by Sophia North
In that moment, Simone knew she would never leave him. Her heart belonged to a vampyre, and no matter what the world threw at them, she'd always stand by his side.
"I love you, Dante," she said solemnly. "Always and forever."
Kissing her, he replied, "I want that in writing."
Her stunned look made him laugh. She really was too easy sometimes.
Growing serious, he caught her face in his hands. "I love you too, Simone. Always and forever."
Satisfied, she kissed his palm and settled back onto his chest.
Rubbing her back, Dante glanced over at his bedside clock. It had nearly been an hour since Alfred had first knocked, so either Vlad's idea of arriving shortly left much to be desired, or his friend had learned a modicum of patience.
He put his money on Vlad's lack of time keeping.
"We really need to get up. I expect company any minute," he informed her. "The sort that is not adverse to pounding on my door regardless of what may be occurring on the other side of it.”
Simone abruptly sat up at the thought of Vlad interrupting them again. "He takes far too many liberties with all his comings and goings," she pronounced, her delicate brow furrowing in determination. "That will be Simone's house rule number one when all this is over: no more impromptu visitations from Vlad."
Dante could barely hide his elation. He liked to hear her talking about a future together - even if it meant the banishment of his best friend. "Well, until that fateful day, we are stuck with him. And with that in mind, you may want to give consideration about what you leave lying around."
At her questioning look, he retrieved his trousers and out of a pocket withdrew her list of questions from the other night. Waving it before her very eyes, he chuckled when she recognised what he was holding.
"Vlad has a way of misinterpreting information and he would have a field day with this! Quite an exhaustive list, love. Thank god you took pity on me and stopped at question three. Though I must admit to a certain degree of intrigue over question thirteen - Treadwell's - why did he bring me there? Zara? A rather obscure detail to have a question about. Does Treadwell's mean something to you?"
Simone snatched the list away. "You're right, it's nothing more than a silly detail."
Dante wasn't so sure. "Tell me, you obviously figured out my connection to the bookstore from what I told you about Zara. But why is the fact she owned Treadwell's of interest to you?"
"I knew her."
"You knew Zara! How is that possible?"
"I lived in a flat above her shop for almost five years. The night you brought me there I thought you were some sort of creepy stalker client, who wanted to subliminally message me you knew about my past. It was only after I spent some time replaying everything you'd told me that I made the possible Zara connection."
"Do you remember when you moved into the flat?" Dante asked, his heart pounding in his chest for some inexplicable reason.
"Uhm, it was the spring I finished my internship in Switzerland. So that would make it early June 2012. Why?"
"No reason in particular. Curiosity, I guess. It's surprising we never met back then - even if only through a chance encounter. Zara and I became friends around the same time," he replied casually, desperate to keep his voice neutral in lieu of the fact his mind was reeling.
What did it mean? his inner voice cried.
Simone watched Dante struggle to hide his reaction at the news of her connection to Zara. It felt like a sharp knife had sliced right through their warm, intimate cocoon of contentment and left a cold gaping hole of things best left unsaid.
"I'd better get moving. You are right about the Viking's impatience, and it would be best if he did not find me here...we wouldn't want him to get the wrong idea about us."
What the fuck was she talking about? Wrong idea about what? He was in love with her and wanted to shout it from the rooftops.
Scooting from the bed like her ass was on fire, Simone picked up his shirt and used it like a wrap.
"Simone..." Dante said, knowing he'd upset her with his talk of Treadwell's and Zara.
"I'm going to return to my rooms to shower and change. Where will I find you and Vlad when I'm ready?"
Sensing her reluctance to talk, Dante bit his tongue. "We'll be in the music room - third door past the library on the way to the kitchen. Or simply follow the sound of music playing. I do my best strategising at the piano."
Simone nodded and slipped out the door.
Alone, Dante gave into his frustration and threw a pillow across the room. Unsurprisingly, it made him feel like an ass. He'd have much preferred to punch something instead.
