TheSmallPrint

by Barbara Elsborg

  Turner presumed this was Bernard Strachan, the man he’d bought Milford Hall from. “Uncle Bernard?”

  “My mother’s younger brother. My father was an only child. Uncle Bernard and his wife and their two sons are the only family I have.” She sat on the stairs next to Turner and her shoulders slumped. “And I don’t like any of them.”

  “Why not?”

  “Aunt Susan has a nasty temper. She was always criticizing Mum’s cooking or the way she dressed. Uncle Bernard has a chip on his shoulder the size of a giant redwood because Mum married so well. Instead of being pleased for her, he was jealous. Nothing is ever good enough for him. He wanted a better car than us, a more exotic holiday, a bigger TV, more of everything.

  “My cousins bullied me when I was little, broke my toys and said I’d done it, broke a window and said I’d done it. Dad knew better. They work for their father now. Uncle Bernard’s a financial advisor.” She smiled. “Dad never took his advice. He sometimes pretended to, just to shut him up, but he used to say Bernard’s way of doubling your money was no more effective than folding it in half and sticking it in your back pocket.”

  Matty gave a deep sigh. “I didn’t want Uncle Bernard to sell Milford Hall. It’s been in our family for generations, but he couldn’t see me and I couldn’t stop him. He took Mum’s jewelry and Dad’s coin collection. I tried to sneak some items back out of his car, but I only managed to grab a few things before he drove off. When the removal van came, I took out what I wanted to keep, but I was limited by what I could carry. I had to hide everything and then cart it up to the attic after the van left.”

  Turner wrapped his hand around hers. Why hadn’t he asked her any of this before? Why hadn’t he talked to her before?

  She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I should have gone for more than the books, but I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “I don’t know. My books are the things I’d want to save.” Turner pressed his face into her hair. “Tell me what happened when you met George.”

  “When people started to come and look around the hall, I tried to talk to them. I said the place had dry rot and woodworm and the council planned to build a sewage treatment plant down the road. I wasted my breath. No one could see me or hear me. Until George. He walked in and smiled. Just to check he wasn’t smiling at the fantastic door knobs, I said—your fly is undone—and he looked down and laughed. He got rid of the estate agent, told him he wanted to view the place on his own, and I showed him around. He said it would be perfect for you, that you needed somewhere just like this…just like me.”

  Turner swallowed hard. George playing matchmaker? He didn’t know whether to strangle him or kiss him.

  Matty took a deep breath. “I went to the estate agents and found out how much the other interested parties had offered so George could make sure you offered the most.”

  Turner had to up his offer three times. Twice he’d done it before the estate agent had even called to tell him he’d been outbid. George had claimed he’d just had a feeling. Crafty devil. But then so was Turner. There had been no price he wouldn’t have paid.

  “So my uncle sold the hall to you. And finally I’ve realized that he shouldn’t have been able to do that or dispose of the contents unless he owned it. Or rather that Aunt Susan owned it. And I guess that means I must be…dead.” She gulped back a sob.

  Turner wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

  Matty brushed a tear from her cheek. “I don’t want to be dead. Oh God. That’s it, isn’t it? You were right all along. I’m so determined not to be dead that I’m stuck somewhere in between. But then how come you, Catch and George can see me and no one else can?”

  Tears slipped from her eyes and Turner couldn’t stand it. “You’re not dead.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Matty released a choked laugh. “That’s a change of tune.”

  “I know you’re not dead,” Turner corrected.

  “What do you mean?” She stared at him, her eyes wide.

  “I wanted to check first with Catch, but—”

  “Check what?” Catch closed the door, locked it and put the key back on the side table along with a plastic bag. “This cake looks vile, by the way. Easy to claim you made it.”

  “Matty’s not dead,” Turner said.

  “Of course she’s not dead,” Catch snapped.

  “I did some checking on the internet.” They didn’t need to know when. “There was an accident several months ago. Matty’s in a hospital. In a coma.”

