Chapter 16
I gasp and pull away, and this time he lets go.
The images cut to black. I’m just standing there in front of him, my feet stuck in place, my breath quick and shallow as I stare at him, trying to make sense of everything as that flash replays in my mind.
It didn’t look like anything made him leave.
It looked like he wanted to. But that can’t be right.
And I still have so many questions . . .
questions I’ve always wanted to ask. Questions fighting for air.
‘Who was I?’ I blurt out. ‘What was I like?’
He stares at me, expressionless. ‘How the fuck would I know what you were like?’ he replies. ‘I didn’t know you. I was just hungry and your front door was unlocked.’
Wait . . . WHAT?
So, it was random? I was unlucky—that’s why I’m a monster. That’s why I can’t die. That’s why I’m unlovable. That’s why I have abandonment issues and sent a zillion texts and lost my soulmate.
Because he needed a . . . snack.
My stomach fills with cement. That means he can’t tell me anything about myself. Nothing at all.
All those years of thinking about him, wondering . . . believing he could finally fill in the blanks for me, for nothing.
I look back to him and he’s still watching me. Silent.
‘So you turned me into this thing, and then you just left me like this? Alone?’ I squeak.
He rolls his eyes. ‘I gave you eternal life, you should be grateful. What did you want me to do, hold your hand?’ he asks, terse. ‘You’re a vampire, we survive. And look at you, you’re fine. Besides, I’ve checked in on you now and then. You’ve coped better than others.’
He’s done this to others.
His eyes move to my neck, my clavicle, my breasts. He reaches out and touches my face. I feel myself recoil. ‘Besides,’ he croons, ‘I’m here now . . . and you don’t seem very happy to see me.’ He gives a little smirk.
Heat rises in my stomach. My lower lip shakes—not from sadness, from anger—and I clench my jaw.
I’m so naive, I should have expected this.
I mean, I’ve read the books, seen the movies, did I really believe that he’d done it while violins played?
I think of how much I needed him when Hans left, how vulnerable and lost I was, how often I thought of him, and all the while he was right here, in London.
Living his best life. That heat swells in my solar plexus, rises up my throat, hits the spot in the middle of my forehead, and whatever trance he has me under breaks for a split second.
I can feel it, the moment it happens. Like a bubble has popped.
I turn quickly and reach for the door handle.
My hand stops the moment before I reach it, like it’s stuck. I hear him laugh.
Oh right, he made me this way, that explains the power he has over me. Perfect.
He grabs me by the shoulders and turns me to face him again. He’s so strong. This is my fault, I shouldn’t have gone there tonight, to that club. Then he wouldn’t have seen me, and he wouldn’t be here. Everything would still be normal. Bad—miserable, really—but bad in a way I understood, at least.
‘I’ll scream,’ I say, my voice a strangled whisper.
‘You can try.’ His face is hard, unblinking.
I’m barely breathing. Doing my best to think straight. How dangerous is he?
‘What do you want? Why are you here?’ I seethe, staring him down.
His eyebrows raise a little. ‘Such venom,’ he says, and gives a little smile. ‘Frankly, I don’t want to be here, either. I had to leave a very cute little blonde behind. But I have a duty.’
Resentment bubbles beneath my skin. ‘What duty? It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?’
He ignores me and keeps talking. ‘I was surprised to see you tonight. It’s not like you to go out on the town after work, is it?’
He’s right, it’s not. Usually it’s just going to work, getting blood, going for long ambling walks to pass the night, then eventually sitting at home—or, more recently, seeing Jonathan whenever he had time—but where is he going with this?
‘Usually, you’re too sensible and controlled for that. Too safety conscious,’ he continues calmly. ‘You’re usually quite boring. I could feel immediately that you were . . . different tonight . . . erratic, tripping all over the place. You’re weak. Conspicuous.’
In drips a memory of me rushing out of that club, desperate to get to Jonathan, tripping, almost falling.
‘I’m not weak or conspicuous, I just wanted to get home,’ I say, heat swirling in my stomach. ‘Like you said, I don’t go out much, I don’t like it.’
He glares at me, unflinching. ‘I don’t believe you.’ His voice is low and hard. ‘I think you’re severely compromised because of your lifestyle choices.’
I frown at him.
‘There are growing dangers to us out there, Aubrey. Humans are starting to believe that we exist, vampires are being found and targeted. It would be catastrophic if they got proof, you understand?’ His eyes narrow.
‘We have all been told to make sure our proteges are not the weak link. I thought you wouldn’t be a problem, but tonight I sa—’
‘What?’ I ask. ‘Told by whom?’ Because I’ve only ever come across two other vampires. Is there some vampire government I don’t know about?
‘We all have those we answer to, Aubrey. Like you answer to me. But as I was saying,’ he says, like he doesn’t enjoy being interrupted, ‘I didn’t realise you were so bad.
It’s just a matter of time before you get yourself into trouble.
And I have a duty to keep you safe.’ He pauses.
‘Besides, I can’t have a protege of mine be the weak link that gets us all found out. That would reflect very badly on me.’
‘I’m not some weak link,’ I hiss. ‘I’ve kept myself safe and hidden for one hundred and fifty years, with no help from you.’
