Chapter 3
Will | London, present day
Hate and desire. When one is left to stew in those warring emotions for over four centuries, it can make a man’s psyche a little ... twisted.
As soon as I step out of Shakespeare’s Globe into the bright cold afternoon, I sense her over there by the rubbish bin: Hester Everill, my nemesis. A quick eye swivel behind my sunglasses confirms it, though I pretend I’m looking at the clear blue sky.
It’s laughable that she’s trying to hide, but all the while lusting after me. That does stroke my starved ego somewhat, I have to say. I stroll off along South Bank, enjoying her wanton gaze travelling over my body, lingering on my biceps, chest, and crotch. My dick even twitches in my jeans. It must have long-term muscle memory; her sweet lips haven’t touched that part of my anatomy since 1560. Rememberingthat nightcauses a burst of anger to flare in my chest, which I quickly stamp on and disguise with acheery whistle. Hester can’t read my thoughts, but I have to be super careful because she’s so focused on me. I can’t have any chink in my armour, or she’ll know who she’s dealing with. And that will be dangerous for me. No, I want to lure her in slowly, like a bright wriggling ignorant fish, and make her suffer—the way she’s made me suffer ...
‘Will!’
Fuck. I’ve been trying to avoid Camilla St Clair all day. She’s right in front of me now, looking distressed, and I know why. But what does she expect me to do about it?
She launches into a tearful tirade about not getting the part and how ridiculous that is. I try to remain impartial, knowing Hester’s listening, but can’t resist a few digs at Camilla to amuse her. Then wonder why I’m bothering. I don’t particularly care if Hester thinks I’m funny.
Camilla is still wittering on. She really is insufferable. Little does she know I was lurking in the upper balcony, watching the auditions, and she was an atrocious Viola. Her approach was all wrong. Too affected and screechy.
Hester standing there saying nothing was better than her, even though it was a train wreck of an audition. But I’m glad she compelled the casting director and the producer to give her the part—I need her close to me ...
‘Who is Hester Everill anyway?’ sniffs Camilla. ‘I mean, what’s she even acted in? Nothing! She’s a nobody.’
Hah, here’s my chance! OK, I may go overboard by telling Camilla not to be a ‘bitch’. But I want to get even further into Hester’s good graces. It’s been difficult to compliment her in class, though I know she craves my approval. But it would be weird if I started waxing lyrical about how talented she is since she flits around the edges and manages to get out of any actual acting by compelling people to ignore her. But I’ve seen how dedicated she is and how she absorbs everything like a sponge. She’s probably been practising her undead heart out for this role and knows it backwards; she always was an overachiever.
Despite my dark motivations towards her, Hester is actually a talented actor.
But she suffers from a lack of confidence as a result of a heckling incident that occurred on Drury Lane in 1752. It was unfortunate. I had arrived late to the performance ofThe Fine Lady’s Lesson—a moral comedy about vanity and reform—but even as I stepped through the door of the theatre, I sensed that the crowd was in a particularly unruly mood. Hester’s acting was fine—wonderful, in fact (I was a grudging admirer from a seat in the back). But the audience turned on her halfway through and showed no mercy. After being heckled loudly by a large group of ingrates at the front, she had a hissy fit at them, telling them to ‘shut their gobs’, which didn’t help matters. Theypelted her with oranges (some of which she caught and hurled back, which I thought was funny). But then the whole theatre started booing, and it got too much; she gathered up her skirts and scurried off the stage to an eruption of mean laughter. Even I had a modicum of sympathy for her then, but I quickly squashed that by telling myself that she deserved it. And she got her revenge in the back alley later that night anyway. It was a decent massacre. She showed those men the same amount of mercy they’d given her. None. I supped eagerly from their remains after she’d gone.
I lick my lips, a spike of bloodlust thrumming from remembering that long-ago eighteenth-century feast. My eyes shift to Camilla’s neck. It’s right there: white, soft, and warm. I could just ... Shit. My fangs are extending!
I stride away quickly, without so much as a goodbye, leaving Camilla gaping open-mouthed at my rudeness. But it can’t be helped. It’s either waste time on fake pleasantries or tearing open her throat in broad daylight on South Bank. Then I’d really have blown my cover in front of Hester. And I’ve stalked her too patiently, for too many years, to do that.
