by Sophia North
Pressing the smart home icon on her phone, she selected the control panel for her bedroom to open the thick blackout blinds dominating the far wall. Outside, the busy streets hummed with rush hour traffic. Although, one would be hard pressed to find many hours in the day when Central London wasn't buzzing with excitement.
Donning a light silk dressing gown, she padded down the long curved hallway leading from her flat's generous three bedrooms to the main living area.
The late afternoon sun streamed through the wall of glass facing the river. The large sliding doors led to an outdoor terrace, where London's position on the Thames could be admired in all its glory.
It was somewhat ironic her building's security was overseen by a former MI5 operative, given its location across from her Majesty's Secret Service headquarters. But Daryl had often assured her that 'those lot were nothing but a bunch of toffs who played with gadgets' and if she ever needed real protection, his former outfit was much more the ticket.
Simone had barely sat down with her freshly made cappuccino, when her mobile started ringing again. Swiping it to speaker, Penny's accusing voice filled the room.
"How long does it take to pee and make one of your gourmet cups of coffee?"
"Tell me why you were awake at such an ungodly hour today," Simone asked, ignoring her jibe.
"You!" Penny dramatically announced. "I have an unshakeable feeling something transformative happened to you last night. Did you sleep with your client? Not judging, but if you did, fess up because whatever this feeling is, I need to get it out of my system. I cleaned my entire studio in a vain attempt to expel it's affects, for god's sake!"
Simone inexplicably blushed. Damn Penny and her 'feelings'. She wasn't sure she was ready to talk about last night yet.
"Penny, you know I would never do anything so unethical," she assured her, although secretly knowing she'd been sorely tempted to abandon such lofty ideals. The mere thought of Dante Polidori's kiss made her heart flutter in response.
"So, you're telling me nothing happened and my cosmic juju is messing me about?"
"I'm afraid so, dearest," Simone lied, happy to keep her brush with debauchery to herself for the time being.
"Maybe the universe is trying to tell me I need to have my own hot, orgasmic transformation? And I was just projecting it onto you because you're in worse shape than I am in that department."
It was true. Simone's last attempt at a relationship had ended in its usual manner. Intellectual chemistry followed by the rude awakening that she wasn't all that into them.
"I thought you were in the midst of a torrid on-again, off-again affair with that boxer, you know…lord, what is his name?" Simone asked, happy to focus on Penny's relationship malfunctions rather than hers.
"Please, that was over months ago. And Joshua," Penny always had to remind Simone of her latest fling's name, "Was nothing more than casual sex. Pleasant enough, but nothing like what I felt last night. No, that shit was carnal. Believe me, there is a difference."
"I think you need to get out more," Simone joked, trying not to reveal how much her friend's description bothered her.
"Hmmm, perhaps," Penny replied enigmatically. "So, who was this mystery client of yours? Another depraved member of the elite seeking to reclaim a sliver of humanity?"
Penny had no time for the 1%ers. She'd had her fill at boarding school and made sure to stay clear of them whenever possible. Unfortunately, being an artist brought her into contact with some from time to time. But a girl had to eat, and London didn't come cheap. So she forced herself to suffer through the odd one at various art exhibits.
"Of a sort. He was certainly intriguing," Simone answered, unwilling to elaborate. Especially as she had yet to fully comprehend it for herself.
After driving away, she’d looked for Dante in the rearview mirror, unsure what he'd meant by his final words. Or any of them for that matter.
Had he really wanted her to forget him and everything that had happened between them? Not bloody likely.
"Intriguing male, you say. Are you sure nothing happened?"
Simone laughed at her persistence. "Penny, nothing happened and I need to get ready. I am on-air in a few hours. Ring you later?"
Penny knew when she was beat. "Alright," she replied. "Later."
After hanging up from Simone, Penny sighed. For a woman supernaturally gifted at knowing when someone lied, Penny always marveled at how terrible her friend was at doing it herself.
*
SIMONE SAT IN a lounger on the terrace, enjoying the warmth of the setting sun's rays upon her face. The capital had been experiencing some rather extreme weather of late. The British summer was always unpredictable...swinging from glorious sunshine to torrential rain was not all that unusual. The soaring temperatures of late, however, were - and today had been a cracker, with highs reaching the late twenties.
A bit of a sun worshipper, Simone’s decision to purchase her flat had been made the moment she'd stepped out onto the generous patio area facing the river. The Thames may not be the Mediterranean, but being near water had been important to her, as well as having some outside space to enjoy it from.
Still dressed in her silk wrapper, she'd come out to enjoy the warm evening after her conversation with Penny. She needed time to think, and her best thinking got done in silent contemplation.
Unsurprisingly, her thoughts were dominated by one subject...Dante Polidori and the strange session they'd had last night.
She'd heard of cases where patients exhibited similar beliefs in being a vampyre, but none had gone into quite so much detail about their world as he had. In fact, most of the papers she'd read on the phenomena had focused on the fetish of drinking blood and sleeping inside coffins.
Unusual sexual urges also seemed to be at the heart of the condition, and whilst Dante had been open about how vampyres could 'sleep with whomever they pleased', he'd not been overly interested in talking about that aspect of his life.
