by Ashe Barker
Jane was jealous. She was shocked too, to her very core, and utterly confused by the myriad of emotions coursing through her. Loss, betrayal, sadness, grief, and above all of that, hovering, gathering strength and taking form, was white-hot anger. She let out a scream, berating the very heavens for the cruel twist of fate which had brought her to this. Her friends dead, her country facing the Lord only knew what fate, and her husband preferred the company of low-born sluts to that of his loyal wife. It was unfair, and not to be borne.
Jane stood, intending to return to the castle and leave her husband in no doubt whatsoever exactly what she thought of his behaviour. If he desired that sort of bed sport, then why not with her? She could do that, she was every bit as sensual as Betsy. Or she could be, given the opportunity. It was time Gerard took notice.
She swiveled on the heel of her foot, seeking to gain purchase on the dew-covered grassy slope. This terrain was easy enough to manage when she was properly shod, but the damp grass was slippery under her bare feet. Jane stepped forward, bending to grab at a tuft of springy bracken. She used it to haul herself up a step, then reached for another. This time she gripped a lump of cowslip, and the shallow roots gave way as she pulled. Jane lost her footing, tried frantically to scrabble further up the banking, but it was to no avail. She slipped, tumbling backwards to land with a splash in the chilly waters of the lake.
Jane's last conscious thought as she sank below the surface was that she would not now get to see her husband's face when she told him she wanted him to fuck her arse.
Chapter Three
New York
July 2011
The screen flickered, the rows and columns of figures dancing before his eyes. Ged Twyfford leaned back in his chair, his vivid blue eyes narrowing as he perused the data before him. He needed to do something, and fast, if he was to stave off the potential losses from yet another economic collapse. Although worst of the recession was well behind him and he hadn't been as badly effected as many investors, occasional dips did still occur. It was no big deal, but he should take some action to protect his investment. This time it was a construction company in Indonesia which had taken the hit, and it would be wise to offload his shares before the full ramifications sank in and the markets started to respond. Ged leaned forward, brought up another tab on the screen, and keyed in his commands. Ten minutes later he was the richer by seven hundred thousand dollars, and less one failing corporation in Asia.
His shares would have been worth three times what he had just managed to get for them had he sold six months ago, but such were the vagaries of international trading. Some you win, some you lose. In fairness, Ged Twyfford rarely lost.
Stretching cramped muscles, he stood, rolled his stiff shoulders and strode across the room to stand against the floor to ceiling window. He gazed through the darkened glass, absently taking in the Manhattan skyline which stretched before him. At four in the morning the scene lacked the frenetic buzz more usually associated with the busiest commercial district on the globe, but this was Ged's favourite time to admire this stunning vista. Even now, the rooftops were illuminated, the jagged contours of the jungle of high-rise buildings set off in sharp contrast to the blackness of the velvet sky beyond. The environmental warriors could protest all they liked, Ged found light pollution to be a perfectly lovely phenomenon. Still, he had always been a perverse devil.
He returned to his desk to further contemplate the financial data before him. Apart from anything else, he had seven hundred thousand dollars to re-invest, and he knew just where it was destined to go. He channeled the bulk of the funds into his major commercial project, Roseworth Pharmaceuticals. The remaining two hundred thousand he donated to his pet good cause, a wildlife rescue centre and anti-poaching charity in central Africa.
Ged loathed hunters with a passion, and had eluded enough of them in his time to know what he was talking about. He understood at first hand what it was to be an endangered species, but unlike the rhino or mountain gorilla, he had been able to fight back. He had done so on many occasions and with murderous effect. He had survived, though he sometimes wondered how on earth he had accomplished that feat. These days his life was calmer, more secure, so Ged was happy to play his part in protecting other species. His donations to the Mbinka Park and Wildlife Reserve were always anonymous, but his money had funded the purchase of thousands of hectares of plains grassland as well as the employment of a small army of wildlife patrols, vets, educators, and armed security when needed.
Yes, he did his bit for conservation so what was the harm in a little nocturnal light-show?
He propped his feet on the open drawer of his desk and settled back to surf the web. The truth was, he was bored. Ged had accumulated enough wealth to last several lifetimes, even for one such as him, so there was no longer any pressing need for him to work unless he chose to. He had food, so no requirement to hunt, and he owned a safe place in which to live—several safe places in fact—so he had no need to seek out shelter and a secluded corner to hide out in during the hours of daylight. In all, life was easy now.
If anything, it was all too easy for Ged's taste.
He started by checking up on his game reserve in the central plains of the Congo, and from there surfed around a few other conservation and environmental projects. It wasn't just animals Ged felt moved to save, he was something of a historical campaigner too. He tended to keep his interest quiet—it never paid to attract attention—but he had funded several organisations aiming to preserve ancient monuments. He selected his beneficiaries with care, always choosing a location or building he felt some affinity to, usually a place he had lived or at least visited and which he remembered with a degree of fondness. There had been many such places over the centuries, in all corners of the world—a tobacco plantation in Virginia, a cathedral in Nicaragua, a villa once owned by Louis the Fifteenth, a crofter’s cottage on the Isle of Skye—to name but a few of his more recent acquisitions. Ged enjoyed the memories, landmarks in a very long life.
