The Watcher: A Vampire Paranormal Romance (The Age of Vampyre Book 1)

by Sophia North

  She looked incredible when she slept. Her beautiful face showed no signs of tension or worry, her gentle deep breathing evidence of a peaceful repose. The effects of the sedative, along with her body's need to heal from his special kiss, kept her in a long deep slumber.

  He knew she would be furious when she finally woke - it was the reason for his reluctance to leave her again. That and his fear she would try something foolish if left to her own devices for too long. But he needed Alfred to continue the search for Samsun - Dante would not rest easy until he knew the vamp was dead and no longer a threat. And so he'd left her on her own, praying his luck would hold and that she'd sleep for a few more hours yet.

  The ding of the lift's arrival drew him back to the present. As he exited, Vlad's booming voice called out to him.

  "Brother, over here."

  Flickering fluorescent lights made an already dingy space even more depressing. A former bomb shelter hastily converted during the Blitz from an ancient network of catacombs, the place was not the most welcoming environment.

  "How many did you manage to gather?" Dante asked in a low voice, joining Vlad at the iron door where he waited.

  "I've kept the numbers low. Reckon it is better to be prudent and restrain the flow of information. And on that note, I'm happy to report I've brought in about a dozen good vamps with one particular bastard who's presence I know you will regret at some point in the near future."

  A grin broke across Dante's face. "Thank fuck he's still alive. I was worried he would be stupid enough to try something on his own and get killed for the effort," Dante replied.

  "Honestly, one would think I'm the fucker incapable of controlling my emotion when we all know that illustrious title belongs to you, mate," the object of their conversation commented as he emerged from the shadows.

  "Darius, you bastard. Come here." Dante grasped the vamp in a warm hug of greeting.

  "See. Fucking emotion all over the place," Darius joked, holding his arms out in mock surrender. "Get off - you're embarrassing yourself."

  Dante released him and stood back. "Were you there the night Anton took Lowerton?"

  "No, I was balls deep in a fine French blonde in Paris at the time. Otherwise we wouldn't be in our current fucked position, now would we?"

  Half a century their senior, Darius was the natural older brother of the pack. Unfortunately it contributed to bouts of delusional alpha superiority. That and the fact he was also once their superior officer when Dante, Vlad and Anton had begun their Watcher service.

  "More like you'd have found yer balls hanging from Anton's neck, if you were dumb enough to be taken, Captain Dickhead - or is it just Dick now you've gone civilian?” Vlad said, entering the fray of insults. "Either way, I hear Anton's into that sort of thing lately and would no doubt relish getting his hands on yours after the beating you gave him back in '63."

  Darius laughed loudly at the jibe. "The little shit thinks he's King of the Vampyres, does he? Poor fuck's lost his mind. We best correct his wayward thinking, wouldn't you agree?"

  The trio entered the room to join their fellow rebel-in-arms. Long tables were fashioned into a large square, with chairs set evenly apart to accommodate the group and allow for easy discussion.

  Dante spent a few minutes circulating and greeting those who'd arrived before taking a seat and calling the Meet to order.

  "I'd like to start by saying time is not a luxury we have at the moment. And every night that passes is another night of allowing Anton's tentacles to dig ever deeper into the heart of our world."

  A murmur of agreement rippled around the table. Dante held up his hand to regain silence. "Vlad has been the lead thus far in our endeavours and in my opinion should remain in command of London operations - any objections?"

  Their silence was taken as consent by Dante. "Vlad, bring us up to speed."

  "Hive communications continue to move at good pace, we are getting regular updates on Lowerton refugee vamp sightings. Hendricks, you and Begsy are overseeing the retrieval missions - anything we need to know?"

  "Nah, Vlad. The team's got everything in hand. We've established host families to help care for those who need the additional support," Hendricks reported. "Our biggest problem right now is accessing clean blood. Any news on that front?"

  "Yes and it is good for once. Our friend at the Ophanim Order sent word fresh supplies will arrive tonight. With regular deliveries agreed to ensure we don't have any further interruptions. Darius, you take the lead in securing these shipments. We will need to vary routes and destinations daily to keep Anton's forces from interfering with logistics."

