by Sophia North
"On Saturday evening," he replied.
"Saturday! My car, my Friday appointments ... people will be frantically looking for me. And with a dead body in my flat... " Simone could not bring herself to finish the sentence. The shit-storm her disappearance must be creating daunted her. What was she going to tell people? Certainly not the bloody truth.
"Your absence has been taken care of for the time being. But unless you try to trust me, or at the very least hear me out, I can make no guarantees it will remain unremarked upon."
Realising her options were indeed rather limited, Simone conceded some ground.
"You have one hour. I suggest you make the most of it because you are on very thin ice with me. Comprendo?"
He wasn't the only one who could use foreign languages to make a point.
"Aye, aye Captain."
The cheeky bastard.
Chapter Twelve
"HOW SHALL WE proceed? Do you want to ask me questions? I shall answer each and every one, until you agree to stay under my protection," Dante magnanimously offered, as he stood at the library door to usher her inside.
"It will take more than an exclusive vampyre exposé to accomplish such a feat, but I will admit to being curious," she caustically remarked, sweeping past him with her nose in the air.
Halfway across the room, Simone paused. She got the distinct impression he'd not followed her in. Turning back, she found Dante leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, surprised to find him lingering. Why he was standing at the door when he should be at her side begging for forgiveness was beyond her.
"I get the feeling you are not prepared to listen to my answers with an open-mind. Perhaps it is unwise for us to continue as we have been," Dante enigmatically replied.
Not listen...close-minded? What the hell was he on about? Listening and being open-minded was all she ever did.
"Are you taking the piss again?"
"No, I am quite serious, Dr. Radcliffe."
Dante's eyes flashed to remind her exactly who he was...what he was.
Oh, so this is your line of offence, is it? Think again, Mr. Polidori, she silently challenged. Threatening her into submission was never going to work. She'd faced far more intimidating adversaries than him.
He may be capable of all sorts of terrifying acts as a vampyre, but then again, the human race were no slouches in the monster department either. And she'd met her fair share in her line of work.
The main reason his bluster didn't scare her, however, came down to one simple fact. He wanted her. She wanted him. And therein lay her power.
"Quite serious, are you?" she asked, placing a finger to her lip and cocking her hip. "I see. Hmm, what a shame."
Dante's silver gaze narrowed. What game was she playing at now? He never knew from one moment to the next which Simone he was going to get - Dr. P&P or Hellcat? It all seemed to depend on her mood, of which, she appeared to have many.
On their way from the kitchen, he'd believed being deferential the best strategy to convince her to stay. But her continued snipes and hot & cold weather fronts had him questioning his wisdom in humouring her.
He wanted to please her...lord, how he wanted to, in every way possible...but if Vlad's arrival brought even a fraction of the shit he expected, her need to be pliable would disappear out the window.
So why even bother letting her believe she had a choice in the matter?
Because you want more from her than a hostile prisoner, his inner voice whispered.
And he did. Which was why he'd proposed an hour to convince her to be reasonable. It wasn't just for her benefit. It was for both of theirs.
If his need to keep her safe made her stay less hospitable, so be it. He was prepared to close the door and lock her in if she continued to be shrewish and unbending. But it didn't have to go that way between them. The choice, however, was hers to make.
"A shame, love? Afraid not...at least not from where I stand," he drawled from his relaxed pose at the door.
Knowing she’d danced far too close to the line with him, Simone decided not to push her luck. Besides one always caught more flies with honey in her experience.
Turning on her heel, she coquettishly glanced back at him from over her shoulder. "Do you promise to answer my questions truthfully, no matter what I ask, if I cease being...difficult?"
Dante's body instantly responded to her flirtatiousness. Damn, who was he kidding? He had a barefooted goddess standing in his library and an hour to kill until Vlad's expected arrival. One could accomplish much in that time...possibly twice.
"No holds barred - I swear," he replied in a low gruff voice.
His sincerity was real. Along with his arousal.
Ahh, girl power. Simone could suss his triggers with pinpoint accuracy - a specialty of hers.
"Then do come in, Mr. Polidori. The doctor is ready for you," she remarked, swaying her hips as she walked away.
Ding-dong. She won.
Curious to see what his belongings revealed about him, Simone began to wander around the room. His 'library' was more like a ballroom. It's large expanse combined a number of uses into one space.
Mainly dominated by a generous seating area littered with leather wing-back chairs around a long leather couch, the floors and walls were sumptuously decorated.
Barefooted, her feet sank into a thick Persian rug as she made her way over to inspect two gold-framed oil paintings hanging above a large marble fireplace.
Staring up at them, Simone could not hide her admiration.
"Your home really is lovely," she said, turning her head this way and that to gain a full perspective.
At the far end, rows of bookcases stacked with leather-bound volumes lined the walls to the high ceiling. An old fashioned iron ladder on wheels stood at the ready to assist one to procure a title from the top shelf.
In front of the 'library', stood a full size snooker table illuminated by a row of low hanging spotlights.
All in all the room was both impressively spacious, yet comfortable.
Suddenly at her back, Dante's presence filled her senses.