As the sky began to lighten outside, Ged flicked a switch to increase the opacity of the glass in his windows. His tolerance for daylight was better now, improving with every year he stalked this planet, and his powers of recuperation had been similarly heightened with the passing of time, but still he preferred the absence of UV rays if he could arrange it. His view of the outside world was unaffected, but the treated glass would filter out all harmful rays.
The less Ged drew on his physical reserves, the less pressing his need to feed. Although he no longer haunted the darkened streets seeking out his next meal, preferring the more civilised fare available from properly licensed and regulated medical blood collection organisations, Ged saw no need to squander valuable resources.
He liked to think of himself as a responsible vampire who cared for his planet. Shit, he ought to—he was likely to need the place to remain habitable for some considerable time to come.
An hour later an article in an online magazine caught his eye. English Heritage was starting a fundraising campaign, seeking donors willing to contribute the necessary resources to help secure a ruined castle in the north of England. The place claimed strong connections to the House of York during the Wars of the Roses, and was reputed to have been one of the strongholds where Mary, Queen of Scots was imprisoned before her execution.
Ged peered at the images on the screen, scrolling through the various views and angles. Roseworth had seen better days, that much was obvious. No one knew better than he did how much the place had deteriorated over the centuries. Although there were no surprises here, it still saddened him to witness the dilapidation which had befallen his childhood home.
English Heritage intended to acquire the site for the nation, and would turn it into a visitor attraction. Tourists would traipse through the ruins of his castle, learning of the history of Ged's family, his forbears and his descendents, from little plaques mounted on stilts. The new owners might even dress up their staff in period clothes and
have them re-enact ancient crafts and customs.
Ged shuddered. Surely Roseworth deserved better than that. He read on through the article, noting with a whistle that the expected price of the property was a cool two million pounds, though that included the fishing rights for the lake at the foot of the mounding upon which the castle stood. The site was to be sold at auction in just under a month's time, unless a buyer came forward prepared to pay the full asking price prior to the sale.
Ged made up his mind. He reached for his mobile phone and keyed in a few numbers. A sleepy voice answered.
"What? Are you crazy, man? Do you know what time it is?"
"Just after five a.m. I have a job for you."
"Save it until morning. If it's real estate, it's going nowhere."
"Now. You're my fucking lawyer, James, and I pay you to be awake when I need you. I want you to buy a castle for me."
"A... did you say a castle?"
"Yeah. In England. I'll send you the details."
*****
Ged viewed his latest acquisition through darkened glasses despite the cloudy grey of the cool spring morning. He shivered and dragged his leather biker's jacket around him and fastened the zip. However long he spent travelling the earth, and regardless of the inhospitable locations he had been forced to settle from time to time, nothing quite matched a drizzly morning in Northumberland for sheer bone-numbing cold. There was some peculiar quality in the wind of this, England's most northerly county, he surmised, which rendered it able to penetrate any clothing.
"Christ, it's fucking freezing. Are you sure about this?" His companion assessed the crumbling remains of Ged's old home with a critical professional eye. He also wore dark glasses
"Quite sure," confirmed Ged. "I was lord here, once. It was mine, and I want it back."
"You have it back. According to James the sale completed yesterday, and you’re now lord of all you survey. Congratulations."
Ged allowed himself a slight smile. "There's still a roof on the great hall. Well, some of it. Let’s get inside there out of the daylight before we both fry."
"Good idea." Both men sprinted up the banking in the direction of the main part of the remaining structure. They clattered inside, though neither removed their aviator sunglasses.
Ged cast his critical gaze around the bare stone walls surrounding them. About seven feet above his head the remains of a ceiling and upper floor jutted from the walls, and he could easily pick out what was left of fireplaces, windows, and even the garde robe. He grimaced to himself at the memory of the bitter winter gales whistling around his naked arse as he crouched in that tiny cubicle. There was much to be said for twenty-first century plumbing, which brought him nicely to the reason he insisted his friend of over two hundred years fly to Britain from his home in Sweden to visit the site with him. Sven was also a vampire, but more important for this little venture, he was an architect. He understood Ged's specific requirements and if anyone could restore this place to a livable condition, it would be him.
"I want you to renovate this place for me. You know, comfortable, safe, and all mod cons.”
"What the fuck for? There's nothing for miles around."
"I intend to live here."
"I had a nasty feeling you were going to say that. What part of this pile of rocks looks to be in any way habitable to you?"
"This bit. The hall." Ged gestured around him. "With the upper floor gone you could just construct something else within this space. It's fucking huge, you could get a three storey house in here."
"If you want to build a three story house, why not buy a nice site closer to civilisation, something flat, and with nothing already on it?"
Ged grinned. "You know why. Come on, what are your ideas?"
Sven shook his head, but his answering grin confirmed what Ged knew. His friend understood perfectly his urge to return to his roots, to the place where it all began.
