Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
The long-winded vampire who thought punctuality was a matter of morals wasn’t any help whatsoever.
Neither was the older female who refused to answer my questions in any language other than French, the dapper vampire wearing a baseball cap as if he were down with the kids – and who asked me on a date – nor the wide-eyed vamp who looked about twelve years old and who took at least thirty seconds to answer the most basic of questions.
Even giving her name was a matter of weighty importance that required a long period of thought.
None of them had noticed anything unusual about the worms, none of them had seen any shifty characters and none of them had any idea as to what had happened.
‘That was a colossal waste of time,’ I muttered as the final vampire departed.
She Without An Ear agreed and flopped by my feet. The act of doing nothing for the past few hours had obviously exhausted her beyond belief.
Even Penelope nodded. ‘They were quite unhelpful.’ She sent me a side glance. ‘You do not truly believe that the person responsible for the lost worms is the same person involved in the attack upon your person?’
I shrugged. ‘How often do conjured monsters appear in the Understream?’
‘Not often.’
I raised my eyebrows.
‘Fine,’ she sighed. ‘Never. But there is no evidence to suggest these crimes are connected.’
‘There’s no evidence to suggest that they’re not.’ I grimaced. ‘In fact, there’s no evidence at all.’
She was watching me carefully. ‘I do not think the attack was meant to hurt you, despite the volatile nature of what occurred.’
That was what worried me. I smiled tightly. ‘As long as it doesn’t happen again, then it’s all good.’
Penelope nodded. ‘I was about to suggest that we could walk Tiger’s usual route, which starts not far from here. It’s been two months since he vanished but there might be more pointless rubbish for you to pick up along the way.’
‘Was that an attempt at a joke?’
‘It has been known to happen.’
I grinned. ‘What do you call a cat that only drinks blood?’
This time both She Without An Ear and Penelope paid attention.
‘A vam-paw-ire!’ I cackled. Neither of my companions appeared amused.
‘That is not funny,’ Penelope said. ‘I would go so far as to say that pathetic attempt at a joke sucked.’
Our eyes met. I pressed my lips together while Penelope’s expression remained bland, but then a small giggle escaped her and I couldn’t hold back any longer.
I burst out laughing and within seconds the pair of us were laughing together, while She Without An Ear huffed, rolled onto her paws and walked away from us.
She was clearly embarrassed to be seen in our company.
‘It was not funny,’ Penelope managed, once our laughter finally subsided.
‘Not remotely,’ I agreed. ‘I have to admit, I never thought I’d end up in fits of mirth with a vampire.’
‘It is possible to have fangs and a sense of humour. We are more guarded around people we do not know, that is all.’
If I’d been wiser, I would have kept my mouth shut but I’d come this far so I said it anyway. ‘You are when those people are sun dwellers who live short lives and who die far too frequently compared to those who live for centuries.’
I drew in a breath and repeated her motto. ‘Trust in the fang and the fang alone,’ I whispered. ‘In other words, stick to your own kind if you’re a vampire or you’ll suffer – in more ways than one.’
The last of the humour vanished from her red eyes. ‘You are not as stupid as you look.’
I decided to take that in the manner in which it was intended and treat it as a compliment. ‘Thank you.’
Penelope’s lips thinned and her shoulders tightened.
‘People always say that vampires are cold, heartless creatures. I would not disagree. We are cold. We are heartless. I do not say this as an excuse but rather as an explanation. Our attitude is a result of watching too many friends and family die over too many years.’
I didn’t move a muscle or make a sound. I sensed that Penelope was opening up and baring her soul in a manner that she hadn’t done in years; in fact, I wasn’t sure any vampire had ever exposed themselves like this to someone without fangs. The last thing I wanted to do was interrupt her.
She cleared her throat. ‘One never becomes adept at navigating grief. It does not hurt less because you have experienced it many times. If anything,’ she said, as much to herself as to me, ‘it hurts more.’
I was tempted to open my arms and hug her but I knew she would be horrified if I tried.
‘I can’t understand what that’s like,’ I told her.
‘And I don’t want to understand. I can’t imagine anything worse.
I’m sorry. I am one of those who’ve always believed that vampires are unfeeling and callous.
I should have taken the time to learn otherwise. ’
‘It is not your fault. It is an attitude we cultivate in order to protect ourselves.’
That part I fully understood because I did something similar with my cat-lady routine.
