by Ruby Loren
Mike jumped off the stage and walked towards the big, blonde vampire, with his hand outstretched. Oh no, she thought, noting the faux pas and jumping off stage to follow the lead guitarist. To her surprise, by the time she’d got there, Gregory had actually shaken Mike’s hand.
“Mr Drax, thank you for booking us! We’ve really enjoyed it so far and your place is…” He looked around at the faux gothic fixings, “…so atmospheric!”
January saw Gregory barely conceal a smile when Mike continued to suck up.
“I can’t believe I’ve never been here before.” Mike looked genuinely puzzled.
January suddenly wondered if the vampires glamoured people they didn’t want in the pub in order to make them forget about it. She could see why they might do that to someone like Mike. He’d already committed a nearly unforgivable sin by marching up and introducing himself. You always let the vampire make the first move. Even shifters respected that.
“We don’t promote ourselves,” Gregory told Mike with the slightest smile.
Mike glanced around at all the people. “Well, the exclusivity thing is really working for your business. Right on!” He said and balled his hand into a fist for a fist bump, which was one step too far.
January dragged Mike away on the pretence that she urgently needed to check something about one of the songs in the next set.
When he’d disappeared off to socialise with someone else - who was thankfully not a vampire - January desperately checked the room to make sure her other bandmates weren’t also getting into trouble.
Lewis was chatting to a peroxide blonde that had somehow contrived to look even more fake than Cherri, although he didn’t look that interested. January’s eyes flicked onwards. She finally located the small singer herself in deep discussion with a tousle-haired vampire. He looked like Edward Cullen from Twilight and January suspected it was intentional. She chewed her lip, wondering whether she should get involved.
The teenage romance cover vamp looked up and smiled at her over the singer’s head. She didn’t like his smile.
“She can handle herself.” Gregory had come up behind her.
“I’m not exactly best buds with her, but it still doesn’t feel right letting a vampire chat her up, do whatever, and then glamour her to forget it all. That’s what’s going to happen, isn’t it? I bet if you could glamour me, I would have forgotten all about…” She stopped short, feeling strange, as the memories of their night together curled around like steam from a hot chocolate.
Gregory smiled but didn’t comment.
“Do you really think this is a good idea? The band residency thing, I mean.” She blushed.
It was impossible to get away from the other topic. She could see a hint of fang and knew he must be thinking about it too.
“People are having a good time.”
January felt her mouth twist, but Gregory knew what she was struggling not to say.
“We don’t glamour them to enjoy themselves. It’s only so they’ll forget that we’re really vampires. It’s nice to have something different around here, anyway,” he said.
“I don’t think some of your bunk mates agree,” January said, referring in particular to the vampire who had forcibly tried to get to know her the last time she’d been in the pub. He’d been shooting her dirty looks all night.
Not that she particularly cared.
She’d killed bigger and badder vamps than him. He had ‘collateral damage’ written all over his forehead.
“Ignore Sylver. He hasn’t had fun since the seventeen hundreds,” Gregory said with a completely straight face.
“So, why did you book my band?” She asked, finally summoning the will to find out the answer. She hoped it wasn’t ‘to keep an eye on you’, just like Luke was doing, but it wouldn’t surprise her.
Gregory looked thoughtful. “I hadn’t intended on doing it, but when I heard how well you went down at the shifter bar I thought, why not? It was a business decision. Plus, I wanted to get to know you more,” he added and must have seen her flinch because he gave a little smile and said: “I don’t have any of Luke Bingley’s motivations. I’m not playing a game. I’m just trying to carve out a living.”
That description is surely over modest, January thought, remembering his threat of buying any place she tried to rent.
“I’d better get back on stage,” she said, suddenly not wanting to talk to Gregory anymore for fear that she couldn’t keep the secret from her face. Hopefully he’d just put it down to her feeling awkward about their little get together.
This time around, January managed to stay long enough to collect her money. They’d played two encores, which she took to be a good sign - if what Gregory had told her about the purpose of the glamour was true anyway. She wasn’t sure they’d still want more after they’d played here every two weeks for a while. Wouldn’t they all get bored?
“We’re going to have to learn lots of new songs. I’ve already got some great ideas,” Mike said, breezing past with a PA speaker. He’d been thinking along the same lines as she had.
Lewis made a sound of annoyance but when she turned around, he was busy packing his drums away, a frown etched on his face.
Oh well, you can’t please everyone, Mike, January thought, wondering what had got the drummer in such a twist.
Her eyes roved the room, speculating over Gregory’s sudden absence. She shook her head. He had a business to run and she didn’t want to see him again. She caught sight of Cherri out of the corner of her eye, sucking face with the Edward Cullen lookalike. She had to walk past them on her way out of the door. Cherri broke off, shooting her a victorious smile.
“See you later, Cherri,” January said, wondering why she’d looked like she’d won some kind of competition.
January shook her curls as she squeezed her bass guitar behind the seat of the Lotus (it really had been a bad decision). Cherri’s petty competitiveness didn’t even register on the scale compared to her other problems.