Shifting from the bed, he quickly dressed. He had the perfect solution to his problem possibly waiting for him downstairs.
Vlad never turned down a sparring session. And man, could Dante do with an outlet.
*
Entering her rooms, Simone closed the door and leant back against it.
Feeling an utter fool, she wiped a stray tear from her cheek, but knew she only had herself to blame for her present misery.
All Dante had done was ask her about the questions on her list. It wasn't as though he'd brought up the subject of Zara. And yet, his reaction to learning that Simone had known his Mate had bothered him more than he'd wanted to let on.
She just didn't know why.
Crossing the room, she flung herself onto the bed. The need to release her emotions could no longer be repressed. She cried because she was happy and in love for the first time in her life. She cried because despite the love she felt, she was also confused and unsure of her place in Dante's life.
They promised to love one another always and forever. Yet as a mortal such claims did not the carry the same meaning. But it had sounded wonderful at the time.
It wasn't that Simone doubted their love. Dante had meant every word he'd said.
Sitting up, she wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her chin upon them. She was being an idiot. Dante loved her! And she him. What else mattered?
Besides, they’d now officially entered a dangerous conflict with Anton. The attack on the theatre had been his declaration of war. And in wartime love needed to be held onto, expressed, cherished. Each moment savoured.
Rising from the bed, Simone wiped away her tears. Feeling a sense of renewal and purpose, she stalked to the bathroom to get ready.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
THE GENTLE PLAYING of Chopin echoed through the great hall as Simone descended the grand staircase. Fully illuminated in light, she marvelled at how she'd never realised Dante's home was completely submerged underground. She had to credit his ingenuity for installing a system capable of creating simulations to mimic the cycles of day and night.
"Doc!" Vlad boomed in greeting when she entered the music room. "Well done - I've been waiting centuries for some lucky girl to finally pluck what was on offer."
Flustered by his strange compliment, Simone replied, "Viking, what on earth are you talking about?"
The blonde haired devil leaned his large frame against the grand piano where Dante sat playing and gave her a devastatingly incorrigible smile. Without another word, he drew out a pair of black lace panties from his trouser pocket and twirled them accusingly at her on his index finger.
The fiend was unbelievable.
Before Simone had a chance to reply, Dante moved to and fro from his playing without missing a note, her once displayed knickers now gracing the inside of his pocket. "If the two of you are quite finished," he drawled, effortlessly playing a particularly intricate passage in Nocturnes Opus 9. "Our time can be much better spent than in childish antics. Perhaps it may be of interest for you both to learn I spent some time in Lowerton last night."
This got Simone and Vlad's attention. The implications over her discovered panties were quickly forgotten.
"Allow me, Simone," Vlad graciously offered, to which she replied: "Much appreciated, Viking."
"What the fuck, are
you talking about, mate?" the vamp bellowed at his nonchalantly Chopin-playing friend.
On and on he played, his head swaying in tempo to the music, until the melody slowed and he turned to look at the pair, each one watching him intently, awaiting an answer. "Let's just say, I had an unpleasant, unplanned meeting with Anton and require your assistance in killing the bastard - immediately."
Up next...Simone.
"So, let me get this straight: you were taken hostage at the theatre, brought to Lowerton, had a little tête-à-tête with a possessed lunatic and came home to me..." she deliberately left their passionate love making out of the equation before continuing: "And failed to mention you'd just been recently freed from captivity? Your wounds, the blood you were covered in - you sustained those injuries and said nothing?"
Simone's furiously laid out sequence of events were amazingly accurate. She never failed to impress.
"Ah, other than discovering my father is being held captive in Lowerton, Anton murdered Zara and is also the Ripper responsible for the latest spate of human slaying - I'd say you summarised my night admirably well."
Jesus, where did one begin with that barrage of information? Vlad had the first crack at it.
