Page 15

A fter collapsing into bed well after two in the morning, I slept straight through my alarm and awoke just before ten. A glance at my phone told me I had several messages from Tom. Without bothering to read them or get out of bed, I called him.

“About time!” Tom’s voice carried over the café’s background clatter.

I dragged myself upright, head pounding. “Sorry. Late night again.”

“I figured after the tenth missed call. Were you, you know – hunting?” He asked, lowering his voice. He was probably serving a customer while we spoke. One of his – and my – least favourite things to do at work, besides taking fiddly drink orders and negotiating with the bakery.

“I literally just woke up. Let me get dressed and I’ll be there in maybe half an hour? I’ll explain everything then.”

“Alright,” he replied, pausing. “But I hate this. I need to know what’s going on, what you’re thinking. That’s how we’re supposed to work, remember? As a team. ”

I sighed as I hung up, padding into the bathroom to jump in the shower. I didn’t want to keep things from him, but he wasn’t exactly being fair. It wasn’t like I hadn’t tried to talk to him, but he still didn’t seem in a good headspace, and I could only be patient for so long before it got someone else killed. Not to mention, when and if he heard the whole truth, there’d be some questions that I wasn’t sure I was ready to answer – if I had the answers at all.

Jolt was absolutely rammed when I arrived, and I was surprised to see Tom had hung festive holiday lights in the windows and even put a little Yule log display out on the counter. The last traces of the Diwali lanterns had finally been packed away, replaced by winter greenery along the shelves. Not that we didn’t decorate usually, but I hadn’t realised we were almost mid-way through December already. I wasn’t sure how I’d managed to miss so much.

It took until after the lunch rush before we could grab hasty sandwiches in the back room, and it was clear Tom was still tense from a morning of explaining to disappointed students that we’d run out of orange brownies.

His laptop sat on the table between us, surrounded by research notes. At the sight of it, I fled back into the café, pissed at my own cowardice. But time has a funny way of speeding up when you’re dreading something, and closing time came around with uncanny swiftness.

“That was a day.” Tom slumped in his chair, the warm brown of his skin ashen with exhaustion as he pinched the bridge of his nose .

He wasn’t wrong. “If I have to make one more extra hot triple shot half oat caramel whatever, I might fucking scream.”

“Better than the guy last week who wanted his coffee ‘ as black as his soul ,’” Tom replied. “I gave him the usual roast. I doubt his soul was that dark.”

I half laughed, but I remembered the guy. He was becoming a regular.

“Fancy a drink?”

Don’t, Tom . I swallowed. “You don’t need to get me drunk to talk to you, you know.”

Something dark flickered behind his eyes. “I just miss it. The three of us, staying late, just… hanging out.” The empty chair between us seemed to mock us both.

I nodded. “I’ll admit, this place feels weird without him,” I said. The silence was a stark contrast to the old days: staying late after closing, Jonathan trying to get Tom to listen to something other than classic rock music, and the three of us playing cards until I could barely count.

“I’ve been worried about you,” he half-mumbled, retrieving a bottle of knock-off J?germeister and three green shot glasses from under the sink. His hand lingered on the third glass, fingers tracing its rim before carefully placing it back on the shelf. “You’re being…” He searched for a word as he poured two shots. “Sneaky? Secretive?”

I took the glass he handed me but didn’t drink it. “It’s not intentional. I’m trying to figure things out,” I said eventually. “There’s a lot to consider, and you’re hardly the picture of togetherness lately. ”

Tom clenched his jaw as he took the shot in one go and sat back down across from me. His almost black hair needed a trim, and the shadows it cast over his face hid his expression.

“This is all still about Maggie and Jonathan?”

“Of course.” My answer came a moment too late, and I knew he didn’t believe me. I kept my eyes on him as he thought it through.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been a tit,” he said, eyes fixed on his glass. “We’ve both lost people, and I know you wouldn’t keep things from me. But when I saw that Locke guy…” He trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.

I nodded, keeping my face carefully blank. Yes, he had been a tit. But I was keeping things from him. That needed to stop.

“So… no more weirdness?” he asked, dark eyes worried.

I wondered what it was he was really asking and weighed my words before replying.

“No more weirdness,” I confirmed. “I still want to know what happened to Jon and Maggs, I do. But we’ve got two big bad vamps in town, and no matter what they say, they’re still vampires.” I stared into my glass, voice dropping. “And I can’t let them live for that reason.”