  "For you, Goldilocks, consider it done," Darius graciously replied. "Dante, what the fuck are you doing in all this - writing ballads?"

  "Not quite, dickhead. Didn't you hear? I am the focus of our dear friend Anton's affections and as such have secured the golden ticket into his lair. I just need to figure out when its most advantageous to accept the invitation."

  Darius leaned back in his chair. "Ah, I see. And here I thought you were in deep therapy with a pretty headshrinker Anton's got a thing for. But perhaps I am mistaken and he didn't ring a live radio talk show to declare his intentions for all of London to hear," he deftly returned.

  The band of vampyres roared at Darius's well aimed barb.

  "Enough," Vlad demanded. "I'll have no disrespectful banter about Simone. She's part of this fight and her contribution will not be made light of. Understand?"

  "Fuck, Goldilocks. Can't a vamp have a little fun?"

  Dante grimaced slightly over Vlad's defense. Darius had a mean streak in him and he wasn't adverse to exercising it when challenged. They could do without poking the bear.

  "I thought the task of feeling Anton's camp out about arranging a chat could be assigned to our young friend, Peterson," Dante stated, looking to move the conversation away from his relationship with Simone.

  Vlad sat back and smiled. "An excellent idea. A test of loyalty that costs us nothing and gains us a well needed update on their state of mind. And that Darius, is what Dante does - complexity distilled to its essence."

  "If you find solace in such drivel, mate," Darius replied. "Who am I to naysay it?"

  *

  SIMONE RATTLED THROUGH the cupboards looking for a bottle of pain killers. Her head pounded and she was trapped in a house with supernatural beings who probably never had to deal with the trifling annoyance of having a headache.

  "You've picked a hell of a time to go AWOL Dante Polidori," she cursed aloud, in the empty kitchen. "And you took your little pet raven too!" The silence in reply to her passionate entreaty was engulfing.

  Her mood matched the kitchen's interior design - black, liquid and volatile.

  She'd known within minutes of waking her condition was not the work of Chianti alone - somehow the bastard had drugged her. Foggy minded, she'd crawled into the shower and stood there for what must have been at least an hour before she'd even started to feel slightly human again.

  In the search for something to wear, her fury further magnified when she found her clothes neatly hung and folded in his walk-in closet. He'd gone to her flat without her. And despite the care he'd shown in ensuring her things were delivered, the high-handedness of his actions far outweighed his thoughtfulness.

  With her head cradled in her hands, Simone tried to will away the pain in a vain attempt to prove she was in control. But the boom, boom, boom of her temple drained the illusion away.

  "Hellooo, Dante, are you in? My apologies on the intrusion but Alfred wasn't at his post and..."

  The distant muffled voice of a man brought Simone's head up. Another living being was in the house. Her heart pounded at the thought. Scrambling from her crouched position, she crept to the kitchen door and peered down the long hallway.

  The figure of an older man dressed in an overcoat, with an umbrella and wearing what appeared to be a tweed three-piece suit, wandered aimlessly around the main hall.

  Curi
ous looking fellow, Simone thought. Definitely unthreatening.

  "Who are you?" she called out, maintaining her distance.

  "Gracious child, you gave me a fright! A dangerous thing to do to a man my age," the older gentleman gasped in surprise.

  Simone did not back down. "Then a man your age should be more selective in the company he keeps. And the potential consequences entering their homes uninvited may bring."

  "One might say the same of you, if one was so inclined. Dante failed to mention he had a such an interesting guest."

  He may be old, but the man wasn't a push-over.

  "Did he even mention me at all, I wonder?" she whispered under her breath before raising her voice and calling out: "Well, we could stand here and sling insults at one another or I could make us a pot of tea and attempt a more meaningful conversation. What say you...?"

  "Horatio," the older gentleman provided. "And a cup of tea would be lovely."

  "Ah, a name I know. I am Simone," she said, returning the gesture. "I'll join you in the library shortly, Horatio."

