Death's Dark Horse

by Ruby Loren

  Half an hour later, she left the house. She felt miffed when she locked the door. It seemed rather pointless. That was another thing she needed to get sorted as soon as possible. Even though they’d got all up close and personal last night, she still didn’t want a vampire winding up in her bed anytime it pleased him.

  She smiled at the memory. Sure, he’d probably done it to manipulate her in some way, but it was nice to have some fun now and then.

  A grey spray of dust that had been lying on her doorstep was caught by the wind and scattered in her face. She snorted it out of her nose and looked down at the residue on the sandstone step. It definitely didn’t match the light sandy colour of the rock. Must be dust from the main road blown all this way. Maybe I’ll sweep it up later.

  There were so many things she needed to do, she realised. So, she did what any normal person would do and decided to do something fun first.

  She parked the pale blue Fiat in the tree-lined avenue next to the secondhand car dealership. She’d thought about getting something new, but she’d always loved a bargain and with secondhand - you never knew what was going to be on offer. It was exciting to not just browse through a catalogue. Also, the lower price tag would be good given her recent run of bad luck. She couldn’t rule out any further accidents.

  “Get something sensible and not too flashy,” she said aloud.

  She walked up the steps and was greeted by a smiling saleswoman, who instantly offered her a choice of hot beverages.

  One hour later, January checked her phone and knew that time was up. A decision had to be made. Her eyes lingered on the gleaming, blue-black paintwork and the sleek sporty shape, knowing that it was a bad choice. But it was a fun choice.

  “I’ll take it,” she said and suddenly she was the proud owner of a Lotus Europa. Perhaps she could tell everyone at work (who wanted to know about the car) that her friend from France - who’d had a fall and ended up in hospital - had returned to France but left the car for a while as a thank you?

  It was just too complicated. Better if she just claimed it had been super cheap and that she had savings. Who was going to know the truth?

  “January, there’s a phone call for you. I’m afraid I didn’t catch the caller’s name,” Charlie said and raised her fingers to show that she had five minutes.

  January nodded her thanks, feeling an anxious knot twist in her stomach. It had to be one of her parents. She hadn’t contacted them since the failed full moon trip. By now, they’d have heard about the dead wolves and her rejection of the pack. They’d also know that Jo was still missing.

  As soon as she’d arrived home after that bad night, she’d unplugged her phone. Her parents didn’t have her mobile number and hopefully they would just think she wasn’t there. No one had come knocking while she was at home, and part of her had hoped that this latest act of defiance was the one that would make them forget she was their daughter.

  Apparently, she was wrong.

  She picked up the phone, expecting to hear her mother’s nagging, or her father’s barked commands.

  “Target is Gregory Drax. Five million.” The monotone voice finished speaking and then the line went dead.

  January felt fingers of ice slide up her spine. How did they even know that she was back in England?

  She shook her head. That wasn’t the important bit.

  She’d just been ordered to kill the man she’d slept with last night.

  9

  The writing had been on the wall next to the hand dryer in The Grey Gecko nightclub. Four years later, January still often wondered how they had known she’d read it and then choose to call the number. Had it all just been down to chance? Her gut feeling always told her no, but she had no more answers beyond that.

  The ink had been black, but when she’d looked at it, it had seemed to waver in and out of focus. She’d only been twenty one at the time - and not a very worldly wise twenty one - but it didn’t take a genius to recognise a spell when you saw one. She’d blinked a while and had moved closer, surreptitiously pretending to dry her hands. While her friends filed past back into the club, she deciphered the strange writing.

  Find your true calling, 020 13

  She’d puzzled over the number for a while, instantly recognising the London area code but not believing that any phone number could be so short. She had been about to shrug and return to the club when the other symbol had appeared, written in silver and materialising on the wall like a last ditch attempt at persuasion. She’d looked at it for several seconds before making her mind up and going back to dance with her friends.

  Every dance beat had seemed to chant the number. 0,2,0,1,3…call me! Eventually, she’d given in and had gone out to get some air, ducking into a quiet road near the club and dialling the number.

  She’d almost jumped out of her skin when someone had answered on the first ring.

  “Yes?” The voice had said.

  January had been at a loss for a moment. “I, er, saw this number on a bathroom wall?” She’d thought it sounded ridiculous, but the voice had shown no amusement or annoyance. The voice never showed any emotion.

  “Yes, there is a job if you would like it. You’ll have to travel where no one knows who you are. We’ve picked Paris for the first few assignments. Money to cover the cost of the journey and one month’s average rent is already in your bank account. It’s yours, whether or not you choose to accept.”

  “A job? What is the job?” She’d asked.

  The voice had paused for a moment. “It’s disposing of vampires who are very hard to end. We believe you’ll be well suited to it. It’s only fair to warn you that we could be wrong, and you may die almost instantly. It’s a risk, but one you’ll be fairly compensated for. The bounty is set on how difficult the job is. You’ll be paid half upfront and half on deliverance.”

