With his passenger tucked safely away from the sun’s rays, Gethin locked up the house and punched the coordinates for Leeds into his satnav. They’d barely reached the end of the road before Sorley was talking. Why was there so much traffic? Couldn’t Gethin go faster? Did he have to play this music? Didn’t he have a Spotify subscription, because adverts, really? How fast did the car go, what mileage did it get to the gallon, why did Gethin have the cool bag and not him? On and on and on.
“D’you have something against hearing your own thoughts in your head, man? Or are you a nervous passenger? I’m a safe driver, you know. Never had an accident. Although…” He inhaled a long breath, “if you keep jabbering in my ear, that pristine record of mine might get ruined.”
Sorley’s jaw snapped shut. For a second. Then, “If you need silence to concentrate, you should’ve said. Don’t know how you don’t drive into a ditch with that excuse for music though.”
“Well, what doyoulike?” It was going to be a torturous four hours.
Sorley appeared to be thinking. Eventually he said, “Hamilton. The soundtrack from the musical. You probably don’t—”
“I can do that. It’s on the SD card. Hang on.” He punched a button on the dashboard and rolled the dial until he found the right place. “You want it loud? I always think it sounds better loud.”
“Uh, sure.” The opening bars of the first track boomed through the speakers. Gethin saw Sorley lean back into his seat, his lips moving in sync with the words. He found himself singing along under his breath. There was something about this particular soundtrack that never failed to keep his attention.
Several tracks later, Gethin realised he was no longer joining in because he was too busy listening to Sorley. There was no hint of the vampire’s Geordie accent as he mimicked every artist on song after song, his timing and delivery absolutely perfect. The roads blurred into one long stretch of tarmac, identifiable only by signage and a quick glance at the satnav from time to time, accompanied by the mix of recorded and live singing. The silence was shocking when Gethin finally turned the vehicle into a service station off the M1 in Derbyshire.
Sorley leaned forward, taking care not to come into contact with the screen. “Why have you stopped?”
Gethin rolled his eyes. The vamp wassoimpatient. “Some of us have bodily functions that can’t be ignored.” He swivelled in his seat. “While I’m gone, d’you need the cool bag?”
Sorley shook his head. “No, but hurry. I’m bored already.”
Gethin barely contained another eyeroll. He stretched his legs with a grateful groan, then locked the vehicle with the key fob. It was highly unlikely Sorley would be stupid enough to open a door, but he didn’t want to leave him vulnerable in case of an opportunist thief, or any thief vulnerable to Sorley. He hoped the guy was smart enough to keep his movements to a minimum so as not to set off the alarm.
Back on the road, he made short work of his roast beef sandwiches, then sighed happily as he munched his way through two apples. Sorley was now prone on the back seat, glaring at the ceiling as if it had personally done him harm. Gethin, watching him via the tiny camera installed in the ceiling and trying not to be irritated by the constant red light on the dashboard telling him there was an unrestrained passenger, threw him a bone.
“You’ve got a good voice. Real good mimic you are too. Should’ve been on the stage.”
“Who says I wasn’t?” He shot Gethin a wry grin. “At least Hamilton provided a challenge, such as it was.”
“As opposed to..?”
“Almost everything else. Humans are slow, and dull, and boring. The speed of the rapping in this is the opposite. Miranda is talented. Original.” His voice dropped a notch. “Passably hot.”
“Passably hot? Youarehard to please. He’s a bit more than—” He almost chewed off his tongue in his haste not to finish that sentence. Too late; Sorley challenged him.
“Don’t kid yourself, Hughes. You’re not straight. Last night wasn’t the behaviour of a bi-curious man either. That wasn’t your first time.” He shrugged his slim shoulders. “Why are you even bothering to pretend? Not like I care who you fuck.”
Gethin tried to swallow. Why didn’t he have a ready comeback for this? It wasn’t like he hadn’t asked himself the same question more times than he could count.
Because he wasn’t ready, might never be ready, for the direction the conversation was taking, he changed the subject. “Were you ever in the army?”
Sorley, evidently surprised by the switch, sat up. “Why d’you ask?”
“I’m going out on a limb here, but I don’t get the vibe you were a peasant as a human. And y’know, didn’t the nobility send their sons into the army, church, etc? I’m struggling to envisage you as a priest.”
Sorley gave a rich chuckle. “You and me both.” There was a pause, as if he was deciding how much to impart. “I wasn’t nobility, I was upper class. I was in the army though. I was an officer.”
“Of course you were.” Gethin failed to smother his grin. Under his breath, he added, “Daddy bought your commission, obviously.”
He caught the vampire’s eyeroll. “It was expected of me. Plus, of course, there was growing unrest between England and Scotland which only increased during the first half of the eighteenth century.”
“I am aware of the Battle of Culloden, Sorley.”
“Of course, I’d been turned by then, so I no longer gave a fuck. I wasn’t even in the country, let alone Britain by that point.” He gestured at the console. “What other soundtracks do you have on that thing?”
* * *
Sorley’s Leeds flatwas on the ground floor, part of a large converted Victorian house, with high ceilings and large windows, and a bland decor Gethin somehow didn’t feel was typical of the vamp’s taste. It also had a keypad entry on the front door. Gethin wasn’t impressed with the security. “It’s flimsy. Can you change the keypad number? You were attacked. I don’t even like you being here right now.”
