pained me he didn’t recognize me.
“Marcus.” It felt good to say his name.
“How do you know who I am?” he asked, his cockney accent as rich as ever.
“Everyone knows who you are, Marcus,” I said confidently. “You’re vampire sovereignty.”
His gaze narrowed. “Who are you?”
“William Rolfe,” I said it quickly, hoping he’d believe it.
“What are you doing down here?”
I shut my mind down, making it impenetrable. “Searching for someone.”
“Who?”
“Paradom.”
“Apparently there is a crazy down here but I don’t know his name.” Marcus lowered his chin and locked on me trying to extract more.
“What are you doing down here?” I asked.
His gaze narrowed, hinting he didn’t like being spoken to like that. “One of my men detected a Status Regal in London,” he said. “Thought I’d check it out.”
“A Status Regal, down here?”
“I l
ost him,” Marcus admitted.
Actually, he hadn’t. I was the Status Regal he’d been tracking, but admitting that would result in more questions.
Marcus’s gaze scoured the tunnel. “What do you want with Paradom?”
“Information.”
“About what?”
“Lots of questions, Marcus.”
“Seems like I’m the one with the answers.”
“You’re looking for Orpheus?” I watched his reaction.
He hesitated. “And how would you know that?”
“I know him. Intimately,” I said it too quickly.
“He’s never mentioned you.”
“Really?”
“I find that rather odd.”
“I work for him,” I told him. “Deal mostly with the ‘tedious crap,’ as Orpheus calls it.”
“Like?”
Seeing Marcus again brought some comfort, but I knew well enough to keep my distance. “Investments.” I hoped that sounded convincing.
“He has a broker.”
“Orpheus hates his broker.” I bit my lip, thinking of how much better I could have phrased that. “But he likes his accountant.” I gave a crooked smile.
“How come I’ve never met you?”
“I’m rarely in London.”
He scratched his chin, staring off. “Do you know where I can find him?”
“He’s taking care of some personal business, I believe.”
“How do you know him again?”
“We go way back.” I wondered whether now was a good time to explain the truth, though knowing Marcus’s unpredictable nature, I reconsidered. The last thing I needed was to provoke an assault.
“Prove it,” he said.
I tried to work out how best to handle him. “Orpheus rescued you from Blackfriars.”
“That’s not exactly a secret.”
“It’s not exactly common knowledge either.”
He folded his arms across his chest to let me know it wasn’t good enough.
“You once befriended Orpheus’s doppelganger . . .” I said wryly. “Orpheus was of course flattered.”
Marcus shifted his stance.
Realizing I’d brought up an intimate instance meant to be held in confidence, I tried to change the subject. “You found Jacob for him.”
“His son,” Marcus replied. “That was a long time ago. Orpheus told you that?” Marcus was uneasy. “Why has he never mentioned you?”
A train sped past spraying orange sparks. We both waited for it to head off down the track, allowing us to hear each other again.
“He finds me boring.” I gave a shrug, pleased to see the relaxed shift in Marcus’s demeanor.
He scratched his head, seeming to lose interest.
“He’s done this before,” I said. “Pissed off without telling anyone.”
Marcus took in a deep breath.
I tried to read him but his mind was elsewhere. “Listen, you don’t know anything about something poisoning vampires, do you?” I watched his reaction.
Marcus wore an incredulous expression. “I can see why Orpheus never mentioned you.”
He clearly knew nothing.
A dark shadow appeared a little way off behind him.
“Well it’s been a pleasure.” I kept the phantom in my sight.
“If you happen to see Orpheus again—”
“You’ll see him before me, I imagine.”
“If you do see him,” Marcus massaged his brow, “I need to know what he wants us to do with the girl.”
“Who?”
“We have a police inspector sniffing around Belshazzar’s,” Marcus sighed. “She’s threatening to shut us down.”
“Not Ingrid Jansen?” I asked, trying to act casual.
“Yes, you know her?”
“She’s of no consequence.” I turned away, as though not caring. “More of a playful distraction, apparently.”
“Ingrid was the lead detective on the Stonehenge case,” Marcus said. “You know of it?”
I gave a shrug. “Two girls murdered within days of each other. One corpse positioned at Stonehenge, the other at Avebury. Orpheus placed the dead girls there to mess with Jadeon’s state of mind.”
“Orpheus told you that?” Marcus asked, surprised that I knew so much.
“Yes,” I answered casually. “It was Orpheus’s way of drawing Jadeon and Ingrid together, hoping they’d destroy each other.” I caressed my chin thoughtfully. “Masterful.” And yet inside me raged a silent war of remorse, a self-loathing for all the suffering I’d caused. A selfish game where I’d ironically become the victim.
“The plan backfired,” Marcus said disapprovingly. “Jadeon and Ingrid fell in love.”
