Deadly Beasts (The Curse of the Rose Book 1)

by T. M. Watkins

  “A cop?”

  “No... no, he's not a cop.”

  My eyes glanced to the other guy, his stoic position had remained the same. There were no clues to be found with James. “So what then?” I quietly asked.

  “I think it's best that you meet him first Miss Arnold, you know the old saying, don't judge a book by it's cover.”

  Porter left to find the doctor, insisting that I was discharged as soon as possible. The doctor was reluctant but with the police breathing down his neck, he authorised my discharge. I had a few steri-strips and stitches and he mentioned several times that I had to return so that the nurses could ensure that everything was fine. He was saying it to me but he was looking at Porter. I could see it was a waste of time, I wasn't coming back to the hospital. As soon as the door had closed behind the doctor, Porter muttered that they would have a nurse visit me at the house. A government nurse, one that they knew wasn't a lycan. Because apparently, you can't tell them and a human apart. He dumped a bag onto the bed and removed several items of clothing, ushering me into the bathroom with them. I couldn't help but frown, jeans and a baggy shirt. When I exited the bathroom, it was worse. I was being disguised as a male. Next came the oversized jacket, sneakers and a baseball cap. I had to tuck my hair up into the cap and pretend it wasn't so glaringly obvious that I wasn't male. No amount of baggy shirts could hide the obvious signs of being a woman. I tightened the jacket over my chest and hoped it wasn't a stinking hot summer day outside.

  Chapter Two

  The city street whizzed past as James drove us to my safe house. Porter was in the back with me to give a briefing on my protector. I looked out to the mild day, thankfully it wasn't hot but it wasn't cold either. Porter was muttering as he flicked through his briefcase, I relaxed into the cool leather seat. It didn't surprise me that the secret government department had a fancy SUV, it was almost like the quintessential requirement for their kind. My mind went into overdrive, thinking it had bullet proof windows but it was probably normal glass.

  “There!” He gasped as he pulled out a note book. It was different to the one that he took the notes of my statement in, this one was almost like a diary.

  “Okay, so we are going to William Lancaster, a widower. He isn't fond of today's music so don't be playing it too loud.”

  “Tim, I don't have anything of mine, how can I play any music?”

  “Oh, sorry. There's a bag of supplies in the boot for you. I'll explain that more when we get there. Now, it would be best if you don't dwell on his past, he doesn't take talking about it lightly so it's best to avoid it. His kind are rather secretive.”

  “Sorry, his kind?”

  “Books and covers Miss Arnold.”

  “Just wish you'd friggin' tell me.” I muttered.

  “Ahh yes, that reminds me. Potty mouth, William is from a time where it was considered a vile act to speak so boorishly, so please keep it clean.”

  “Frigging, not clean?”

  “Miss Arnold there are a few definitions of the term, one of them being a sex act. I ask that you refrain from anything remotely vulgar otherwise you might incur his wrath.”

  “Is this guy a pompous prat?”

  Porter sighed as he rubbed his brow. He pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose and turned to me with a scowl. Pushing this guys buttons was fun. I had to find amusement somewhere, right? “Prat is defined as stupid and also a person's backside. Please do not call him a prat.”

  “Look at you mister dictionary.” I chuckled. “Okay so I won't call the weirdo a prat.”

  “I appreciate it, though you still have me worried. You do not understand the gravity of the situation. You are in grave danger Miss Arnold and Lancaster is the only one that can help you, even I am useless to you.”

  I stared at him rather stunned. How was it that one old man was better than an entire department of police that should be trained to deal with these things? “How do you know this?”

  “The hair sample we have traced to a particular lycan family lineage, it is a strong family. There are even some of Lancaster's kind that could not stand up to them. Only him and the strength that he has gained through his many years on this earth can stand up to this family. Like I said, he is your only hope.”

  “So you are saying that some old geezer can stand up to these lycan things?”

