by Helen Harper
‘You misunderstand me. I know how dangerous it could be if things get even more stirred up with the Families.’ He looks at me darkly. ‘I’m fully aware of how much strength bloodguzzlers have at their disposal. No, we’ll release the information that the perp is a human as soon as I’ve cleared it with those higher up. It’ll be out by morning at the latest. I just mean that it’ll go better for Corinne if you keep quiet about her day job.’
I’m filled with distaste. ‘You really believe I’d run to the tabloids to tell them she’s a prostitute?’
‘Quite frankly, Ms Blackman, these days I’m prepared to believe almost anything.’
*
Although I feel like the good inspector and I had a moment together, he is still lukewarm towards me. He leaves me in the hospital car park with some vague remark about me being able to collect my impounded bike within the next few days. I suppose it’s better than his previous hostility but I could really have done with a lift back to Covent Garden.
I decide to stretch my legs and test my burgeoning vampiric skills so I stride over the road and use a nearby fire escape to pull myself up to the roof. Once there, I crick my neck from side to side and make a few unnecessary stretches, as if to warm up. It makes me feel more human. Then I brace my right leg backwards and focus on a tall, illuminated building in the distance. I glance down at my watch, making a careful note of the time. If I were human, it’d take me at least fifteen minutes to reach the building via the pavements below, even if I ran at full pelt. I reckon I can halve that time.
I suck air deep into my lungs then I’m off. My toes pivot off the edge of the first building and I sail over the gap. I pick up speed as soon as I land, scaring off a nesting pigeon. The next leap is harder because I have to spring upwards as well as over. I grab the edge of the rooftop with my fingers and pull myself up. This building has a sloping roof so I have to balance along the top. My foot slips on a patch of slimy moss and I start to slide down towards the gutter. I jump up in the air, twisting my body sideways so that when I land I can use the edge of my boot to dig in and halt my momentum. Then I force myself back up to the top of the slope.
The crescent moon, obscured until now by a bank of clouds, appears momentarily, although it seems dim against the twinkling lights of the city. I remind myself to breathe then sprint forward, trying out some new moves to avoid any more mossy obstacles. I use an old chimney top from which to perform a handstand flip, and the vertical wall of a rooftop emergency exit to run along and push myself even faster. I even execute a perfect somersault landing. Better late than never.
When I finally reach my self-imposed destination, I stop and check my time. I raise my eyebrows and give myself a mental pat on the back. Just over five minutes; I’m improving. Much as I loathe being a vampire, the exhilaration provided by the changes to my strength and speed delight me.
As I force my heart rate to slow, I spot a shadow of movement far below. I tiptoe to the building’s edge and peer down. It’s a fox. It pauses for a moment, nose quivering as it catches my scent. Then the wind changes and it relaxes, nosing towards a collection of rubbish bins. Unfortunately, a group of late-night partygoers lurch past, causing the animal to run for cover. It’s quickly swallowed up by the darkness. I feel an odd, painful kinship with the fox; we’re both scavengers – though it is seeking food and I’m looking for information.
I jar my knees slightly as I drop back down to street level. I pad over to a parked car and use its wing mirror to check my appearance. I do my best to smooth down my unruly curls and wipe away a smudge of dirt from my cheek before straightening up and heading to a door nearby that is marked in the corner with a red design. I’m taking a risk coming here but this will be my fourth visit and, so far, nothing untoward – or even remotely exciting – has happened. After the trouble it took me to find this place, I’m not about to act like a frightened rabbit and simply hang back to observe.
I make a series of elaborate knocks and wait patiently until the small shutter set in the centre slides back and a fanged face appears. There’s a smear of blood at the corner of his lips which is frankly repellent, but I keep my expression blank.
‘Let me in.’
The vampire blinks at me. ‘We told Lord Medici you’d been hanging around here.’
I shrug. I’d expected as much. ‘So?’
He doesn’t respond, merely moves back and opens the door. I duck inside, allowing my fangs to grow as I pass the bouncer. It might be a dick move to make but I want him to know that I’m not intimidated by him or his boss. For his part, he’s totally disinterested.
