Page 25 of Bitten Vampire (The Bitten Chronicles #2)

Chapter Twenty-Four

They don’t cuff me, and in a small mercy, Lander isn’t allowed inside. After they search my bag—Beryl, thank heaven, nowhere in sight—I’m led through processing.

“That’s a lot of cash,” the custody sergeant remarks.

“Yes, well, idiots from the Magic Sector came and blew up my house. I grabbed what I could.”

The bag and contents are sealed in a plastic evidence pouch, and I’m escorted to an interview room. It’s much like the ones in the Vampire Sector: grey on grey, four plastic chairs, one grubby table, a single camera blinking red in the corner. No dramatic mirrored glass, alas.

“Would you like a drink?”

“No, thank you.” Warm tea would be lovely, but with sunset approaching I’d rather not vomit mid-transformation .

The questioning begins. We circle my identity, my history, my supposed humanity and ‘alleged association with derivatives.’ I stick to my human story: paperwork, licences, nothing to hide.

The human officers grow ever more perplexed as I stick stubbornly to my pre-vampire story.

Their brows knit deeper. I can almost hear: Why is everybody interested in her if she’s just a delivery driver?

At last they leave me alone.

Exhaustion presses down. I worry the police are stalling, dragging matters out so they can hand me over to the Grand Master’s people. Even Lander threatened as much.

Soon my heart will stop, my lungs will still, my fangs will nudge forward and if I’m not careful they will know exactly what I am. If I keep breathing, blinking, doing all the human things, perhaps I can fool them?

Yeah, until the vampires come.

I worry about Baylor, another mum lost, another home gone. Tears sting, but I blink them away. Everything will be fine once I collect him.

It has to be.

A scrape at the door captures my attention. The handle shifts; the door creaks open. No one stands there. Beryl hovers out of the camera’s view in the corridor.

“What are you doing?” I murmur, lips barely moving. Microphones are unforgiving.

Come on. I’m breaking you out.

“You are what? What if someone sees you?” I promised House to keep her out of sight. Nevertheless, I glide into the corridor. I have no real choice: either sit here and wait for the baddies to drag me to my final death, or trust Beryl and escape.

My bag, still sealed, sits conveniently nearby.

“How did you manage that?” I scoop it up.

Magic, obviously. Not as if I have thumbs. This way.

She zips ahead, corridors deserted. It’s nearly nightfall—even the police support staff don’t like to be out at night. Left, right, up one flight, right again. We slip into an untidy office. Papers litter every surface; filing cabinets gape. Two mugs of congealed coffee sit abandoned.

Window, Beryl taps the glass.

It’s a long drop. Twenty feet at least.

“You want me to jump?”

Look at the sky, any minute now you will turn into a bloodsucker.

My heart gives its final beat. One last thud and silence. Dreadfully familiar.

“For Baylor,” I mutter. I rip the evidence pouch off, slip it into an overflowing bin, open the window and drop the bag outside.

Rather than jump, I wriggle forward on my stomach, swing a leg over the sill, grip the window frame, and dangle, probing with my toes for the top edge of the window below.

Just like the chin-up experiment, I will be fine.

Beryl prods my foot.

“Stop poking.”

Well, hurry up. You are going to get caught. We still need to fetch the dog.

Her next nudge helps guide my feet. It’s difficult as I’m so petite. I drop one and a half levels—eight feet left—when strong hands clamp my waist. I yelp as I’m lifted down and against a broad, iron-hard chest.

Musk, metal, and power. I know by scent .

“What are you doing, sunshine?” Valdarr’s voice is velvet amusement in my ear. “I arrange your release, and I find you escaping through a window like a burglar. Are you hurt?”

He turns me to face him, his tattooed fingers gentle as he cups my cheek.

“I’m fine.” I search surreptitiously for Beryl. Mercifully, she has hidden and refrained from stabbing him. I will take that as a win.

“I’ll need to make calls to explain your ‘exit.’ Come, Baylor awaits.”

“Baylor?”

“I collected him from Animal Control before they closed. He’s in the car, doubtless chewing something expensive. Shall we?”

He hefts the bag and gestures towards the car park.

“What? You have rescued Baylor?” I blurt, a surge of love for this man flooding my chest. “Thank you so much.” Relief washes through me—my buddy is safe.