  “Oh God,” she gasped.

  Turner held her tighter. Catch sat on the stair below and took her hand.

  “In a coma?” Catch repeated.

  “What sort of accident?” she asked. “Do I have all arms, my legs?”

  “I don’t know,” Turner said. Shit, I didn’t think of that.

  “A coma?” Catch said again.

  “But I’m not dead. Not yet anyway,” she whispered.

  “No, you’re not,” Turner said.

  Matty closed her eyes. Maybe she was dreaming all this, lying unconscious in a hospital bed and fantasizing an alternate existence. It was fantastical enough to sound like the truth.

  “What are you thinking?” Catch asked.

  She swallowed hard but the lump in her throat didn’t move. “That none of this is happening. That what’s real is me lying somewhere hooked up to tubes. That I’ve made you up.”

  Catch squeezed her hand. “Feel that? I’m real.”

  “These past few days happened, Matty,” Turner said.

  “But no one else can see me. How do you explain that?”

  She watched Turner and Catch exchange glances and she stiffened.

  “Keeping secrets already?” she asked in a quiet voice.

  “The reason we can see you is because we’re not what we seem,” Turner said.

  Matty had gathered that much. Maybe in this dream world she hadn’t decided what they were yet. Her mind rampaged down a path of spies, assassins, star-crossed lovers—

  “I’m a vampire,” Turner said.

  Catch cleared his throat. “I’m part vampire, part werewolf.”

  “Oh,” Matty said. Neither of those was on her list.

  “Is that all you’re going to say? Oh?” Catch asked.

  This dream was getting very weird. She looked at Turner. “What’s George then?”

  “He’s a doggen. A valet, personal assistant, someone who takes care of my affairs, particularly during the day. In return, he benefits from a longer, more youthful life and some extrasensory perception. Something that obviously allowed him to see you.”

  Matty wanted to stamp her foot. Why did she have to make them vampires? Well, and a vampire-werewolf? What the hell was one of those? And how could she make up a word like “doggen”?

  “Matty? Are you okay?” Catch asked.

  A number of options flashed through her mind and Matty went for the easiest because it would keep her calmer.

  Acceptance and not ask them to prove it. For all she knew, her fantasy guys could lift her with one finger and then have a snack.

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  They stared at her, eyebrows raised.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Don’t you have any questions?” Turner asked.

  “Nope.”

  They looked disappointed.

  “Oh yes, one,” she said, and they perked up. “Which hospital am I in?”

  Moment of perkiness over.

  “St. Luke’s. Manchester,” Turner said.

  “Right.” She got to her feet. “Let’s sort this cake out before Diana Rolfe batters down the door.”

  She grabbed the bag Catch had put on the side table and made for the kitchen, her surreal imagination on her heels.

  “I hope you’re not thinking of sneaking off to Manchester,” Catch said.

  “Why would I do that if I’m already there?”

 
Matty took the chocolate cake out of its box and put it in the microwave for thirty seconds. The light-brown frosted topping melted enough for her to be able to rough it up with a fork, and once she’d made the sides untidy, the cake looked homemade. It should fool everyone. Matty put the box in the trash and slid the cake onto a white plate.

  Catch and Turner leaned against the wall, staring at her.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “That’s what we were wondering,” Turner said.

  “Why aren’t you freaking out?” Catch asked. “Vicious bloodsuckers? Dripping fangs? That’s just him of course. I’m cute and cuddly.”

  Turner snapped him into a headlock and Catch struggled free.

  “Don’t you believe us?” Catch asked.

  “’Course I do.” Why not, since she’d made them up? Though Matty wondered why she’d not made them drink her blood. She walked over and grabbed their hands. “Come on. Winterval will be officially open in a few minutes. We don’t want to miss the fireworks.”

  “Put on something warm,” Catch said.

  “Yes, Dad.” Matty rolled her eyes, but in the hall she pulled on the new blue sweater he’d bought her.

