Page 24

T he bright white winter sun fell through a gap in the curtains, waking me. I lay watching the dust motes dance in the light for a while, systematically assessing the soreness in my muscles, testing and stretching each limb a little at a time. It was hard to say how badly I was hurt without getting up, but nothing on this earth could entice me out of the warmth of my duvet. Except, of course, the need to use the toilet. I forced my poor, aching body out of bed.

Glancing in the mirror as I entered the bathroom was a mistake. I reached blindly behind me and sat down on the edge of the bath, unable to take my eyes from my reflection.

I was a mess of dried blood and dirt, crusty patches flaking away where tears had run down my cheeks. My left cheekbone had swollen up like a balloon, the skin black and tight. The right side of my jaw was turning purple, too – though I didn’t remember the blow – and the flesh was tender beneath my fingers as I gently probed it. Above my eyebrow, a thin cut was still weeping.

It wasn’t just my face, either. My right shoulder had turned a deep mauve, blossoming dark ink blots across my collarbone, which must have been more seriously injured than I’d first thought. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed any of this last night – the fire and the adrenaline had obviously been in overdrive – but it explained why Nicholas had seemed so concerned.

Everything crashed in at once – not just the pain, but the memory of the teenage girl’s face. The tears came hot and fast before I could stop them. I’d failed her, whatever Nicholas said. And if it could happen to her… What was I even doing? Fighting monsters until one of them finally killed me, and for what?

My reflection looked back at me, tears leaving fresh white tracks in the grime. But no clarification or relief came from the salty streaks.

I took a deep shuddering breath. The last element of control left to me was to hold back the tears. I’d cried enough.

Tom had been right. I hated it, but when this was over, I’d have some serious questions to ask about how vampires were created, and what we could do about it. Isabel and Nicholas would have to share everything they knew, whether they liked it or not. I couldn’t keep putting my body through this, knowing it was a losing battle.

At some point, I collected myself enough to climb carefully into the shower. The scalding water stung my skin, freeing the strands of hair that were glued into my cuts with dirt and blood. Eventually, the heat forced my muscles to relax, too, and by the time I stepped out of the tub, the mirror was so fogged with steam that I didn’t have to look at my reflection. I got into a fresh pair of pyjamas, wrapped myself in my softest dressing gown and headed downstairs.

Tom was nowhere to be found. The blanket folded neatly over the end of the sofa told me he’d likely stayed the night, and I made a mental note to thank Nicholas for his discretion. It would only have made things worse for Tom to have seen another vamp in the house.

I curled up in my favourite armchair by the window for a while, watching the clouds roll in and blot the sun from the sky. After a few minutes, the deep, comforting aroma of coffee lured me into the kitchen. Someone had put the coffeepot on a timer, and the carafe was still full. I poured myself a cup and returned to my chair with an ice pack wrapped in an old tea towel pressed to my shoulder – or my face, depending on the moment. It wasn’t long before I began to doze off, but a sharp rap on the door snapped me back to attention.

Adam stood on the top step, leaning on a smart black umbrella and wearing an expression that said the weather had personally offended him.

“I want to go out,” he said abruptly, stepping into the hallway. His eyes narrowed at my face. “What happened to you?”

“Good morning to you too,” I grumbled. He reached past me smoothly, hanging his coat neatly on a peg. The hall filled with the scent of rain and his usual citrus and clove.

“Well?” He paused in the living room doorway, studying my bruises. I caught sight of my face in the hallway mirror – most of the swelling had gone down at least, though the bruising painted quite a picture.

Top marks for advanced healing abilities, Erin!

“I’m a hunter, Adam,” I replied. “I get into fights. And what are you doing here, at—” I checked the clock. “Okay, well not that early in the morning, but still.”

“The sun is up, so I am alone, and I am bored.” His fingers traced the back of Tom’s usual spot before he settled into it. The faded velvet somehow looked expensive under his touch. “Nick asked me to check on you – quite forcefully, I might add – and I thought we might make an expedition of it.”