Valdarr guides me to the same black, UV-armoured car we used earlier, its tinted windows beaded with drizzle, the engine idling. The driver has his arms wrapped protectively around the headrest to shield it from Baylor’s teeth, but all that’s forgotten the moment the door opens.

Baylor spots me and lets out a joyous howl, his whole body vibrating as he dances across the back seat. I wince when his claws scrape the leather. I dive into the car and wrap my arms around him. I lavish him with kisses as he wriggles.

“I missed you too, buddy, so much. Have—” kiss “you—” kiss “been—” kiss “a good boy for Valdarr? I hope you haven’t bitten anyone. No biting people, even when Mummy says so. I was wrong to ask you to nip the nasty mage. We won’t do that again.”

A familiar chuckle interrupts.

I glance up and freeze. Lander is standing outside the car, watching us. Instinctively I shove Baylor behind me, arms spread wide to block him.

“What is he doing here?” I growl.

“You never told me she’s so adorable. After that display, I could even forgive her for breaking my wand,” Lander says, patting Valdarr’s shoulder as though they are old friends.

My stomach drops. “What is going on? Are you friends with him?” I shoot Valdarr a sharp, disappointed glare.

“Hero to zero in three seconds, tough crowd,” Lander says smoothly. “Look, love, I’m not a bad guy. I was doing my job. There’s a warrant for your arrest, and that house has caused problems for years.”

“Name one thing she’s done wrong.” I don’t wait for his answer. “Nothing. House has done nothing wrong. Admit you are a horrible person.”

“She interfered with a shifter’s turning, and with you.” His gaze hardens. “Why do you think you’re human by day, yet clearly of the fanged persuasion now? She meddled; you were never meant to turn.”

“It wasn’t her fault I woke up in a body bin,” I snap, voice trembling but firm. “I was just doing my job delivering food. I did not plan to become someone’s dinner.”

“Yes, and her magic both forced and disrupted the transformation,” he replies, stepping closer. “If you hadn’t been living there, you’d have died that night. No resurrection, no partial turn. The house interfered, and that’s illegal.”

I open my mouth to argue, but no words come.

Lander presses the advantage, voice soft now, almost gentle. “I’ve reviewed your records. You don’t carry enough vampire DNA for a proper turning. The house tampered with the magic, as she has before. She crossed the line.”

“I don’t believe you. You… you threatened me, told me the Grand Master was coming for me.”

“That wasn’t a threat; it was a warning,” he says evenly. “I was trying to keep you alive.”

“Alive? You just said if it were up to you, I’d be dead. Make up your mind.” I shake my head and rest a hand on Baylor’s back. He presses against my leg, ears pinned, eyes locked on Lander. A low growl rumbles in his chest.

“If he moves closer, bite him,” I mumble.

Baylor huffs, as if in agreement.

“House is my friend, and I won’t hear you malign her, especially when you do not know her side of the story. You attacked her. You are the villain here.”

“I beg to differ.” Lander leans back and he smiles, hands sliding into his pockets.

Smug twat.

“I was doing my job.” The warmth drains from his tone; hard edges emerge. “There was a warrant signed by the Council and countersigned by the Grand Master. When magic repeatedly alters derivative biology without sanction, it becomes a threat.”

There he is. I wasn’t buying this ‘Mr Nice Guy’ act.

My vampire tugs him away from the car. “Lander, can you tidy up Fred’s exit? She escaped custody through a second-storey window.”

“Of course.”

They exchange hearty handshakes that set my teeth on edge. I cannot blame Valdarr for keeping the peace—it is the sensible course—but I do not have to like it. Baylor whines; I draw him closer, whispering, “Shh, it’s all right.”

Valdarr slides into the car.

“I’m sorry I was rude to your friend,” I murmur, staring out of the window. “I just detest that man. He hurt my friend, and I do not trust him.”

“I understand.”

I realise, as I sit in his luxury car, that I have nowhere to go. My only transport vanished with House, and I have no idea what to do next. In my haste to reach Baylor, I jumped in without thinking, and now I must find a dignified way to leave.

I clear my throat. “Thank you again for your help. We’d better be on our way.” I reach for the door handle.

“Last night, I didn’t abandon you. I was there when the assassin teams attacked. My father sent six teams to kill you.”