  A few minutes later Simone entered the library carrying an elegant tea set and found Horatio studying the books on one of the floor-to-ceiling shelves.

  Setting the service down, she began to arrange their cups on the tray. "Are you a milk in first sort?" she asked.

  "Is there any other civilised way?" he answered pleasantly, as he plucked a volume from the shelf he'd been perusing.

  "I agree. But occasionally one must make accommodations for the odd philistine," she returned with a cheeky grin.

  The older gentleman laughed warmly at her wit.

  Upon closer inspection, Simone realised Horatio was not as old as he first appeared. She judged him to be somewhere in his late-fifties, perhaps even early-sixties. Wild tufts of blond hair spiked up haphazardly from his receding hairline, giving him a devil may care look. Yet, his once clearly handsome face bore the story of a man who had seen much and managed somehow to weather the storm.

  Returning the book he'd been thumbing through back onto the shelf, Horatio turned to his hostess. "Dante does have excellent taste when it comes to the classics," he said admiringly, as he came over to join her.

  "Have you known him long?" Simone asked while splashing a respectable amount of milk into his cup, followed by a stream of tea from the porcelain china pot.

  Carefully placing his umbrella against one of the two wing-backs, Horatio removed his overcoat and took his time painstakingly arranging it so that it gracefully draped the back of a chair. Once satisfied, he sat in the opposite one, so as to not disturb his meticulous handiwork.

  "I've known his father, Alessio for nearly thirty years. However, in terms of my friendship with Dante, I would be inclined to classify it as a...slow burn. We have known one other for as long as Alessio and I have, but it has only been over the past few years that I would say our friendship has flourished. You?"

  Simone's teacup paused half-way to her lips. She'd known Dante for what, less than a week? Not exactly the best impression to make. Taking a longer than normal sip, she returned the cup to its saucer.

  "Considerably less than thirty years," she responded evasively. "Seeing as I have yet to reach thirty myself. Although come September, that will change."

  "Virgo or Libra?" Horatio inquired as if it was an everyday sort of question.

  "You study astrology?" she asked. He looked more a man of reason than superstition.

  "Shouldn't everyone?" he returned, his light blue eyes twinkling in delight.

  His amusement was infectious. Simone warmed to him immediately. "I have no idea what I am," she confessed. "I was born the eighth of September, if that helps."

  "Ah, a fellow Virgonian down to the day. I too was born the eighth and remarkably will turn sixty this year as you turn thirty. A new adventure for us both, I would say."

  A new adventure indeed, she mused. As fascinating a discussion about astrology may have been, Simone wasn't going to miss her opportunity to glean more valuable information.

  "Forgive me for being so blunt, Horatio. But I understand you are testing the tainted blood. Are you here to update Dante? You see, I am a doctor and anxious to know the results."

  Horatio moved nervously in his chair. "It is a delicate matter, my dear. Best left for discussion when Dante returns. Can I not entertain you with some other equally fascinating topic? Perhaps you would like to know more about astrology."

  Disappointed at being out-foxed, she muttered: "Not especially."

  "Come, don't be so particular. It is one of our more challenging traits. Virgos may be an earth sign, but the flow of life runs smoothly for us when we go with it."

  "Very well," she sighed. They needed to talk about something.

  "Jolly good. Now where is my mobile...?" he asked, patting his trouser pockets before moving onto the front breast pocket of his tweed jacket. "Ah, yes," he announced, slipping a hand inside his jacket to remove his phone. After a few taps, he asked: "Place of birth?"

  "Harwich."

  "An Essex lass? Not my first choice. Your accent sounds more Northern to me."

  "After my mother died, I went to live with my aunt in Whitby. I suppose it did change the way I speak. The local children made fun of me for my 'posh' ways so I adapted to fit in."

  "It is tragic to lose your mother when young. What about your father?" Horatio asked.

  "I never knew my biological father. He abandoned my mother before I was born. But I did have a wonderful step-father. Sadly he also perished in the accident, along with my baby brother."

  "I'm sorry to hear it. I did not mean to stir up painful memories with my queries."

