Chapter 3 #2
Until now, I’d believed that all the doorways to the Understream were contained within the vampires’ houses – and only a fool with a death wish would walk into a vampire’s home without an invitation.
This more public, albeit near-invisible, doorway intrigued me and I wondered how many other concealed passageways there were in Coldstream.
All you needed was to know where they were and how to open them.
I chewed my bottom lip then shrugged. I wasn’t stupid; after my last experience underground, I would never try to enter the Understream without explicit vampiric permission so it didn’t matter whether there were doors in Danksville, doors in Crackendon Square or doors on every corner.
It wasn’t my business – unless the vampires made it my business.
I moved back, sat on the lowest stone step and waited.
The first signs of life started at exactly half past eight, which surprised me.
I’d arrived early because it was in my nature to do so; it was an old habit borne out of years of working as an assassin when it was prudent to arrive before your appointment to check that you weren’t walking into a trap.
What I hadn’t expected was that my vampire host would be on time because forcing me to wait would have been a show of power on their part.
Plus it was early September and darkness wouldn’t descend for another hour or so.
I’d anticipated a lengthy wait but here she was, bang on time.
The floorboards creaked and stirred while the air around me thrummed with power.
There was no puff of smoke or flashy whizz of light; instead, the wooden planks folded smoothly into each other as if they were part of a well-oiled machine.
Within two breaths, I was staring into a dark hole leading downwards.
I could make out the top rungs of a ladder and beyond that a faint glimmer of light, but I couldn’t see anything else. I wasn’t immediately sure what to do.
‘Are you coming down or not?’ called up a clear female voice with a cut-glass accent.
I eyed the darkness then stood up and tucked away the witchlight bottle. I hoped I wouldn’t regret what I was about to do.
The ladder was sturdy enough for me to descend quickly, but even so the woman at the bottom was huffing and tapping her feet.
I ignored her all-too-obvious impatience, suspecting it was intended to throw me off balance.
I’d been invited here and, cat lady or not, I wasn’t a slow poke.
I might not be able to turn into a bat but I could move as swiftly as any vampire – alright, almost as swiftly.
And with more random aches and pains. But even so.
In any case, I wasn’t daft enough to rise to her bait. If anything, I moved more slowly. It wouldn’t be a bad thing if the vampires underestimated me. In fact, I was counting on it.
I jumped down from the final rung and turned to face her. She was holding a torchlight, its flickering flame giving her pale face an eerie glow. ‘What is your name?’ she asked, sounding bored.
I smiled, playing my harmless, middle-aged cat-lady role to the best of my ability. ‘Kit,’ I said. ‘Kit McCafferty.’ I wiped my palms on my trousers and held out a hand for her to shake. She gazed at it as if I’d offered her a fresh turd. Okay then. I lowered my hand.
‘I am Lady Penelope,’ she sniffed.
I couldn’t resist. ‘Penny for short?’
The vampire glowered. ‘You will address me as Lady Penelope.’
So far, so expected. Almost every vampire I’d ever met possessed a similar attitude; no wonder they rarely made friends outside their own kind.
I stared at her coldly beautiful face. She still looked deathly pale, but now that I was closer I saw that her skin was blemish free.
No scars, no freckles, no spots. Any number of beauty companies would have killed for a recipe that would produce that sort of complexion.
Many had tried to replicate it but none had succeeded.
Lady Penelope’s bone structure was well-defined and angular, giving her a patrician air. Her eyes were vampire red and her dark-brown hair was bound up in a tight, elaborate bun. I caught glimpses of several hair pins and I suspected that her natural look wasn’t nearly as sleek.
Her outfit was as formal as her hairstyle and, from the looks of things, included a tight corset with laces designed to make her waist as tiny as possible. It gave me hives just thinking about it. I liked being able to breathe – but I wasn’t undead.
‘Are you finished with your examination?’ she asked, clipping each word to sound as imperious as possible.
‘Unless you let me listen to your heart and touch your skin, then yeah,’ I said. ‘I’m finished.’
Her lip curled. ‘Do not try to be cute. It doesn’t suit you.’
Nice to meet you too, I thought sardonically. At least Alan had made an attempt to be friendly.
Lady Penelope was the textbook definition of a vampire. She was probably several hundred years old, even though she appeared younger than me. I sincerely hoped I wouldn’t have to spend too long in her company.
I smiled brightly. ‘I’m very cute and I refuse to be told otherwise.’ I might be deep within the vampires’ domain but that didn’t mean I’d let them intimidate me. ‘Now, tell me,’ I went on. ‘How does this work? Alan said that you’d have a visitor’s pass for me.’
Lady Penelope tsked. ‘All in good time. I will escort you to the Bureaucratic Suite where we will discuss your visit and your limitations.’
I raised an eyebrow. The Bureaucratic Suite? That sounded like a whole heap of fun. I’d known vampires were cold but I hadn’t realised quite how far they leaned into a complete lack of humour. The next seven nights could be very long indeed.
‘In that case,’ I gestured ahead with a flourish, ‘lead the way.’
Lady Penelope lifted her head, tilting her nose upwards at least an inch above what must have been comfortable, then glided ahead.
Her footsteps were surprisingly speedy given the restrictive nature of her clothing.
I scurried to catch up; the last thing I wanted was to end up lost in the Understream.
Once we’d settled into a suitable pace where I marched quickly and the vampire appeared to do little more than saunter, I tried to engage her in small talk. ‘So how long have you been vamp?’ I asked.
She waited a beat before answering. ‘Are you trying to ascertain my age, Ms McCafferty?’
‘Call me Kit.’
Lady Penelope sighed. ‘It is very rude to ask a lady her age. Someone like you should know that.’
Jeez. Weren’t vampires supposed to be proud of their longevity? Whatever. ‘You know what they say,’ I said, undeterred. ‘The older, the wiser.’
The only response was a sniff. Fair enough. Next I tried a compliment: perhaps that would soften her up. Given her appearance, she had to be vain. ‘I like your dress. The colour suits you.’
‘Perhaps you should take notes,’ she retorted. ‘What style are you aiming for with your outfit?’
I plucked at my blouse and colourful cardigan; I hadn’t gone for my ninja-like assassin’s uniform but for my usual cat-lady attire.
She continued before I could answer. ‘Is fuzzy knitwear gracing the pages of Vogue these days? Or is this your attempt at dressing up for the occasion?’
I grinned. She was clearly offended by my choice of clothing and I took that as a positive. The worst response would have been apathy; I could work with derision. Her attitude gave me more of an edge than she realised.
‘I figured it would be cold down here so I layered up. And I figured that you vampires would wear dark colours so my brightest outfit would help me stand out.’
‘You want to draw attention to yourself? You are aware that to us you are little more than food?’
‘In the natural world, the brightest colours are often the most poisonous,’ I said cheerfully.
She stopped and turned to gaze at me. ‘Hmm.’
‘Hmm,’ I echoed and smiled again.
Having concluded that I was an idiot, Lady Penelope moved on. Excellent. This was already working far better than I’d anticipated.