  Porter laughed like I had never heard, it wasn't the kind of laugh that he thought I had said something amusing. No, this was laughing at my blissful ignorance.

  The cityscape fell away as we entered the motorway, the view over the railing was of high density suburbia, somewhere I had never seen. I had always lived in the city, the orphanage was almost in the centre of it. I had always looked upon the concrete jungle and never to anything like this. The trees were in a pathetic attempt at a park. A few trees that looked like they were about to uproot themselves and walk away, a couple of benches that were covered in pigeon poop and grass that was barely green, hard and littered with ants nests. But the view out the window was like a verdant paradise, green trees and pretty gardens, grass that looked lush and soft. I ached to touch the grass for all but a second, just to know the feeling of it.

  The houses were old, weatherboard walls and slate for roof tops as far as the eye could see. It looked like it was a mass produced housing estate where everything had been bought in bulk and hardly anything varied. It might have been conformist but it was picturesque, like every person that lived in these places were determined to have their own slice of homely perfection. If I survived this ordeal, this would be where I wanted to come to. Rather than the cold and harsh city streets, I wanted suburban bliss.

  James pulled the car off the motorway, taking the off ramp to a place called East Village. The sun was slowly setting behind us, casting a golden orange glow across the houses and the land. We had hit suburbia and I was like a kid in a candy store, looking out the window at the houses we passed. People were going about their lives, unaware of the danger that stalked them in the darkness. But still, I couldn't get past the man who was watering his flowers or the children kicking a ball around on the front lawn. This was normality and I craved it. Instead I got working two jobs just to pay for the dud apartment and the astronomical utility bills. I sighed as I flopped back against the seat, there was no way I could ever afford to live in something that was as grand as these places.

  “How long before you catch this lycan?” I turned from the idyllic view of the housing estate to Porter who had been writing in his book. He looked up and pushed his glasses up his nose, offering a feint smile.

  “We don't try to estimate the time for capturing a lycan Miss Arnold, it can vary from beast to beast. A foundling can be tracked and disposed of within a few days, a pup is a little easier as they are going through hormonal changes and can be fooled with the pheromones of the opposite sex and lured into a trap. Whelps can be trapped with pheromones as they are in the prime of their breeding and with the right scent it is easy. Of course finding the right one can take time. A young adult is a beast in his or her physical prime. They are no longer susceptible to our tricks with the pheromones, they are strong, agile and wily. The elder beasts however, they can take weeks, months.” He shrugged. “They are not so ready to give up on their life but the body has weakened. But do not be fooled, even as an elder beast they are a handful.”

  “So do you know which one this is?”

  “Through the tests done on the fur we were able to learn that it was a male beast that attacked you. We estimated that his human like age is somewhere in his mid forties. However the tests are a basic estimation based on comparisons of previous findings. At that age range he is what we have determined as a young adult. He will know that we will be searching for him and will make all reasonable efforts to remain out of our view. Essentially what you need to know is this, do not trust anyone other than myself or Lancaster.”

  My eyes darted to the man driving us and then back to Porter. “Oh yes, him too I
suppose. But you won't be leaving the house until I come to collect you so there is no issue.”

  “I don't want to sound morbid or put an expiry date on your life but what if you are ill or worse, dead?”

  “Then a replacement will come for you. Lancaster will be your guide as to who to trust.”

  James slowed the car as he turned into a street, the view was of houses that were less maintained. Gardens were overgrown, houses were boarded up. All except the house that dominated the end of the cul-de-sac. Like the others it had weatherboard sides and a slate roof, its garden was a little odd. It was perfectly sculpted, a low hedge lined the driveway beyond the wrought iron fence. The house was at least three stories high, though I suspected it was likely to be more considering there were several gabled window dormers in the roof. Slowly the gates opened, James carefully drove through. Over the hedge lined driveway was a garden of deep red roses, some of them were dying, some had already withered away into nothing. It seemed odd, this one garden had flowers that were left to die yet the rest of the place was stunning. The rest of the garden could be featured in a magazine, all except this one little garden. My mind flicked back to Porters words about this guy's past. Maybe this garden had something to do with it, maybe it belonged to his wife or lover and he didn't want to maintain it any more.

