I bury my face in my hands as the secret door slams shut behind them. By those words, I suspect he will drag Sir Cyril down to the dungeon and inform Dimitri of my stupidity. Then they will behead him with a sword and drink his blood.He is doomed!
Chapter 20
Will | London, present day
I watch Hester curtsy, revelling in the applause. It’s been a long time coming for her. I’m glad I could give her a sweet taste of victory before it all comes crashing down around her ears. She’s still going to pay for what she did to me. For what she took from me. Nothing’s changed on that account.
Thank God she didn’t actually touch me, though, as it could have triggeredmylittle problem.
We take our places in the back row of the audience as the next cast members ready themselves for their pivotal scene run-through. I can’t help glancing at Hester:Wonder if they’ll be as good as us. I doubt it.
Hester doesn’t reply, but she doesn’t block me either. Her back is ramrod straight, and she’s staring straight ahead. From the way she’s clenching her thighs, she must still be aroused by the injection of vampiric desire I gave her. It was mean of me to do that in front of everyone, buthey, I’m a mean guy.
You cool?I think to her. I can’t seem to stop communicating telepathically, but I haven’t done this for a long time, and I kind of miss it. Darius and I used to—
Hester interrupts my train of thought, thankfully, as I’m about to saunter off down eighteenth-century memory lane; and that’s not good for my mental health.
I don’t mean to be rude. I appreciated your help onstage. But ...
Me:Fuck off, Will?
Hester:Something like that.
Me:Don’t you want to know anything about me?
Hester:I asked you how old you were, and you gave a vague reply. I’m guessing I’m not going to get a straight answer from you. So what’s the point?
She lifts an eyebrow.
Me:Fine. I’ll give you a hint. I had a minor part in the original production ofTwelfth Nightat Whitehall on the sixth of January 1601.
Hester slowly turns to me, her mouth forming an O and eyes bugging out.No way!
I grin, enjoying her shock from my revelation. But then her expression shifts to sadness.
Hester:A pity I wasn’t residing at court then. I would have liked to have seen the play. But hang on, didn’t you say our paths had crossed? Was it more recently?
I shake my head and stroke my chin, indicating that I had a goatee. Surely, she must guess now! I wait for her to put two and two together, but she still looks blank.
Annoyance spreads through me. Is her ‘best meal of the century’ really that forgettable?
She sees my scowl and sighs.Look, Will, if you’re not going to tell me straight out who you are, there’s no point in me trying to guess. I’ve been around a long time, so it’s not surprising that my memory is a little hazy ...
Hazy? Is she seriously kidding me?
If I keep looking at her blank expression, over four centuries of repressed anger is going to explode out of me like a nuclear bomb. So I do what male vampires in a huff do—erect my shield, fold my arms, and look straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge her.
***
We don’t speak, physically or mentally, for the rest of the rehearsal, though she headbutts my psychic wall periodically to see if my shield is still up. Nope, not letting you in.
I know I’m acting like a child, but underneath my anger is a sea of hurt. The night she turned me is crystal clear in my mind, so how can it not be in hers? Exactly how many other knights did she bite back then?
As soon as the rehearsal is over, Hester grabs her stuffand takes off out the door without saying goodbye to anyone. I follow hot on her heels. Now that the cat’s out of the bag that I’m a vampire, I can’t seem to leave her alone. But I’m not sure what I want from her ... Acknowledgement of my existence? How pathetic.
‘Do you mind?’ she says as we wait for a crossing signal since I’m practically breathing down her neck, if I needed to breathe.
I move away slightly, holding up my hands. ‘Not at all, my lady.’ Now that we’re outside, she studies my features intently as if she’s racking her brains to remember who the hell I am. OK, I did look different back then. The shaved head and the absence of the goatee must really be throwing her off. I lift my sunglasses for a moment, wincing at the sunlight, and stare back steadily, giving her my best ‘I want to kill you’ look. She jolts as if struck by lightning. Recognition floods her face. She takes a step back. Then another. I can’t resist dropping my shield and thinking to her:Got it now?