No, I need to play it cool so I can finally exact my own revenge feast. Or as I call it, KFC: kiss fang chomp!
Chapter 4
Hester | Edinburgh, present day
Will’s confusing comment stays in my mind, rattling around annoyingly like a pebble in an empty glass jar. It doesn’t make sense to me. There’s no way he’s seen me acting, so I have to conclude that he must have been lying to Camilla. And that disturbs me even more. I’ve come to admire his brutal honesty, but I suppose he’s only human and not perfect. But to me, there’s something captivating about him when he’s in actor mode: striding around, delivering his lines with such authenticity and passion that he’s the embodiment of each character he plays. And the audience loves it, gobbles him up with their eyes, and begs him for more like he’s making love to them. Fuck us, Will. Fuck us hard!
I sip shakily from my mug of warm blood, pushing aside a vivid mental image of being gripped around the throat and being fucked hard by Will onstage, his intense dark eyes boring into mine. It’s a recurring naughty fantasy of mineever since I got the part of Viola and one I know I shouldn’t indulge in. Especially since I got the role by nefarious vampiric means.
Sadie has called a flat meeting, and I’m waiting in the lounge. So far, I’m the only one here. The fifth wheel.
Newly engaged lovebirds Sadie and Elliott are around somewhere. They’ve been spendinga lotof time in her room. And she’s even been staying over at his flat in Causewayside, which is a first as she often describes it as a ‘poky little slum’. She says it’s because she needs to overhaul the blood donation service, but I think she’s really giving Elliott a good ‘overhaul’ since he has newbie vampire needs. I’m sure they’re also making up for lost time since he was rescued from the Highlands. But I don’t begrudge them that at all. I’m happy they’ve finally worked things out and that they’ve resolved their thrall-master relationship. It never sat well with me. I’d been on at her to turn him for decades.
Floss and Damian I haven’t seen much of either. They’ve been having romantic night-time flying dates to remote locations, where Damian can run around and burn off his newbie vampire energy. Floss often comes back with her long skirt ripped, mud on her face, and twigs in her hair. But emanating a soft satiated glow that suggests she’s been indulging Damian’s more primitive vampiric urges too. I don’t begrudge them that either. Until Alexander is dealtwith, they’re living on borrowed time, and I can’t keep shielding them forever. Well, Icould, but it would be nice if I didn’t have to.
A sharp pining for Will surfaces, and I wish for the umpteenth time that I had my own cosied-up relationship with him to enjoy. But how could that ever happen? He’s human for starters, and it’s not like he’s ever shown any interest in me. OK, he said ‘Break a leg’ before my audition, and the way his eyes lingered on mine when he said it was almost bordering on flirtation. However, it was also tinged with hostility, like hedidwant me to break my leg. Very confusing, as per usual with Will.
There’s a sharp snap of fingers in front of my face. ‘Hester! Are you joining us? Or are you in a corpuscle coma?’ Sadie asks.
Floss giggles, and I jerk out of my reverie to find the coven now seated in the lounge and looking at me curiously. Elliott and Damian are on the opposite couch; and Floss is sitting on the floor, resting against Damian’s legs, his hand entwined in hers.
‘Sorry,’ I mumble, averting my eyes and attempting a joke, ‘jet lag’s a bitch.’
Sadie leans back in her revolving leather chair and eyes me suspiciously. I feel her fingers trying to poke into my mind and immediately strengthen my mental wall so shecan’t get in. I trust Sadie, but I know she finds my acting amusing. If she knew the truth of my audition, she’d never let me hear the end of it. Luckily, she still has no clue because I’m at the top of her meeting agenda.
‘Firstly, big congrats to Hester for winning the part of Viola in theTwelfth Night!She practised really hard for it, and I should know since I helped her with her lines.’ Sadie smooths her blonde bob smugly, and Elliott’s mouth twitches. ‘Since she’s been struggling with stage fright since 1752, this is kind of a big deal...’ she continues, reading from her iPad, whileIsquirm uncomfortably. ‘It shows a certain tenacity and dedication to the craft that is to be admired. So here’s to Hester! We know you’ll make the Bard and us proud!’