She started the engine, feeling a rush of pleasure at the purr. This car and her bass guitar were the only extravagant things she owned. She could afford a lot of things and had considered splashing out more often in Paris when no one had known her.
She hadn’t though.
Perhaps it was one war her parents had won - influencing her with their own frugal spending, despite inherited wealth. They’d always preached that nothing is freely given and you have to carve your own way and reap your own rewards. Taken at face value, it sounded like a good goal, but the reality was there had been only one path they’d wanted their girls to carve. When she’d chosen another route, their support had disappeared.
January suspected that her mother was still hoping Jo would wake up and fall in line soon. She also knew that Jo had been feeding them hints that she might be thinking about going into the family’s insurance business. It was just another sign that her sister could be devious when she wanted to be.
She pulled out of the car park, only looking back when she saw a blur of blonde hair and realised Gregory was standing in the doorway of the pub – much like he had been on the night they’d first met. He was looking at her with an unspoken ‘see you later’ in his eyes.
January turned away so he wouldn’t see her smile as she drove away.
He was going to be sorely disappointed.
The sharp tap of a stone hitting the glass of her bedroom window woke her up at four in the morning. January opened her eyes. Damn it, she’d almost got away with a decent night’s sleep! At least the stone throwing told her that her plan had worked.
She opened the bedroom window and looked down at Gregory, who was standing on her garden lawn.
“January, why can’t I get into my property?”
She smiled back, sweetly. “I didn’t like the idea of you being able to walk in here anytime you pleased, so I took measures.”
She could tell he was angry and felt a strange kind of excitement as she realised she’d never actual
ly made him angry before. He looked even more magnificent than usual, with his eyebrows drawn and those strange grey eyes burningly intensely.
“What measures?”
January picked a spot of flaking paint on the windowsill, not wanting to admit to what she’d done.
“January?”
He was angry enough already, it was probably best to be honest. “Fine. I Googled ‘keeping vampires out of your house’ and there was a webpage which sold something called anti-vamp salt. I made a circle around the house, told them when I was done, and I think they did a spell - or something.”
She shrugged. Magic was not something she knew much about. Her only other experience had been the writing on the bathroom wall when she’d been recruited. “To be honest, I thought there was zero chance it would work. But, I guess it does!”
Gregory glared. “We will be discussing this later.” He paused, probably realising that technically, the ball was in her court. “Perhaps we can reach a compromise. I came here tonight for another reason.” Now January felt bad for assuming he’d come to jump her bones.
Okay - fine - she felt a little bit deflated too.
“I saw your sister tonight.”
January’s knuckles turned white as she clutched the window frame, hearing far too many possibilities in his voice. “I’ll be right down,” she said, turning away from the window and throwing on a fluffy blue dressing gown. There was no time for formalities.
When she walked out onto the dew soaked grass, she was again grateful that her nearest neighbours lived a quarter of a mile away.
“You saw her? And she was… alive?”
He inclined his head. “It was from a distance and I only noticed because she laughed and it was loud enough to draw my attention.”
January nodded, that did sound like her sister.
“I moved to investigate but Sylver - curse him - chose that moment to confront me over what a poor idea it was to book your band. I cut him off as soon as I could, but when I reached the place where I’d seen them, they’d gone.”
“They?” January queried.
Gregory looked troubled. “She was with a vampire. I’m sure of it. But he wasn’t one I recognised.” His forehead creased and his eyes seemed to focus on distant thoughts.
January didn’t have to ask. She knew that in the vampire world, if you moved around, you would come into other vamp’s territories. They were far more strict than shifters were about turning up and declaring yourself. Far more strict than normal shifters, she mentally corrected.
“It feels like trouble,” Gregory said, more to himself than to her.
January chewed her lip for the umpteenth time that night. She should be glad that her sister was alive, but the idea that she may be deliberately stirring up trouble irked her. She’d come all the way from Paris and this was the thanks she got? Her sister was treating her the same way she treated their parents, only January felt she’d done nothing to deserve it.
“Can you find the vampire?” She asked.
Gregory nodded. “Yes, I saw his face. If he’s anywhere local, I’ll be able to trace him. All of my connections are on the lookout.”
January nodded, feeling tired all over again now that the excitement of the news had passed. “You’ll let me know then?” She stifled a yawn.
Gregory’s eyes softened for the first time, as he took in her attire. He smirked, but she was too exhausted to care about his opinion right now.
“Of course,” he said.
January knew that was pretty much code for ‘I’ll tell you when it’s convenient, so you’ll probably be the last to know’. She half-shrugged and nodded, making it back over the anti-vamp line just as Gregory moved in. He stopped and looked furious all over again.
He needed to get used to the idea that she wasn’t another minion at his beck and call.
11
January woke up at ten, glad of the lie in. She’d intended to get up earlier and do some more research into Luke Bingley’s history. She’d also wanted to put the feelers out to find out about the vamp her sister was with. There was no way she was going to leave that to Gregory. But you couldn’t work forever. Sometimes a girl needed a break.