"Fuck, your father's alive? Anton released you?" he asked in quick succession before carrying on. "Why would he do that? He was hell-bent on getting you to be a part of his future plans, which I am sure you refused - so why not keep you prisoner until you either agreed to join him or else die by his hand?"
Dante stopped playing. "The delusional bastard is giving me some time to think about his offer. He’s keeping my father drugged and imprisoned as motivation to lean in his direction."
The pain in his voice was unmistakeable. To discover his father was alive but so entangled in the present darkness would make it hard for anyone to rejoice.
"You mustn't lose faith, Dante," Simone said encouragingly, as she sat beside him at the piano and took hold of one his hands. "He is alive! And finally you know for certain what you always knew to be true in your heart. All is not lost - even though the way ahead will not be easy."
Dante raised her hand to his lips and pressed her knuckles to them. "Thank you, love. Your words mean much."
Vlad added his own to bolster his friend's spirit. "Let's get on with killing the bastard then. I'll be damned if I let that cunt destroy everything I've fought and sacrificed for over the centuries. I know Lowerton and the Council are not perfect - far fucking from it. But to see it in the hands of Anton and Simmons...no way, not on my Watch. I'd rather die fighting for a flawed but noble way of life than partake in the world Anton intends on building."
"Then we will fight together. To the death!" Dante vowed.
"To the death," Simone echoed.
"Simone..."
She pressed her fingers to his lips. "There is no life for me without you. Accept my decision in this."
He closed his eyes and nodded.
Dante moved from the piano, and like a General preparing for battle, folded his arms behind his back and began to pace about.
"Last night's larger than expected ambush was an unfortunate set-back, there's no skirting that fact. We lost about fifty vamps by my count - a terrible loss for our side. But on a positive note, we gained two important advantages in the process."
"Actually our losses were closer to twenty according to my sources," Vlad clarified. "And they also reported we took out our fair share of them. Of the two hundred sent - forty, at the most made it back to Lowerton. You and your motley crew fought well. Their advantage in numbers should have meant we lost more than we did."
Dante brightened at the correct figure. "Good news indeed. I couldn't be certain how many of our brothers actually fell. After making sure Roxy was safe, I was captured by a dozen or so vamps and brought to Lowerton. But it was there I discovered two pieces of information that will assist us in our mission."
"Don't keep us in suspense, brother," Vlad demanded.
"First up, I can confirm Peterson is a mole. He tried to hide himself from me but I saw him in the chanting crowd when I was in the coliseum. Second, my father said something to me I’ve not been able to shake. I think it relates to my last vision. It might even have something to do with Wilhalf’s present location."
"What did he say?" Simone asked, whereas Vlad, more interested in his news about Peterson, thundered out: "I knew something wasn't right about that cunt! But after I beat the shit out of him, we can use him as a double-agent," and in his next breath, finished with: "You've had another vision - for fuck's sake, mate. What did I say about sharing?"
Bemused by their interconnectedness, Dante escorted Simone to a chair, and in turn brought Vlad to another. "There, the two of you are unmerged. Makes it damn confusing to have a conversation when you both act in unison."
"Bloody hell, mate. You've accomplished the impossible - I actually feel five years old again," Vlad complained.
"You said it - not I."
Dante returned to the piano and decided to lift the current mood by playing Bach's Toccatas.
"Let's return to what my father said, shall we? He wanted me to remember our first battle together, which given the upheaval during my early decades as a vampyre, numbered in the many. But I've managed to recall the battle in question. It was Broadstone Heath."
"The final war with the werewolf clans, I remember it well." Vlad reminisced. "And how exactly does this relate to your vision and Wilhalf's location?”
"Daryl."
"The Head of Security at my building, Daryl?" Simone piped up with.
"The very same."
"Ah, yes I see - he was a werewolf, right? Can you believe I used to joke with Penny that he was ex-MI5? She can never learn the truth - I'd never hear the end of it," Simone said, chuckling at the thought.