  Why hadn’t she thought of doing this before, inventing someone to buy her things? Why hadn’t she invented sex with two guys seven months ago? What a waste. Still, better late than never. Though as Matty stepped out of the house, hand in hand with the guys, something felt wrong with this whole scenario. Why would she make herself have that pain in her heart? Why had she nearly exposed Turner to sunlight? Why had she let herself fall into the river?

  No, something wasn’t right.

  A vampire and a werewolf?

  Not right at all.

  Turner hadn’t been sure how Matty would react, but he was pretty positive this jolly acceptance was nowhere in his spectrum of expectation. He cast a glance at Catch, and the raised eyebrows told him Catch was as surprised as him.

  When Matty tried to pull them toward the field and the heavy beat of fairground music, Turner and Catch tugged her the other way.

  “Hi there,” a voice called.

  Turner cringed. Diana Rolfe came hurrying up, the vicar a little way behind.

  “You’re going the wrong way,” she panted then smiled at Catch. “Hi, I’m a friend of Turner’s.”

  “I don’t want her in this dream,” Matty whispered.

  “Good evening,” said Reverend Lazonby.

  Diana turned on a megawatt smile. “I didn’t see your cake in the marquee. I do hope you haven’t let us down.”

  “Could you delay the judging until I get back? Eleven? Midnight?” Turner asked.

  She frowned. “That’s rather—“

  “We have to go and see a friend in hospital,” Catch said.

  Turner tightened his hold on Matty’s arm as she tried to pull free.

  “Oh well, what about your cake?” Diana asked. “We need it for the auction. We already have a bid of fifty pounds.”

  Catch laughed. “A thousand percent prof—” Matty stamped on his toe.

  Turner took his house keys from his pocket and handed them to the vicar. “The cake’s in the kitchen. Please lock up again.”

  “You promised me a dance,” Diana shouted as they hurried off.

  “I don’t want to go to the hospital,” Matty said.

  “Yes, you do,” Catch said.

  * * * * *

  Gabriel closed his eyes and turned his head toward the window of the car. Dava was giving him a headache. Again.

  “A motor home.” She made no attempt to keep the disgust out of her voice. “I don’t want to sleep in a motor home.”

  Gabriel wasn’t ecstatic about it either, but it was the best that could be managed on short notice. And at least they weren’t traveling in it. The motor home following them, driven by Pete, was a precaution, a means of providing secure daytime accommodation should nothing else become available.

  “The vehicle is perfectly adequate,” Gabriel said. “I’m grateful to Victor for finding it.” He opened his eyes and smiled.

  Victor, the broad-shouldered shifter driving the black Lexus, nodded.

  “Thank you for all you’ve done,” Gabriel said to him. “And you too, Nick.”

  The vampire in the passenger seat turned and smiled. “It’s an honor.”

  Whereas for Victor it was purely a matter of money, but no matter. Gabriel needed the help of those who could walk in the sun and they were hardly likely to offer support because the idea of helping vampires appealed to their altruistic nature. But support was gathering momentum. In a pyramid-style transmission of information, one told two who told four and so on. If not all wanted to believe, that was fine. Gabriel only needed sufficient numbers to fund the lifestyle he deserved.

  “A motor home,” Dava muttered.

  Gabriel glared at her. “Small steps. Early days. I’m grateful for the loyalty of the Purelight Calling.”

  “Fellowship,” Dava said. “Remember we were going to call it the Purelight Fellowship now.”

  Gabriel imagined wrapping his hands around her throat. Why was it such a recurrent fantasy? One swift twist and her neck would be broken. If he kept twisting, he could wrench her head off. It would be messy though, and it wasn’t his car.

  “We’re the Purelight Calling,” Gabriel said. “Why change the name? One day, let it be soon, praise be the light, we will all stand together in the sun.”

  Nick turned and gazed at him with adoration undimmed after twenty years. A young vampire who still regretted his decision to turn, he was exactly the kind of believer Gabriel liked along with the older ones who’d grown bored with a dark existence. Well, Gabriel liked them all, provided they had money. What he didn’t need from them was intelligence. That made him think again of Logan, who twenty years ago had slipped away as things unraveled. Where was he now?