’Well, Daphne begs to differ,’ he says, slowly, drawing out his vowels. ‘We had a little chat after you went home. About why you rushed off like that. She says you’re not yourself right now.’ His eyes dig deeper. ‘Unless there is another reason you were in such a tizz?’
My stomach twists. I’m sure as hell not telling him about Jonathan.
‘Did you hurt her?’ My voice comes out like a strangled whisper. Because otherwise, why the hell was she talking to him about me?
But no. It was a crowded bar, he couldn’t have hurt her.
And Daphne does love to chat with well-heeled, affluent men like him.
Mostly for the free drinks. I get the sense lots of women would love to chat to a man like him, drink his champagne, look into his eyes, full of sex and danger, never guessing what that danger is.
But not me. I’ve been alive long enough to see through him.
I don’t care what kind of clothes he wears.
He’s completely dead inside, full of darkness.
I want him to get away from me in case it’s catching.
‘Of course not. To what end?’ he asks, in answer to my question.
‘I wouldn’t hurt her unless I had a reason.
’ Then he takes a deep breath like he’s sick of having to explain himself.
‘Meet me at the club again tomorrow night. I’ll teach you what you need to know to stay safe. Should we say nine-thirty? It shou—’
‘I don’t need you to teach me anything,’ I say. Because I seriously do not want him stepping in as my mentor now, at this late stage.
He leans in a little closer and the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up as he glares into my eyes.
‘Yes, you do. To start with someone has to get you properly fed, so you have some power. I’m going to hazard a guess that you have no control over siphoning visions and couldn’t hypnotise your way out of a paper bag right now, which means if you found yourself in a sticky situation you’d be royally fucked.
And that means we’d all be fucked.’ Thoughts dance behind his eyes.
‘It’s time you became a vampire, Aubrey. ’
My stomach clenches, alarm bells sound in my head. Because I can’t. I know what he means by ‘properly fed’—he wants me to feed off the vein—and I can’t.
As soon as I feed off a human, I can’t stop, I need to feed again and again and, honestly, someone always dies.
‘Sorry, I have plans tomorrow night,’ I say, my voice cracking. And I do have plans: staring at Olivia Coombes on Instagram or anything other than going to see Oscar.
‘This isn’t a request, Aubrey,’ he says. ‘You’ll do what I want, one way or another. I’ll see you at nine-thirty sharp.’
Then, in a blur, so quickly I don’t even see it happen, he’s gone.
Now it’s just me in here again. Me and Cat, who is back in hiding, safely behind the sofa, and the white noise in my head. Because: What just happened?
But also: Daphne.
With shaking hands, I scroll through to her number and call her. Please pick up. Please pick up. I know he said he didn’t hurt her, but what if he’s lying?
If anything happens to her it’ll be my fault.
‘Aubs,’ Daphne answers, and relief swirls through my veins. ‘Are you okay?’ Her voice comes out croaky but concerned. I can hear the hum of other voices in the background.
‘Where are you?’ I ask.
‘I’m home,’ she says, totally relaxed. ‘What’s wrong? You sound super stressed.’
‘No, I’m fine, I was just checking you got home okay,’ I say, pushing visions of Oscar from my mind.
‘Yep, home watching some shitty movie. When did movies become so bad?’
‘Did you talk to anyone good after I left?’
‘Not really, there were a couple of guys, but I left not long after you. Lost the whole night scrolling through social media. Total waste of a night.’
‘What did you talk about? With the guys?’
‘I don’t know,’ she says, ‘nothing really. Nothing important. Are you sure you’re okay? You sound freaked out.’
I need everyone to stop saying things like that. I’m perfectly in control.
‘I’m fine,’ I say.
‘Okay, well, I’m going to go to sleep,’ she says.
‘Okay,’ I reply.
As we hang up, I glance across at the bin in the kitchen, at the corner of the blood bag peeking out the top—right now, perfectly good blood will be seeping out of it.
I rush over to it, and Cat comes running after me, meowing as I pull the bag to safety, salvaging what’s left—there’s still around two thirds.
I pour some into a mug and put it into the microwave, then wipe off the bag with a wet wipe and put it back in the tin as Cat circles my legs, meowing a little louder.
She wants milk. But we all need a bit of austerity in our lives, so instead I pull out Cat’s bag of treats and put the last few into a saucer, then leave the bag on the counter to remind myself to get more.
And yes, I realise she’s not my cat, so I don’t have to feed her, but I don’t have much faith in her owner who is always locking her outside. Someone has to take care of her.
Then I just stand there, a little stunned, watching the timer on the microwave count down, as Oscar’s voice echoes in my mind: This isn’t a request, Aubrey. You’ll do what I want, one way or another . . .
Who the hell does he think he is? What, he just gets to waltz back into my life now, after all this time, and order me around? I don’t think so.
Beep.
I grab my blood and head over to the sofa, then look outside, up at the inky sky.
He’s gone, at least. Cat jumps up beside me and I take a sip of my perfectly fine blood—no worse for the hours it’s been sitting in my bag.
A sense of calm moves through me as my nerves relax.
I don’t know what he was complaining about.
Then I reach for my phone, and tap back through to Olivia Coombes’ profile.
Because I’ll be damned if I let Oscar derail me now, right as I find Jonathan and a life I actually want. So, where was I?