Page 23 of Bitten Vampire (The Bitten Chronicles #2)

Chapter Twenty-Two

I must be out for sixteen hours, perhaps more, before House wakes me.

Fred… Fred, wake up.

My eyes snap open. It’s dark. I slept the entire day away.

“Did you magic me to sleep?” I grumble.

House ignores my question. The warrant was issued by Clan Nocturna and approved by the Grand Master. He knows you are alive.

“Oh.” My stomach flips. “That’s… really bad.”

And there are strangers outside the wards. Not Valdarr’s lot. I doubt they are here for a chat. House’s tone tightens. They are wearing tactical gear; I think they mean to attack.

“Attack?” My voice shrinks. “But… but your wards?—”

Oh, we’re letting them in, Beryl says brightly from the bedside table.

“I’m sorry, what?” Sleeping must have made me delirious. “Let them in? The hit squad?”

Yes, House replies. They think this place has a flimsy ward. We will open the door, then be rid of them.

“Be rid of?” My voice leaps two octaves.

Don’t fret, House purrs. Everything will be fine. We will deal with this in-house.

“Famous last words,” I mutter.

Privately I’m screaming Where is Valdarr? Unfair, given it’s not his duty to protect me. Yet it’s only natural, as he’s the only vampire I know. But I don’t need a man to protect me when I have House, Beryl, and Baylor. Plus, I’m a vampire.

I slide out of bed and dress in a hurry. “Baylor!” I call.

No response.

“Baylor! Baylor!” He must be sulking after no walk today. Claws clatter on the stairs. A moment later, he creeps into the room and disappears under the bed. Poor boy, he knows something’s wrong.

I drop to my knees. “It’s okay, buddy. House, Beryl, and I are going to deal with the naughty vampires.”

Deal with —I wonder what that will entail.

Baylor lets out a soft, uncertain “awoo.”

“It’s okay. What a good boy. Brave pup. I’ll be back soon. Stay here, nice and safe.” I stroke his head, kiss his nose, then leave and lock the bedroom door.

“House, if we handle these vampires, what about the next lot? We can’t fight the whole country. With a kill order, everyone’s involved, even the human government. Perhaps I should just… leave. I have no job, no rent money. I’ m a burden and I’m putting you at risk.” I pause on the stairs.

That doesn’t matter. When have I ever needed money? Stay as long as you like. You and Baylor are family.

“I’m not a charity case. I can’t take advantage of you.”

Then we will move. I’ll fold myself.

“Move? Fold yourself? So the rumours about wizards’ houses are true—you can move?”

My feet hit the hallway floor and I grab my trainers from the shoe rack.

Oh yes. Didn’t you know? I can pick myself up and go anywhere. I try to stay in this country, but I do not have to. I don’t even need to stay on this continent. We could choose somewhere warm.

“You would… take us with you?”

Of course. It costs power, and I have not been rooted here a full year, but it’s doable. If we are careful, they will take a while to find us. I have been bouncing around for more than a century.

“Wow.”

Get ready—they are about to breach, House whispers.

Beryl slaps into my palm.

“What do I do?” I hiss.

We’re up. Let’s go.

“But… what do I do?”

You are bait, kid. Suck it up.

I edge away from the front door, keeping clear of the windows. My back meets the wall; from here I can see both the living room and the kitchen. My whole body trembles.

Beryl tuts. Typical. If you want something done properly, you have got to do it yourself .

She launches from my hand, hovering before me, the point of the stake angled outward, ready to fight.

Everything happens at once.

The bay window in the living room shatters—glass exploding inward like a spray of diamonds that tinkles across the floor. At the same moment, the back door blows off its hinges, and smoke floods the hall.

I hold my breath, but my eyes sting.

The vampires are here.

There are four of them. Two surge in at the rear, two claw through the broken window like creatures from a horror film. Black combat gear swirled with grey, goggles, and ghost-pale faces in the moonlight.

They see me immediately.

“Team One to command: target is in the house. Target has been sighted. Confirm execution order,” growls the smaller female.

If I could press myself deeper into the wall, I would. I stay motionless, palms flat against the wallpaper. My only hope is House and Beryl. Yet beneath the fear runs a grim certainty: this is futile.

Boots crunch closer. Weapons rise, so many weapons, all trained on me. My heart is silent, but dread coils around its useless husk.

“Order confirmed,” crackles a voice in their earpieces. “Take her out.”

“No,” I whisper—though nothing escapes: throat glued, body locked. I am a rabbit before wolves. Before vampires.

Then Beryl moves.

I shut my eyes; I cannot watch. If that makes me a coward, so be it. I will not see how I die. I brace for bullet or blade.

