A Vampire's Dominion

by Vanessa Fewings

  He shrugged. “We’ve only got one mug.”

  “Why can’t I have that?”

  “It’s not like you’re actually going to be drinking from it. Anyway, the Inspector’s got it.”

  Ingrid strolled in, her hands wrapped around the mug as though drawing warmth from its heat. I threw Sebastian an annoyed frown for not warning me.

  He acknowledged my silent criticism. “That’s for my bike.” He headed out and edged passed Ingrid.

  “An art gallery?” she asked. “You never fail to surprise me.”

  I pointed to the chair. “You’ve spoken with Blake?”

  She gestured she wanted to stand. “We argued. He hung up. I’ve left him several messages.”

  “Try to see it from his perspective, Ingrid.”

  “As opposed to whose, yours?” She saw the map. “What’s that?”

  I tucked it away in the desk side drawer.

  She gave a suspicious frown. “Sebastian makes lovely tea. What else does he do for you?”

  “You mentioned something about an investigation on the phone? Didn’t say anything about popping in.”

  She pulled the chair out and sat. “There was an incident at the British Museum.” She hovered the mug over the desk. “Do you have a coaster?”

  “We need a new desk anyway.” I beamed a smile.

  She hesitated, set the mug down and then said, “There was a break in.”

  “I see.”

  She looked tense. “My case has no evidence.”

  “Surveillance cameras?”

  “Disarmed.”

  “What was stolen?”

  “A mummy.” She lifted her mug and took a sip. “How much do they run for on the black market?” She pulled a face. “Just wondering.”

  “I wouldn’t know.” I sat up. “What about your other case back in Salisbury?”

  “It’s ongoing.”

  “You were taken off it?”

  “My expertise was needed here.” She shifted uncomfortably.

  “Vanderbilt placed you on this case?”

  “This is another high profile crime.” She crossed her legs. “Do you or someone you know have anything to do with this incident?”

  “Sebastian,” I called out.

  He appeared in the doorway holding a copy of The London Times.

  “The museum wants their mummy back,” I said. “Have you unwrapped it yet?”

  He raised his eyes to the ceiling and walked away.

  Ingrid spun round and pursed her lips.

  “It’s probably gone to a private collector,” I offered.

  “We’ve considered that.” She narrowed her gaze. “Sebastian mentioned something about sculptures? Not collecting Egyptian artifacts as well are you?”

  “How long have you been on this case?”

  “Why?”

  “Just wondering why you’re bringing it up now. We’ve seen each other several times since you started your investigation.”

  “It’s been a need-to-know case.”

  I sat back. “Go on then, let me see it.”

  “What?”

  I gave her a look.

  She removed the piece of paper from her handbag and placed it on the desk before me. “It’s the museum’s photocopy of the missing parchment,” she said. “The writing’s Aramaic but a form they’re unfamiliar with.”

  “I have a friend who can interpret this.” I slid it back to her. “Can I have a copy?”

  “Of course.” She seemed to relax a little.

  Rain struck the windowpane and water pooled on the ledge.

  I rose and strolled over to pull the latch closed.

  Ingrid came around the desk and stood close, seemingly trying to gauge the reason for my disquietude.

  My gaze rested on her lips. “Looks like you’ll need an umbrella.”

  “William.”

  The moon reappeared from behind grayish clouds and sopping leaves tumbled off down the street.

  She came closer. “Thank you for offering to help me on this.”

  “Did I?”

  Ingrid gave a long sigh and took in the office. “You have some lovely paintings here.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I want you to trust me.”

  “You can have mine.”

  “Huh?” she asked.

  “Umbrella.”

  “Oh, yes of course. Thank you.”

  I checked the window latch though it didn’t need it. “If you want to wait in the gallery until the weather breaks, that would be fine.”

  Clouds glided longingly, caressing the night sky with soft puffs of white, though further away darker clouds threatened to close in.

  She broke the silence with a sigh. “James is a good man.”

  I went to reply but the words didn’t come.

  “He’s always been a good friend to me,” she added.

  I faced her, trying to read the truth in her eyes.

  “He gets ticks in most of the boxes,” she said wistfully.

  “Ask Sebastian to make a photocopy.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Your evidence,” I said. “We’ll make sure it gets into expert hands.”

  “I appreciate your help on this.” Ingrid headed toward the door and turned slightly. “No one will ever know about you, I promise.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  She hesitated, waiting for me to say something else.

  I wanted to offer reassurance that she was making the right decision with James but instead turned away, not wanting her to read doubt in my eyes that she’d find happiness with him.

  Though Ingrid had left, it felt as though some part of her still lingered.

  The rain didn’t let up, striking with such insistence it sounded as though it was warning me to go after her.

  I sensed Sebastian in the doorway.

  “Would vampires ever be caught dead in Wellington Boots?” he asked and glanced outside.

  I gave a crooked smile and pulled the long drapes to shut out the world.

  “So what’s this evidence I photocopied for Inspector Jansen?” he asked.

