Chapter 23
I stare at the woman and an icy terror fills my veins. I can hear her pulse from all the way over here, I can smell her—B positive—but no. I can’t do this.
He can do whatever he wants to me, but I’m not feeding on her or anyone else.
I need to get out of here before he tries to force me. So, I nod and give a tight smile, and he starts to lead the way towards her, but as soon as his back is turned, I run for the door.
I’m two steps away, reaching for the handle, when I bang into his chest.
He glares down at me and I get a little dizzy. The muscle on the side of his jaw clenches.
Uh-oh.
I glance at the door and then back up at him, and maybe I should fight, force my way out. What’s he going to do? Kill me?
But then, slowly, calmly, he says, ‘I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do, Aubrey.’ My insides unclench. ‘In fact,’ he continues, ‘from this moment on I can promise you that unless it is vital for your own protection, your choices are your own. Happy?’
I nod, even though that sounds like a loophole he can abuse, but still, at least he’s being reasonable. ‘Really? Thank you,’ I say. ‘And look, maybe one day, but right now I just want to go home,’ I add, glancing across at the woman again.
He lets out a big breath. Shrugs. Thoughts move behind his eyes. ‘Of course. Like I said, it’s your choice. But let me know if you change your mind after you talk to Daphne . . .’
A little jolt of terror rolls up my spine.
Because now I’m thinking of the missed call from Daphne. Of the voicemail she apparently left.
‘What did you do?’ I ask, my voice coming out as a whisper as I fumble through my bag for my phone. Frantically, I tap through to my voicemails. As I wait for Daphne’s message to play, I look up at him and I can tell he’s enjoying this, he finds it . . . funny.
I push my fingertip against my ear so I can focus on Daphne’s words, even though it’s basically silent in here.
‘Aubs,’ she whispers, like she’s on the sales floor, or in one of the dressing rooms, calling in secret.
‘Oh my god, Kenny is dead. He was mugged this morning, while he was out on his run, they took everything he had on him. This is why I don’t exercise,’ she says.
‘Anyway, they’ve offered us free counselling, so I for one will be calling in sick tomorrow.
Wanted to let you know. Call me when you get this. ’
My head gets light, my vision tunnels. And as I drop my phone into my bag, all I can think about is the smear of blood on that T-shirt. How it smelt icky, but familiar.
No. Please no.
‘You killed Kenny,’ I say, needing to be wrong. Because I didn’t like Kenny, but he was a human being with a life and a future and you can’t just kill people.
Now, that mild amusement morphs into an actual smirk. ‘Well, that’s a matter for the authorities, isn’t it, Aubrey? Given what’s in your flat right now, and the fact that Daphne will corroborate anything I want her to, I’d say maybe you killed him. Everyone knew you didn’t like him very much.’
The room tilts.
A flash of his running track in the message from Daphne. And my reply: God I hate him.
‘I found that T-shirt,’ I say, searching for disappointment in his eyes. I need that T-shirt to be all there is. But the look doesn’t come.
‘Tampering with evidence, tut-tut. That won’t look good when they find the rest.’
My throat tightens, then my stomach. He’s insane. To him, this is all just a game. But what the hell does he mean by the rest?
‘Be a shame if someone tipped off the police about it. He was such a loathsome fellow, wasn’t he? But Aubrey, just in case, you might want to think about how you could account for your whereabouts in the early hours of this morning . . .’
I want to hit him. To bare my fangs. To scream. To tell him that I hate him, that I wish he’d never found me. That I was better off without him. But I get the sense he’d like that, so I don’t. I push it down. I need to think.
Because I know he’s telling the truth. I saw with my own eyes how easily he let himself into my flat. And also . . . that noise that woke me up. That wasn’t my imagination. He must have killed Kenny on his five am run, then broken in and planted the evidence in my flat, like a total psychopath.
I stand there, mute, desperately searching for a way out.
I could try to talk to Daphne, maybe hypnotise her myself, get her to side with me. But it’s very clear that Oscar’s skills are far superior to mine.
‘But if I’m arrested for Kenny’s death, they’ll figure out I’m a vampire. And that’s exactly what you don’t want,’ I say.
Ha!
‘True,’ he says. ‘Which is why I made sure to leave some evidence in Daphne’s flat too as a backup. I’ll simply hypnotise her and get her to confess. I didn’t want to do that to her, but as that seems to be your preference . . . I’m happy to oblige.’
I stare at him, my breath lodged in my throat. I’m not going to win this. He’s thought of everything.
His eyes are hard, and he looks straight through me. ‘So, do you still want to go home?’
I hate him. I truly hate him.
The world spins double time. I can’t let him do that to Daphne. Or me. I look behind him, to those red gauzy curtains. I can hear that woman’s heartbeat in the other room and I can’t do that either. I have to buy myself some time, so I can figure this out.
My eyes snap back to his, and I nod. ‘Okay, I’ll do what you ask, but I can’t do it now. I need to get myself emotionally ready.’
He clenches his jaw. ‘You must think I’m as thick as a brick. It’s a yes or no question, Aubrey. You don’t get to emotionally prepare. This isn’t a theatre class.’
My throat tightens. I look back at the woman, then up at Oscar again.
‘Surely I get to at least think about it?’
He narrows his eyes. ‘Fine. But think fast.’ Then he adds, as he bites his own wrist, ‘But until you learn to protect yourself, you’re going to have to let me protect you.’
He holds his wrist in front of my lips.
And these are the moments when I really, really, really wish I could die.
‘Drink,’ he says.
‘But you’re a vampire.’
‘Thanks, Aubrey, that’s so helpful. Just drink.’
‘Why?’
‘It’ll give you some of my powers for a while—twenty-four hours, give or take, depending on how quickly you metabolise it. That way you can at least protect yourself while you “think”. And who knows, maybe once you get a taste of what life could be like, you’ll enjoy it.’
I look at him, wary, thinking of how in TV shows, when someone drinks a vampire’s blood it means the vampire can find them. That must be what’s going on here . . .
‘Is this . . . so you can track me?’ I ask, suspicion dripping from my voice.
He frowns at me. ‘It’s not GPS, Aubrey, it’s blood. Just do it,’ he snaps, exasperated. And honestly, I just want to get away from here before he tries to make me feed on that poor woman.
So I drink. His blood tastes different from human blood, cold and bitter and it makes me a bit woozy.
I pull away and my fangs retract.
‘You’re extremely weak, so it might take a couple of hours to kick in, but I think you’ll enjoy yourself.’ He motions to my bag. ‘Now, give me your phone,’ he says.
I don’t want to, but he’ll just take it, so I unlock it and hand it over. I watch helplessly as he scrolls and taps.
‘I’m putting my number in here. You text me when you’ve made a decision. Now go, I have company to deal with . . . Oh, and Aubrey?’
I turn towards him.
‘Don’t make me wait.’