I shook my head at him, unable to hide a smile. “Coffee?”

“I’d love some,” he purred.

I grabbed milk and sugar, setting them on an old wooden tray beside two mugs. Filling both from the carafe, I decided to reset the machine for another pot – just in case. When I put everything down beside Adam, he picked up my Wonder Woman mug like it was some kind of priceless antique. His mouth twitched, but he said nothing as he helped himself to milk.

“I want to go out,” he repeated, stirring his coffee delicately. “Do the things you humans do.”

“Yeah, you said. You remember I have a coffee shop to run, right?” I tucked my feet under me, watching him deliberately flatten an invisible wrinkle in his trousers.

“Yes, but since you own the shop, you can… call it a holiday?” His eyes danced as he took a sip. “You also happen to be my only friend.”

“I’m not saying I can’t, but—” I thought of the research party I’d missed last night. I wasn’t sure I could justify a day trip with Adam, but he was already making me feel guilty.

“Then it’s settled.” He leaned forward, hands clasped like he was proposing a business venture. “Where shall we go?”

His enthusiasm was contagious. It had been a while since I’d taken a day off that wasn’t murder-related. “What exactly do you mean by ‘ the things you humans do? ’”

“Oh, you know.” He gestured vaguely with his cup. “The entertainments I see on television. Theatre, fairgrounds…” A slight grimace crossed his perfect features. “Aren’t those things you do?”

“Not regularly, no.” I studied him over my coffee. “Adam, when was the last time you actually got out into the world? During daylight, without Nicholas or Isabel?”

“The day we met, I suppose. But prior to that, it’s been… a while.” His fingers drummed once on the armrest. “The daylight presents something of an issue. And when they’re feeding—”

I flinched, and he noticed, changing course. “Crowds can be… difficult. And one can’t simply wander alone, not without knowing the territory.”

Something in his voice made me look closer. Behind the carefully maintained facade, he was lonely. Stuck between worlds – too human for the immortals, too immortal for the humans, the sole sunwalker in his ‘coven’ and yet loyal to his vamp best friend. I sighed inwardly. I liked Adam, and he was fun to be around, but I had a lot on my mind.

“Alright,” I said, setting down my mug. “But you need to update me on everything you found out last night. I refuse to be left out of the loop.”

He straightened, almost imperceptibly. “It goes without saying, surely? You mightn’t want to assume I would do anything to keep you out of it, you know.”

I nodded and ran a hand through my hair. “I know. Sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” He rose from his seat, towering over me. “Now, shall I examine those injuries you’re so determined to downplay? Nick was quite insistent, and I promise not to pry about the specifics.”

“What is it with immortals and medical degrees?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.

A genuine laugh escaped him. “Who said I was qualified?” His hands were surprisingly gentle as he checked my injuries. “I was an army medic, once or twice. After we realised I was immortal… well. Nick preferred I accompany him.” Something dark flickered behind his eyes. “Let’s just say war is not for me. A medic seemed safer, but it didn’t stick.”

Interesting. “Somehow, I can’t imagine your bedside manner being missed.”

He made a show of looking offended, but his fingers remained gentle as they probed my collarbone. He tutted, lifting my arm to test its range. I winced.

“You’ll do, I suppose.” He stepped back, his mask of careful indifference sliding back into place. “You’re lucky not to have dislocated your shoulder, and your collarbone is intact. It’s not ideal, but since you are a hunter…”

“Thanks.” I stood up and frowned down at my rumpled dressing gown. “I suppose I should get dressed.”

Adam gave me a disparaging look. “Yes, you should.”

???

A n hour later, we were in my car, heading east toward the coast. The threatening grey skies had finally opened, and the downpour was getting heavier the further east we went, turning the motorway ahead into a silvery blur. It wasn’t the right weather or the right time of year for a beach trip, but it was easier to go along with Adam’s request for seaside ice cream than to argue.