I took the shot, shuddering at the taste but relishing the warmth of it as it spread through my body. Tom just watched me.

“Okay,” he said finally. “I’ll forget the idea that you ever considered not doing something about them, because I think we’ve both been… you know, out of sorts.” He grabbed the bottle and looked as though he might pour another shot, but di dn’t. “What I won’t forget is how much older and stronger they are – this is going to take some thinking through.”

I bit my lip to stop myself from replying and topped up my glass. I knocked it back in one, but waited before answering.

No time like the present. Just get on with it.

I sighed and began. Tom sat in silence as I recounted leaving the café to find Isabel Wyatt on the doorstep, everything she’d told me and the casual ease with which she’d stood there before night had even fallen. But when I got to the part about luring out Murray – just as I’d predicted – he was pissed.

“Are you fucking insane ? Erin, he could have killed you without breaking a sweat. And you went out into the middle of nowhere with him – have you got a death wish or something?”

“No,” I swallowed. “I know. I’m sorry. But I knew he wouldn’t hurt me.”

Tom snorted. “You rely way too much on your instincts. Just because you’re usually on the mark doesn’t mean you always are.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath, and continued. I explained who Murray really was, some – but not all – of his history. Overall, Tom reacted better than expected. I could tell he was still trying to hold in his temper, though. The rich brown of his complexion darkened along his cheekbones – a telltale sign he was angry with me.

“So… do you believe them?” he asked when I eventually paused long enough to let him speak.

I put my head in my hands. The truth was, I did – but it wasn’t enough .

“I don’t think it matters. Or it shouldn’t matter. Whether or not they killed Jon and Maggie, they’ve both been getting away with murder for fuck knows how long.” I hadn’t mentioned those last few moments, where we’d almost—

Well, thankfully he didn’t question my motivations for ignoring their avowals of innocence.

“And you said Adam isn’t a vampire,” he pointed out. “What about him?”

I loved Tom like a brother, but he had a particularly annoying knack for finding the weak spots in my arguments. Honestly, I had no clue how Adam would react when his friends were dead by my hand – and I didn’t want to think about it.

“He’s biased,” I answered with a shrug, trying to convince myself. “Intuition tells me he’s a decent person, fundamentally. But he’s too involved with both of them to be objective.”

Tom said nothing, but raised an eyebrow and poured another measure into my glass and his own. I stared at the table, fixating on the dust motes caught within the white paint.

Eventually, I looked up. He was still scrutinising me.

“I’ve wondered before you know, what you’d do when you have time to stop and think about morality. About killing vamps, and if they’re all as bad as each other.” Tom hesitated. “I don’t want to tell you what to do either way, but you’ve had genuine conversations with these people – and I suppose that’s it, isn’t it?” He waited for me to acknowledge his words, but I kept quiet. “They’ve become people to you, not just monsters. It’s going to make it a lot harder to do what has to be done.”

“I know,” I mumbled, my words blending together. Wow, my head was fuzzy. “I wish I’d just killed them in the first place, before I bothered to think about it.”

Tom snorted quietly. “It’s not like you had the opportunity to, Erin,” he pointed out. “Besides, it’s about justice as well. I dunno about you, but I want to be sure. I mean, I want to look them in the eye and know .” He glowered and tugged at a tuft of black hair sticking out at the back of his neck.

“Unless this whole thing turns out to be an elaborate plot by someone else, we’ll never know. I could kill them – or die trying – and there might be someone else already lined up for a faux-suicide next week anyway,” I laughed bitterly.

“Don’t say stuff like that. We won’t let it happen again. We can’t.” I noticed his glass was still full. “We’ll sort it like we always do.”

Tom took the bottle from the table and put it back in the cupboard where he’d found it, shooting me a regretful look.

“I have to get going, Erin. I’ve got the landlord coming at six for an inspection.” He pulled his khaki jacket from the rack and fished his car keys out of the pocket. “Are you going to be alright getting home? I didn’t drink much. I can give you a lift.”

“I knew you were just trying to get me to talk,” I laughed. He was right though, the J?ger had gone straight to my head. “I’m fine, I’ll get a taxi or walk or something.” Finishing the glass, I put it back down with a clatter and stood. To my surprise, I was quite steady. “I have a few things to do around here first.”

For a moment, he gave me such a knowing look I thought I’d said something I shouldn’t have. The booze probably didn’t help my paranoia .

“Fine,” he said finally. “I’ll see you later tonight, maybe? I’ll let you know.”

