Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
It didn’t take long to locate the trapdoor.
I descended three flights of stairs as I travelled into the depths of Chester Longchamps’ deserted house.
The further down I went, the spookier it became.
I was used to dark shadows and gloomy corners but something about this house gave me the heebie-jeebies.
I was relieved when I spotted the unobtrusive trapdoor. Wandering around the maze of Understream tunnels was a more appealing prospect than snooping around the dead vampire’s abandoned home.
The trapdoor opened easily; its hinges were well oiled, indicating that Longchamps – and likely also Eric – often used it.
I swung around to clamber down the ladder, made short work of the rungs and then, when my feet were planted on solid ground, hunkered down and opened my bag.
I wanted to make sure I was prepared for all eventualities.
My trusty curved dagger was already strapped to my skin beneath my blouse.
I prepared several pinches of the Wicker witches’ illumination powder and tucked them up my sleeve, then I pinned my hair back with two poisoned darts.
Poison was rarely my preferred weapon of choice but I knew I had to be prepared for anything.
I even double-checked the extra blades concealed in my shoes.
It was unlikely I would require most of these items but there was no such thing as overkill. Not in this business.
Finally I straightened up. I pulled out my increasingly crumpled map, returned my small backpack to my shoulders then examined the drawing carefully under the familiar glow of witchlight.
I knew where I wanted to go. William at the Bureaucratic Suite had taken his time in stating that he wanted me to succeed; if anyone could tell me more about the mysterious ‘problem’ that Chester Longchamps had supposedly been dealing with, not to mention the potential murder of several vampires and thralls, he’d be the one.
I’d been struck by his attention to detail, so after I’d questioned him I could check his answers with Penelope.
I might also discover who had visited the Suite recently to pinpoint my location because, after all, my monster conjuror was still on the loose.
One way or another, I told myself, I’d find out the truth about what was happening down here.
Although individual vampires’ homes and their entrance points weren’t marked on the map, I had a reasonably good idea about where I was. If I veered left I’d reach one of the larger tunnels. From there I could make my way to the large cavern where the Bureaucratic Suite was located.
It was still early enough that few vampires would be up and about, so my journey should be unimpeded, but even so I was mindful of all that had happened recently. If I were attacked in these tunnels and didn’t successfully defend myself, it could be days before my body was discovered.
I’d learned enough in the past day to know that I could be considered a threat even if I didn’t know who was against me or why there’d been so many disappearances and murders in the Understream.
I had to be aware of my surroundings; it was fortunate that sneaking around dark places was one of my strengths.
I maintained a steady pace but I didn’t rush. Almost every tunnel I encountered was quiet and empty. At one point I heard the soft trundle of a passing worm and saw the glow from its head lantern, but I didn’t see the worm itself. The vampires appeared to be staying at home today.
After forty minutes or so, I reached a dark crossroads where five tunnels branched off. I dug out my map again; I knew I was heading in the right direction but I wasn’t sure which tunnel was the fastest route to the main cavern.
There were two possibilities: one veered to the right and the other to the left. I squinted from the map to the tunnels and back again. The nearest one to the right was likely the best. I squared my shoulders and prepared to head down it – then I heard footsteps and a bright light appeared.
I stepped backwards. Whoever was approaching wasn’t trying to remain hidden, so there was probably no reason to be concerned, but even so I waited. If this did turn out to be an enemy, at least I had several escape routes.
Two figures emerged and both were vamps.
The man on the right was dressed in a surprisingly traditional fashion, albeit entirely in gothic black: black shirt, black tie, black kilt, black sporran, black socks and – shocker – black shoes. Something glittered on his shirt: a brooch, perhaps? It seemed an odd choice of jewellery.
The vampire on the left was wearing less formal attire and even sporting a flash of colour. His T-shirt, visible beneath a black-leather ensemble that wouldn’t have looked out of place in The Matrix, was blood red.
Neither of them looked friendly. The gothic Highlander was the first to notice me and speak. ‘Well, well, well,’ he drawled. ‘What do we have here?’ Despite his clothing, his accent was as far from Scotland as a Siamese cat’s.
His companion smirked. ‘A little mouse,’ he said. ‘Scurrying along tunnels where she shouldn’t be.’
‘Hi there,’ I called, smiling to try and avoid any aggression on their part. ‘I’m not a vampire but I am marked.’ I held up my arm to show the red semi-circle branded on my skin.
‘I can’t see any mark,’ the Highlander said. ‘How about you, Jonesy?’
Jonesy was already shaking his head. ‘Nope. Can’t see a thing. I think we’ve found ourselves some vermin.’
Great. Just my luck to stumble across the Understream’s version of schoolyard bullies. I couldn’t be arsed with this. I had better things to do, not to mention having qualms about revealing too much of my abilities.
I considered my options: kill, fight, placate or run. I knew what I wanted to do but I also knew what I ought to do. Damn.
I sighed. I’d have to tread carefully with this ridiculous pair. ‘I can assure you that I am allowed to be here.’ I injected a quiver into my voice. If they believed I was already frightened, they might decide they’d achieved success and move on.
‘She sounds scared,’ Jonesy said.
‘She looks scared,’ the Highlander agreed.
‘But she doesn’t smell scared,’ Jonesy finished.
I couldn’t fake pheromones, more’s the pity. Most people, even werewolves who were often guided by scent, defaulted to what they could see and hear rather than what they could smell, but these vampires had obviously been round the block more than once. They knew better than most.
‘That will be because I smell of cat,’ I said.
The vampires exchanged looks. ‘That part is definitely true,’ the Highlander said.
