Page 12

T hat evening, I sat cross-legged in the icy chill of the attic, staring blankly at my incomplete mural and rubbing my hands together over the electric heater. The painting was pretty much a lost cause at this point. When I’d planned it, I’d hoped for a warm, fresh nature piece – something in autumnal shades to bring some colour to Jolt. But that was before Jon had died. I hadn’t touched it since, and now, with my mood soured, the whole scene came off as… well, menacing.

I’d messaged Tom the moment I’d arrived home, hoping he might come over so I could recount my still somewhat surreal conversation with Wyatt – but he hadn’t read any of my messages. Given the way things had been going lately, I couldn’t help but worry.

The canvas felt like it was pulling me into its dark corners as I gazed at it, and I had to tear my eyes away to focus. Wyatt’s last words still lingered in my mind, and though I didn’t much like it, it hit me that she might have given me just enough to lure Murray into the open. I turned over the idea. Any sane person would say it was too risky – but I was already downstairs, pulling on my favourite DMs. I’d have preferred to have talked it through with Tom first, but I wasn’t sure how long the current reprieve from deaths would last, and it didn’t feel like I had the luxury of time.

As I unlocked the front door, I caught sight of the leather jacket Cole had lent me when he’d helped fix my car. It seemed like forever ago, and for a moment I contemplated pulling it on – wrapping myself in its warmth and inhaling the scent that I was sure still lingered in the fabric… No, wrong move, Erin.

It took a few minutes for the mist to clear from my car windows once the engine was on. I waited, trying to keep my breathing under control. I had to relax to make this work. If I seemed even a little unnatural or tense, the whole plan was doomed. I pulled out onto the empty street.

Sheffield was a city of contrasts, industrial to the end but filled with lush trees and greenery that bled into the glorious rolling countryside and hills of the Peak District. No matter where you were in the city, you could look up and see hills and trees, with wide open spaces a quick car ride away – which was why I could never leave this place for long. A blend of opposites, literally anyone could find an escape here. Unless you were looking to escape the rain, in which case you were out of luck.

I set off along the already slushy roads, the engine warming the inside of my car until I was uncomfortably hot in my scarf. For a moment, I convinced myself that the headlights behind me were following me, but I shook it off. I didn’t come this way in the dark all that often – I knew better than most what could hide beyond the city lights. As the thought crossed my mind, I reached the edge of the last row of houses, and like a candle sputtering out, the streetlights simply stopped.

My brights came on automatically, cutting a pale, narrow path through the darkness ahead. Mile by mile, my isolation grew until finally the weight of solitude settled around me and I pulled over into a barely visible lay-by. As the hum of the engine died away, I climbed out of the car and crossed over to the old wooden bench that was a favourite spot of mine: surrounded by endless hills and valleys on one side and a panoramic city view on the other.

The snow had subsided to a few odd flakes here and there, but the air was bitingly crisp and clear. Even knowing why I’d come, it was peaceful. It felt like a lifetime since I’d last made it to my spot – though looking at the city from above had a way of soothing me. I should have made more effort to come up here in the last few weeks. I’d have felt better for it.

The city was bathed in a shimmering aura of light – like a glowing bubble of protection around its occupants, who slept on, unaware of the undead that prowled their streets while they dreamed. Up here, though, there was nothing but the sound of the wind and my breath to distract me as I waited. I inhaled slowly and deliberately – the last thing I needed was to seem on edge right now. Around me, the snow on the ground sparkled, muffling sound from the road behind. But it was late, and I didn’t expect to be disturbed. As I watched, one by one, the stars winked into existence.

My eyes were still on the sky when I felt it. A gentle brush against my mind. Far from the familiar skin pricking sensation I’d been expecting. I hadn’t heard an engine, but a dark silhouette walked softly along the centre of the road, blacker than the surrounding night. His solid physique was impossible to ignore at this distance – all lean muscle and lethal grace. A wave of anticipation surged through me, and my body thrummed with the energy of it.

“Hullo, Erin.” His voice was the same smooth, velvet brogue I remembered. Tall and imposing in the half-light, his tumble of dark hair was swept back from sharp cheekbones. He was the same striking figure who’d helped me before, but his easy elegance seemed more dangerous now than it had then. He wasn’t trying to hide it, this time. Without a word, he crossed and sat beside me on the bench.

“I never actually told you my name, Nicholas .” My voice broke on the last word, but the shiver that ran through my body as he spoke didn’t feel like fear. It was true though – I hadn’t even noticed, but he’d known all along who I was.