She poured the freshly brewed coffee, rejoicing at the smell of the rich beans. Okay, so excellent coffee was another extravagance she had splashed out on, but no one would ever know that. It wasn’t as though she had people popping round for coffee day in, day out. Apart from Gregory staying the night, and the shifter on her doorstep, no one had visited, and that suited her perfectly. After all, this wasn’t a permanent thing. Given her latest assignment, she suspected that when she left the area, quite a few things would be changing. She wasn’t going to get too attached to anyone – including her target.
“He doesn’t really care about you,” she said into her cup of coffee, already starting the personal propaganda that would help her build up to the mission.
She raised the cup to take that first, heady sip but was interrupted by a knock on the door. Maybe someone smelt the coffee, January thought wryly, but was instantly on edge. It was daytime, so the only likely visitor would be a shifter - and they would definitely not be welcome for coffee.
The late morning sunlight was bright when she opened the door. With it came a crisp scent that whispered of the changing seasons. Autumn was on its way.
When the dazzle faded, January realised that there was no one there. She frowned, glancing left and right. She was too far out in the country to be getting prank called, right? She held her breath and listened. She thought she could hear twigs and leaves crunching in keeping with the rhythm of someone running away through the woods.
She was about to step out after them when she happened to look down and saw the present they’d left for her on the doorstep.
“Glad I didn’t have breakfast,” she muttered, staring down at the remains of what might have once been a wood pigeon.
The bird’s stomach had been slit open. January could smell bay leaf and basil, although the scents were all but overpowered by the stench of decay. She could see a myriad of maggots oozing around in the gaping cavity. She frowned, wondering why whoever had rung the doorbell had left such a thing. It was obvious that this bird hadn’t just up and died on her doorstep. It had been dead for quite a while. Perhaps it was some kind of threat from a shifter who didn’t believe her version of events about the dead wolves in the woods. Maybe it was meant as a warning.
She sighed and went inside to collect a plastic bag and the disinfectant. A mutilated pigeon was a piece of cake compared to some of the things she’d seen over the past few years.
January was glad when Luke didn’t show up at his customary time. In the past week, he’d come in for coffee and cake almost every day. She’d been tempted to tell him that he’d have to start watching his figure, but the petty part of her liked to think that a slightly tubby leopard wouldn’t look quite as intimidating. So, instead, she’d cut him larger slices than ever. To her dismay, the results of her subtle sabotage hadn’t yet shown, but she could wait.
She had just finished clearing the table - which had belonged to a young family - and was in the middle of changing the felt-tip pen covered tablecloth when a different surprise walked through the door.
January recognised the short, dark auburn hair immediately, even though this girl looked a far cry from the deathly pale one she’d picked up from the tarmac over a week ago.
“Trace?” January called to the girl, who had been looking around the tearoom like she might bolt at any second. Her brown eyes showed alarm at being recognised, but she relaxed as soon as she saw it was January.
“Why do I get the feeling I’m not someone you want to be seen talking to?” January asked, but she said it with a smile, knowing the answer already.
Trace looked upset.
“It’s okay, I’m not being serious. Do you want to go somewhere else? I’ve got a break coming up. I could meet you in the park by the swings in five?”
&
nbsp; The other girl nodded and walked out of the tearoom without another word.
Two pairs of eyes watched her go. January hoped that neither of the regulars who’d looked up would mention her to anyone. She also hoped that Luke Bingley hadn’t paid anyone to keep an eye on her when he couldn’t make the date - but she wouldn’t have put it past him.
“I’m sorry about… just now,” Trace greeted her, when January arrived in the park.
There was no one using the swings and this corner of the park was deserted, just as January had hoped. A brand new, state of the art play area had opened yesterday at a recreation ground on the other side of town, so all of the local children were probably over there. January had remembered it from a flyer which had been pinned up in the tearoom.
“It’s fine. Really!” She said, when Trace continued to look miserable. “I know I’m public enemy number one as far as Luke Bingley is concerned. Has he banned everyone from talking to me?”
She looked sideways at the deer shifter, who was still nervously checking out their surroundings.
“Something like that,” the other girl said.
“On pain of death, is it?” She joked, but her smile fell off when Trace looked scared again.
It really was on pain of death.
January suddenly felt a strong desire to show Luke Bingley that he didn’t own everyone. Stay out of it. It’s not your problem, she reminded herself. It was all too easy to start caring about local affairs.
“I came here because I wanted to say thank you. You could have just left me in the road.”
January gave her a sideways look and ascertained that she was being serious. “Well, I figured I’d better do you a favour after I hit you with my car.”
She was being pretty accommodating considering that if it weren’t for January, she wouldn’t have had to go to hospital anyway.
Trace shrugged. “I ran out onto the road. I remember everything up to the crash perfectly. I know it was my fault.”
January’s ears pricked up at that piece of information. “Was it just full moon madness?” She asked, trying to be casual.