  Gabriel rolled his shoulders. “How long before we reach Milford Hall?”

  “Not long,” Victor said.

  “What if Turner no longer believes?” Dava asked.

  What if he never had? “He’ll see the light,” Gabriel said. “Or we’ll send him to eternal darkness.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “How are you guys going to get in?” Matty asked.

  She stared up at the hospital building, lights blazing on every floor, and wondered which window she lay behind. Strange how real this felt, the firm clasp they each had of her hands.

  Because you’re not making it up, you twit.

  Matty pushed the thought away, though her pulse still pounded as her inner voice yelled, Open your eyes and accept this.

  “We walk in,” Turner said.

  “I could go on my own. You won’t be allowed onto the ward. It’s after visiting hours. Anyway, you don’t know where I am,” she pointed out.

  Turner gripped her hand more firmly as if he expected her to bolt. Damn.

  “We’re doing this together,” Catch said.

  It was easier than Matty expected. A question at reception revealed she was on a high-dependency unit on the seventh floor. Ward DG7. Her nerves sizzled even harder. High dependency? Not hard to figure out that was serious. Already anxious about being away from Milford Hall, fear of what she’d see in a few minutes made her tremble.

  “You okay?” Catch asked as they entered the elevator.

  “Yes.”

  “No you’re not.” He pulled her into his arms.

  “We won’t let anything happen to you,” Turner said.

  “But it already has,” she whispered.

  Maybe the moment she saw herself lying in bed, this part of her would vanish. Maybe she’d never see Turner or Catch again. Maybe they’d never existed. Maybe she’d die. Maybe, maybe, maybe. She wanted to say goodbye but worried that might make it happen.

  Her steps grew slower and shorter as they walked down the corridor. If Matty believed she could get away, she’d have run.

  Catch pressed the intercom at the locked do
or of DG7. “My friend and I would like to see Matty Hobsbawn, please.”

  “Visiting is over for tonight,” said a woman.

  “We’ve driven straight from Heathrow,” Catch said. “Just flown in after a long stretch of military service in the Middle East. We didn’t know she was in the hospital until this morning. We rang her parents. Well, their house. We hadn’t known about them dying either. We’re devastated.”

  Turner made a cutting motion across his throat. Catch rolled his eyes.

  “Please. Just for a moment,” Catch wheedled. “We’d be really grateful.”

  The door buzzed, Catch gave a cocky smile and pushed it open. When they reached the desk, two small, round nurses quietly argued.

  They’re not going to let us in. Matty sighed with relief.

  One nurse stalked off and Turner spoke to the other, repeating what Catch had said in a gentle but firm voice.

  Like that was going to work, Matty thought.

  “She’s down the corridor.”

  Huh? Turner must have laid on the charm. Well, he was a handsome guy. If she’d turned up at this time of night, they’d have said go away.

  “We were told she’s been in a coma for months,” Catch said. “What happened?”

  “She was hit by a train.”

  Matty gasped. What? How could she not remember colliding with a train?

  “Tell us all you know,” Turner said in that same low tone.

  “Matty’s injuries were extensive,” said the nurse. “She wasn’t expected to live. She had a severe head injury and never regained consciousness after she came out of the operating theater. Attempts to take her off the ventilator have failed.”

  No, no, no. Matty didn’t want to hear any of this.

  “I’ve been hoping friends would come to see her, but her uncle said no visitors.”

  “What?” Matty snapped. “Ask her why.”

  “Has he said why?” Catch asked.

  “He feels Matty wouldn’t want to be seen like this. Over the last week or so, her uncle’s come in more often. He’s very attentive.”

  Matty found that hard to believe. Her uncle had no time for her usually, but the woman’s tone of voice told Matty what she wasn’t saying. She didn’t like Bernard Strachan. Join the club.