Chapter Thirteen
Quintia updated them on her progress on the way back to Thornblood.
Computer security had been non-existent at the rescue.
Nasim hadn’t thought to lock the computer when she’d left the reception and Quintia had been able to look through all of their records.
She’d transferred whatever had seemed worthwhile onto a USB stick so they could look at it in more detail later.
More interesting, at least to Michelle, was her report of the various smells at the rescue.
Clearly, vampires had a keen sense of smell, closer to that of a hound than a human.
“That’s offensive,” Quintia said when Michelle said something to that effect. Lavinia was quiet, but Michelle could see the little quirk at the edge of her mouth that showed her amusement.
There hadn’t been any witches at the rescue in the last week or so.
(“What do witches smell like?” Michelle ventured, but neither of the vampires was able to give a clear answer.
“They just have an…odour. Magic smells,” Quintia said.) Nor was there any trace of any other vampires.
The whole affair was somewhat of a disappointment to Michelle.
Despite the implausibility, she’d hoped that she could have added some value to this whole solving-her-almost-murder mystery.
“This all looks so much easier in Harrogate Homicides,” she muttered.
“There are always a lot of dead ends and setbacks,” Lavinia said, throwing a short glance towards Michelle.
She was a careful and diligent driver, sticking exactly to the speed limit.
“So don’t worry about it. We won’t let go until we find who wanted to hurt you.
Besides, there might still be something in the files Quinn got for us. ” Quintia grunted in assent.
But if there was a clue in the rescue’s data, it didn’t readily reveal itself.
After the vampires’ reluctant agreement, Michelle spent three days poring over every inch of the computer files that Quintia had taken.
Meanwhile, while the vampires explored various leads based on rumours in the vampire community, or patrolled areas where they thought the killers might be hiding.
She only caught glimpses of them: Quintia and Brigh, a shy but huge red-haired vampire, muttering in the kitchen.
Lucretia called various meetings, the door closed solidly to keep out Michelle’s curious eyes.
Lavinia, too, was called away again and again, never giving them much of an opportunity to talk beyond the bare basics.
While the vampires were away from home, Michelle looked through the rescue’s files, but there was nothing that looked even remotely suspicious to her.
In the last couple of months, several dogs had been adopted.
New adopters filled in extensive reports about their living circumstances, professions, and even how many hours they spent at home every day.
Still, if there was a murderer among the families, they unsurprisingly hadn’t declared it in their adoption forms.
The outing to the rescue had briefly suspended Michelle’s cabin fever, but by the fourth day it had returned with a vengeance.
She’d been forced to take annual leave from work, and her remaining balance of days off was dwindling fast. Still, she couldn’t go home, either.
Seeing the pictures of the warlock’s victims had resolutely put that thought out of her mind.
There was no way she could protect herself from that.
It was better to run out of vacation days than die a gruesome death in her flat.
Complicating matters, friends and family became increasingly suspicious of Michelle’s sudden disappearance.
She constantly had to field phone calls, especially from her mum, and it became more and more difficult to find evasive reasons why she couldn’t pop by for breakfast or lunch.
She couldn’t even pretend to be busy at work, as her mother would only suggest to stop by the hospital with a homemade meal to share in the cafeteria.
Usually, Michelle loved that her family was close, but it was suddenly quite complicated now that she was the target of a homicidal person with magical powers.
“I think my mum is days away from reporting me missing to the police,” Michelle said on Sunday.
For the first time in days, Lavinia had stayed home, joining Michelle in combing through data they had collected, both from the rescue and files sent by the Witch Council.
They had sat in companionable silence for over an hour, working side by side in the upstairs office.
They had found an equilibrium again after their fight in the foyer, focusing on their joint efforts to find both the warlock and the rogue.
“How come?” Lavinia leaned back in her desk chair. She stretched her arms overhead to compensate for the bent-over position she’d been in for the last hour. Apparently, even vampires got stiff after a while.
“Look at this message.” Michelle held out her phone, screen still cracked. She hadn’t had an opportunity to get it fixed since the night of the attack, and it hadn’t really been much of a priority.
Lavinia squinted at the screen, reading the message through the spiderweb of fractures.
Hi honey…feeling worried cos we havent seen you in so long…saw a horrid programme on the telly last night about human trafficking! These poor women were being shipped in containers taken away from their families its given me nightmares. Talk to you soon!!! Bob also says hi
“Who’s Bob?” Lavinia asked. Her blonde ponytail had slipped over her shoulder. Though Michelle had been living at their house for over a week now, she had never seen Lavinia any less than perfectly put together. Hair neatly pulled back, the sameness of her white tees and jeans almost uniform-like.
“My dad. Or, I guess I should say, my stepdad. I never knew my biological dad.”
“I remember you mentioning it at the animal rescue. That sounds difficult.”
Michelle shrugged. “I never knew any different, really. Mum met my stepdad when I was four, so he’s been around for most of my life.
It never seemed that big of a deal when I was young—there was always plenty of family around so there wasn’t anything missing, but for the last couple of years, I’ve been wondering about him more.
What he was like.” Michelle was surprised at the words tumbling from her, baring a secret part of her soul.
She hadn’t even shared these thoughts with her friend Iris yet, despite their long friendship.
There was something vulnerable about admitting to missing a father she’d never even met.
Like she wasn’t allowed to, since she hadn’t actually experienced his loss.
But she often wondered about that unknown half of her.
“Humans often have stronger bonds with their parents than we do. More emotional. Perhaps because of your shorter life spans, you bond more intensely,” Lavinia mused. “It’s a tragedy he was taken from you.”
