What I wanted, more than anything right now, was to be back inside that tower bedroom, the fire lit, and the two of us tucked up in that bed, instead of perching awkwardly on the coverlet or slumped against the base. I wanted Luc to hold me, and to convince me that we could have a future together in spite of our differences. I wanted him to tell his grandfather about us, and for grandpa Richy McRicherson to be chill about his only grandson and business heir falling for a penniless vampire-Fae hybrid from nowheresville. I wanted him to acknowledge our relationship and to bless it. Hell, I’d even try and muster some enthusiasm for children if that’s what Luc needed in order to properly cement his position as the rightful heir to Milton’s.
What I wanted, I realised with a sudden burst of clarity, was to know I belonged.
I rolled out of bed and pulled on a hoodie. I was too awake now to contemplate sleeping, so I padded along the corridor to the kitchen, intent on making myself a hot chocolate. The tiles were cold under my bare feet, and I danced about while I waited for the milk to warm through on the stove: no microwaves for the Entwhistle family, which was just as well considering my tendency to fry electronics. I found the mini marshmallows at the back of the cupboard, and some weird dairy-free squirty cream in the fridge, which told me David was on another of his ‘let’s go vegan’ kicks. It tasted fabulous though, so I didn’t stint, and drowned my mug in sugary goodness.
I sat cross-legged at the kitchen table to drink it, because it occurred to me I could search for Dalziel’s number while my phone was behaving, and I was currently so scatterbrained, I could potentially forget by the time I got back to my room. He was a night owl, so he might not mind too much if I gave him a call. I could pretend I was asking after Rosie, or to ask his advice about some aspect of vampirism. Fucked if I’d admit, even to myself, that I might just possibly want to speak to the only living — although ‘living’ was stretching it — relative I might have. Malin was an abstract concept. She didn’t count until I was given proof she existed.
I thumbed through a few variations of Dalziel’s name with no luck, until it occurred to me to Google Lucansburn instead. And there it was, in all its pine-shrouded grumpy glory, with a short description of the estate which had ‘been in the Millar family for over 200 years’. Oh yeah, I bet it had. I reckoned I could blame Baxter and her shenanigans for making it appear to belong to Dalziel’s ‘family’. Best of all, there was a telephone number ‘for estate enquiries’. God knows what they’d be, but maybe Pavel had an account with the local greengrocer for a veggie box. It was totally the kind of quaint thing he would do.
My drink finished, I rinsed the mug and saucepan and left them on the side for the dishwasher in the morning. I was wiping up the spills I’d made when a noise outside made me pause with the cloth in hand.The fuck was that?A fox perhaps, trying to knock the lid off the bin, or—
No, foxes didn’t crunch on the gravel. That was something bigger. I realised I hadn’t bothered to turn any lights on — no need — so I crept towards the window to peer out. The garden was shrouded in the total darkness that winter brings at whatever time it was; one, maybe even two a.m. by this point.
I couldn’t see anything. Or hear anything apart from the faintest hum of the house’s background electrics, the wheezing sigh of the fridge-freezer, and the clatter of my own elevated heartbeat. The double glazing was too damn good to even pick up the traffic on the ring road.
I couldn’t go back to bed now. I was nosy, and impulsive, and dying to try out my vampire senses on a Tratton night. It would be a test of what I could see and hear when I wasn’t surrounded by Scottish countryside.
I rammed my feet into the old boots I kept by the back door for taking out the recycling, and turned the key, then opened the back door a fraction to listen.
Nothing much, except maybe the rustle of a small creature, a hedgehog perhaps, slipping away, and a plaintive but faint ‘miaow’ from across the lawn. That didn’t answer the question of what had alerted me. Maybe there was a sick animal. Oh god! I hope a cat hadn’t been attacked by a fox, crawled to safety and then somehow fallen. That would explain a louder noise.
Shaking my head at my overactive imagination, I opened the door properly and slipped outside, pulling it shut behind me. A cat miaowed again. I advanced quietly along the path underneath the kitchen window, keeping my eyes peeled for the source of the cry, hoping it wasn’t badly injured. If that bastard Kettleton next door had been kicking his kitten again and locked him outside, I’d fucking swing for hi—
The blow to the back of my head pitched me forwards into Nita’s herb bed. I threw out my hands to break my fall, but still got a mouthful of thyme leaves for my pains. Groaning and dazed, I tried to push myself to my knees, but a thick arm hooked me around the throat, jerking me backwards and cutting off my airway. A voice I knew well growled, “Don’t do anything hasty.”
I’d have laughed if I had breath to do so. As it was, the dark rushed up to meet me, and I knew I was in deep, deep shit. Unconsciousness claimed me before I could manage even a single kick.
39
LUC
Exitingmy bathroom and picking up my phone, I noted a number of missed calls, all from the same unrecognised number. I towelled my hair, and picked out some clothes for the lunch I was due at, with a couple of friends from my school days. It was sensible to keep to a routine as much as possible. Apart from it passing the time, wasn’t it important for couples to maintain their own circles, especially in the early days of a relationship? I was sure I’d read that somewhere.
My phone buzzed again. Bloody cold callers and scammers were getting desperate if I was their best bet. “What?” I barked as I pressed . I’d give them a headache if they wanted someone to talk to. I was in that kind of mood.
“Lucien?”
Oh Christ. Dalziel barely sounded sane, his tone frantic and needy at the same time. My blood ran cold.
“Yes. What’s up?”
A very shaky inhalation told me he was trying to remain calm. “We think Charley’s been snatched. His mother called the estate this morning, after finding his bed empty, their back door unlocked, and his phone open on the table with the estate phone number the last item Googled.”
My legs gave way and I slumped against the bed. “Snatched? What the hell for?” My pulse thumped a bass beat between my ears and I felt nausea rising. I swallowed hard. “Fuck.”
“I don’t like to ask, bu—”
“Anything, Dalziel. Just say it.” I began pulling out a different set of clothes to those I’d set aside for lunch. Old clothes that would be practical to search in.
“I was wondering if you’d use your…If you’d mind using your shifter talents to see if you can track him from his parents’ house. It would have to be after dusk, naturally. I’ll send one of my vampires over, to act as your—” I heard him choke on a word. “Your…handler. I wouldn’t ask you to put yourself in such a position but—”
“I’ll do anything for Charley. But I’m not waiting ’til it’s dark. I’ll go over sooner. I know where it is.”
“Too risky. A huge wolf-like dog prowling around the grounds of somewhere a young man’s gone missing? Or even if he hadn’t. What would you do if you were Charley’s parents, Lucien?”
I sighed, acknowledging the sense in what he said. “Yes, all right, that’s reasonable, I guess. Do the police know? Do you think it’s that fucking motorcycle club?” I forced a couple of long, slow in-and-out breaths as I could feel myself starting to panic. Panic wouldn’t help Charley.
Dalziel sounded slightly more like himself. “Apparently David, Charley’s father, hisotherfather, called this Ledge person outright, and demanded answers. He said Ledge sounded aghast. He doesn’t think he was faking a reaction. In fact, he urged them to call the police.”