I shifted my weight awkwardly; I wasn’t often lost for words but right now I had no idea what to say.
Maybe it would be best if I walked away and left her in peace.
Maybe my companionship was proving too much for her.
She examined my face then, in an oddly stilted tone, she said, ‘Would you like to go for a drink, Kit?’
I started; that was the last thing I’d been expecting her to say. ‘I think we’ve established that drinking blood isn’t my thing.’
‘Not blood, a real drink. Unless you want to find Tiger’s route and follow it for clues?’
Wandering through more tunnels was the last thing I wanted to do; besides, I felt I owed Penelope this. I smiled. ‘You know what? I would really like a drink.’
She led the way and at first I wasn’t sure where she was heading. We wandered past the market and into a tunnel I’d not yet been through. Less than fifty metres along there was a saloon-style door. Huh. A real vampire pub. Who knew?
She Without An Ear didn’t hesitate: with her tail held high, she scooted underneath the door. I was slightly more cautious. ‘What is this place?’
Penelope looked anxious, which surprised me. ‘We call it The Den. It’s a social club for vampires.’
I reached for my increasingly crumpled map of the Understream and traced my finger through the tunnels until I found it. ‘We’re directly underneath Hirsel Street, aren’t we?’ I asked, referring to Coldstream’s party district with all its pubs and clubs.
‘Yes.’
‘Is there an access point to the above from here?’
Reluctance flickered in Penelope’s eyes but she nodded.
‘The whisky bar?’ That place was full of old bottles worth ridiculous amounts of money. I’d seen plenty of vampires in there over the years. They probably owned the entire space from down here all the way up.
‘No.’
‘The speakeasy? It has a hidden entrance and the Understream has a hidden entrance.’ Secrets upon secrets made a sort of poetic sense.
‘No.’
‘Where then?’
Penelope shifted her weight. ‘Cold Tones,’ she admitted.
I blinked in astonishment. ‘The karaoke bar?’
‘There is an entrance point beneath the stage.’ She smiled. ‘Judging by your reaction, it is the perfect location. Nobody would expect an ancient vampire tunnel in such a place, although it’s the entrance most approved visitors to the Understream use.’
A secret entrance in a karaoke bar? I couldn’t imagine the likes of Penelope on stage with a microphone in their hands bellowing out I Will Survive. Then again, vampires probably loved that song.
‘Okay dokey.’
‘You have not missed out,’ she said. ‘Entering through Cold Tones is … very different to how most of us come to the Understream. You are privileged to have avoided that route.’
If she said so. It didn’t make much difference to me. I shrugged and then, because if you couldn’t beat ’em, you should join ’em, I walked into The Den.
My first impression was that it looked like any other homely British pub.
A long, burnished-oak bar was on one side of the room, against which were leather-covered stools dyed racing green.
Two of the many beer pumps advertised beers that I recognised.
Small fridges behind the bar proved that it was possible to get electricity in the Understream.
There were towels on the bar top and mats on the tables.
There was a pool table, a darts board, a shuffle board and a jukebox playing what sounded like Kylie Minogue.
‘Amazing,’ I breathed.
‘If I had known you liked old pubs this much,’ Penelope said, ‘I would have brought you here earlier.’
It wasn’t so much that I liked old pubs, it was more that everything about this place had been designed to create a convivial atmosphere. It went against everything I’d believed about vampires before today. The last half hour had felt like revelation upon revelation.
I knew as soon as I looked at the customers gracing The Den’s interior that there were several non-vampiric blood donors; they were immediately recognisable by their flushed cheeks and the tubes running from their veins as they sat and chatted.
But they all looked content. They were bantering with their vampire counterparts, who appeared equally at ease.
I watched as a glamorous raven-haired vampire, who had poured herself into a shimmering black dress, approached one of the donors. ‘I would like tequila, please,’ she said.
The donor shook his head. ‘Sorry, love. Tequila makes me vomit.’ He pointed to one of his fellows. ‘Anita loves it, though. Try her.’
The vampire moved away. Anita, who had heard the exchange, was already grinning widely. ‘Tequila?’ she asked. ‘My pleasure!’
The bartender, a grizzled vamp with a bushy beard, poured two shots and placed them in front of her beside an hourglass timer. Anita immediately downed the shots in quick succession while the bartender turned over the hourglass and the sand inside it began to drain.