‘Not today,’ she murmured in response. And not by vamp. Chester Longchamps had just proved that he needed her far more than she needed him.
Chester’s drawingroom wasn’t any cheerier than his hallway. Mallory was unsure what design aesthetic he was aiming for, but there was certainly an eclectic array of furniture. The room contained everything from a Jacobean sideboard to a 1920s’ art-deco mirror to a Brutalist coffee table that she was sure she’d seen only the previous month in a glossy magazine featuring the home of a premier league footballer and his glamorous wife.
She couldn’t stop herself checking to see whether Chester’s reflection appeared in the mirror. He caught her looking and smiled. ‘Look,’ he said and waved at it. ‘No hands!’
Mallory found she was smiling back at him. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.’
His response was genial. ‘I understand such curiosity. I can offer you a canapé – which most definitely will not contain garlic. You will find that all the windows in this property have been boarded up for the past three centuries. And,’ he added, with only a hint of smarminess, ‘I do sleep in a coffin.’
She blinked.
‘It provides a more restful sleep,’ Chester explained.
‘Good to know,’ she murmured.
She looked him over. For a vampire of his age, he was remarkably well-preserved. His eyes didn’t contain much warmth but there was little evidence of the sunken skin she’d noticed on other aged vamps. His pallor told of centuries of avoiding the sun, but he’d been canny with make-up – either that, or he had a sunbed hidden away somewhere. Could vampires use sunbeds? She pondered the question. She genuinely had no idea.
Sunbed or not, Chester Longchamps was clearly someone who cared a great deal about his appearance and was keen to avoid looking like death in the way that some of his kin enjoyed. His rail-thin body was clad in a light-blue jersey fabric as if he were relaxing after a long run.
The notion that he was attempting to appear casual to put her at ease dissipated quickly when a young woman – another thrall – came into the room with a small dagger in her hand. She sliced open her wrist with practised ease and raised it to Chester’s mouth. He drank greedily, slurping her blood while maintaining eye contact with Mallory. When he was done, he licked the thrall’s skin so that his saliva would heal her wound.
It was considered passé for vampires to use their fangs to pierce skin, probably because it suggested a lack of consent on the thrall’s part. Nevertheless, the act made Mallory shiver. Despite her many encounters with vampires, she’d not witnessed any of them feed. It was an intimate deed and watching it made her feel like an unwelcome intruder.
‘I am not long awake,’ Chester said by way of explanation. ‘I find I require considerable refreshment before I can attack the night.’ He nodded at the thrall, dismissing her.
Mallory suddenly had the thought that the act hadn’t been intended to throw her off-balance but to indicate that he had vulnerabilities and needs. Regardless of the initial lack of welcome, Chester Longchamps didn’t want her to feel intimidated. That was … interesting.
He dabbed at his mouth with a light-blue handkerchief that perfectly matched his athleisure attire then beckoned Mallory to a nearby chair. Good: he was prepared to get down to business quickly. She might still make her next appointment in time.
‘You are a squib, Ms Nash,’ he said. It wasn’t a question. ‘When I first heard of your services, I admit I was sceptical. However, you come highly recommended.’
Mallory certainly hoped so; she’d worked hard to develop her reputation as somebody who got stuff done.
‘What is your success rate?’
‘Near perfect,’ she answered without missing a beat. ‘The last time I didn’t manage to fulfil a client’s request was more than three years ago.’ And that had been because the client in question – a troll called Bertie – had provided false information. It could be argued that the failure had not been hers.
Chester stroked his chin. ‘And you deal solely in secrets and favours? You do not require monetary compensation for your efforts? Because frankly that would be far easier and, I suspect, far less costly in the long run.’
‘My terms were made clear to you before my arrival.’ She kept her tone pleasant.
He tilted his head and examined her. ‘You present yourself as flowers and sunshine, Ms Nash, but in truth you possess a core of steel.’
‘Titanium,’ Mallory told him. Coated in radioactive nuclear waste. She didn’t add that last part; it would have been overkill.
The vampire barked a cold laugh. ‘Yes. Ha! Titanium indeed. Very well.’ He leaned forward. ‘I can count on your discretion?’
‘Absolutely. Whether we proceed with an arrangement or otherwise, I will reveal nothing about this meeting.’
‘Strangely, I believe you. Very well, then.’ Chester paused for a moment before continuing. ‘What I am seeking is an object. I would like to get my hands on … the Clouded Map!’ he finished with a dramatic flourish.
There was no accompanying drumroll although Mallory sensed that he expected one. If she’d known what the Clouded Map was she might have agreed, but alas she’d never heard of it. She knew better than to say that aloud, however. ‘I see,’ she said, keeping her expression studiously blank.
Oblivious to her ignorance, Chester went on. ‘I appreciate it is a mammoth task. If it helps, I do not wish to retain the Clouded Map permanently. I would simply like to borrow it for a short period – twelve months at the most. Then I will happily return it to the Witches’ Council.’
Well, at least now she knew who owned the map. Now the vampire’s reasons for approaching her made sense: the witches didn’t lend anything without good reason and considerable compensation, and they wouldn’t strike a deal with a vampire under any normal circumstances.
‘Why do you need it?’ she asked.