  “Right.” Porter sighed loudly “Please remember you are a lady and Lancaster will have expectations that you behave like one. No profanities, no bad behaviour, sit properly on seats don't lay or slouch on them. I ask you to remember yourself Miss Arnold, Lancaster isn't an easy person to deal with and we had to beg to get you in here.”

  “What?” I frowned. “What do you mean had to beg?”

  “Well he isn't a part of the program that his kind offers. When we identified the line of family that your attacker is from, we knew who would be ideal to protect you and a level one protector is our only solution.”

  I looked at the house. It was a quaint place but it had this dark vibe, an ominous presence of something I could not put my finger on. Something in my mind was saying runaway, runaway real fast. “And there were no other choices available?”

  “The requirements and other factors has made Lancaster the ideal selection. Remember I said the lycans are territorial?”

  I nodded.

  “Well Lancaster's property sits outside this families territory. Other possibilities were either inside or on the border and I didn't want to take the risk. It is unlikely that the attacker will breach another lycans territory just to find you. But of course it doesn't mean he wont and that is why you are here.”

  James slowed to a stop beside the steps that led to the wide deck, the eave shadowed the windows. The curtains were drawn across the two bay windows that sat either side of the door.

  “Other level one protectors are either unavailable or already looking after a person. Please understand this Miss Arnold, he is doing this for his own reasons as he has had run-ins with this family previously. Whilst he might give off the impression that it is for your own safety that he does this, I can assure you that keeping you alive is only to annoy the lycan. Do not piss him off Miss Arnold, he will not care if you are alive or dead.”

  “Great, thanks for that.” I rolled my eyes.

  James had already rounded the car and grabbed several things from the boot. He passed a large bag to me, it was heavy with what I hoped was entertainment. I looked at the box in his arms with a frown. “What's in there?”

  “Food for you, your host does not eat food.” He whispered, taking a careful glance to Porter.

  “Take this warning Mary, be vigilant. Porter might think that you will be fine here but I do not agree. This is like jumping from the frying pan into the fire.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Weston hurry along please.” Porter grumbled at the top of the steps.

  “Lancaster is a...” He gulped with a panicked look. His eyes darted to the door that had just opened, a lithe figure stood in the opening with his eyes fixed on me. “Vampire.” He whispered.

  Chapter Three

  My head snapped to Porter with a sudden swell of anger. He ignored me and gestured for me to hurry along. I could feel the new man’s gaze burn into me as I walked to the steps, slowly trudging up them. Cautiously my eyes lifted up his dominating stature. He wore a black double breasted suit that hugged his thin frame, his shirt was black with a dark red silk tie. I couldn't help but wonder if he was going somewhere, surely he didn't dress like this to sit around the house? Maybe he was a butler or something, Porter did say that Lancaster was old. This guy looked far too young to be considered old. As I drew closer I could see him better, the thick brown hair was styled into a quiff, not the unruly type that had dominated male hairstyles in recent years but a neatly perfected hairstyle. I barely knew Porter but for some reason he was like a shield from the gaze of the new guy, cold blue eyes that would not leave me. He stepped out of the opening and held the door open, waiting for us to pass. The man closed the door behind James, encasing us into the darkened entry. Even through the jacket I was wearing, I could feel the cold penetrate it, soaking into my skin. Now I was praying this bag contained blankets and jumpers, thick socks and warm pants.

  “Welcome.” He grinned in the faded light. “Please let us sit in the parlour and negotiate the terms.”

  He turned into the room behind him before any of us could respond, Porter's mind must have clicked into gear as he quickly chased after the man.

  “You have already agreed to the terms, there is no negotiation. Don't play games Lancaster.”