  “Could I turn down a job? I mean, if I thought it was too difficult, or if I were busy?” She’d asked.

  Although there’d been no note of disdain when the voice had spoken again, she’d still felt like it had been a question the person on the other end of the line disapproved of.

  “Once you’re in, you’re in forever, and you accept everything. There isn’t a strict time limit, but the job must be done.” He’d paused again, but only briefly. “I’d like to remind you that we do pay very well indeed. What’s more, we meant what the advertisement said. This is your calling. No one lives forever - not even the vampires - and there are many who are too old to be allowed to continue.”

  That had been when January had really started to wonder who was behind all of this. She’d thought it was a joke at first, and then she’d thought it was some supernatural spy assassin thing - but that no longer seemed quite right. If the voice could be believed, the vampires weren’t guilty of any particular crime other than being alive for far too long. Then there had been the ‘once you’re in, you’re in forever’ part.

  It was certainly weird.

  But she hadn’t been able to shake what the voice had said about her true calling. Hadn’t she felt different and alone for long enough? Didn’t she dream everyday of a way to escape the disappointment of her parents and their regimented lifestyle? It had been a heaven-sent opportunity.

  “I’m in,” she’d said, her voice breathy with anticipation. Looking back - now more than ever - January wasn’t sure that it had been the right choice.

  She’d waited, her nerves twitching, when the voice at the other end of the line had stayed silent for several seconds. She’d expected a burst of laughter and a ‘got you’ shouted into her ear, as it turned out to all be some big windup, but it hadn’t come.

  “Check your bank account and leave as soon as possible,” the voice had said. The line had gone dead just as January had started to ask how they were going to transfer the money. She hadn’t even told them her name. She’d brushed it off as a nonsensical experience and had gone back into the club, pleased that the number was no longer pinging around in her brain.


  The next morning, she’d checked her bank account online and discovered that her balance had gone up by ten thousand pounds.

  “Holy hell, I don’t know how to kill a vampire!” Had been the first words out of her mouth.

  It was as if her mysterious employer had heard her, because a package addressed to her had arrived in that morning’s post. She’d opened it to discover an old looking leather-bound book. Turning over the front cover had revealed the title, embossed in gold on the first page.

  “How to Kill a Vampire,” she’d read, un-amused.

  “Hey, lazy! Go and serve that guy over there. He’s been waiting for ages.” January was thrown out of her memories back into the present day, where Lucy was rudely snapping her fingers under her nose. The brunette girl shook her head in disapproval, her fake eyelashes looking like spider’s legs. January privately made plans to switch her eyelash glue for the more permanent kind.

  “I’ll get on it,” she said, but couldn’t resist a pointed glance at the as-yet-uncut daily special, which Lucy had made that morning. She was still smiling about her small act of defiance when she turned around and almost walked into the customer she was meant to be serving.

  “Aaaargh!” She exclaimed and then clapped a hand over her mouth, as customers turned to stare. “Sorry, I thought I saw a spider!” She said, loudly enough that everyone could hear.

  “What can I get for you today, Sir?” She asked, a large fake smile already on her face.

  Luke Bingley smiled back, only his was warm and genuine looking. Yeah right, she thought.

  “You left so early last night. I invited the whole band to stay for drinks on the house.”

  “Sorry, I had a friend who was taken to hospital…” she said.

  Luke nodded. “Ah yes, I remember.” His eyes flashed and she knew he’d recognised the lie.

  What game were they playing today? He hadn’t yet accused her of inciting rebellion in the ranks. He also hadn’t dragged her out of the coffee shop to squash that rebellion once and for all, but there was still time…

  “I’m glad you’ll be performing in my bar so often. You’re a person with unique talents,” he said in his trademark vague and pointed way, that was so confusing.

  January decided the best thing to do would be to accept it at face value – he was talking about her bass playing. “Oh, I just stand at the back and get on with it. The real stars are Mike and Cherri.”

  “That’s the singer isn’t it? Cherri?”

  January nodded and looked away, just catching the flicker of distaste that passed across Luke’s face.

  She suddenly wondered if he’d overheard her telephone conversation a few minutes ago. Had he been here then? Would he be able to decipher it? The possibilities rushed round her head and she suddenly felt sick.

  “Sit down,” Luke said, quickly pulling a chair out for her.

  She sank down, feeling her head clear.

  Charlie rushed over having seen the whole thing. “What’s wrong January, are you feeling okay? Did you have a slice of the daily special?” She added in an undertone, with a twinkle in her eye.

  January smiled in spite of everything, feeling her head stop spinning. “I think it’s just lack of sleep. Sorry, I feel fine now. Maybe I’ll get Matt to make me one of his triple espressos.”

  Charlie’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “What kept you up, hun?” She asked with a wink.

  January blushed, feeling like the truth of it was written all over her face. Charlie looked across at Luke, like she was sharing an in joke, and then straightened up, the grin still on her face. “I’d better go and serve some customers. Maybe one of them will be brave enough to try that cake. I keep telling them how much Lucy’s improving.”