He chuckled. “No, I suppose you didnae.” He drew a deep breath and took in the panorama of the city. “Though tis something of a speciality of mine to ken the things I shouldnae. Particularly when it comes to beautiful women.” His eyes met mine, a glint of mischief in their green-gold depths. He gestured to the scenery. “I’d say forgive the intrusion, but ye have to admit… it’s quite the view. I’m no sure you can lay claim to it.”

“You’d never know what’s been going on down there,” I agreed. I fought back the urge to look at him .

“Aye,” he drew out the word. “I hear Isabel’s been telling all sorts of tall tales. You’d think she’d know better.” The disappointment in his tone was clear.

“You disagree with her?” I asked – it was harder than I’d thought to keep control of the conversation. This could well be my only opportunity to learn about them both, and I knew that. But his low, lilting voice made it hard to focus on much else.

I sensed rather than saw him smile. “Isabel and I have long been friends. She kens better than most what sort of man I am. Before we met, I’d spent a century in solitude – I hadnae realised how lonely eternity could be, til I found her friendship.”

Don’t start feeling sorry for this… monster , Erin. Don’t you friggin’ dare.

“You’d call it friendship? Even after her accusations?” I asked, shivering as the wind made its way beneath my scarf. His knee brushed against mine, sending a jolt of heat through me, and I pulled away, closing my eyes to the lingering sensation.

“Truly, I would. She’d tease I was her apprentice, sometimes, but our relationship wisnae that simple.” He leaned forward, broad shoulders tense as he gripped the cold, smooth wood of the bench. The movement emphasised the width of his chest, the lean strength in his arms that I remembered all too well.

“We left a wake of carnage, Isabel and I… we built our reputations on fear. Tis why twas so hard to admit the kind of life we led wisnae really what either of us wanted.” Flakes of snow drifted between us as he waited for my response, his ex pression unreadable.

And I wanted to keep going. His words, like brushstrokes, painted a vivid image; a deadly, beautiful couple tearing apart lives for the thrill of it. The contrast between that picture and the man sitting next to me was startling, and it made it that much easier to keep talking.

“So… is that why you went your separate ways?”

He shrugged, sitting back and adjusting the scarf knotted loosely around his neck. “Twas one reason, aye. But there were others. Her decisions frustrated me – and in turn, my ideas frustrated her. Our kinship was – is – built on our shared affinities, but that didnae mean we agreed on everything. I—” he paused and glanced at me. “Well, I spent many a year searching for somethin’ I hoped would change everything. Meanwhile, she didnae believe that thing existed.” Another smile crossed his face, though there was sadness in it. “And o’ course, Izzie winnae leave her bonnie England behind. No back then. So I was forced to continue my search alone.”

My curiosity was beginning to get the better of me. “Why? What were you looking for?”

His eyes burned into mine, and I leaned into it, heart pounding. As quickly as it had begun, the moment passed. He turned back to the city, and continued as though I hadn’t asked.

“Years later, in London again, she found the verra thing she needed to finally understand my search. Did your research tell you that?” He hesitated, his expression unsure.

I shook my head. He seemed torn about how much to share – I couldn’t help but think he wanted to tell me everything.

“She wed a soldier from the north – no too far from here, actually. Nineteen-fourteen, nae, fifteen, I think it was.”

“Wyatt’s married ?” I remembered the ring on her left hand. “To a human?”

His laugh was as familiar and musical as I remembered. “Aye, though I ne’er had the pleasure of meeting the man as could steal Miss Isabel Wyatt’s heart.”

“Wait.” I did the mental arithmetic. “Did he… die?” There were more important questions to ask, but there was still time. He’d said he was searching for something. I had to know what.

“He did, aye. I would have been there, but I was in Europe, preoccupied wi’ troubles of my own,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Gods… I hadnae stopped to think on it, but I suppose Paris – before the war – was the last time any of us kent a bit o’ peace. After that… well, twas a tough time for us.”

So we’d all lost someone, it seemed. That Wyatt still wore her ring told me enough to know it was a weakness I could exploit – but I didn’t exactly relish the thought. I put it out of my mind for now, instead wondering about the dates he’d mentioned.

“Were you involved in the war, then?” I could imagine him in a military uniform – something about his bearing said there was a soldier in him.

“ Involved , eh? Truth be told, I’ve fought in more battles than I can rightly recall. But then… twas a war like no other.” His mouth twisted into a grimace. “Have you e’er he ard of Sachsenhausen?”

I shook my head, already apprehensive about his next words. It sounded German, even with his accent.

“Twas a camp, north of Berlin. A dark place, by any account. I’m no surprised you dinnae know it. But there are those of us who remember it well enough. Those who learned about human cruelty the hard way.” He fell silent, his words hanging in the air. I waited, but he didn’t continue, lost in the past.