I didn’t watch him leave, but sat back down and closed my eyes, resting my head on the table. I rarely drank anymore, but this was twice in a matter of days and my body wasn’t as young and sprightly as it used to be. That didn’t mean I could wallow, though.

I stood up and stared blankly at the blue wall for a moment – the exact colour of a summer sky. That was it, then. I’d said the words out loud to Tom, and it may as well have been a commitment signed in blood – I had to follow through. Last night in the bar had been a brutal reminder of what I’d forgotten lately – it was my job to kill vampires. The thing was, I’d never hated the idea before.

Tom was right. Murray and Wyatt were people to me now, and I wasn’t sure I could kill real people. Stab the broken soldier I was so irrationally drawn to? Even Isabel – I could have sworn she’d shown genuine remorse. And now I had to, what, cut her head off? Set her on fire?

I unlocked my phone, dismissed more pointless notifications about my overflowing email inbox, and opened up my taxi app. Some bits of spam were meant to be ignored, especially with a pounding headache.

Jonathan and Maggie were still dead, and who knew how many others? So I’d fight them, like a good little hunter. And if I survived – and that was a big if – I’d spend the rest of my life knowing I’d killed the only man I’d ever truly cared for.

???

T hat night, I dreamed I was painting. My canvas loomed bright white in the dark attic, but each stroke I made was smeared with startling crimson, far too vivid in the shadows. The sticky substance coated my hands to the elbows, and as it ran down my arms and dripped into my lap, I knew it wasn’t paint.

I fell back onto the floor. The ceiling dissolved above me, revealing stars of impossible clarity. A thousand pinpricks of light watched me, their white radiance shifting to glorious emerald before they fell like rain. They sizzled against my fiery skin as a voice whispered, and I jerked awake, shivering despite the phantom burn.

The window was open, letting in a freezing draft. I stumbled over to close it, my dream already fading – leaving only impressions of green light and golden fire. As I burrowed back under my duvet, I realised the shiver that had woken me wasn’t from the cold or the dream. I shot up, searching the darkness for the source.

Izzie Misery was standing calmly under the attic hatch.

“What the—?” I sputtered.

“Forgive the intrusion, Erin.” She crossed the short distance to the bed and perched lightly on the end. The mattress barely shifted. “I had thought a gradual revelation would prove most delicate. Evidently, I was incorrect.”

“How did you get in?” I scrambled to pull on some pyjamas over the pants I slept in.

Moron, Erin. Of course, vampires don’t need an invitation. Maggie was at home, remember?

Isabel tilted her head toward the window, which I’d thought was painted shut.

“What do you want?” The resigned understanding in her eyes shouldn’t have given me pause, but it did. I glanced at my weapons chest across the room, and she caught me looking. “You know it’s the middle of the night for us mere mortals, right?”

She nodded. “I spoke to Adam this evening. He informs me he met with Cole.” Her mouth turned down delicately. “Sorry, Nicholas.”

“Oh.”

Something about her phrasing made me wonder what she was holding back, but then everything with her so far had been a game of cat and mouse. I didn’t want her to know I already knew about Adam and Murray either, but as I watched, something came over her eerily lovely face. It was clear she was upset – which meant she wasn’t really here to listen to anything I had to say.

Damn her. I didn’t like to think of her as being capable of actual emotion, especially now I’d come to my own conclusions about what I had to do to her. Which made her showing up in my room… well, awkward.

She seemed to notice I was watching her and smiled gently at me. “I confess, a part of me harboured hope that he mightn’t be involved. I know you’ve spoken with him about this matter, too.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She continued, “I am here to inform you that you have my support. Though I wish to remain indirectly involved unless necessary.”

My chest tightened at the thought of it. Apparently, my heart still had some hope, too – no matter what my brain had agreed to.

“How can you be sure, Isabel?” I knew it was desperate, but I didn’t care. “Don’t you want to talk to him before you give a hunter the go-ahead?”

She gave me a shrewd look. “You do not know him as I do, Erin. Nick can be very persuasive – it has always been so. Were I to speak to him, I might lose all conviction.” She paused. “We must stop him to keep the secret, before—” She didn’t finish, as there was a crash from downstairs.

“What the—?” I jumped up, already out of the room and halfway down the stairs. Isabel was ahead of me – I barely saw her move.

“I’ve searched the house. There is no one else here,” she breathed. As she spoke, she jerked her head towards the front door, taking a slow, silent step closer before wrenching the handle open.

