I rolled my eyes. “Cute you think I was ever a Scout. I’ll cope.”
We slept together in one of Baxter’s many bedrooms, curled around each other like needy kittens. Okay, I did the needy curling, but Edwin liked me close, or so he said. I woke before him, slightly unsettled at the unfamiliar surroundings, and helped myself to a mug of tea in the kitchen, thankful Baxter did at least own an electric kettle.
Next to the mugs was a key fob, and a note in Edwin’s recognisably loopy handwriting, urging me to stay safe when I went for the wander he fully expected me to indulge in, along with eighty quid in tenners.
Buy whatever you want. Sorry it’s not much. Remind me to set you up with a new bank account so you have regular money to spend. Keep your phone ringer turned up or the vibration on. I know what you’re like for ignoring me .
Edwin.
I smiled at his gentle nagging. He’d decided I should always wear clothing with a breast pocket so I’d feel my phone vibrate when he called me. I’d accused him of being an angsty old grandpa. We’d batted the argument back and forth before I finally agreed to check my phone every half an hour.
I let myself out, stowing the keys in one jeans pocket and the money in another. Eighty quid ‘not being much’ was another place where our views differed. I’d assumed Edwin was, not poor exactly, but not overburdened with wealth, which considering where he lived wasn’t an unreasonable assumption. Now that Baxter had spilled the beans and I’d seen for myself her place, which Edwin appeared to consider his as much as hers, I was rapidly recalculating my initial assessment of his financial status. His artwork alone probably sold for tons. From what he’d said when I’d asked him, he’d been selling his pictures since not long after he’d been turned into a vampire. If he did other workon top of that and had a wardrobe that would have stocked a good-sized shop on a posh High Street, he couldn’t be hard up.
I snapped a picture of Baxter’s house, showing the number, then the street name at the end of the road, because the last thing I wanted was the hassle of getting lost. Online maps were great, but you needed to know where you wanted to go for them to work, and I was rapidly realising that London washuge.
The first direction I went in landed me on the riverbank, staring out over the Thames. To be honest, I wasn’t overly impressed. Yes, it was big and you could see loads of buildings and bridges, but it was murky and depressing when you stared into its depths. I’d been into the countryside a few times over the years. Rivers there were different. The water sparkled, there were fish and plants, and the riverbanks were lined with trees that dipped their branches into the swirling currents. I liked the idea of city centre rivers, but so far both Leeds and London had failed to convince me their rivers held much merit.
I retraced my steps and headed north. If I hadn’t known by the size of the properties, I’d have worked out this was a monied area by the amount of green stuff everywhere. I checked my map and worked out Baxter lived on one side of what was called a square, but was actually big enough to be a park. Get me, I knew someone who lived in a house that overlooked apark.As I walked, I did a search on house prices in the area.
Holy shit.Most of the estate agents were showing prices for flats. Baxter owned the entire five floors. Six if you counted the basement. Feeling a bit faint, I found myself at the end of the road. On impulse, I turned right, which was handy as I almost instantly stumbled across a little café. Without bothering to check the menu or the prices — that eighty quid had gone straight to my head — I went inside and sat down before my legs gave way.
A cappuccino and some kind of gooey pastry slid down while I contemplated my new knowledge. Did it matter that Baxter was presumably the richest person I’d ever met? Were all vampires on the iffy side of legal when it came to making a living? Perhaps they had to be. As Edwin had pointed out, he could hardly keep selling paintings under his own name for over a hundred years. I chewed the pastry and considered my options.
I was a nobody who’d got by since leaving school — not that I’d gone much anyway — by living on his wits and as many cash-in-hand jobs as I could juggle. I owned a suitcase of clothes, a phone, admittedly a decent one, a handful of books, a smaller handful of model cars one of my foster dads had given me, and Lettuce, my bedraggled toy rabbit that had come with me from my birth mother when she’d been made to place me in care. Oh, and a pathetically meagre album of photos and certificates detailing my advancement from scrawny, carrot-topped toddler to thankfully less flame-haired adult, by way of some mortifying swerves into the dodgy territory of early 2000s children’s fashions and care home haircuts. At least my hair colour was no longer liable to earn me cruel nicknames. Small mercies and all that.
It took me another coffee to decide I didn’t have the emotional energy to waste any more time philosophising about vampires and how they earned their money. I wasn’t exactly Mister squeaky clean, so any moral high ground I might consider myself on was imaginary. Plus, and this was the kicker, Ireallywanted to stay with Edwin. Did that make me dodgy? Possibly, but it wasn’t going to bother me enough to give me any restless sleep, so I kicked my ponderings into a dark cupboard and locked the door on them.
Feeling good I’d made a decision and buzzing from too much caffeine, I made my way back to Baxter’s.
She and Edwin were both awake and dressed. Their expressions as they looked up at me when I poked my head around the living room door were serious.
Edwin said, “We’ve had a call from Dalziel.”
Dalziel? Who was Dalziel? Oh,him.The dark-haired, brooding dude I’d met briefly at Sorley’s place. The guy that everyone seemed to look at like he was some kind of boss. Well, that didn’t sound good. I plopped down into a chair, still feeling the effects of the coffees racing through my system.
“So,” I said, ignoring my clanging heart at the thought of what a vampire considered concerning, “what kind of badass shit does he want you to do?”
7
EDWIN
I laughed.I couldn’t help it. James looked as if he was trying so hard to be nonchalant but his pulse was going haywire and I could see a sheen of sweat on his forehead. Although on second thoughts, he reeked of coffee and warm dust, so perhaps it was sunny outdoors and he’d been to a café. It was supposed to be summer, after all.
He tilted his head at me. “What’s funny?”
“The impression you have of Dalziel.”
He grunted. “You telling me he doesn’t do badass shit? Guy looks like if any of you lot could turn into a bat, it would be him. He’s got that sinister and grumpy vibe down to a fine art.”
Baxter snorted. “He’s a pussycat. He takes his job very seriously, but we’re talking about a man who puts on roller discos in his cellar and knows the words to every dodgy pop song from the last fifty years. Because he enjoys them, unironically.”
James looked dubious. “Really?”
I chuckled again. “Which bit? But yes to all of the above. Especially the dubious taste in music. Wait ’til you see him with a guitar.”
“Joking apart, don’t ever doubt how dangerous he can be,” Baxter cut in. “He loves us and looks after us because he sired us, but God help anyone who gets on the wrong side of him.”
“Anyway,” I said hastily. “He’s asked me to do something, but I need to discuss it with you first.” James’ pulse skittered wildly again. I shot up to pull him onto my lap and envelop him in my arms. I couldn’t seem to help myself. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re not in any trouble. Try to relax.”