Sven started to pace out the area, then produced a laser measuring tool from his inside jacket pocket and checked his measurements. He also dragged out his mobile phone and used that to record his thoughts.
Superfluous for the time being, Ged picked his way across to what was left of the kitchens and perched on the remains of the bread oven. He waited, knowing better than to ask questions or comment until Sven had assessed the site and the possibilities it offered. Occasionally his friend would fire a question at him.
"How many bedrooms?"
"Two. Three if you can manage it."
"Will you be living alone? Any humans?"
"Just me. But I intend to have horses too, so I'll need stabling."
"We'll check outside after."
"And garaging for my bikes."
"How many?"
"Six, and a car."
"Just one car?"
Ged shrugged. "How many cars does one man need?"
"You'll be working here, too?"
"Of course."
It was the best part of an hour before Sven was ready to offer any advice, but when it came it was worth waiting for.
"Right, I'm thinking I could construct a pod for you, contained within this space.”
“A pod? What do you mean?”
“I mean a building within another building. The existing stone walls seem solid enough, though I’d want to get a structural engineer to confirm that. But if I’m right, we can build within this space, and tie the new structure into the old. From the outside there would be little to see, but inside—all the mod cons you’d be wanting.”
“Right.“ Ged was intrigued. “Go on.”
“I’m thinking two storeys, but with storage and expansion potential above if you want it. We'd need to get electricity and water supplied, which will cost. You're way off grid out here. Come to think of it, we might go for a generator, or wind power. Maybe solar panels."
Both men grinned at the irony. Sven continued to outline his plan. "We could get a kitchen in, probably over at this side, and a large open plan living area. You'll need an office too, for your geeky toys and all that shit. Two bedrooms upstairs, a bathroom— "
"Don't need a kitchen. Just a fridge freezer and a microwave."
"Everyone needs a kitchen. What if you want to invite someone over? You can't feed visitors on warmed up blood."
Ged shrugged. He supposed a sink and dishwasher might come in useful but he wasn't planning on doing much entertaining and he rarely consumed human food himself. Those days were long gone.
"The existing outer walls are three feet thick so they'll help exclude UV light, but we'll use photo chromatic glass too with a hundred percent UV filters so you'll be able to use the place normally, twenty-four seven. No need for a dark room."
"Good. I hate fucking coffins."
"No coffins, but we'll need to put in some decent heating. This place is fucking freezing to start with, and with little or no natural light ... It won’t be cheap to do. Or to run afterwards."
"Score one for the renewable energy then. How long would it take to complete it all?"
"Are you in a hurry?"
"Not especially, but now I've been back here, seen this place again... "
"I get it. I'd say eight months, maybe nine. There might be planning and conservation issues, though we're not going to be doing anything to greatly alter the external appearance. And we'd need to bring in the right people to work on it. This is specialist stuff, not that many contractors I'd trust."
"Okay, leave the planners to me and you line up the right workforce. What sort of budget are we looking at?"
"I reckon I can keep it below a million, but it depends what snags we come up against once we get on site."
Ged nodded. "Let me know if costs look like they’re getting out of control. I can always free up more cash if we need it."
"Where will you be living in the meantime?"
"I'll stay in New York, but I was intending to move on from there soon. It's been twenty years..."
Sven nodded. Vampires rarely rema
ined in the same location for more than two decades because of the difficulties which would inevitably arise as the humans around them noticed that they showed no signs of aging. Hiding in plain sight was relatively simple these days, but there were still complications.
"Have you seen enough?" Ged was ready to be off. His glasses offered a high degree of protection, but his eyes were starting to sting in the daylight.
"Sure. Do you want a lift back to the airport? I'm headed that way."
"Thanks. Shall we make a run for it then?"
They sprinted back down the hillside to the hired Range Rover parked at the foot of the hill, both doing their best to shield their eyes from the weak sun just breaking through the clouds. Ged settled in his seat and smiled to himself. He was coming home.
*****
The renovation of Roseworth and construction of his new home within the ruins of the great hall took longer than either Sven or Ged anticipated.
The conservation lobby were horrified at his plans, and seemed willing to see the place crumble to dust before they'd allow him to taint Roseworth with the trappings of the twenty-first century. Good sense and reasoned arguments prevailed for the most part however, aided on one or two occasions by the sort of gentle persuasion only a vampire could exert. Ged preferred to play it straight in his dealings with human bureaucracy, but he couldn't do without his power supply so when the woman in charge of the heritage section in the planning department dug her heels in over his solar panels, he eventually resorted to the tried and tested method of getting his own way. He sat opposite Mrs. Hathaway in her cluttered little office, met her gaze and held her fast.
She tried to lower her eyes. He would not allow it. As soon as the connection was strong and stable enough he gently pushed his thoughts into her mind. Helpless, the city council planner absorbed the pragmatic suggestion that solar panels could be disguised (which would cost him, but that wasn't a problem), that renewable energy was a positive force, that bringing Roseworth back into use would secure the castle for the benefit of future generations. Mrs. Hathaway found herself able to recommend his proposals to the relevant council committee, and soon the works were under way.