Bruised and bloody, Tom fell through the doorway onto the carpet with a heavy thud, barely conscious. Bloodstains darkened his khaki jacket around the shoulder and throat. What was visible of his face beneath the blood was swollen and already purpling on one side, the colour stark against his brown skin.

I crossed the hall in three strides, kneeling to support his head. Blood bubbled out of the corner of his mouth, and his eyelids fluttered. The metallic tang of copper grew stronger with each ragged breath he took, filling the small room until I could taste it. Isabel seemed to still completely, her nostrils flaring – the only sign that the scent affected her at all.

“He’s not dead,” Isabel stated flatly. She moved with uncanny grace as she reached for him, too smooth to be human. When she lifted him, there was none of the usual awkward shuffling or strain – she raised him as though he weighed nothing at all, her spine straight and steps measured.

“The sofa—” I stood to let her by as she carried him into the living room. To her credit, it seemed like she was trying not to jostle him as she laid him down and backed away. I tried to ignore her thoughtfulness.

“Erin…” Tom moaned, his voice almost inaudible.

“What – what happened?” My hands were shaking as I tugged his jacket away from his throat and exposed the wound there. It almost seemed like his flesh had been gnawed at by a wild animal, the skin torn and bleeding heavily. The tang of blood hit my nose again, and I looked away.

“Murray.” The word came out as barely a breath as Isabel came to stand beside him. Her face paled visibly at his words, despite her already chalky complexion.

I peeked up at Isabel from beneath my hair, knowing it made no sense. She shrugged at me, failing to appear indifferent as she handed me antiseptic and cotton wool pads I recognised from under the kitchen sink.

As carefully as I could, I tried to clean the shredded flesh of his throat to see the damage better. Blood had already congealed around the edges of the wound, thick and dark. But each time I dabbed at it, fresh crimson welled up from beneath. The sweet- metallic smell grew stronger, mixing sickeningly with the antiseptic.

“No major arteries appear to have been ruptured,” Isabel murmured, watching over my shoulder. “There would be more blood than this.”

She reached for the cotton in my hand and rapidly cleared away most of the mess, but it was still flowing sluggishly. “But this was no feed; it was intended to cause suffering.” Her voice was as tight as her expression.

“And his face?” I asked.

“It’s hard to say. I imagine the attacker tried to knock him unconscious, though I can’t see why. Younger vampires may find it is simpler to feed if they can subdue humans in such a way, but Nicholas has more than enough control over himself.”

“It was him,” Tom said faintly. His eyes were closed, and I was grateful he hadn’t noticed who I was talking with.

“You’re sure?” I kept my tone light, but it didn’t make much sense to me. As far as I knew, Tom still only had a vague description of Nicholas to go on. He didn’t answer my question, drifting back into semi-consciousness.

I straightened, looking absently around the room. Isabel continued to disinfect the wound at Tom’s throat, followed by his face. After her initial reaction, his blood didn’t seem to affect her at all – and somehow, I wasn’t worried about her hurting him. It was like watching a nurse dealing with a patient – utterly detached as she examined the wound, pressing gauze onto it delicately.

Everything I knew about Nicholas screamed this wasn’t him – he had no reason to hurt Tom except to hurt me. Tom had seen his attacker, yes, but he didn’t know Nicholas the way I did. Despite the evidence, that magnetic pull toward my Scottish vampire wouldn’t let me believe it. My heart had found its answer, even if my head disagreed. But Isabel and Tom didn’t believe that, and I had nothing to persuade them with.

I perched on the edge of the desk chair and observed as Isabel worked on Tom, my head spinning. Each gentle motion she made contradicted years of certainty. For a second, I was transported back to Jon’s apartment, late one night after a hunt.

“What if we’re wrong sometimes?” he’d mused, a few too many beers slurring his voice “Not about hunting, but about – I don’t know – them all being the same?” I’d dismissed it as drunken philosophising. Tom had figured Jon had a crush on some vamp.

Now, watching Isabel clean Tom’s wounds with a healer’s precision, I wondered if Jon had been onto something I’d been too stubborn to consider. That maybe a monster could show mercy.

Eventually, the vampire stood, and I followed her into the kitchen. She closed the doors behind us, and the room filled with a fragrance I was beginning to associate with Isabel; like fresh lilacs and cold winter nights.

“He likely lost a considerable amount of blood before he made it here,” she stated. Her hands were stained red, and she wiped them carelessly on her black jeans. “He may require a transfusion, but I ask that you don’t take him to the hospital yet – provided we watch him closely, and he gets the correct nutrition, he should recover without further medical care. ”

I gave her a questioning look.