  “I offered to show it to a friend who can read hieroglyphics,” I said.

  He grinned. “Surely there’s experts at the museum that can do that?”

  “He’s a renowned Professor of ancient Egyptian.” I threw Sebastian a wary look. “Don’t say it, Sebastian.”

  “I see the way she looks at you. And the way you look at her.”

  I rested against the ledge.

  Sebastian twisted his mouth as though mulling over his next words. “Overheard her ask your opinion about James.”

  “What could I say?”

  “You’re not planning on telling her then?” he asked. “About Lola?”

  I peered over at the half empty mug resting on the desk. “This is her chance at a normal life.”

  “Who are you trying to convince?” He came closer. “Why are you afraid of your feelings for her?”

  “It’s a matter of pain now or pain later.”

  “Funny, you strike me as someone who goes after what they want.”

  With a flash of thought, I was sitting back down at the desk.

  “I’ll never get used to that,” he said in a high-pitched tone.

  “Yes, you will.”

  “You once told me that what we love is worth fighting for.”

  “Sure that was me?”

  “You’re terrified of needing her.” Sebastian stepped closer.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Love often is.”

  “Have you any idea of the will power it takes not to bury my fangs into her?” I rose and came round to his side. “It’s my natural inclination. That’s what I’m up against.”

  Sebastian sat on the edge of the desk. “You don’t seem to mind me being around.”

  “I don’t want to . . . do things to you.”

  “Really? I’m offended.” He leaned toward me. “She’s in love with
you. Are you really going to just stay locked up in here—” He scanned the office— “with your precious paintings by men long dead and let life pass you by?”

  “So what’s next?”

  He paused and then said, “I could always visit Cambridge University. Go back to find other students who are still members?”

  “Too dangerous.”

  “The list you found my name on. I may recognize some of the other names.”

  “I’ll get it for you.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” Sebastian pulled a post-it note from his pocket. “A gentleman by the name of—” He read the note— “Lucas Azir phoned while you were out. He wants you to call him.” Sebastian handed it to me.

  Reverently, I studied the scribbled phone number.

  Sebastian picked up the mug. “You and Ingrid, you’re both the same.” He gave a knowing nod. “You’re both trying to save the world one person at a time.”

  I can’t even save myself.

  “There’s something about her that’s haunting,” Sebastian whispered.

  I looked up at him and gave a sigh. “Seb, I’m not sure there’s any more room for any more ghosts.”

  Chapter 20

  USING THE FRONT DOOR had been out of the question.

  And yet entering via the bedroom window of James’s flat felt wrong too. The idea of having to engage in small talk with him was mildly annoying, and I was well past trying to come up with a convincing explanation of why I’d come here again at this time of evening.

  Sounds from the kitchen carried and a rich aroma of spices filled the apartment. With my supernatural hearing, I picked up the pasta bubbling on the stove as well as the highly seasoned sauce being methodically stirred in another pan; a rich Cabernet was currently being enjoyed.

  Ingrid strolled into the bedroom carrying a long stemmed wine glass. Taking a sip as she walked, she suddenly saw me and halted, the burgundy liquid swooshing, threatening to spill.

  Quickly, she closed the door behind her and said, “What are you doing here?”

  “I don’t have your number.”

  “I work at Scotland Yard, you could have phoned me there.” She placed her glass down on the Elmwood chest of drawers.

  “I’ve arranged the meeting.”

  “What meeting?”

  “With my friend, the Egyptologist. He’s deciphering your parchment.”

  “You needed to tell me that now?”

  I tried a smile.

  “Meet me outside,” she said.

  The door opened.

  Ingrid spun round and came face to face with James. “I can explain.”

  “I’m not that anal, Ingrid.” James lifted the glass and reached for the silver coaster, resting the glass on it.

  Ingrid shot round and saw I’d gone.

  “Dinner’s almost ready,” James said.

  “I have to go out.”

  He let out a long irritated sigh. “It’s nine o’clock.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Of course you are.” He slammed the door shut behind him.

  Leaning against my red Ferrari, I waited for her.

  Ingrid, now dressed in jeans and a black coat, stormed out of the building toward me. “What the hell were you thinking?” she snapped.

  “Grey walls in the bedroom, really?” I asked.

  She eyed up the Ferrari. “This yours?”

  I pointed to the manila folder she was holding. “What’s in the file?”

  “You’re about to find out.”

  I opened the car door for her.

  “You had no right to come here.” She strolled round to the front and checked the number plate. “Anyway, I thought you had to be invited in?”

  “Now that would be boring.”

  “We’re using mine.” She headed off toward the long line of parked cars.

  I shut my car door and headed after her. Ingrid slipped behind the wheel of her Rover. Once inside with her, I slid back the seat. She revved the car more times then it needed and steered us away from the curb, quickly picking up speed.

  I peered into the back seat and saw the numerous discarded empty sweet wrappers.

  “Been under some extra stress lately?” I gestured to the tell-tale evidence.