  I stopped and looked at James who shrugged at me. “Vampires don't age, he's about five hundred and something.”

  “Far out.” I groaned.

  I stepped into the parlour, quietly gasping at the grandeur. It was a long room, at the entry was several leather chesterfields that sat in front of a dominating stone fire place. The fire had been lit causing the air around us to be stiflingly hot. I peeled the jacket and cap off as I looked down the other end of the room. A black grand piano sat in front of two windows with drawn curtains. In fact, all of the curtains were drawn in this room. I quietly padded across the wood floor to the ornate rug, sitting on the seat beside Porter.

  “You withheld information Detective Porter, I believe that under the terms of the agreement it allows for renegotiation.”

  “What information?” Porter snapped.

  “Young and female.” He gestured to me as he sat back into the tub chair. “I do not entertain the young nor the opposite sex. You know we are a society of high morals Detective Porter and it would be scandalous to have a guest of such morals.”

  “Excuse me?” I glowered at him.

  “You think that I can not see the women of today, I will not have my standing in my community lowered for the sake of one human life.”

  “What are you inferring?” I snapped. “Are you calling me a slut based on other women?”

  “Mary please.” Porter whispered.

  “Oh screw you and your god damned morals Porter. I will not take this crap.” I stood and tossed the jacket and cap onto Porter's lap. “Take it back or I'll find something nice and sharp to impale you with vampire.” I hissed.

  William laughed, as he did I could see those pretty little fangs that sat fractionally lower than his other teeth. That was a little disconcerting.

  “Such a fighter, no wonder you've got the lycans retreating with their tails between their legs. But sadly there isn't anything that you could impale me with in this house. A smart vampire removes all sharp implements before hosting a guest that might seek their demise. But feel free to venture beyond the fence line in search of something. Shall we place bets on how long you will last? You reek of lycan, I figure an hour at the most. The lycans in this territory will sniff you out and then it's bye bye little lady.”

  He laughed again which was annoying. This guy was a smug bastard and all I wanted to do was punch him. Lancaster turned back to Po
rter, the smugness continued. “Time to renegotiate Detective Porter, you require my assistance yet you offer so little.”

  “I can't throw any more money at you, the department will be broke.”

  “I do not require money Detective Porter, I think that I made myself quite clear on that.”

  Porter huffed lightly, I could feel the frustration radiating in waves. “Well then what do you want?”

  “How about we leave it open to discussion at a later date.” Lancaster's finger rubbed over his bottom lip as his gaze lingered over me. I glanced at James who was waiting at the door, still with the box in his hands. It was like he refused to go any further. Like he was too scared to. “Once we have determined how well the time has passed and how low my standing in the community has sunk, we can discuss the compensation.”

  “I was right.” I turned to Porter. “He is a pompous prat.”

  “You know where the door is if you don't like it here.” William grinned as he gestured to the door.

  “Fine.” As I stepped through the door into the entry, I heard an odd sound and then the door thudded shut. I turned to see the door to the parlour was closed, James was on the other side, thumping on it in a panic. Then there was the sound of Porter yelling at Lancaster to not do anything stupid. The cold surrounded me, in the thin shirt that I was wearing it felt like it would freeze my body. A low snarl curled through the room, wrapping around me as I turned to look around the entry. There was another closed door opposite to the parlour, a door sat beyond the set of stairs. Lancaster was in the room but I could not see him. Porter continued to yell at him as he thumped on the door and jiggled the handle. I began to back away, watching the three closed doors and the set of stairs.

  “Tell me, Mary is it?”

  I shrieked as I turned around, William was leaning on the door.

  “What do you offer to convince me that you are a wholesome woman and not the kind that I see standing on a street corner pervading her wares or the woman who gets drunk in a club and goes home with a stranger? Do you know what those women are good for?” He grinned darkly. “They make a mighty fine meal, Mary, so easily persuaded into following the random unknown man into the alley for a good time.”