I swallowed, but I had to ask. “Were you a… a prisoner?”

Even knowing who he was and the things he’d done, the nod he gave in response horrified me. Though I had no clue how a vampire could get caught in the first place – the idea seemed absurd. “And you made it out? How?”

He exhaled sharply, a plume of white breath escaping into the cold air. “With nae help from Isabel, I’ll tell you that. It wisnae easy, but I managed to get a few letters out of the camp, begging for her aid. I’d thought it worth the risk, that my friend would come and we’d… Well, it isnae worth dwelling on. It was a long time ago.”

“I don’t understand,” I pushed. “Surely for… someone like you – it’d be easy to escape a place like that?” Not to mention, I didn’t see how he could have kept his true nature a secret in such close quarters. He’d have to have fed somehow.

“For a vampire, you mean?” He dug his right thumb into the palm of his left hand, grinding it into the flesh and edging forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Mayhap you’re right, love. A three-metre wall isnae so difficult to scale,” he said, his voice doubtful, “but there were others. And I was all they had.

“Those who dared to run rarely made it far – and believe me, plenty tried. The camp was well-equipped for shooting runaways, and making an example of them.” He shook his head, and a lock of unruly hair fell into his eyes. “It winnae ha’ been the first time I’d been shot, either – that wisnae the issue. After the battles I’ve seen, t’would be a miracle if I hadnae had my fair share of wounds, from gun and from blade. But back then, the unknown was the thing I was most afeart of. Their automatic machines were new. The world was changed, and I had no way but the hard way to ken how their weapons might affect me.” He paused. “The camp was liberated no long after, but still… I lost good friends to that place.”

He shifted in his seat, his eyes fixed on the moon as the last wisp of cloud drifted across its surface, leaving a clear indigo-black expanse. I watched his clasped hands, his long fingers moving restlessly. I didn’t know what to say.

“While I stayed, I could help. Without Isabel, twas all I dared do.” His accent became more pronounced as he grew more restless. “I lost count o’ the times my true self was almost exposed. I believed, foolishly, she’d at least wish to keep our secret.” He shook his head. “At least my… special diet reduced the Nazi ranks a bit.”

Considering all Wyatt had said, it seemed senseless for her to abandon him like that. “Why didn’t she help?”

“Grief,” he said plainly, turning to face me. This time I didn’t look away. “Love, you might say. She was mournin’ her husband. ”

I blinked a few stray snowflakes from my eyelashes and met his eye – his emerald gaze was bright and clear. Caught up in his stare, I had to remind myself – again – that I was talking to a murderer. A vampire, despite everything he’d been through. A tremor ran through me, and I pulled my scarf more tightly around myself.

“Is that why you’ve come here? For revenge? Or reconciliation?” I fought to keep my voice steady as I took back control of the conversation, with little success.

“I’m hurt ye’d trust her word, Erin,” he said, rubbing one hand across the faint line of stubble at his jaw.

I bristled. “So I’m supposed to trust you, instead?” I took a deep breath, trying to reign in my emotions. “What am I supposed to think, Cole? Nicholas – whatever your name really is. As far as I can tell, you’re both accusing each other – and you’re doing it right to my face, with no thought for the fact that my friends are dying .”

“I havnae accused anybody,” he shot back. “Though I’ve given it a deal o’ thought,” he admitted. “And despite everything, I ken Izzie. She values family above all else, and she winnae go so far as to harm mine.” He ran his fingers through his already windswept hair, the dark waves falling across his forehead as he dislodged a few snowflakes.

“Family?” I echoed. Several things slipped into place in my mind like the pieces of a jigsaw. I could almost see it—

“Jonathan Weston.”

“Jonathan wasn’t a vamp—” I began.

“Aye,” he cut across me. “But as you know, he didnae have to be. He was visiting his uncle in Edinburgh, was he no?” He smiled, looking out across the dam below. “My home, if I can still call it that.”

This was it. Finally. The full picture.

“I left at fifteen. Abandoned my responsibilities at home to follow the Earl of Tullibardine into battle, though my pa disagreed with supporting the Covenanters,” he explained, sitting up straighter as he spoke of his father. “I was too young to fight, but I was already tall. And no one paid much mind. The Earl needed soldiers, I supposed, and I didnae even really care which side I fought on. I only wanted to fight.”

It was easy to forget he’d been human once – though he didn’t exactly seem like the usual vampires I came across even now. He’d had a father and a mother. Which meant he could still have living relatives – and the possibility of Jon being one of them was suddenly very real.