A tragedy. You know what, it was a tragedy. Due to no one’s fault, she’d been cut off from half of her roots, her history. The realisation hit hard. “Thank you,” she said. It was a strange thing to say, perhaps, but she couldn’t find any other words that felt right. Thank you for seeing me.
Quickly, Michelle changed the subject before she cried again. “What about your parents? What are they like? They’re vampires too, right?”
“Yes, vampires are born, not made. The movies definitely get that one wrong.” The fond smile that spread on Lavinia’s lips gave a softness to her features that took Michelle’s breath away.
“I haven’t seen Mother in a couple of years, but she lives with her two consorts in a vampire community in the Scottish Highlands.
Vampires don’t recognise fatherhood in the same way as humans do—I of course know who sired me, but we share no relationship.
My little brother lives with Mother and her consorts still. ”
“I didn’t know you had a brother.” Michelle pictured a sturdy sixteen-year-old with Lavinia’s blonde hair and high cheekbones. “How old is he?”
“Sixty-four,” Lavinia answered, without a trace of irony.
Michelle’s mouth dropped open. “Sixty-four?” Then, a thought hit her. “Wait, actually, how old are you?”
Without missing a beat, Lavinia responded, “Two-hundred-and-forty-nine. I’ll be celebrating my quarter-millennium next year.”
“You’re kidding,” Michelle said, disbelieving.
“Not at all. I was born in 1776 during the Revolutionary War. Very exciting times, according to my family, though I don’t remember much of my infancy,” Lavinia said serenely, as if it was of no significance at all to have been born in the eighteenth century.
“How old do vampires usually get? Or are you, like, immortal?”
“Oh, nothing like that,” Lavinia laughed.
“It may just seem like that to humans as we age at a different rate. Five centuries is a decently advanced age. A few reach their seven-hundredth birthday, but most don’t.
You have to understand, our infancy also lasts much longer than it does for humans.
It takes us fifty years to reach adulthood.
But we are very much alive and mortal, just like anyone else.
” Then she turned thoughtful. “Except the gods, perhaps. They may be immortal. I’m not a theologian though. ”
Michelle let that confusing statement pass.
“But if you live for centuries, wouldn’t you end up with tons of vampires?
What if all the vampires just have dozens of children?
” She struggled to wrap her head around the concept of Lavinia being more than two hundred years older than her. Talk about an age gap.
“Ah, it doesn’t work like that. It takes three years from conception to birth, and it can take decades to conceive.
It took Messalina, one of my Sisters, over thirty years.
But if the subject interests you, you may want to talk to her.
I know very little about the details. Science has never been my strong suit. ”
“Damn.” Living for centuries. Being pregnant for years!
Every little bit of information about the vampires opened up the chasm of difference between her and Lavinia.
Their strength, their speed, their heightened senses…
Lavinia and Michelle lived completely different lives, were completely different.
It wasn’t just the surface level stuff—you only needed to compare the easy luxury of the vampire mansion with Michelle’s cramped one-bedroom apartment—but also everything else.
Lavinia had been around for the Industrial Revolution, the crowning of Queen Victoria, and both world wars.
She was more than three times the age of Michelle’s grandma, a dizzying thought.
Lavinia lived in a world of supernatural dangers and violence, while Michelle had gone through life aware of human cruelty but never directly in its path of harm.
Until now, at least. Part of her yearned for Lavinia, true; Michelle was mature enough to recognise the stirrings of desire, the trappings of a crush.
And there was nothing wrong with enjoying her company, her physical closeness; to appreciate how gorgeous she was, or revel in the attention she’d given her.
But it would have to stay just that: an unrequited crush, a brief meeting of their lives until they returned to the spheres to which they belonged.
Besides, there was no way someone like Lavinia would ever be interested in Michelle.
Regardless of whether she was gay or not—and Michelle couldn’t really tell, not getting any particular vibe from many of the vampires— surely she would only go for another vampire, a “consort” to live out centuries together with.
It was a sad thought, a dream-fracturing thought.
At night, lying in bed staring into the darkness, she would sometimes indulge in fantasies.
What if Lavinia swept her off her feet in more ways than one?
What if she came through the door right now, confessing that she must have Michelle, and could no longer hide her feelings.
Michelle conjured up various scenarios, each one more outrageous than the previous, all ending with Lavinia in her bed enjoying the best night of their lives.
But they were nothing but fantasies. In reality, there was a wall that separated them—a careful distance that Lavinia maintained even now.
She was always kind, always ready to lend a hand in whatever way possible, but there was something in the way she carried herself, a certain distance that prevented any vulnerability from showing, except in the briefest of glimpses.
No, it was best to keep her fantasies to herself, as ridiculous as they were.
Lavinia was a friend, nothing more. Possibly not even that.
Somehow, she couldn’t imagine them staying in touch after all of this was over.
This was just a brief interlude, a strange adventure she was on, and she would return to life as it had always been.
Beside Michelle, Lavinia’s head snapped up.
Her nostrils flared. Her head tilted slightly, as if she was listening to something.
Michelle didn’t hear anything. Something must be wrong—never before had Lavinia looked so otherworldly, looked less human than she did now.
Michelle held her breath, not wanting to interrupt.
“Stay here,” Lavinia said, rose, and with inhuman speed left the room in three long strides. Usually so quiet, her footsteps thundered down the grand staircase, to be joined by those of her Sisters.
What the hell was going on? For a moment, Michelle debated whether to listen to Lavinia, but ultimately the decision to, at the very least, find out what was wrong triumphed.
She would hang back, try not to get in the way.
Heart beating loudly in her chest, she followed in Lavinia’s footsteps, drawn to voices in the foyer.
She turned the corner of the corridor and looked down onto a scene of blood and chaos.