I wheezed a dry laugh at the imagery of trees mating. “Dude, Dalziel’s about three hundred years old. He’s had plenty of time to make some serious dough. Reckon he’s richandsomething.” I could make out the corner of a building coming into view ahead of us. “Look. If you want gothic, you’re out of luck, but the house does look a bit like a castle.”
Charley twisted to give me his full attention. “Did you say…three hundred?” I nodded, looking for the best place to pull over. Left or right? We’d approached on a corner and…Ahh okay, left it was. I could see some impressive sweeping stone steps which must be the front.
“Fuck my life, three hundred?” Charley breathed, sounding awed and slightly disbelieving.
“That’s not particularly old for a vamp. Dalziel’s senior because he’s strong. Aka fucking lethal,” I clarified. Charley audibly gulped.
Heartened to see there were actually some lights, albeit dim ones, emanating from the lower floor windows on this side, I drew up parallel with the steps and cut the engine. The house was less like a castle from this angle, more of a manor house. The section we’d driven past was much older, thick and square, with smaller windows, and an element of brooding menace enveloping its stone walls. It looked bloody cold and forbidding.
I was barely focusing on Charley. “He doesn’t look three hundred, obviously,” I said distractedly. I had hoped Dalziel might feed us, but I wouldn’t bet on his being a gracious host from his choice of home. Frankly, the place screamed ‘Fuck off!’ in capital letters, from the thickly buttressed walls of the old wing to the seriously creepy gargoyles adorning the roof of the new.
“Obviously,” parroted my companion with a sarcastic bite.
I turned to look at him, dragging my attention away from the architecture. “Sorry, I forget this kind of thing is new to you. Just remember, he’s an old and powerful vampire regardless of what he looks like, and you’ll be fine. Try and keep your sassy mouth respectful,” I finished on a plea.
His lips puckered. “You like my mouth sassy.”
“I do indeed, but when it’s wrapped around my dick, not in danger of being punched for disrespecting a senior member of the Council.” Which was a point; if Dalziel was a Council member, how come I’d not met him before? Perhaps he didn’t deign to commune with us lowly nobodies. That would make sense; he’d have underlings.
Before we’d even closed the doors, an attractive middle-aged woman in smart clothing was coming down the steps to meet us. “Mr Bradshaw and Mr Entwhistle?”
“I’m Lucien Bradshaw.” I stuck out my hand, only slightly surprised when she shook it. “This is Charley Entwhistle.”
“I’m Eleanor, Mr Millar’s personal assistant. Please come this way.”
We trailed behind her into a gloomily-lit entrance hall, the light bulbs a soft dark red which were gentle on my retinas, and wouldn’t hurt Charley’s eyes at all. Eleanor led us down a corridor, through two ancient wooden doors and two more corridors, then indicated what looked like an ancient church pew set against the stone wall. “Please wait here.” She tapped on a forbidding-looking door and disappeared inside the room without waiting for an answer.
When she reappeared, she glanced at us. “Mr Millar won’t be long.” Her high heels clicked on the flagstones as she marched away from us in the opposite direction from which we’d come.
I stood up. Meeting any vampire could be hard on a wolf’s nerves, but penned in like this, in a stone palace when I had no idea of the exits? That was fucking uncomfortable. And presumably exactly why Dalziel had done it, the wanker.
The door opened noiselessly, further unsettling me. Shouldn’t an old place like this have creaking hinges to go with the ancient crypt decor? I nudged Charley to stand too, and gestured for him to remove the hood of his top. He scowled, but did both without delay, a small relief. I didn’t need him to go aggro when the situation was already delicate.
Dalziel stepped into view. His nostrils flared and he barely concealed a look of revulsion which I knew, fuck him very much, was due to my DNA. Or maybe the fact we probably both reeked of sex: oops. Whatever, vamps have no manners. Then he turned towards Charley, and I got my first glimpse of Dalziel unfettered by the shadows.
Oh. My. God.Things were about to get alotmore complicated.
16
CHARLEY
The man,vampire, in front of us, looked as if he was about to swoon, before he stiffened totally as he regarded us. He also went as grey as I’d felt the time I’d accidentally eaten prawns. If I’d not just seen him move, I’d have sworn he was a statue, he became so absolutely still. I was fascinated by his sickly pallor, because I didn’t know a vampire’s complexion could change. I wondered if this was my fate, to look like him in a hundred, maybe even several hundred year’s time. How would I age? Would I suddenly stop ageing and be, I dunno, twenty-five forever? I had so many questions, but the first, and most essential, wasWhy do I look like a younger but otherwise almost carbon copy of someone I’ve never met?
I really hoped he didn’t expect me to come out with anything intelligent in the next few minutes — if ever. My brain appeared to have taken one look at the man,vampire, in front of me, and immediately packed its bags for an extended holiday. I’d just about kidded myself I was on board with Luc’s fantastical suggestion I was half vampire. I was in no way ready to be presented with some fairly robust proof of my non-human lineage.
Finally, Millar unfroze. “I think,” he said in a low modulated tone that didn’t really have an accent but nevertheless felt familiar, “we’d better start at the beginning. Please, come in and take a seat.” He stood to the side and gestured to the bay window on the far side of the room, where heavy, carved high-back chairs surrounded a table that could easily have seated a dozen.
Luc gave me a shove and I stumbled across the room on leaden limbs, half falling into the nearest chair. Luc sat next to me, and we waited until Mr Millar — I couldn’t think of him as Dalziel — took a seat opposite me.
He steepled his fingers and looked back and forth between us several times. He seemed to be holding back a shudder whenever his gaze rested on Luc. However, I’d rather him react like that than the way I felt like a bug under a microscope whenever his hazel eyes bored into me. Hazel eyes that were really the only difference, age apart, between us. It was eerily like looking into a mirror that aged me as I stared. And yet I couldn’t be the one to mention it first. He had to see it too, right? Did this mean what I thought it did? Luc said I was half vampire. Butthishalf? Could my life really be this weird?
Finally, Millar sighed and said to me, “So, you are an orphan?”
I cleared my throat and shook my head, surprised he wasn’t tackling the elephant in the room first. Or maybe he was. “I don’t know. I was adopted as a baby after being abandoned.”
“Adopted, right. And your adoptive parents, are they alive and well?” Somehow I was sure he already knew the answer to this, but I replied anyway.
I shrugged. “They’re fine as far as I know. They’re away on holiday. Due back any day.” I had a sudden twinge of guilt that I’d scarpered without even leaving them a note, but the guilt quickly dissipated as I recalled all the times they’d left me alone for days on end with only a text message. I’d call or email them eventually. In the meantime it wouldn’t hurt them to stew a bit.