“Hospitalising him would lead to awkward questions about his injuries,” she explained. “I would recommend painkillers, anti-inflammatories, plenty of fluids, and to keep the wound clean and dry. I cannot smell any infection, but I will return tomorrow to confirm, once he has had time to rest. If so, he may require antibiotics.”

Where the hell was she getting all this from? Who was this woman?

My thoughts must have shown on my face, because she gave a small laugh that was more empathetic than cruel.

“Necessity has made me quite well versed in human medicine,” she said, her tone warming slightly as if this were a normal conversation. “I like to help where I can.”

I nodded, momentarily speechless. The absolute insanity of the situation wasn’t lost on me – standing in my kitchen, taking medical advice from a damn vampire. Someone who, according to everything I’d ever known, shouldn’t give the slightest shit about human life. And yet here she was, bloodstained hands and all, speaking with the confidence of a doctor about how to help Tom. Part of me wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. The other part was just plain grateful.

“Thank you, Isabel.” I glanced at Tom’s sleeping form. “Nicholas—”

“You must deal with him, Erin,” she said, shaking her head. “What has transpired tonight is just another example of why. This was meant to convey intent, leaving your friend on the doorstep in such a state. We cannot turn a blind eye to such deeds.” Her voice returned to its previous formal tone as she spoke.

“I don’t know if I could deal with him if I tried,” I edged. “You’re the oldest of your kind I’ve ever come across, and…” I chuckled quietly, not wanting to admit the truth. “I didn’t see you move back there; you were so fast. I never knew vamps could be as strong as you.”

Isabel leaned back on the kitchen counter. “We tend to strengthen the longer we live,” she agreed. “But you surely know this? You are a van?tor .” She said it as though that settled the matter, the strange term she’d used once before.

“How could I have known?” I asked. “Tom and Jonathan and I… we’ve done a lot, but finding out the truth when the world loves its fiction? No chance.”

She considered my words. “There are things I can share that may help – with Nicholas,” she added.

I gaped at her. It couldn’t have escaped her notice that I could use any information she gave me against her, too.

“You have a pulse,” I stated, thinking of Nicholas. My fingers unconsciously found my throat.

“Yes,” she said, looking at me curiously. “I recall the shock of learning I still lived. The elder who changed me had failed to share that detail.” She paused, collecting herself. “Of course, biologically speaking, we can pass as dead – but our hearts pump blood in the same way that yours does. Only much more slowly.”

I took a moment to absorb this, watching as she absently traced the veins in her wrist. “What about healing?”

“We will always heal faster with fresh blood in our system. It functions a little like adrenaline, for us. Speeding our heart rates and almost every other process. Though I’ve yet to see evidence that we age.”

“Sunlight?”

A blush crept high onto her cheekbones, only enhancing her beauty. “One I have been unwilling to fully test. For a youngling, it would be instantly fatal, but as I’m sure you remember, I can work within the shade when necessary.”

“And you came in here without an invitation?”

“I would have hoped you were not taken in by that particular myth,” Isabel smiled, but it faded as she considered it. “Nicholas could come here; do you understand?” she asked quietly.

A thrill went through me at the idea. I tamped it down furiously. I needed time to think about the conclusions I’d reached tonight – that became more certain each time I went over them. Isabel had as much as said she wanted me to kill Nicholas, and for reasons I didn’t yet understand, she wasn’t able or willing to herself. I was grateful for that, but until I had enough information to persuade her she was wrong, I needed her to think I was willing to work with her.

How can so much change in an hour, eh?

“I do,” I said finally. “Once Tom’s up to being moved, we’ll leave. I’ll find somewhere safer for us.”

Isabel nodded, clearly already miles ahead of me. “Would you be able to come to the manor tomorrow evening – or I should say, tonight?” She checked a tiny, expensive-looking wristwatch. “Tom should be safe for a few hours, and it would allow us to discuss Nicholas’s weaknesses further. I would like to do what I can to help, but I know I am asking a lot of you.”

“Okay.” I was uncertain how else to respond.

Isabel scrutinised me, a crease appearing between her brows. “Can I trust you, Erin?”

I glanced at Tom in the other room, at the blood under Isabel’s fingernails. The weight of centuries hung in the air between us – her long memory of Nicholas, my fresh loss. Trust felt like a currency neither of us could afford.

“We’ll see.”