Nothing comes.

Instead, laughter—Beryl’s wicked, gleeful cackle. Groans follow, then screams, and the wet squelch of tearing flesh.

Hands over my ears, I hunch smaller. Warm blood splatters my face, slides down my cheeks, drips from my wrists. I sink to my knees, curling into the corner.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Bodies.

A scented breeze—rosemary and cool air—eddies through the hall. Smoke thins, the copper stench fades, and I open my eyes to watch as the shattered glass lifts from the floor, swirling upward to slot itself neatly back into place. The window is whole again.

The living room is immaculate. No smoke. No blood. No trace of the four vampires who came to kill me.

My hands are red, sticky. My hair feels matted. Bits of vampire are tangled in it.

I gag.

Then House’s magic washes over me, warm as a gentle wind. Tingling my skin—and just like that—I’m clean again.

It’s all right, House whispers. It’s done.

That was such fun , Beryl giggles.

She flips lazily around the living room, and my gaze snags on something in the centre of the coffee table: an earpiece.

It squawks to life.

“Team One, do you have confirmation of the kill?”

I don’t need to ask why it’s still here; House and Beryl clearly want me to do something.

“They really were the bad guys, right? And we’re the good guys—even though we… killed them?”

You didn’t kill anyone, Beryl says, her tone suddenly prim. That was all me. You are perfectly innocent.

I nod slowly, twisting my hands. “But they won’t see it that way, will they? They will think it was me. Neither of you is here, and conveniently, I’m the only one who can hear you. That’s the very definition of insanity, isn’t it?” I swallow hard. “Hearing voices.”

The vampire who murdered you sent a hit squad, House says gently. We are the good guys, Fred. You can trust that.

I close my eyes for a second, then nod again. “All right, what do I do with that?”

Tell them not to try again, Beryl suggests sweetly.

“Okay.”

I step forward and pick up the earpiece. The smooth, black plastic is cold in my palm. A tiny button on the side must unmute the mic.

I press it, take a deep breath, and release my nerves—my fear—and channel my inner vampire.

“Your people are dead,” I say, voice cold and steady. “Do not come here again. All further attempts will be met with the same lethal force.”

Static hisses, followed by a sharp voice. “Who is this?”

I don’t answer; the message has been delivered.

I crush the device in my fist—plastic and metal grinding together—then open my fingers. House’s magic sweeps the shattered pieces away.

Come on. You have not eaten today. You release the pup, and I will warm some O-negative. Thought you might like it hot tonight.

I coax Baylor out from under the bed, drink the warm blood—still disgusting—then spend an hour in the shower, scrubbing until my fingers prune, convinced I still have chunks of people in my hair.

I never thought I’d end up like this.

I didn’t do anything, not really—I hid in the corner with my eyes closed—yet I feel responsible. I am responsible. They only came because of me. How many centuries of knowledge have I just erased?

There’s that ‘live by the sword, die by the sword’ nonsense, and no, they weren’t innocent. I understand that. But I’m just a normal woman: vampire by night, human by day, talking to soul-magic-infused objects, dead people… and I’m sad my life has come to this.

I doubt my continued existence is worth the lives of four others, but it’s done now, too late to undo. For someone who won’t even swat a fly, who rescues spiders with a glass and paper, this is hard to process.

I wonder whether the switch will ever flick—the one that would allow the vampire inside me to let the world burn. What did the waitress say? “Vampires are sociopaths.” Will it get easier if I stop caring?

I curl up on the sofa, listening to a podcast on trauma recovery while Beryl—apparently a permanent fixture—grumbles about modern psychology. I ignore her.

Night turns to day. Baylor, still grumpy after yesterday’s non-walk, plays in the garden. I push toast around my plate, not hungry.

At around ten a.m., they come again. This time, not the vampires. No, now it’s the other derivatives’ turn.

First, police cars block both ends of the street. Thirty minutes later, people from the Magic Sector arrive: wizards, witches, mages.

I peek through the bedroom curtains, and I spot one man, tall, with white-blond hair, arguing animatedly with the group. He points straight at House.

“This isn’t good,” I whisper.

No, it is not, House replies. I presume the Ministry of Magic sent them. The handsome one with the white-blond hair is Lander Kane, a Council member.

“Can they breach your wards?”

If Lander Kane helps them… perhaps. His magic is very strong.

“Can we move before they try?”

Silence.

She’s keeping something from me.

“Could you fold yourself without me?” I wait a couple of heartbeats. “It’s me, isn’t it? If Baylor and I weren’t here, you would have gone already. We are interfering with the magic. You need more power to take us with you.”

She doesn’t answer.

And that is answer enough.