"For a mausoleum?" he whispered in her ear, mocking her earlier description.
With the fox so close to her proximity, Simone glided away to go and perch on the gleaming woodwork of the snooker table. Feeling a bit sheepish about her initial harsh assessment, she nervously toyed with a strand of her hair.
"I may have been a wee bit condescending in describing your home in such a manner," she confessed. "It is far from being cold. In fact, you seem to have taken great care over every detail. My rooms, for instance, are very well appointed. No doubt your guests are usually more appreciative than me."
"In truth, you are my first."
Simone froze. She'd assumed he would have many overnight visitors...but then again, the ones who were staying would have no use for a guest chamber.
"Your first what?" she asked, trying to pretend his strange confession hadn't set her heart racing.
"My first guest. I have the odd visitor but never overnight ones. My home is my sanctuary and I've never shared it so intimately...until you."
Her breath caught at the desire she saw smouldering in his eyes from across the room. Sweet lord, how she wanted walk over to the chair he was sitting in and kiss him senseless. She loved the idea of being the only woman to have stayed in his home.
Desperate to steer their conversation back into safe waters before she gave into the temptation, she eased off the snooker table and started talking utter rubbish.
"I should have you come round to my place for some pointers. You've seen the state of my flat's interior decor. It's appallingly empty and...is this you?" she asked, pointing at a small portrait set within one of the bookshelves.
"Yes," Dante confirmed. "It was...quite long ago."
"I can see that," she remarked. "I mean, what are you wearing?...Is that a wig?"
"Fashions were a l
ittle different back then."
"Then being?"
"The year I became a vampyre, seventeen forty-eight."
"Amazing," she said, sighing deeply. Simone wasn't sure if she'd ever get used to him being so old.
Studying the young beauty from his chair, Dante wished she'd return to asking him more interesting questions...preferably ones that made her cheeks flush delightfully pink again. He had enjoyed her reaction to learning she was the only woman he'd ever allowed to stay in his home.
"So, Dr. Radcliffe...what will help you decide to see reason and accept my protection? Shall I promise to help you decorate, or are there other needs I can attend to?" Maybe that would get her going in the right direction.
Simone's hand faltered as she reached for a book. Casting a look in his direction, she detected he'd grown bored with her tame 20 questions routine. Very well, she had a few pertinent points she'd appreciate some clarification on before she left - which was still her intention. She didn't care how sexy he looked, or how much she wanted him. There was absolutely no way she was abandoning her life to shack up with him.
First up: vamp reproduction.
"You never explained why vampyres only breed with us...uhm, I mean human women. If there are female vampyres, shouldn't they be able to bear children?"
"Well, to start with, I should have been clearer and said vampyres can only breed with certain women, not all. And as for the existence of female vampyres...well, let's just say they didn't come onto the scene until the seventeenth century and are unable to breed."
Simone did not look convinced by his answer, and so he continued. "In terms of being a vampyre, I was born from my human mother, grew as a human child grows to maturity, until the time came for me to decide whether or not to ascend to my vampyre form."
This revelation surprised her. "You were given the choice on whether or not to become a vampyre?"
"I have always been a vampyre, your mistake is thinking I was ever really human."
Say what?
"I don't understand what you mean. Your answer is confusing," she said, heading back to join him in the seating area.
"Most of us were confused too until the study of genetics came along and enlightened those with the eyes to see the truth. Unfortunately, this pursuit of knowledge led to what we in the vamp world affectionately call, ‘The Terrors’. And it was at the end of this turbulent period that vampyre procreation was banned, as well as many other old vampyric ways. Too many bad seeds, they claimed. I was one of the last vampyres born - they call us the Final Brood. Catchy, isn't it? Sadly, there is more truth to the name than given credit."
Simone sat down across from him. What he'd said took some digesting.
Was he implying vampyres were the product of a certain genetic make-up?
The scientist in her wanted to know more, but knew if she indulged that side of herself it would inevitably lead her down a rabbit hole. A luxury she could ill afford. There were other questions she wanted answering before he pressed her for a decision on whether or not she would accept his protection and stay.
"Yet you also call yourself a Watcher - what does that entail?" she asked, proceeding to her next question. "As part of your duties you mentioned hunting rogue vampyres, Rippers, I believe...and that Zara's murder led you to become one again. At the time I sensed there was more to this than you wanted to reveal. Although, I did base my theory on the assumption you were experiencing PTSD. Clearly, I was mistaken."
"Perhaps, perhaps not," Dante countered. "Becoming a Watcher again comes with serious consequences and is not usually allowed. But at the time I would not be deterred. No one could reason with me in the weeks following my father’s disappearance and Zara’s murder. So in a way, one could argue my state of mind was not unlike someone suffering PTSD would experience."
Unable to see his logic at becoming a Watcher again, Simone pressed him on it. "I'll concede the trauma you experienced sounds rather dire. But surely you are powerful enough in your own right to find and destroy whomever you want. Why was being a Watcher so important?"
"Only Watchers are able to access certain vampyric abilities and I needed them in order to get the job done. Thankfully, I was early enough in my Cleanse to easily reconnect. Another decade or so and they would have been lost to me forever, as intended."
