Gethin withdrew his hands slowly and backed up a fraction. “Alexander, my name is Gethin. We spoke earlier before your phone died. I’m here with Sorley, to help you. We need to get you to safety before the sunrise.”
“Va t’en!” An agonised moan. “Laisse-moi seul. Je vais mourir ici.”
Gethin stood up. There was nothing for it. He hollered. “Sorley! Over here, now!”
The hidden vampire shuddered and seemed to shrink in on himself even further.
Sorley materialised at Gethin’s side. One look down and he too moaned.
“Oh my God, darling. We’ve got you. Come on out and we‘ll get you to safety.” He began clawing at the branches with his hands, flinging them behind him.
Gethin set the backpack down and helped. “Is Alexander French? I think he might have told me to fuck off.”
“Bloody hell, really? He’s usually so polite. Mind you, poor lamb’s got good reason to feel a bit testy.”
They tore the hiding place apart in seconds. Alexander didn’t stir, but he moaned again, an inhuman sound that made the hairs on Gethin’s neck rise.
“How are we doing this?” he whispered to Sorley. “He’s your friend. But I don’t think he’s going to be amenable to a pep talk, and I doubt he can walk, let alone run to the car.”
“He should be able to, even this near to dawn,” murmured Sorley. “He’s old. But may I take the lead on this?”
“Be my guest. As long as you’re quick about it.”
Sorley narrowed his eyes at Gethin. “I’m fully aware of the time limitations here. Will you get the Obscura out please?”
“I don’t think it will be enou—” He clacked his jaw shut at the intense look in the vampire’s grey eyes. “One Obscura coming up.” He wiped his hands down his saturated top and opened the backpack.
Sorley didn’t mess about. Speaking in an undertone, mixing English and French with an ease that made Gethin’s head spin, he reached in and simply hauled the shocked Alexander out of his hidey hole. The sick vampire screamed, then curled in on himself.
“Le loup! Éloigne-le de moi!”
“All right, Alec, calme toi, mon ami. Gethin, please step back a few paces.” He peeled a last branch from the top of the runaway’s head and pressed a kiss to Alec’s filthy forehead. “We need to get you to safety, darling, you understand? I know you’re sick, but you will get better.” He reached for the Obscura and waggled the packet in front of his friend. “If you pop in here, my colleague and I will get you somewhere dark for you to wait out this illness, whichwillpass. I know it’s awful, but you’re strong.”
Alexander’s expression darkened. “Iam not…going…with him.” His syllables sounded like ground glass.
Sorley sighed. “I really wish you hadn’t said that.” And without missing a beat, he drew one arm back and slammed his fist into Alexander’s jaw.
Alexander crumpled. Sorley dropped him and got quickly to his feet.
“Can you get the car and park it somewhere nearby? I’ll clean him up as soon as I’ve restrained him and try to have him ready to transport. Yeah, give me the cuffs please. Both sets, and some gloves. He won’t stay unconscious long and he’s going to be a trifle salty when he comes around.” He waited until Gethin handed them over, then tsked loudly and made a shooing motion with his hands. “Well,gothen, man! Much as I love Alec, I have no wish to squeeze into an Obscura with him when he smells this bad.”
Gethin couldn’t help smiling as he turned around and took off for the car at a punishing rate. His phone in one hand, held above his head as he negotiated the river’s many dunkings, he realised how much he didn’t know about Sorley. The man spoke French for starters, apparently fluently, and although his English phrasing was occasionally old-fashioned and formal, he flung the adjective ‘salty’ into conversation without a thought. He wasn’t afraid to knock a close friend unconscious, and he was confident enough to send Gethin packing.
Ah, of course he was! He’d been an officer, hadn’t he? And by the seems of it, a little rich boy, probably used to getting his way with an imperious head tilt and a snap of his sharp tongue. As he flung himself at the wall and cursed at the added water weighing his clothing down, Gethin decided maybe he’d underestimated Sorley as nothing more than an immortal playboy with an unfortunate centuries-long crush on his sire.
He landed, then called Justin as he went, picking up his speed as he ran full tilt across the scrub bordering the river bank.
“We’ve got him. He wasn’t going to come quietly, but Hetheridge-Parker has him restrained. I’m collecting the car.”
Justin grunted. “Well done. Do you think it’s the same M.O. as with Sorley?”
“I do, but I’ll confirm when we’re back in Leeds. We’re racing against sun up right now.”
“You’ve got adequate provisions in the vehicle?” Justin was the one who’d supplied Gethin with both his SUV and the contents of his backpack, but he was a generous boss and would courier him anything he needed. Not that even Justin could fight the impending sunrise for a vampire and win.
“We’ll be fine. Might have to shove someone in the rear footwell, but they’ll cope.” He felt his lips twitch at the mental image of Sorley crouched on the floor, cowering from the morning sun under a dusty throw. It pleased him more than it should. Arrogant git could do with taking down a peg or two. “I’ll need the car valeted though, we’re minging.”
Justin rang off after assuring him a replacement vehicle would be delivered by noon.