No, his issues laid elsewhere. And they involved psychic visions and magical powers.
What on earth would Freud have to say about that?
For the past hour, she'd constantly replayed his final words. It was like he believed he could control her mind. And if she was being honest, there was a part of her that thought he might very well have been.
She could still not understand why she'd gone along with his story...and worse, that she'd allowed him to kiss her.
What the hell had she been thinking?
Answer: she hadn't be thinking at all. She'd been feeling. And what she felt from the handsome Mr. Polidori had been highly erotic...and incredibly tempting.
Her body grew warm at the memory of his lips on hers. The taste of his tongue.
But as she sat in the hard light of day, Simone felt a tinge of shame over her behaviour. The man had obviously needed her help and she'd not offered him any.
The only thing she could think to do was to try and make amends for her lack of professionalism. Her solution? She was going to change the topic of her show tonight from the perils of online dating to a discussion about grief, hoping it may be the bait to lure him back to her.
Glancing at her watch, she noted the time. In a few hours she'd be on-air again. She needed to inform Jason, her laid-back Canadian producer, of the program's new topic. He loved it when she became unpredictable...not.
Canadians, eh? Not always so laid-back.
Rising from the lounger, she watched as the sun slipped from the horizon. Bright streaks of red merged with a deepening purple. Tomorrow promised to be another beautiful day. But for Simone, the night held more allure. And for the first time in a long while, something stirred within her...and she felt alive once more.
Chapter Six
ON A BENCH along Victoria Embankment, Dante sat watching the river traffic chug its way up and down the Thames, as he waited for Vlad's inevitable arrival. It wouldn't take long for his friend to detect Dante's presence on his patch, which suited
him perfectly. Better that Vlad came to him without any preconceived notions over what he needed to discuss with his best mate.
Unable to rest since his encounter with Simone, Dante had spent hours playing the piano trying to figure out what to do next.
The answer had not been an easy pill to swallow, but nonetheless, swallow it he must. The time had come to visit Lowerton and speak to the Council of Elders.
Fuck. The prospect was unpalatable.
The Council was so incompetent these days, and with his father being more or less branded a traitor for his belief in the Haan prophecy, the thought of sharing his vision with them wasn't exactly appealing - or wise.
But what could he do? Ignoring what he'd seen may bring far worse consequences. The future of the Empire was at stake. The human world was under threat.
And Dante could not in all good conscience remain silent about it.
Knowing any hope of convincing the Council to take action would require back-up, he'd decided to bring Vlad along. His friend's slick-operator ways would definitely come in handy. News of Dante's vision might require Vlad’s unique abilities to help quell any potential outbursts inside Lowerton. At least, he hoped they would.
As predicted, it didn't take Vlad long to discover him.
Quietly whistling as he strolled along the pavement, Vlad eventually made his way over to the bench where his friend was sitting.
"Took your time, brother," Dante wryly commented, after Vlad sat down beside him. "Your powers of detection must be slipping. I've been on your patch for hours."
"You've been on my patch for no more than ten minutes," Vlad retorted, stretching out his long legs to get more comfortable. "Now, call me crazy, but I get the distinct impression you have something on your mind...and this tends to worry me."
Vlad's highly suspicious nature was always at work, and finding Dante sitting alone on a bench in his patch had definitely piqued it.
Dante laughed at his friend's flair for the dramatic. "I need you to do me a favour."
"What's in it for me? Money?" Vlad jested.
"You're already as rich as Croesus. No, sadly my request is just going to bring another headache...probably."
Vlad had known Dante all his immortal life. They were both ‘Final Brood’ vampyres, which meant their bond of brotherhood was even closer than usual for their kind. Being Watchers together only went to further strengthen it.
"You know you can ask me anything, brother," Vlad said.
"I'm going to Lowerton to see the Council. I need you to come and….you know…"
The hand gesture Dante employed at the end of his request made Vlad laugh. "You want me to make sure you remain on your best behaviour," he chuckled.
"Whatever," grumbled Dante.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, mate. My devastating charm is at your service. You do have your issues when it comes to conducting civilised discourse with the Establishment.”
Dante snorted derisively. "Where you get the notion that the Council is 'civilised' is beyond me. I'd be hard pressed to rank them as 'reasonable' lately."
Harsh words from someone raised to uphold its integrity. Hell, until his father's disappearance and Zara's murder, he and Vlad had both aspired to become Elders.
Yet, when Dante had been offered his father's place on Council, Vlad knew he'd refuse it. Dante would never accept his father's death until he actually saw the body, nor his being a traitor, until he heard his father confess it with his own two lips.
"You know, since Anton's disappearing act there are only three Elders left," Vlad commented, unsure if Dante was up-to-date with the state of politics. He usually refused to talk about Council matters anytime Vlad tried to bring them up. "I can't believe they haven't got round to replacing Elder Abelard. It's been nearly six months since his death."
"It's a wonder anything ever gets done," Dante grumbled.
"And I don't trust Third Elder Simmons. Don't get me wrong, he’s one creepy fuck, and I’ve never trusted him at the best of times, but still...there's something even more off about him than being one ugly motherfucker."
