The time between thumps extended.
The afternoon dragged on.
Sorley didn’t move from his silent observations. Dalziel set his tablet down and simply watched. Charley popped his head around the door, noticed everyone was still, and backed away without saying a word, although he did give Sorley a thumbs up and a smile.
Alec and Edwin sidled in as dusk approached. They both stank of soap with an undercurrent of sex that no amount of washing would remove. Sorley smiled to himself; he bet Alec hadn’t been gentle. His friend was…What was the expression the kids used these days? A softboi, that was it. Alec loved freely, regardless of species or gender, he was kind for the sake of being kind, and because his human years had been anything but gentle. However, he loathed folk making assumptions about him based on his size, and Sorley reckoned Edwin had been made to feel properly sorry about doing just that.
Dalziel suddenly got to his feet, his expression expectant. Sorley sat bolt upright, fear making him nauseous. For Christ’s sake, was this his lot in life now, to feel anxiety as a physical ailment?
Alec walked closer to the chaise longue, looking up at Dalziel. “You sensed it too.”
“What?” Sorley hadn’t felt any of this emotional exhaustion when he turned Melody. Then again, he mused, she was so slight, her transformation had taken fewer than three hours from start to finish.
“Flatline,” Edwin said from his position by the windows. “Now we count.”
Sorley walked into the wordless offer of Dalziel’s embrace. He leant against him while Dalziel stood watching the second hand of his ostentatious and no doubt scandalously expensive wristwatch. A minute went by. Seventy seconds, eighty, eighty-three. “Christ, come on,” Edwin muttered.
“He is a wolf. Sois patient,” Alec murmured. His fists were clenched by his sides.
Ninety. Ninety-two, ninety-three…
Thump.
Dalziel exhaled. “Took his time,” he commented neutrally. He shooed Alec and Edwin towards the door. “Go. He won’t want an audience.” To Sorley he said, “I will stay.”
Sorley clung to Dalziel, relief palpable in every fibre of his being. “Thank you,” he managed.
Dalziel pushed him away a bit, then smiled at him as he rearranged a lock of hair on Sorley’s forehead. “Silly boy,” he said gently. “I would not risk hurting you by harming a hair on his head. Now perhaps you will finally believe me when I tell you for the very last time that you and I would never have been a good fit.” He gestured at Gethin, who was still fighting through what Sorley knew was the deep fog of a new awakening. “He is your soulmate, not me. But you know that now. Right?”
Sorley dropped his head onto Dalziel’s shoulder. “Aye, I know. I’ve been an idiot.”
Dalziel’s chuckle was warm. “Perhaps. But we will speak no more of it. I will wait outside the door for an hour or so, until we determine how Gethin reacts. You know if he is…feisty, we might need the others back to help reassure him. I cannot guarantee you a night of vampiric bliss. There is also no promise of a honeymoon stage.”
Sorley huffed. “I know. He’ll be confused, maybe scared, thirsty.” He took a seat on the armchair, knowing it was wise to give Gethin some space as he awoke. “I’ve forgotten plenty over the years, but I recall my own turning like it was yesterday.”
35
GETHIN
There was so much noise.Weird scrapings and creaks, rustling and swishing. A cough — he recognised that — and then far off sounds that he worked out were footsteps on gravel. A voice, not one he knew, laughing at something. An owl screech, more rustling. Strange tapping sounds he had no way of placing.
He’d been asleep. At least, hethoughtit had been sleep. But why did it feel as if he was cocooned in fluffy bindings, trapped and unable to move or cry out, but able to hear.Oh!Sorley had bitten him. Had drunk from him with a glazed look of adoration on his beautiful face while he sucked Gethin’s literal life blood out of him. Was he dead? No, that wasn’t right.
C’mon, think, man. Who are you? Gethin Hughes. Okay, that’s a promising start. How old are you?Ouch, yeah, he knew that too. So much older than Sorley.At least you don’t look your age.
It came to him in a rush.Vampire.Except, the word was just that — a word.Think, Gethin. What do you know about this?
Apparently not as much as he wished he did, but then again, he supposed it was different for everyone who went through the process. He willed himself not to think about the binding fluff and to concentrate. He could hear, so he should listen more.
I’m hearing the outside. Holy fuck!Now he ignored his leaden limbs, the rustles and swishes, creaks and snaps were trees moving in the breeze. The scraping sound was a workman somewhere on the estate, which also explained the unfamiliar voice. Inside the house, there were more easily identifiable noises; a grandfather clock, the electrical hum of appliances, the creak of copper joints in the plumbing. Everything he’d heard before but magnified a hundredfold.I’m in Dalziel’s house.
How didn’t vampires go mad?Calm down, think it through.Evidently they learned to adjust. To tune it out. To focus on what was important, necessary. And to think he’d been proud of his shifter senses. This was already a new dimension.
Now he had an idea of where he was and what he could hear around him, he worked through his options. Number one, wake up. Except, he had the feeling he was already awake, but not quite there. Two, open his eyes. Why not try? He’d do that in a minute. Three, move. This was where he needed to be careful. He was aware that newly-turned vampires were known to be careless with their new-found strength, but that was okay, because as a shifter he was used to taking care to appear more human than he was.
He dismissed the thought of number four, feeding, as unnecessary for now. He didn’t have any kind of raging need to chase down and bite anyone, so he’d worry about that later. For now, he’d take one step at a time.
He commanded his eyes to open. One nanosecond of light and he tensed.Yikes. But hey, progress, he had his sight. He turned his head this time and tried again.