I tried not to worry too much as we drove – I’d called Tom before we left, to no avail. Which meant, once again, the coffee shop was closed, and we were going to lose another day of takings. Luckily, the improvement in Adam’s mood was infectious. And fuck knows, I needed a good mood and some fun. I was still coming down from the previous night, and there was a raw, ragged ache in my chest whenever I thought about it.

“How does this work?” Adam half-shouted as we sped along the motorway, the rain hammering loudly on the roof. His pale fingers traced the edge of my phone curiously.

I glanced away from the road for a moment to see he had Spotify open. “It’s connected to the car by Bluetooth.”

“I see,” he replied, still frowning. “Should we listen to driving songs? Isn’t that what people do? Is this a… what is the term, a road trip?” The questions tumbled from his mouth, and I didn’t try to hide my laughter.

He sniffed disapprovingly.

“No offence meant!” I held up one hand in apology. “But it’s like you’re a time traveller or something. How do you not know about this stuff?”

Adam took a deep breath. “I’m aware of how the world works, Erin. I just rarely find myself in a situation where I might experience it first-hand.” He scrolled through my playlists, apparently not sure what he was looking at. “Travelling by night, by train or aeroplane… it’s terribly tiresome, quite quiet, and utterly boring.” He gazed out of the window, raindrops casting shadows across his profile. “But isn’t it better not to be alone?”

“Of course,” I sobered a little. “But you’re not always with Nicholas, right?”

“No, no. Until recently, I hadn’t seen him for six years, actually. I’ve only known him a century or so – I’m rather young when you compare me to my companions. Companion singular, I should say. Izzie is…”

“Not what you’d call a friend?” I guessed, remembering the awkwardness between them last night.

“She’s… an old acquaintance, certainly. Thankfully, she often disappears for decades.” Adam’s eyes met mine in the reflection of the windscreen. “Nick assures me she wasn’t always that way, but the war had a poor effect on her, as you know. She’s never been the same.”

I pulled a face, but I said nothing. If we’d been talking about anyone else, I might have been more understanding. And I was sympathetic. Sort of .

Isabel Wyatt had suffered this last century. But I couldn’t help but feel like she’d done so much harm in her past, it was surprising it hadn’t happened before now. Nature always found the balance.

“You think she deserves it?” Adam asked quietly, not looking up from my phone.

I immediately wanted to deny it. But I pursed my lips and kept quiet, waiting.

“You may be correct,” he added. “Though don’t you think it’s a different sort of pain?”

“I don’t understand what you mean. Isn’t pain just – pain?”

“Physical pain, mental pain, heartbreak…” He put the phone down. “Izzie has a tongue like a viper, an ironclad set of her own moral rules and a calculated approach to violence.”

“You’re really not selling her,” I said.

“She’s been trying to atone, as Nick has. And her grief is a reminder of the grief she’s brought about in so many others.” He paused. “I believe she worries that the pain she feels will eventually overshadow how she felt about her husband. When the depth of her guilt is so great, it must be hard to remember the light she once lived in, if only for a moment.”

I stared at the road ahead, flicking the indicator to change lanes. “I thought you didn’t like her?”

He made a noise somewhere between a snort and a laugh. “I don’t.”

“So what’s with the deep personal insights?”

“I understand her. As much as it’s possible to understand the vast mind of a vampire, old as she may be.” He paused. “Perhaps it is why I don’t like her.”

I wondered what he meant. Sometimes, Adam’s behaviour toward Isabel almost rang of jealousy, though I wasn’t sure what it was he had to be jealous of.

“Can I ask you something? And it’s not… accusing, or anything.”

“By all means, you usually ask as you please.” I caught him glancing at me, but I didn’t take my eyes off the road.

“You and Nicholas. You’re good friends?”

“We are.”

“How did that come about? How do you know him?” It wasn’t quite what I wanted to ask, and Adam noticed.

“Do say what you mean, Erin.”

I fidgeted, glancing at the wing mirror. Through the rain-streaked glass, a lorry loomed behind us. “Do you love him?”

Adam chuckled. “Dearly. But as a friend.”