Bloody hell, she should have known there was no such thing as a straightforward conversation with a vampyre. She knew too little and there was so much to learn. Vampyric abilities...vampyre genetics...born appearing human with a choice of ascension? Where did one begin? Agreeing to stay suddenly became more appealing.
Good god, what was she thinking? She couldn't abandon her life to study a supernatural race. She would more than likely be committed to an asylum for believing in such a thing.
Shaking her head to break free of such ridiculous notions, she pulled hard on the proverbial reins of her runaway thoughts and returned to being her rational self again.
"Whoa, you said quite a lot in such a short space of time and the clock is ticking. Let's move on to how a freaky vampyre prophecy has anything to do with me. The story thus far, whilst tragic, does nothing to convince me I am in any true danger and must remain with you."
"Ouch, Dr. Radcliffe. Don't sugar-coat it for me."
Simone arched a knowing brow at him as if to say, move on.
Dante rose to the challenge. "In a nutshell: it would appear Anton is intent on leading a rebellion against the Lowerton establishment because of the prophecy. And you, my good doctor, are in the middle of it all because you're the only one who can help me use my visionary powers to stop him. Hence, Anton wants you dead and will not stop until it’s accomplished."
Quite the nutshell.
Simone sat back in surprise. "Bloody hell, I need a drink. Please tell me you have bourbon."
"In abundance."
Moments later Dante presented her with a glass generously filled with the amber elixir. "Here, a particular favourite of mine."
The fiery liquid tasted exquisite, its warmth a welcome sensation to combat the chill Dante's explanation had evoked. Nestling her head comfortably in the crook of the couch, she contemplated her options.
"I could leave London, the country if needs be," she reasoned. "Surely my absence would appease Anton."
"If it that was a credible option, don't you think I'd have you on the next plane out of Heathrow?" Dante replied. "But it would only delay your inevitable demise by weeks...perhaps months, if you were particularly resourceful. Which, I have to say, you are not. I'd give you a week on your own - tops - before you were caught."
"Cheers for that," she snapped, insulted by his low opinion. "Anton is not going to waste his time pursuing me across the globe! He has far greater priorities than ensuring my permanent removal from your life."
"Anton will not be the one doing the pursuing, he will have others from across the globe do it for him."
"Excellent, of course there would be a world-wide vampyre network for me to contend with, how convenient for you. How exactly will you be able to protect me if I stay here? Isn't London basically ground zero for the upcoming vamp apocalypse? Strikes me as being the last place I should be."
Oh dear, a distinctly shrilly front had just moved back in.
"The answer is quite simple," Dante returned. "No supernatural creature can enter this house other than those who have been invited in."
"So that bit of vampyre lore is true. What poor human pawn do you keep around to 'own' the house? Is it this Private Secretary you spoke about earlier - what is his name by the way? I'm sure every human slave deserves one."
A cacophony of caws filled the sitting room.
Simone bolted upright from her relaxed position on the couch. "Good god, where did your pet raven come from? I could have sworn he wasn't here when we arrived."
"Cease!" Dante ordered and the raven immediately quieted. "I keep no human slave to do my bidding, Simone. This house is family-owned, has been for centuries."<
br />
That little titbit took the winds from her sails. "You have a human family?"
"Yes, I did my duty and fathered a son and heir to maintain my family's human bloodline. The Polidori lineage is very old and powerful in both the vampyre and human realms - yet its human branch is unknown to those in the vampyre world. My telling you of their existence gives you leverage over me - but I hope this offering goes some way in getting you to trust me."
Surprisingly, it did. Although hearing he'd had a wife and family in another time niggled her slightly. "I may have never had a family of my own, but I know the value in having one," Simone replied. "I would never betray them or you."
Dante nodded in thanks but her words puzzled him. "Never had a family? Your online bio states you were raised by your maternal aunt after your parents and baby brother died in an automobile accident. Was she unkind to you, this aunt, to not warrant a mention?"
Simone blushed, slightly embarrassed by her earlier declaration about lacking a true family. "No, I didn't mean to imply that. My Aunt Vivienne was wonderful - albeit quirky. She did her best raising me but struggled on and off with mental health issues. Just after I turned thirteen she experienced a severe breakdown and had to be admitted to an institution. I'll never forget that day for as long as I live. It was the morning of 9/11, but of course, with Britain being five hours ahead, we had no idea what laid in store for all of us until the afternoon. I sat in the hospital waiting room for hours, watching the planes hit the towers, over and over again."
The destruction of the Twin Towers in September 2001 not only rocked the human world. It's ramifications rippled across all worlds, so significant was its message.
Dante was struck by the sad thought of Simone sitting alone watching the world, as it was then known, disintegrate at the same time her own fell apart.
Shifting in his chair, Dante gently asked, "What happened to you?"
Encircling her knees, she rested her chin on top of them. Her stomach churned at the thought of going into more detail. Simone rarely discussed her past, if ever.
"Children Services stepped in and attempted to find my biological father. He'd left my mother before I was born, but they found no trace of him. Probably dead as well, for all I know."
