“Are you going to explain or do I have to guess?” Gethin took the empty glass and turned on the hot tap. He rinsed it and stacked it in the dishwasher. “I’m going to make myself a meal so I can run this before we leave. Will the smell of food upset your gut, Alexander?”
“Alec, please. And no, it’s fine. Eat whatever you like. I might even help myself to another blood bag. It’s vile compared with fresh, but I do think it’s helping.” They danced around each other for a few awkward moments, reaching for items in the fridge, then using the microwave, but finally Alec reseated himself and watched as Gethin chopped vegetables and chicken. He ripped off the top of a bag of microwave rice, set it on the worktop, then beat two eggs into a bowl, adding seasonings. He pulled out a frying pan that looked brand new and dropped in a lump of butter, annoyed he’d not thought to bring any oil.
“What are you making?”
“A simple stir fry, with egg fried rice. Bit basic, but I packed at speed and it seems we’re moving on again. You going to tell me why the name Melody has your collective vampy knickers in a twist then?”
Alec poked a hole in the blood bag with a skewer, then found a straw in the cutlery drawer and took a tentative sip.So elegant,Gethin thought idly. “You’ve heard of Melody Mason?”
“The singer? Of course. She’s a bloody legend.” He paused, knife halfway through a chicken breast. “Hang on, does Sorley know her? I thought she was a recluse.”
“She is,” confirmed Alec. “Because she’s one of us.”
Gethin put the knife down. “Melody Mason, the Scarborough Songbird, is avampire?” Alec nodded. “Fucking hell. No wonder she retired. What happened? Did she choose to be turned?”
“Of course she did. Turning someone against their will is a form of assault. There can be extenuating circumstances, but it is rare. Surely you know this?”
“Yeah, I did. I do, but it’s a lot to take in.” Gethin’s mind whirled. More and more he was admitting, if only to himself, that he was gay, but Melody Mason’s public persona — for he was aware that a star’s image and their reality were often at odds — had almost convinced him he could stretch to labelling himself as bi. He picked up the knife again and concentrated on slicing the chicken evenly. “Have you met her?”
“Of course he has. Melody lives next door to me.” Sorley stalked back into the kitchen and pulled a face at the raw meat on the counter top. “That looks revolting. Do you want to eat or pack first?”
“I’ll eat. It doesn’t take long to cook.” Gethin stared at Sorley as he dumped the chicken strips on top of the hot fat and swished it about with a wooden spoon. “She lives next door to you? Where next door? Not here, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Sorley parroted. “Still Yorkshire, but on the coast. Robin Hood’s Bay, to be precise.” He shot a glance at Alec. “Sorry you can’t come with us, but you’re safer away from me to be honest.”
“I doubt that,” his friend argued, but he seemed resigned to his fate. At least Gethin knew the Council would treat Alexander well. He blocked out the quiet chatter of the two vampires and finished cooking his meal, taking it through to the living room to avoid their wrinkled noses at the smell.
When he’d set the dishwasher running, he packed up. He retrieved the keys to the replacement SUV from the doormat where they’d been dropped through the letterbox earlier. He’d been instructed to hang onto the keys for the river-polluted vehicle as the Council had spares. He ferried his and Sorley’s bags to the boot of the new car, double checked all the extras were up to spec, and that it had a full tank, then went to rest until twilight.
* * *
Sorley’scoastal home was a quaint, narrow, four-storey affair squeezed into a winding lane of similar buildings, tucked away in the centre of one of the prettiest towns Gethin had ever walked through. Sorley had made him park far away, up the hill, on a driveway he said he rented from the house owner. Gethin saw why when they finally turned yet another corner of this brightly-coloured maze.
“The locals must have great leg muscles,” he observed. “Doing the weekly shop has to be a real workout for the human population.” They’d passed only one dwelling with room for a vehicle outside.
Sorley stopped outside one of the taller buildings and fished out a key.
“This is me,” he said rather unnecessarily, “and the one to your right is Melody’s. Let’s dump our bags, then I’ll check she’s okay.”
“I still find it amazing she doesn’t have a phone and relies on messenger apps — which she doesn’t answer.” Gethin dropped his bags on the tiled hall floor and looked around him. From the outside, the house was brightly immaculate, freshly painted, with a contrasting colour on the wooden window frames. Inside, it was like being enveloped in a warm hug. Burnished wood, thick rugs, soft terracottas and reds on the walls of the hall and the room it opened onto gave it a sense of history the modern flat in Leeds lacked. He had a feeling this was the real Sorley.
Sorley toed off his shoes, so he copied. “Come this way. You’ll need the fridge. The kitchen’s downstairs.” He led the way, then waved a hand at the sizeable refrigerator set against one wall. “Help yourself. I might have a kettle for you. If not, you can use a pan.”
Gethin stowed his perishables away then said, “Bedrooms upstairs? I’ll get my stuff out of your way.” He gave Sorley an apologetic look. “Your place looks cluttered with our bags around.”
“And? Not like either of us is clumsy enough to trip over anything. My bedroom, bathroom and a small living room are on the first floor, there’s a guest suite on the second floor, then an attic room. No bathroom in the attic.” He shrugged. “That’s my favourite room. I can see for miles when the sky is clear.”
“I’ll take the second floor then, if that’s all right?” He got a vague nod in response, and made his way up to deposit his luggage. The room was beautiful, elegant and luxurious, this time decorated in shades of blue and gold. Gethin freshened up quickly and headed back downstairs.
Sorley was lacing his shoes. “Melody doesn’t like unexpected company,” he confessed, “but I think you’d better come with me. She needs to understand the danger she could be in.”
Gethin slipped his feet into his trainers. “Does she like the clubs much? Can’t imagine there’s much in the way of nightlife like you’re used to around here, and surely she’d be recognised.” He tempered his observation with a smile. From what he’d seen so far, the village was exactly the kind of place he was drawn to; out in the countryside and far from the industrial grind of the inner city.
“She’s not exactly a disco diva. But then, you know her music so I don’t suppose you’d expect her to be a clubber.” Sorley headed out of his house and directly down a passageway that was almost too narrow for Gethin to walk down without turning sideways. Behind the house, the ground sloped away. It was then Gethin realised both Melody and Sorley’s properties had a basement. He smothered a chuckle. Vamps and their hidey holes. It never changed.
“I wouldn’t like to assume anything. One thing I’ve learned about folk is judging too soon is almost always a bad idea.”And exactly what you did with Sorley, you dickhead.
Sorley eyed him questioningly, but said nothing. He trotted soundlessly down the steps to the basement and rapped on the window in a series of lightning fast knocks that sounded like a pattern, but one Gethin couldn’t follow.