As he darted forward and stopped an inch from my side, I realised that the brooch on his chest was a beetle, a live beetle, tethered by a tiny silver chain and a safety pin. Ick. Poor thing.
Jonesy joined the Highlander to flank my other side. ‘Look,’ he said, pointing to my sleeve. ‘Cat hair everywhere.’
‘Ladies and gentlemen, we have ourselves a little old cat lady,’ the Highlander intoned. ‘Do you hate men? Are you a dedicated virgin?’
Really? Hundreds of years old and this stereotype was what they were going with?
Jonesy took up the thread. ‘Are you sad? Lonely?’ He started to circle me. ‘Bitter?’
‘I think the answer to all those questions is a resounding yes.’ The Highlander sniffed. ‘I can smell a whiff of cat pee, too.’
Now he was definitely lying. It would be a shame if I had to kill two vampires because they were idiots, but I was no longer confident that I could talk my way out of this one. Something inside me brightened at the thought that violence might be my only option.
I tried one last-ditch effort at peace because of the blood contract I’d signed. ‘Gentlemen,’ I said. ‘Please. I am here on business. I’ve been sanctioned by the Suite for Bureaucratic Affairs – I’ve been working with Lady Penelope.’
‘Oooooh!’ The Highlander made a sarcastic dance with his hands. ‘Lady Penelope!’
Jonesy stopped circling, threw back his head and laughed – then he snapped forward, opened his mouth and dipped his head towards my throat. His fangs scraped my skin. ‘We don’t usually drink straight from the vein,’ he purred. ‘But I think I’ll make an exception in your case.’
I felt his cold breath against my skin. Screw this.
I dropped my bag and reached for the curved dagger that was strapped to my back.
There were three surefire methods to kill a vampire – a wooden stake through the heart, sunlight and decapitation – but even though my little steel blade wouldn’t end any undead lives, it could definitely do some serious harm.
I was starting to pull it out of its sheath when another voice commanded, ‘Leave her alone!’
Alan. I exhaled and hastily slid the dagger away and put my hand in my pocket. Honest, guv, nothing to see here.
Both Jonesy and the Highlander surprised me by jumping away like guilty cats who’d been pawing at forbidden treats. That was interesting.
‘We weren’t doing nothing,’ Jonesy said loudly.
The Highlander nodded vigorously. ‘She’s a stranger wandering around the tunnels in the middle of the day – we were making sure she’s allowed to be here. She refused to show us her mark so we thought she’d sneaked in.’
I raised an eyebrow. I was a terrible liar but the gothic Highlander was far worse. I glanced at Alan, who looked absolutely furious. ‘I ought to drag you two to the cells!’
Cells? It stood to reason that there was some sort of vampire jail down here, but it was the first I’d heard about them.
‘We can’t have randoms wandering around the tunnels, Lord Alan! You know that!’
As Alan glared at Jonesy, his clenched fists and the bulging vein in his forehead spoke of his anger. Goodness.
‘Why not?’ I asked casually. ‘Isn’t it safe?’
Jonesy opened his mouth to answer but Alan was already speaking. ‘The two of you need to get out of here before I decide to take this infringement further.’
‘Yes, Lord Alan.’
‘Of course, Lord Alan.’ They bowed, scraped and backed away.
‘Wait!’ Alan barked. Both hapless vamps froze. ‘Apologise to the lady first!’
Jonesy didn’t hesitate. ‘Sorry.’
The Highlander dropped his head. ‘Yeah,’ he sniffed. ‘Sorry.’
I examined their faces then moved forward and reached towards the Highlander’s chest. With one swift movement, I unclipped the beetle brooch. ‘I’m taking this,’ I declared.
The Highlander clearly wanted to protest and looked at Alan for help. When none was forthcoming, he lowered his head again. ‘Alright,’ he mumbled.
‘Now get out of here,’ Alan said. Both vampires turned tail and ran.
I extracted the chain from the beetle’s back leg and placed the insect gently on the ground where it wasted no time in scuttling away. Be free, little thing; you deserve a better existence than to be a piece of jewellery.
I stood up and eyed Alan. ‘Thanks,’ I said.
He inclined his head. ‘You’re welcome, Kit.’
‘They were afraid of you.’
Alan laughed mildly. ‘Yeah, bizarre, isn’t it? I ought to enjoy that while it lasts.’
At my confused expression, he explained, ‘A friend of mine died recently. He was responsible for a lot of the security around here and I’ve stepped into his shoes until someone permanent can be found for the position.
People tend to see the job, rather than the person.
’ He gazed into the darkness after the vanished vamps. ‘Even idiot bullies like those two.’
I watched him carefully. ‘Was that friend Chester Longchamps, by any chance?’
Alan immediately stilled. ‘Yes. You’ve heard of him?’
Naturally, I didn’t give him any details. ‘His name has come up a few times during the course of my investigation.’
Alan ran a tired hand through his hair. ‘I should have expected as much. Lord Chester was a brilliant man and a good friend, but he wasn’t someone to cross. He was known for his bad temper. By default, some of his reputation has passed to me together with his title.’
Hence the way the vamps had called him Lord Alan. ‘What happened to him?’
His red eyes took on a glazed sheen. ‘A terrible accident. He ventured away from the mapped areas of the Understream and he’s not been seen since.’
‘You mean he vanished? Like the worms?’
‘The worms?’ Alan shook his head in surprise. ‘Oh no, nothing like that. Lord Chester knew what he was doing. We know where he went and we have a good idea what happened to him.’
‘What?’ I pressed.
He took a long moment before answering. ‘It would be easier to show you than to tell you.’
I shrugged. ‘Alright,’ I said. ‘Lead the way.’