  She glanced at her side view mirror. “Don’t always get time for lunch.”

  “I visited the scene of the crime,” I said.

  “You went to the museum?”

  “Watch where you’re going!” I pointed to the road. “One of us is undead let’s not make that two.”

  She grabbed the clutch and changed gears with verve. “The museum’s still cordoned off.”

  “I was careful.”

  “Well?”

  “It was a professional job.”

  “I assumed that.”

  “You did ask me to help you.”

  She shot me an annoyed look.

  “At some point you really should talk about it,” I said.

  “Talk about what?” She shook her head and shifted the gearstick with brute force.

  “I want to help you.” I reached for the handrail above the window.

  Her eyes went wild. “You mean manipulate me?”

  “Your fear of abandonment, shall we explore it?”

  Her fingers clutched the steering wheel.

  “If you marry someone you don’t love,” I continued, “and he leaves you, there’ll be minimal pain. Am I right?”

  She steered wide on Sloane Street. “You had no right to visit James’s flat.” She adjusted her seatbelt. “I think I’m starting to hate you.”

  My fingers slipped off the rail. “Pull over.”

  “Driving helps me think.”

  “You call this driving?”

  “All I’m asking is that you call ahead, and don’t go around trashing crime scenes.” She raised a finger. “Don’t turn up uninvited.”

  We drove on in silence, with Ingrid seemingly in a quiet rage and I trying to fathom her indignation.

  She swerved toward the pavement and the car jerked to a stop.

  “Why do I get the sense that your recklessness isn’t reserved just for your driving?” I asked.

  “You want me to have a normal life, well this is me having one.” She reached for my arm. “It was only natural I would be drawn to you. Blake was right, you did swoop in and save me.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Promise me something.”

  I waited for her to continue, hoping she’d come around and see it from my perspective.

  Her cheeks blushed. “You must never touch me like that, ever again.”

  My mind raced to remember those intimate moments we’d shared, exploring each instance to disentangle the truth and recall if I’d truly be the one to initiate them.

  Without waiting for my answer, she was out of the car. There was something in her expression as she looked up, studying one of the taller Edwardian buildings.

  I exited the car and joined her, gazing up at the ornate brickwork, searching for the right words until I found them. “I’m sorry if I offended you.”

  “In my line of work there can be no distractions,” she said.

  “That explains James.”

  She folded her arms. “Blake and I were locked out of our investigation.” She stepped into the arched entranceway of a building, shielding herself from the cold. “I conducted my own inquiry.”

  I followed her, taking the one step under the archway. A shot of fear ran up my spine as soon as I saw it. Engraved into the stonework above the enormous double doorway was a skeleton key with a snake wrapped from its handle down and around to the blade.

  Sovereign.

  Jacob’s words resonated. “They’re ferocious.”

  “That folder you asked about,” she teased, “it contains some pretty interesting stuff.”

  I wanted to tell her she’d gone mad, but as she considered me with that wide-eye intensity I knew she had no idea of the danger she was putting herself in.
>
  The danger she put me in.

  “Your face just told me everything I needed to know.” She reached for the brass door handle.

  I pulled her back, terrified that Stone Lords might pour out of there any minute and drag us both inside.

  “This is Vanderbilt’s.” She waved the file. “In here he mentions this place.” She looked triumphant.

  I grabbed her arm and the folder dropped from her grasp. I spun her around, forcing her hands above her head, pinning her against the brick with my body.

  “Interesting reaction.” She tried to twist her wrists out from my grip. “I’m going to find out just what it is they get up to in there.”

  I tried to extract her words before she spoke them. “You’re delusional,” I whispered. “Go in there and you’re in serious trouble. If I go in there, I’m dead.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s secret handshakes and golf tournaments.”

  “That sugar’s gone to your brain.” I pointed above the doorway. “Do you know what that symbol represents?”

  “They’re men of law, scholars and scientists.” She glanced at the handle. “I’ve done my research.”

  “We’re leaving.” I picked up the manila folder and pulled her away along the pathway.

  With a flick of her wrist she unlocked the doors to the Rover and climbed in.

  I quickly joined her. “Start the engine.”

  “You’re probably right.” She adjusted the rearview mirror. “I should have given this more thought.”

  I threw the folder onto the back seat.

  “Just give me a minute to explain, okay?” she said. “The museum’s surveillance cameras were disarmed, but the ones from a building across the street were working just fine. The thief’s number plate is registered to this address.”

  I gestured for her to hurry up and start the engine.

  Ingrid placed the key in the ignition but didn’t turn it. “Chief Inspector Vanderbilt was conducting a subversive investigation on my case. Inside that file—” she pointed to the back seat— “I found his invitation to attend a meeting here.”

  “Vanderbilt was being summoned,” I realized.

  “Looks like my boss is a member of a secret society.” She raised her chin high.

  “And Vanderbilt’s the one who put you on this new case?”

  “He convinced me that the Salisbury case might be connected to the one at the museum.”