  "No, not at all. It is all water under the bridge. What else do you want to know?" Simone asked to demonstrate her openness.

  Horatio kept the conversation on astrological matters. "Your birth time, if you happen to know it."

  "Hah, amazingly that is the one bit of information I do know. My mother incessantly told me I was born at the true witching hour..."

  "...three, thirty-three in the morning." Horatio finished for her.

  "Yes, how did you...? Ah, never mind - stupid question."

  Horatio dramatically circled his finger over the screen of his mobile. "And now, your birth chart," he proclaimed, pressing down. Suddenly his face frowned. "Damn, I forgot Dante does not allow mobile signals in here. My apologies, it looks like you will have to wait until I go groundside again to download your chart."

  Groundside?

  "We're underground?" she gasped.

  Horatio raised a questioning brow at her. "You were unaware? Simone, are you here against your will?"

  Oh, dear. Things were going south fast.

  "Of course not. I come and go as you do."

  "Through the Underground system?"

  One took a tube to get there? How fascinating.

  "A true Mind-the-Gap girl, am I," she offered lamely.

  "Miss - my goodness, what is your surname?"

  "Radcliffe."

  "Miss Radcliffe."

  "Dr." Simone corrected, hoping her title would encourage him to open up to a scientific discussion about the tainted blood.

  "What?" he asked, surprised by her answer.

  "Dr. Radcliffe, not Miss."

  But before Horatio could respond, Dante's deep voice suddenly boomed out.

  "Horatio, what the hell...?"

  All eyes turned to the doorway. In it, stood Dante, with a bouquet of flowers clasped tightly in his hand.

  Chapter Twenty

  "DANTE, EXCELLENT! DR. Radcliffe and I have been eagerly awaiting your return. Simone has been kind enough to indulge my eccentricities by allowing me to ramble on about astrology."

  Impressed by his deft handling of the awkward situation, Simone chirped up. "Yes, Horatio was attempting to explain the finer points of being a Virgo."

  The pair looked like two children caught with fingers in the biscuit tin. But even Dante knew better than to challenge the
m about it - he had his own secrets to keep hidden.

  "The stuff of nonsense," Dante declared, striding over to join them.

  Horatio looked at Simone and whispered: "Taurus - a most trying disposition. Stubborn like a bull."

  Simone had to quickly stifle a spontaneous giggle. "Are those for me?" she asked, gesturing to the bouquet in an attempt to further ease the tension before realising her miscalculation. She was drawing attention to their 'relationship' in front of an outsider. This might get messy.

  "Yes, I thought you would enjoy them in your rooms," he replied tightly. "I'll have Alfred put them in a vase and deliver them there. Alfred!"

  "He's not here," Simone said softly. "I haven't seen him since waking."

  "It explains so much," Dante replied, sighing at the ceiling. Horatio and Simone shifted their gaze away in sheepish guilt over being the cause of his anguish.

  "Shall I take them ..." she offered hesitantly.

  Whoosh, he was gone and back in a flash. "I left them in some water in the kitchen. Alfred will see to it when he returns."

  With the issue of the flowers neatly resolved, the trio lapsed into momentary silence. No one was quite sure what to say next.

  "Would you like a cup of tea?" Simone asked timidly.

  "Fuck no," Dante moaned. "I need alcohol - any other takers?"

  Horatio perked up. "Brandy for me."

  Dante looked questioningly at Simone. Her ice blue eyes threw daggers at him.

  "Nothing, thank you. I am still a bit delicate from last night's indulgences," she tightly replied.

  Her emphasis did not go unnoticed. Clearing his throat, Horatio accepted the generous snifter Dante presented him. "Now then, Dante, I want you to know I deeply regret my actions tonight - there are no excuses to justify what I've done. To enter your home, unannounced - it's the height of impropriety. Again, my regrets. However, we currently live in highly unusual times, and given the stakes, I hope you can forgive me my trespasses."

  Dante's anger, and dare he admit it, also the edge of embarrassment he felt about the awkwardness of Simone's presence, eased away. "Of course, old friend. You are always welcome in this house - announced or not."