“Six? I saw only Team One—” Oh…

“I didn’t leave you unprotected,” he goes on. “I trusted the house’s wards. I never imagined she would invite them inside.”

I do the math: six teams with four vampires, Beryl handled one, which means Valdarr faced the other five. Twenty assassins.

A chill runs through me. “Thank you,” I whisper, throat tight. “I’m sorry you had to do that.” My thumb traces the sigil on my wrist. Baylor licks my hand, sensing my spiralling thoughts. The mark means little to me, but I suspect a great deal to Valdarr. “Your father won’t stop, will he?”

“I’m the heir, that gives me some leverage.

I have convinced him not to pursue you publicly.

The wanted notice and the kill warrant have been withdrawn.

But…” He hesitates. “My father is actively hunting you. Your turning raises questions he can ill afford to answer, and Clan Nocturna still isn’t pleased. ”

“Oh.”

“Fred, I realise this is sudden, and we haven’t discussed relocation, but you are homeless and actively targeted. It would be safest to stay at the clan house for the time being, if you agree.”

Something is bound to go wrong. Still, what choice do I have? I must trust it will work out.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Valdarr signals the driver, and we leave the car park.

“About Clan Nocturna?—”

“I saved that girl. I didn’t attack her.”

“I know. The area’s CCTV showed everything. We apprehended the vampire and he confessed.”

His violet-grey eyes narrow. “What I can’t fathom is how you knew she was in danger. You arrived, waited for the exact moment she needed help, as if you knew what would happen. Why, Fred?”

I shift, worrying one fang with my tongue. “Well… besides the daytime-human issue, I, um—think I might be psychic?” It comes out like a question .

It sounds absurd even to me.

“I’ve always had strong intuition,” I begin.

“More than a gut feeling. Years ago, my friend Sara was fretting over her boyfriend. I advised her to leave him and concentrate on herself, certain she would soon meet the love of her life, someone she had always overlooked. Eighteen months later she met her childhood friend again, fell in love, married, two children.”

I rub my eyes. “Life got messy. Jay disliked her, so we drifted.” She wasn’t the only friend he disliked, and I stopped listening to my intuition after Mum died. Had I paid attention to that inner voice, I’d never have wasted ten years with him.

“But you see the pattern: I’ve always had a weird little gift—it’s hard to explain; I don’t understand it myself.

” I wave my phone. “A few weeks after I was turned, I suffered vivid daydreams of your father finding and hurting me. When I forced them away, the magic changed: while scrolling, I drifted into a vision of a boy about to be hit by a car, so I went and saved him. Later, I tested the gift again and had the vision of Crystal being bitten, killed?—”

He cuts in, “So you decided that going to the Vampire Sector to rescue her was a good idea?”

“House knew what I was planning, and I had that knockout potion. B—” I stop myself just in time from mentioning Beryl’s help. I’m hopeless at lying. I recount the whole story—the Clan Nocturna fiasco, meeting Lark, everything—and it sounds even more absurd aloud.

“You have had an eventful few days,” he says finally.

“Mm.”

“Shall I ask my contacts about your house? Make sure she’s safe?”

My head snaps up. “Would you… would you do that? I’d be so grateful.” Tears sting.

“Of course.”

We cross the border into the Vampire Sector and drive for another forty-five minutes.

Beyond a pair of massive gates and a power-heavy ward, the stone drive crunches beneath the tyres as the car slows.

The driver deposits us at the foot of a broad flight of stone steps leading to an oak front door, then pulls away without a word.

I tighten my grip on Baylor’s lead, staring up at the imposing facade.

What if Baylor chews through this beautiful place?

Without House, an unfamiliar weight settles in my stomach.

I hope Valdarr can discover something about her.

I pray she is safe. Staying away is probably the best protection I can give her for now.

What if I don’t belong here at all? Half the time, I’m a tasty human snack.

“Is being awake during the day common among vampires?” I ask.

“No, only the very old—my father, me, and a few members of our clan. I wake around midday, and with each passing century the time I remain immobilised grows shorter. You saw the ring?” I nod. “That artefact is exceedingly rare, not many can walk in the sun.”

Carrying my bag, he offers a reassuring smile.

If my heart still beat, it might skip—when he smiles, he is almost painfully handsome.

We climb the steps. The door swings open before we reach it, and a vampire steps out into the darkness.