  They all looked at the beautiful ginger cake with its pale lemon whip icing that had been painstakingly piped into roses. January would never have bothered with something fussy like that.

  They both knew full well that it would taste like cardboard.

  “I think the regulars are pretty smart,” January observed.

  She only realised exactly what Charlie had been implying when she’d gone to talk to Mr Pettigrew on the other side of the room.

  Luke was still watching her when she felt the colour rise to her face for a second time.

  “So, who was it then?” He asked, curiously.

  January jumped to her feet. “My… boyfriend who came over from Paris,” she improvised. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  Luke wasn’t low enough to raise an eyebrow, the way Gregory would have done. “Another visitor from Paris! You must be inundated.”

  January ignored the jibe and pointedly got her notepad out.

  “A macchiato and something that you baked, please,” he ordered.

  January had to feign writing it down.

  “What is it you really came here for?” She asked, keeping her voice light and curious when she placed down the macchiato and a slice of sticky lemon drizzle tray bake she’d made that morning (it was almost sold out).

  “Can’t a man just want a decent cup of coffee and a slice of…” He glanced down. “Something that is no doubt excellent?”

  So, a knowledge of cakes was not something Luke Bingley possessed. It was the first meaningful thing she’d found out about him. Too bad it wasn’t going to help solve any of her problems.

  “I was hoping you might have found out more about my sister? Given that she is a member of your pack and in your employ.”

  Luke tried not to look annoyed at her criticism of his leadership. It was an especially dangerous move after last night’s events, January suddenly realised.

  “Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to find out anything significant. A fox thinks he saw a horse running through the forest in the rough direction of Hailfield on the night you said she left The Witch’s Wand, but that’s all I’ve managed to discover.”

  Now January felt a little bad for pressuring him. A feeling of melancholy washed over her, as she finally started to accept that her sister may be gone for good. It was a week since she’d disappeared.

  “Enjoy your cake,” she said and walked off to ask Charlie if there was anything that needed to be done in the kitchen, so she could avoid seeing Luke again.

  “I will. In fact, I like it here so much, I think I might be turning into something of a regular,” he called after her as she walked away.

  January turned and gave him her most dazzling smile. “That’s great!”

  So, that’s why he’s here, to show he can always keep an eye on me! It correlated with the fortnightly gig booking as well. It was all a show of his power.

  January shook her head. When would Luke Bingley realise that she didn’t want to knock him off his throne? She wasn’t here to lead a mutiny. It was her opinion that any unsatisfied shifters should stand up for themselves. She just didn’t want to join the pack. It wasn’t like she was going to be around for long, anyway. Tragic though it was, if no trace of her sister could be found in the next few weeks, she’d have to give the quest up. Her one remaining tie with this place would be severed.

  Charlie asked her to check the dishwasher. January was halfway through stacking up plates to put away, when she realised that her previous thought was no longer true. She had another job to do before she was able to leave.

  She just didn’t know if she could do it.

  10

  The band wore black on Saturday night. January was glad she’d briefed them on the kind of place they were going to. Well - kind of. She’d skipped the whole ‘it’s a vampire hangout’ bit. Instead, she’d called the crowd ‘alternative’ and suggested they might like a rockier set. Fortunately Vicious Little Darlings had been going for years before she’d joined. Their set list was rather impressive.

  “This one’s an old classic. We’re taking a trip down the highway to hell!”

  January found a smile was on her face as she wondered what the vampires in the audience would make of that
song being an ‘old classic’. Classic for them might mean baroque, or even further back in some cases.

  Her eyes accidentally found Gregory’s and she knew that he was certainly one such vampire. She instantaneously broke eye contact, unable to stare down a person she had to kill at some later date.

  This was a mess.

  She’d never known her targets before, let alone had intimate relations with them. Perhaps it was penance for moving back to England without her employer’s say so. Some small part of her wondered if this hadn’t been their plan all along. They seemed to know everything about her, including her recent change of location. Would it have been so hard for them to figure out that the way to get to her was through her sister? Her disappearance could be to keep January here. That would also explain why no one knew anything.

  She sighed while she rattled out the bass line to another ZZ Top song.

  It wasn’t really their style.

  Her mysterious employers may be all knowing, but she couldn’t see them actually doing anything that involved taking action. Why else had she been employed to do their dirty work for them?

  Five million pounds… She wondered what Gregory would think of that figure. He’d probably offer to pay her more not to do it, if he found out. That or he’d laugh in her face. It was irrelevant, anyway. He wasn’t going to find out. Once you’re in, you’re in forever, the old voice echoed in her head. She turned her amp up a little bit louder to try and drown it out.

  It was halftime all too soon and this time there was no greenroom offered to slink off to in order to avoid meeting any vampires. While the few scattered through the audience weren’t nearly as intimidating as the shifters had been last week, she could tell that Gregory hadn’t bothered to brief them about a shifter providing the entertainment. They were all frowning at her. Then there was the boss vampire himself, whom January wasn’t sure she could face right now.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t really have a choice.