I walk into the darkened, smoky room. There aren’t many places in London now where you can have a cigarette. Getting cancer is not a problem for vampires and after the smoking ban some of them flaunted that fact across the city. I think the smokers finally realised that such actions were petty and pointless, so now any bloodguzzlers who do suck on nicotine tend to stick to the human laws and avoid public places. This joint, however, doesn’t count. I had heard a rumour that applications to join the Families and turn vampire increased considerably in recent years as there were a lot of smokers unwilling to give up the habit. It strikes me as one of the more stupid reasons to want to be a bloodguzzler; however, I realised on my last visit here that I could use the smokers’ addiction to my advantage. It worked when I was human, anyway. So far, I’ve avoided approaching any of the patrons here as the only way this will work is if they come to me first.
I walk up to the bar and perch on a stool. As unpleasant as this place is, at least it’s not providing television aerobics as entertainment. The bartender, with a flicker of recognition in her eyes, wanders over.
‘Bloody Mary?’ she asks.
I nod my head.
‘Sure I can’t tempt you with the real thing?’ She points to a comfortable looking cubicle that houses several bored looking humans. I wonder which one is Mary.
‘No, thanks.’
She shrugs, busying herself with creating my cocktail. It’s nothing more than vodka, blood, Worcestershire sauce and a celery stalk. Although the blood is fresh – rarely more than a day or two old – to really satisfy a vampire’s hunger it should be drunk directly from the vein. Despite Dr Love’s instructions to me to venture out and make myself drink from humans other than Connor, while I’m here I’m going to stick to my principles. Even decanted blood can provide enough nourishment to see me through until I catch up with Connor again.
I stare into space, trying to appear as if I’m ignoring the other customers. I’ve already clocked the trio by the door, none of whom I recognise. They’re rather loud and raucous but I’ve received several covert looks from them; they’re not as drunk as they’re pretending to be. There’s a solitary drinker in the far corner who’s been here every time I have come in and who seems to have a penchant for rum. A couple are playing footsie in a nearby booth – although the girl was here last time with a different guy. A tall thin is man playing on the bandit machine next to the toilets. I purse my lips. Slim pickings tonight, then. It might be worth playing my frustrated smoker’s card another night.
The bartender places my drink in front of me and I toy absently with the celery, swirling it around the thick, gloopy blood. Steeling myself, I take a gulp, then lick my lips as if in delight. It’s not an easy expression to pull off. Next, I pull out a battered pack of cigarettes from my pocket. If nothing else, the taste of nicotine will mask that of the cocktail, although I also need the regular patrons to believe I smoke regularly if my plan is going to work. Checking the room again, I make a decision. Tonight’s not the night. Besides, I’ve been coming here for less than a fortnight. If I want to gain the trust of a Medici minion, I need to be more patient. For credibility’s sake, I rummage around in my other pocket and find my lighter. Then I lean back, taking my time and doing what I can to appear relaxed.
Cha
pter Seven: Turning Point
When I get back home after stopping via the office and checking in with Matt, who has little to report, and Connor, who remains willing to open his veins for me, I head straight for the refrigerator and carefully remove X’s little vial of blood.
I hold it in the palm of my hand and stare at it then, taking a deep breath, unscrew the top and inhale. Just like on the other occasions when I’ve done this, my nostrils are assailed by both salt and spice. Kakos daemon blood isn’t like any other kind. In fact, rather than being repulsed by it, my stomach rumbles. Red blood cells only last for forty-two days, so I’m running out of time.
I still have no reason to trust X’s word that drinking it will allow me to revert back to human but, even if there’s only a slim chance it’ll work, I’m still filled with burning desire to take it. It would be a wholly selfish decision, with vast repercussions for every vampire – not only in London, but across the world. Given the current climate, it would be a reckless move. That’s not to mention the fact that it would stymie any chance I have to bring down Medici and would slam a huge rusty, tetanus-inducing nail into the coffin of the relationship between me and Michael.
