I wrinkle my nose. ‘Yeah, not really my thing.’
Fortunately, Simon changes the subject because I reallydon’t want to hear any more about it. Covent Garden and prostitutes remind me painfully of my friend, Darius. He became involved with a powerful vampire called Anya in the 1750s, and he used to scour the brothels for her and have fun with the girls too—when she let him. From what he told me, she was a right hard-nosed bitch, always slapping him around. But he seemed to enjoy it.
One fateful afternoon in 1758, I called at his house, and he didn’t answer the door. I broke in and found him lying under the bed, with Anya nowhere in sight. It was pretty obvious to me that she’d drained my friend in a fit of anger because he hadn’t obeyed one of her demands, then freaked out and scarpered. It was a sad and unpleasant business. Especially since I was the one who had to discreetly dispose of his body in the Thames. Thinking about it still enrages me, even two and a half centuries later.
Hmm, if Anya shows her face at this Covent Garden brothel, looking for undead pussy, I’ll end her along with Hester. I’ll be killing two selfish vampires with one stone, and it would be good riddance.
Chapter 14
Hester | London, present day
‘What if he’s out hunting?’ Floss sounds nervous. We’ve arrived in Belgravia to find Charlie’s windows in complete darkness. But that doesn’t mean anything. He can see without the lights on as well as any of us.
‘It’s barely eight o’clock. No self-respecting vampire hunts until after midnight,’ Sadie reasons. ‘Who’s going to knock?’
No one volunteers, least of all me.
‘You guys are such wimps. Well, I’m not afraid of a doddering old vampire.’ Sadie squares her shoulders and stalks across the eerily silent street with us trailing a few paces behind her. I haven’t been here since 1905, and the place looks pretty much the same as it did then with its snow-white columns, polished ebony door, and brass lion’s head door knocker. Little did I know when I was seeing Charlie that Floss had been turned here; he didn’t really liketalking about her or Alexander. It would be another 16 years before I met her and Sadie in Edinburgh and we formed our coven. I suppose I have him to thank for that.
I linger on the footpath behind the others as Sadie rapidly mounts the steps like she’s on a mission. She raps the door knocker sharply three times. My gut twists, threatening to splatter the bushes with the hastily ingested blood I drank before we came out. Floss grips my hand, and a sense of peace flows over me. She’s imbuing me with calming energy even though I know she’s scared too. At the very least, Charlie is going to demand a feed for giving us information, and she hated that last time.
I smile at her gratefully.Thanks, I needed that.
You’re welcome—oh fuck, the door’s opening!
Slowly, I turn my head, prepared to see my ex. But it’s not Charlie that stands there. It’s a middle-aged woman wearing a pale-blue twinset and pearls; her light-brown hair is swept up in a Priscilla Presley beehive. The fact she hasn’t switched on the lights to greet us is an undead giveaway. Her attire is another sign—she looks like a throwback from the 1960s. Then her rose perfume flows to my nostrils. I raise an eyebrow at Floss, and she nods.Vampire!
‘Yes? Can I help you?’ she enquires.
‘Good evening. We’re sorry to bother you, but we’re looking for our friend Charlie Dryden. Does he still livehere?’ Sadie asks politely.
The woman looks her and then the rest of us over with snooty suspicion, assessing the level of threat we pose. ‘He might,’ she says at last. ‘What do you want with him?’
‘Just to talk,’ Sadie assures her. ‘We need some information about his ... father, and we were hoping he could help us.’
I take a peek into the woman’s mind and am surprised that she has a strong mental shield. She must’ve erected it as soon as she sensed us out here.
‘You can all come in,’ she says at last, which is our invite to cross the threshold. ‘But you can’t stay long. We’re going out for dinner.’
‘Thank you,’ says Sadie. ‘We appreciate it.’
The woman stands aside, looking down her nose at us as we file past. I’m intrigued to know who she is. Is she Charlie’s housekeeper?
‘Go through to the parlour. Straight ahead, first door on the right. Knock and wait for him to reply. I’ve warned him you’re coming.’
Sadie and Floss glance at each other warily but lead the way. The house is dark and quiet, apart from the loud ticking grandfather clock on the landing. Unsurprisingly, there are no photos hanging up in the hallway to mark the passage of the past century. Vampires aren’t big on those.But there isn’t even any artwork. It makes the place feel devoid of emotion.
Floss knocks on the parlour door.
‘Come,’ a raspy voice says after a pause.
Here we go. Sadie had to face Tim. Now it’s my turn.
We file into the parlour, and the wall sconces slowly brighten, illuminating the room.
Charlie is standing looking out the window, hands clasped behind his back. He turns slowly, and I get the shock of my life. The fresh-faced, handsome gent I knew in 1905 who always wore a smart suit and a jaunty hat has been replaced by a bent-postured, wrinkled old man in a black cardigan and joggers—with a sparse grey-haired comb-over.
‘Well, well, I see you bitches found Hester Everill.’ His dark eyes swivel to me, then the rest of the coven. ‘How nice that you’re all looking soyoung.’ His tone brims with bitterness, and I can’t help feeling sorry for him. Poor Charlie, he always was a misery guts. But he sounds much worse now, as if he spends his days wallowing in the past.