“Still, she’s ever obsessed with Orpheus,” I said, trying to appease him.
“The last time I saw Orpheus he was about to turn her.” He pursed his lips, evidently troubled she was still mortal. “He must have changed his mind.” His face was full of regret for saying too much.
Turning away I hoped he’d not caught my thoughts, though avoiding eye contact was equally risky.
Marcus kicked up some dirt. “Anyway, Ingrid seems to have forgotten much of what she knew about him.” He shook his head warily. “Her memory’s been wiped.”
“How can you tell?”
“She’s asking questions about Orpheus like she’s never actually met him. And she doesn’t remember me.” Marcus frowned his suspicion. “You didn’t ask me who wiped her memory.”
“Well?”
He hesitated, mistrust smoldering in his gaze. “Whoever did the deed is an ancient. She seems to have a selective memory.” Marcus was scrutinizing me. “Orpheus is so incredibly private. I’m surprised I’ve never met you before.”
“Feel the same way about you, Marcus.” I gestured my frustration.
“You seem to know an awful lot.”
“So do you.”
“I’m Orpheus’s best friend,” he snapped.
I glanced down the tunnel hoping for another train to pass.
Marcus was perturbed. “You kind of remind me of him, which is . . . strange.”
I gave a bored sigh. “What are you going to do with Ingrid?”
Marcus shoved his hands into his pockets. “If I can’t find Orpheus, that decision rests with me.” He went to walk away and then paused as though he too sensed someone. “I’m going to turn her, probably.”
I hoped he missed my reaction.
* * * *
As the elevator descended, I grasped the rail, hating the sensation. Out of nowhere I’d developed an annoying phobia of heights.
Another dread came over me as I recalled how Belshazzar’s, Belgravia’s most exclusive club, had once been my most frequent haunt and yet now all it brought was angst. The part of me that had once found pleasure here was changed irrecoverably and all the joy this place offered was now gone.
Marcus and I had parted ways within the hour, which was easily enough time for him to turn Ingrid.
The lift jolted to a stop.
Had it not been for Ingrid’s stubbornness getting her detained here in London’s premier vampire lair, I’d have caught that rat-like creature by now and ruled out he wasn’t Paradom.
The doors slid open and I realized I’d been holding my breath.
I stepped out warily and came face to face with our resident American Zachary Harris, who was Marcus’s servant. He wore the leather collar of a fledging. Just last week Zachary had been transformed from a Gothica into a nightwalker. He was evidently still adjusting to his elevated status.
Zachary held up his hand. “That’s far enough,” he said with a soft Louisiana lilt.
Voices echoed from down the corridor, coming from one of the farthest chambers.
“I’m here to see Marcus,” I said, annoyed that I even had to say it, feeling like a stranger in the place I owned.
Zachary gestured back to the elevator. “Not without my permission.”
“Zach
ary . . .” I shoved him against the wall and held him there. “You disappoint me.”
He flinched, forming words but unable to speak them.
“Well hello again,” Marcus said calmly. “Now let him go.”
Zachary twisted out of my grip.
“You okay?” Marcus asked him.
Zachary straightened his shirt, blushing with embarrassment, clearly shaken.
“What are you doing here?” Marcus asked me, gesturing for Zachary to get out of my way.
“Official business,” I said.
He waved off Zachary. “What kind?”
“Financial.” I winked at Zachary.
He sped up toward the elevator.
“Orpheus asked me to deal with your problem,” I said.
“Not sure we need your help,” Marcus said coldly.
“If you handle this wrong you’ll have Scotland Yard all over Belshazzar’s.”
“I find it odd that I met you just hours ago and now you’ve turned up here.”
“Stranger things have happened,” I said.
“Like what?” he asked.
“The way your barman makes Bloody Marys. He’s adding two shots of Vodka. Now, by my calculation he’s wasting your money to make his drinks taste better. And if you do the math over a year— “
“What is that?” He saw the necktie I was holding.
“It belongs to Sergeant Blake, Ingrid’s colleague. He’s in a Rover outside, waiting for her. I removed it from his neck without him noticing. It’s a party trick of mine.”
“You’re a fucking accountant.”
“I have other skills.” I tucked the tie into my pocket.
“I don’t trust you, William. And I don’t like you.”
“Still.” I feigned I had no choice.
“Thanks for the offer.” Marcus gestured for me to get back into the lift. “I’m handling this just fine.”
“Orpheus gave me just one directive,” I said flatly. “If Belshazzar’s is ever under threat I’m to carry out his instructions.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
I motioned the obvious. “You told me Ingrid was threatening the club.” I strolled confidently passed him, ignoring the cell where I believed Ingrid was being held and headed right to the end of the corridor and straight into Orpheus’s office.
Marcus seethed from the doorway. “What the hell?”
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