I put the lid back on, making sure it’s tightly shut, then close my fingers over the vial and squeeze it. I still have a few weeks left.
Kimchi pads up and whines. I rub his head in reassurance then smack my forehead in self-disgust as I remember I need to get him some food. Cursing, I replace the vial in its hiding spot and head downstairs. Dawn is too close; I’ll have to prevail upon Connor’s goodwill yet again. I don’t deserve a friend like him.
I’ve barely closed the door behind me when I hear loud remonstrations and a familiar, disgusted voice coming from the New Order office. Frowning, I jog down the stairs. Foxworthy is standing over Connor, demanding to know where I am. Sensibly, Matt has vanished; even though Foxworthy is human, Matt would still be forced to do whatever was asked of him – including telling the good officer my whereabouts. I can do that myself.
I clear my throat, causing Foxworthy to spin round in mid-sentence. When he catches sight of me, he marches up, grabbing my t-shirt and throwing me against the wall. It doesn’t hurt but I’m still pissed off.
‘What the hell? What’s wrong with you?’
‘Like you don’t know,’ he snarls.
I scan his face. Fatigue is etched into every line and wrinkle of his weathered skin, but his eyes are alight with fury.
I’m more puzzled than anything. ‘No,’ I say softly, ‘I don’t.’
‘Pleading ignorance isn’t going to help. I should have stuck to my gut. You can’t trust a bloodguzzler, no matter what pretty things they say.’
‘Inspector, I still don’t know what’s wrong.’
‘Here.’ He thrusts a newspaper in my face. ‘Evidence of your fucking handiwork.’
I focus on the headline. It’s today’s early edition. When the words sink in, my stomach drops and I close my eyes.
‘You just couldn’t keep your big trap shut, could you? You had to go blabbing.’
‘It wasn’t me.’ I open my eyes and stare at the big man.
‘Yeah? Who else knew this?’ He waves the paper. ‘“Park Rape Vic Is Hooker”. It even states that their source is someone from one of the Families.’
If Foxworthy had a gun, he’d probably shoot me. He’s blindingly angry. I don’t blame him. ‘I’m telling you, it wasn’t me,’ I insist.
‘Nobody else outside the investigating team knew she was a prostitute. And I can damn well tell you the leak didn’t come from us.’ His face moves down to mine, until it’s so close that I can feel his breath on my skin. ‘I told you we’d release the info that the bloodguzzlers weren’t involved. The press conference is scheduled for ten. You couldn’t even wait a few fucking hours?’
My whole body is tense but I make myself stay where I am. I don’t want Foxworthy to be my enemy; we need a friend in the police. I meet his angry stare. ‘Even if it was a vampire who leaked, it says the source is the Families. I’m not part of a Family. You know that. It couldn’t have been me.’
‘Do you think that makes a difference? If you didn’t speak to the paper, then you spoke to someone from the Families who did. You’re all the same.’ He throws the newspaper in my face. ‘Corinne Matheson has just gone from being a helpless rape victim to someone who can’t be trusted and who was probably asking for it. Six hours ago there were a hundred officers working this case. Ninety per cent have been pulled off the case because public opinion rules everything we do. And public opinion will be that she’s not worth it any more.’ He lowers his tone but he’s no less angry. ‘She’s a human being, a person who deserves justice. But now the entire investigation has been derailed and it’s your fault. The guy who did this? He’s not the type to do it once and then forget about it. He’s going to try again. Next time he’ll probably get lucky and kill whoever he abducts. Congratulations. You’ve just signed some poor girl’s death warrant.’ He gives me one last, disgusted look then stalks out.
Connor has backed away to the wall, his skin pale and his freckles standing out in sharp relief. ‘Bo, you didn’t do that, did you? Talk to the newspapers?’
I shake my head. ‘No. I know who fucking did though.’
His eyes are wide. ‘Who?’
‘It’s probably better for you if you don’t know. Go home, Connor. Get some rest.’
He watches me for a second or two then nods. ‘Okay. Will you be alright?’
For a moment, I’m so caught up in the maelstrom of my own thoughts that I don’t respond.