“Ah. Okay.” I didn’t say anything more. It had never really seemed like Adam felt like that about Nicholas, but I knew so little about their friendship.

“I am…” Adam began, and I glanced at him. He was staring out of the window. “I’m not particularly inclined toward anyone at all, in that manner. I never have been.”

I smiled. “I don’t know, Adam. You seem to fancy yourself pretty well.”

He laughed. “But of course.”

The quiet piano melody tinkling from the car speakers came to a close. Adam turned slightly, his expression softening. “You needn’t worry about Nicholas’s affections, you know. ”

I glanced at him, caught off-guard. “What?”

“In all his years,” Adam said carefully, “He’s never truly loved anyone. Not really. He may be a charmer, but the red-headed women in his life were not a part of his… more physical pursuits, shall we say? And as you’re aware, each one was ultimately a disappointment that ended in tragedy.”

Oh, okay. We’re going there.

“It isn’t something he talks of often. But on occasion, enough whisky has loosened his tongue to confessions.” He adjusted the seams of his trousers, shifting in his seat. “His crimes are undeniable, but his conviction has been almost unwavering. I guarantee his affection is equally as unshakeable.”

I gripped the steering wheel, processing. I already knew bits and pieces, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted more than that. But I couldn’t deny the small feeling of relief Adam’s words evoked.

A blast of trombones from the speakers saved me from replying. Adam had switched back to his previous excited state, singing along to the Frank Sinatra cover, the conversation seemingly forgotten as quickly as it had begun.

???

W hitby looked exactly as miserable as you’d expect in December – empty streets, grey skies, and the last of the rain giving way to an even nastier wind.

Adam gazed up at the Abbey ruins silhouetted against the grey sky. “I read Stoker’s novel when it was first published,” he mused. “He captured the atmosphere perfectly, though I confess the weather was better then. ”

Even with the awful weather, I was glad we’d come. I showed Adam the amusement arcades along the seafront – open rain or shine – and he lost several games of air hockey quite spectacularly. My hands smelled of copper from the old machines by the time we’d thrown almost a day’s wages at the slots and claws. The tinny music and electronic beeps echoed off rain-streaked windows, mixing with the permanent scent of damp carpets and candy floss that clung to every seaside arcade. Exactly as it should.

Stepping out toward the pier after emptying our pockets of change, Adam declined my offer of a greasy burger from a tiny café, which was probably for the best. Instead, we took advantage of the brief minutes when the clouds parted, buying ice creams that made my teeth ache from the sweetness.

We wandered back along the beach for the remaining hours before we lost the light, the sea dark and uninviting. As the neon glow of the carousel lured us back towards the area where we’d parked, Adam stopped abruptly, a curious smile playing about his face. Behind us, the sea roared its soft music.

“What is it?” I asked, the wind whipping at my escaped hair, scraps of orange splashing across my vision.

He shook his head, still grinning. “Could we take a photograph?”

I didn’t understand his reasoning, but I agreed. Standing alone against the backdrop of the brightly lit, empty carousel, Adam seemed like a real Victorian gentleman for the first time. Or at least what I imagined they looked like – my knowledge mostly came from period dramas. With his hands in the pockets of his smart grey coat, he stood unsmiling and stiff. I took the photograph, and he immediately snapped out of it, beckoning me over.

“Now for both of us?” He took my phone from my hand, adeptly angling the camera so he could press the button. Beaming and huddled together, the blurry glow of the carousel behind us threw our faces into sharp relief. We looked exhausted, but happy. It was a great picture.

Adam didn’t doze in the car as we drove home in the dark. I’d expected him to, but then I remembered he wasn’t entirely as he appeared – for all I knew, he didn’t sleep. When I pulled up outside my house, he insisted he would make his own way home, and I was too exhausted to argue.

I wondered whether he’d tell Nicholas where we’d been. For all his aristocratic airs and immortal mystery, Adam had managed something no one else had, lately – he’d made me feel normal for a day. Even if nothing else about my life was.