Vlad listened to their exchange, rubbing his chin in thought. "You think the presence of werewolves in London is somehow connected to Wilhalf?" Vlad scoffed. "Bit of a stretch there, brother. I'm more curious to know why the wolves feel bold enough to disregard our treaty with them. Something's not adding up, and as you know, I am very good with numbers."
Dante inclined his head in agreement. "That you are, my friend. And it's my intention to find out what we are missing."
Turning to Simone, he asked: "Would I be correct in assuming, as Head of Security at a swanky new riverside development, Daryl would have had an office on the premises?"
"If memory serves, it may even be better than that," Simone replied. "I'm fairly certain Daryl lived in a flat onsite. Except, Penny told me the last time she went to my flat, none of the security guards knew who Daryl was. It was like he'd never existed. So, I'm not sure if his flat would contain anything of use. It's probably already been emptied."
"It is as you say, when I went to deal with your belongings and the disposal of Daryl's body, I arrived to find it, along with all trace of him, removed," Dante confirmed. "His flat was empty, the guards memories wiped. I knew it was the work of a vampyre, but was unclear as to who."
"And you want to go back there because you think you may have missed something?” Simone asked.
"Yes. I hadn't considered his office at the time," he replied, the galloping rhythm of the music carrying the excitement of his discovery. "My hunch is worth checking out. I'm sure Wilhalf is involved somehow."
Vlad roused from his chair. "We will go together, brother. Simone won't mind being left here with Alfred."
Dante shook his head. "No, you need to lead the discussion with the different Heads of State. We require reinforcements and new alliances. The other intelligence my visit to Lowerton provided was a better sense of the numbers aligned with Anton. They filled the coliseum and corridors to capacity - there were thousands of vampyres, many of them from other countries. The variety of accents I heard were vast. We will need all the help we can get, brother."
Vlad still looked doubtful. "Should you not join me at the summit if it is as important as you say? Why is finding Wilhalf
a priority? If he is responsible for the death of this werewolf Daryl, doesn't it make him more of a risk to what we are trying to accomplish? The last thing we need are the werewolf clans siding with Anton."
"Don't ask me to explain the unexplainable, Vlad. I need to do this on my own. Will you do as I ask and lead the negotiations?"
Vlad tried not to be offended. "Yes, of course, mate. I was only trying to understand your logic - as illogical as that may be. I sometimes forget how much you and I see the world so very differently."
Slapping his friend on the shoulder, Dante knew he wasn't the easiest vamp to understand for someone like Vlad. His brother preferred order...the tangible. He did his best to comprehend Dante's visionary abilities, and believed in their importance, but there were moments when he didn't get the bigger picture.
"It's what makes us such a shit-hot team, mate. You ground me when I need it, and I test the boundaries of your nature," Dante commented.
"Shit, you're gonna make me bawl, brother. Fuck off. You'll say anything to avoid diplomatic duty."
"You know it. I can't stand geopolitics," Dante returned wryly.
Grasping his arm, Vlad pulled him into a quick hug. "You lack the requisite charm to pull it off," he said, stepping back. "I best get to it. Anton cannot remain in control of Lowerton for much longer, the optics wouldn't be good. Doc, I bid you adieu...and from the look on your face, my advice is: listen to Dante."
Simone cocked a brow. How cryptic of him. Bloody Viking.
With Vlad gone, Dante's inevitable departure loomed.
Standing before him, Simone peeked up into his stormy grey eyes through her lashes. She could tell he wanted to say something about her strange behaviour earlier in the bedroom, but was waiting for the right moment.
Toying with the buttons of his shirt, she took a deep breath. "You will be careful out there, won't you? Anton sounds dangerous...what if you don't return..."
Silencing her with a kiss, he eventually responded. "Simone, I will always return to you for as long as I draw breath. You are everything to me."
Her eyes filled with tears at his vow of devotion. "And you, to me," she whispered in return, gazing up at him properly. A single tear broke free and rolled down her cheek.