‘Bo?’ he prompts.
I give him a smile. It’s so forced that it’s almost painful. Fortunately it’s enough for Connor and he grabs his things and leaves. I wait until he’s gone, then pick up the phone, not even bothering to wait for the receptionist to answer.
‘Tell Lord Montserrat that Bo Blackman needs to see him at his earliest convenience,’ I snap and slam down the receiver.
*
I’m lying in bed with the duvet over my head, trying to catch some sleep, when I hear him enter. Michael Montserrat is a powerful vampire; usually if he doesn’t want to be heard, he won’t be. He wasn’t counting on Kimchi, though, who barks enthusiastically at his arrival. The poor dog is probably hoping for food. After sending Connor on his way, I was forced to raid the office fridge for some cold cuts to feed Kimchi. I am no longer surprised that the dog is chewing everything in sight.
I flip back the cover and sit up just as Michael’s muscular frame fills the doorway. I’m fully dressed: there is no way I’m going to have another confrontation in my pyjamas.
‘Is everything alright?’ he enquires solicitously.
A chink of daylight peeks out from under one of the blackout blinds but I really don’t care. I stride over to him, in a fashion not unlike Foxworthy’s. I don’t try to push him against the wall, however; I simply slap him as hard as I can across his cheek. The sound cracks loudly across the small room.
He’s more surprised than hurt. ‘What the hell was that for?’
‘Corinne Matheson.’ I search his face. ‘Why the fuck did you do it, Michael? Why did you go to the press?’
He doesn’t even try to deny it. He draws himself up, shoulders straightening, and glares. ‘I’m Lord of the Montserrat Family. I don’t have to explain myself to you.’
Kimchi, sensing the tension, begins to growl from the other room.
‘I represent New Order, remember? The agency designed to smooth out problems between the humans and the vampires. The one that you set up.’ I put my hands on my hips. ‘Or do you think you should be immune from anything we do? Because you’re Lord Sodding Montserrat? Mr High and Mighty? Better than anyone else?’
‘Bo, what on earth has gotten into you?’ He seems baffled.
My lip curls. Fury snakes through my body and I realise I’m trembling. ‘You’re a bastard.’
He stares at me for a long moment then the corner of his mouth crooks upwards. ‘You’re pretty sexy when you’re angry.’
I snarl and take a step backwards, jabbing a finger at his chest. ‘If you’re treating this as some kind of booty call, then you are so mistaken.’ I can’t believe he’s being so flippant.
His humour vanishes and he holds up his palms. ‘If I’ve misjudged this situation I apologise but I’ve not done anything wrong.’
My voice drops to a whisper. ‘You’re not naïve. You’ve been around for long enough to know what’ll happen to Corinne now everyone knows she’s a prostitute.’
‘Bo, I’m not responsible for how she chooses to live her life.’
‘You didn’t have to tell the world about it though.’
‘Yes, I did.’ He nods. ‘You’re right: I knew she’d be vilified. But she was lying. At a time when we need public opinion on our side, she was lying through her teeth and making us out to be villains.’ He takes a step forward. ‘Us, Bo. You’re a vampire too.’
‘She had her reasons,’ I spit. ‘Besides, the police had already established it wasn’t a vampire who raped her. They were going to release a statement today.’
He shrugs. ‘I wasn’t to know that.’
‘You could have spoken to me about it first.’
‘I don’t need your permission to act.’
‘Because you’re Lord Montserrat?’ I sneer.
‘Yes,’ he replies. ‘Because I am.’
I shake my head. ‘Does being Lord Montserrat include having carte blanche to execute whoever gets in your way?’
Confusion clouds his face. ‘What do you mean?’
Anger guides my actions. I turn my back and reach down to the bed, flipping over the mattress. The photo of him and Medici standing over the corpses and grinning is at the far corner. I yank it out and shove it in his face. ‘This is you, isn’t it?’ I demand. ‘The kind of person who beheads someone in the street and treats it like a big joke. Look at you! And since when was Medici your partner in crime?’