“I first fought at Tippermuir. I dinnae ken what I thought I’d find on the battlefield, but I didnae find it. Gods, I barely understood the politics enough to ken if Scotland had won or lost.” He almost smiled, but these weren’t stories I’d heard of. I had no idea how to respond.

“I read about it, after. They called it a bloodbath. But history books cannae tell you what twas really like. It’s hard to imagine, the things we’ll do to one another in times of war.”

He started to rise, before apparently thinking better of it and clasping his hands together once more.

“I wondered more than once if I was in hell. I’d left my home to be a soldier, and part of me wanted to stay and do my duty, but… in the end, I deserted. Dinnae ken quite how I managed it, but I fled. Ran til I couldnae hear the sounds of battle.” He paused again; his voice rougher. “I couldnae go back to my family. I knew my pa winnae forgive cowardice, even if he’d approved o’ the cause. So it wisnae til years later that I finally learned I had a brother.”

“Jonathan’s ancestor,” I murmured, staring at him in awe. It wasn’t a question.

“Aye. The latest and last of my descendants, if you dinnae count James – though I’ve long doubted he’ll have children o’ his own. With Jonathan gone, my bloodline will be lost to time.”

A passing cloud momentarily obscured the moon, shrouding his green eyes in shadow and turning them black. My gaze was locked on his and I barely noticed the clouds rolling in, the soft hush of snow swirling softly around us.

There it was. Jonathan Weston shared blood with Nicholas Murray… it explained why I’d felt such familiarity with Cole when we’d first met – like some part of me had known him forever. But even that didn’t make sense, did it?

I sighed, breaking free of the moment. “So you were always the soldier… Why, if you hated it so much?”

His smile was rueful as he answered. “I was na?ve, Erin. I wanted glory. To be remembered in history as a warrior – after all, those were the stories I’d heard as a child.

“I suppose I found a wee bit o’ notoriety, after all. As a vampire, my deeds grew more vicious… and my reputation grew, too. Twas a long time before I kent I wanted more. I was no hero of legend – and there was no honour left in me.” His fa ce grew dark again, and he broke his gaze away.

The wind howled a mournful tune around us, buffeting the dry snow up from the ground – but around us was a pocket of calm and stillness. He spoke of atrocities committed by and against him with unnerving ease, but I couldn’t find the fear or the fire to fight him. I’d come here to lure him out – and now I had, I was more confused than ever.

As I reached to slip a loose curl of hair back into my hat, his fingertips brushed mine, and for a moment I forgot how to breathe. He gently brought my hand back to my lap, and I was struck by how artfully he moved, even in such a simple gesture. His breath was almost warm on my skin as he leaned in close, tucking another strand of hair from my face.

“I was told you liked red hair, once upon a time,” I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. Pain flashed across his face.

“Izzie told ye?”

“Not in so many words,” I admitted.

His expression grew serious – almost imploring. “I’ve been searchin’ for you for a verra long time, Erin. So long, I almost believed you didnae exist after all.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a devastating half-smile. “When I saw you in the park that night, there was nae doubt about it. Even covered in dust and swearin’ like a sailor, you were unmistakable.”

His body was still close, near enough I should be able to feel the heat of him, if he’d been anyone else. His touch rough, he traced his fingers along the back of my bare hand. So close, I could smell his skin – like the outdoors. Soft earth and pine .

“The women that looked like me—” I whispered. I couldn’t forget what he’d done, but I didn’t pull away.

“Were no you,” he replied simply.

Nicholas’s face drew closer to mine, and I found myself leaning in despite myself. His cool breath caressed my cheek as we lingered there, suspended in the moment. A shiver of pleasure ran through me, our eyes locked as I imagined reaching up to touch the soft hair at the back of his neck. Letting this – whatever this was – happen.

I caught myself. No .

His arm moved as if to circle my waist, but instead his fingers brushed the fabric of my coat. Even that small whisper of contact was enough to make me feel far more than I wanted to, and I pressed my eyes closed, trying to dispel the feeling.

In that fleeting moment of darkness, his lips brushed mine – the barest ghost of a kiss – and I felt rather than heard him exhale sharply. I pressed a hand against his chest, placing my palm on the heavy wool between his heart and mine, though whether I planned to push him away or pull him closer, I wasn’t sure.

To my surprise, there was a faint thump beneath my hand as his heart beat once beneath my fingers. He stilled and drew back, sooty lashes lowered, searching my face with an intensity that made heat pool low in my belly.

“Nicholas—” I breathed, my head swimming, but he pulled away further, shaking his head as he stood with the casual swiftness of a vampire.

I turned to see what had distracted him, but a breeze caught my hair, whipping it across my face. When my vision cleared, I was alone again in the snow. A single set of footprints led from the road, and he was gone.