Dante shook his head and smiled. Only Vlad would crack a joke on the brink of the shit hitting the fan.
"Things are getting bad, aren't they?" Vlad remarked more seriously
"Bad enough for me to call a Meet," Dante replied in an equally grave tone.
"Shit, that bad?"
Dante nodded grimly.
One of the greatest powers a Watcher possessed was the ability to call an emergency 'Meet'. It was rare for a Watcher to do so, but Dante felt he no longer had a choice. The messages from his vision needed to be acted upon by those with the authority to expose the truth.
"Do you think the Council will respond? I mean, what do we have to share other than another dead body?" Vlad asked.
"I've had a vision."
Vlad sat forward, surprised by the news. His friend had been unable to achieve them since losing Zara. "How did you do it?"
"I found someone to help me."
"Like Zara?"
"Yes," Dante replied before reconsidering his answer. "No, not like Zara," he corrected gruffly. "I've just managed to find someone. God, why does everything turn into the Spanish Inquisition with you?"
"Because no one expects it," Vlad replied in his usual Pythonesque way.
Dante was not amused.
"Easy, brother. Surely you can forgive a vamp for being curious," he defended. "Why, just last week you were adamantly against ever trying to connect with that side of yourself again." Peering more closely at his friend, Vlad fished for further information. "Why are you being so secretive?"
"Secretive?"
"Yes Polly, secretive. If you don't want to reveal who helped you achieve the vision - it's no skin off my back. I’m more interested in knowing what you managed to see."
"I was just about to tell you that."
"Oh?" Vlad sat back, resting a long arm over the back of the bench. "Please, proceed."
Dante stared straight ahead. Vlad may regret his insistence.
"I saw Anton. He wanted me to join him. I think he believes in the prophecy."
Vlad drew a sharp breath. The Haan prophecy was a sensitive subject in their world. To take a position on its validity had been splitting the empire in two - with each camp becoming more and more intransigent in their views. Odds at the Bookies were currently leaning heavily in the 'hell no' direction, but Vlad wasn't so sure.
"Sounds about right," Vlad eventually replied, resisting an urge to press Dante further. He'd been withholding certain information about Anton from his friend, fearing it may trigger a violent reaction.
The three friends had been at odds since Zara's death. Dante's decision to claim the privilege primitivus sanguis, First Blood, in order to become a Watcher again, had infuriated Anton. And Vlad following suit only widened the chasm between them. It had become so bad that by the point of Anton's blow-up with the Council, the pair were no longer speaking to their old friend.
"What do you think is going on with Anton?" Vlad asked. "There are all these mad rumours about him."
"I'm not sure," Dante carefully replied.
"Some say he's building an army."
"What evidence do they have?"
"None really. And that's the problem – there are too many rumours and not enough cold hard facts," Vlad sighed. "And this lack of clarification is causing a lot of fucking debate about the prophecy."
Attempting to gauge Dante's reaction to the news of the growing discontent in their world, and the potential chaos his vision could unleash, Vlad studied his profile intently. But Dante sat silently, appearing completely unaffected by what he was being told.
"There have been communications from the Colonies demanding to know what the fuck is going on," Vlad continued. "It seems the increase in Rogue activity is a global trend - except in Yankeeland. But who the fuck knows what really goes on with them? Unsurprisingly, they continue to be their usual pain in the collective
ass selves and run wild, regardless of prophetic urges or their own mistaken sense of supremacy."
Dante laughed. Unlike Vlad, he'd always had a soft spot for their American cousins. They could outrage as easily as they could lead. But more than that, they were able to blend the old ways with the new in order to get shit done. A trait Lowerton could learn from, if they could get over their own stuck-up, superior ways.
With a quick glance to the heavens, Dante rose. "Then I reckon we best get on with the business at hand. The last thing we need is another American crisis of confidence washing up on our shores. The last time took nigh on a century to clean up. And nobody needs their reactionary ways added to the current mix."
Chapter Seven
TO THE HUMAN eye Lowerton appeared as nothing more than a huge block of slightly dated flats. Owned by vampyres for centuries, the land on which the present decoy stood had been through many transformations in order to protect its true identity from the world.
At one time, it housed a simple riverside farm, run for generations by the same family who never knew their true masters. Then the Romans came, followed by the Norse, the Normans - and so it goes.
Yet with each invasion, assimilation, alliance or betrayal, Lowerton had evolved. Until, like the once backward island where it stood, the vampyre capital grew into the greatest Empire the earth had ever known.
"Don't come here often these days, eh?" Vlad ventured cautiously, sensing his friend's apprehension.
He and Dante had been standing in the alleyway across from Lowerton's entrance for the best part of thirty minutes with nary a word exchanged. Vlad knew Dante wasn't telling him everything, and he did not want to push, but there was only so much a vamp could take of his friend's solemn moods.
"It has been several months since I last visited my quarters. I prefer my house."
"You sure you wanna do this?" Vlad asked.
The real question in Dante's mind was, would Vlad?
On the walk over, Dante debated what exactly he should reveal to the Elders and came to the conclusion, barring Simone's existence, he needed to tell them everything.
