Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
QUINN
Tap.
I’m lying in bed when I hear it.
It’s an hour since I finished my shift, and I probably should be asleep, but instead I’m staring at my ceiling and pondering how I’m very much not asleep. It’s about as much help as it sounds.
Tap.
I’ve never been a great sleeper, to be honest. I don’t even know why I’m trying to force it. Maybe because I’m in my thirties now and with it has come a tiredness that feels bone-deep at times. My doctor suggested I try sleeping more.
Groundbreaking, I know.
Tap.
But now I also can’t sleep because there’s a noise outside. I didn’t think much of it at first, just passed it off as a seagull, maybe even a mouse. It was a sharp rap – the sound of something hard hitting glass.
A beak, maybe?
Tap.
Whatever it is, it’s persistent.
Tap.
Tap.
‘For God’s sake,’ I mutter, flinging back the covers and pulling on a T-shirt before I pad over to the window. I open the curtains a crack, but there’s nothing on the window ledge, no flapping of a bird leaving in a hurry.
I frown and open the curtains fully so I can look for the culprit.
That’s when I see something move in the yard below.
It has the vague outline of a person and it sends a cold shiver racing down my spine.
I grab my glasses from their spot on the bedside table and slip them on – I’ve taken my contacts out for the night – and when I step back to the window and look down, I burst out laughing and haul my window open.
‘Florence!’ I call down. ‘What the hell are you doing in my yard?’
She stands back, staring up at me with her hands firmly on her hips.
She’s more undone than I’ve seen her before, cocooned in a long wool coat with her hair twisted up into a loose bun.
Tartan pyjama bottoms peek out from the bottom of her coat, the cuffs gathering on top of her trainers.
I don’t know why the idea of a vampire in trainers amuses me, but I can’t wipe the smile off my face.
‘I’m throwing pebbles at your window,’ she says, opening her left hand to show me the ones she hasn’t thrown yet.
‘I can see that.’ My smile grows even wider. ‘But why?’
I just about see her brow furrow in the dim light. ‘Because I don’t have your number,’ she says after a moment, like that explains everything. Only, I remember—
‘You called me the other day.’
Her frown deepens. ‘That was a work call. It would be unethical for me to take your number from our records without your permission.’
This probably says something about me but I’ve noticed she has this side to her, a buttoned-up, by-the-book side, and I think I’m especially attracted to her when she’s like this. Not to mention that it makes it that much more satisfying when she softens. When I make her soften.
I try and fail not to think about all the other ways I might make her soften, then I clear my throat before I quip, ‘If you want my number, babe, just ask.’
Her lips curl in disgust. ‘Never call me babe again.’
That makes me laugh out loud. ‘Noted,’ I say, pushing my glasses back up my nose. I watch her eyes track the movement. ‘I’m saying you have my permission. I’ll give you it.’
She nods, no less stern. ‘I really would feel better if you did.’
There’s a flutter inside my chest then, followed by a dull thump. That’s been happening a lot lately. It feels like my heart forgets to beat for a moment before panicking and throwing in an extra strong one to make up for it.
It’s either that or Florence literally makes my heart skip a beat.
‘So,’ I say, clearing my throat. ‘The pebbles.’
‘Yes.’ She shrugs, unrepentant. ‘I needed to get your attention. This is what we did in the days before mobile phones.’
I sometimes forget how old she is, like my brain still can’t quite believe it’s possible that she’s pushing two hundred. She doesn’t look a day over twenty-five.
‘How did you even know this was my bedroom?’
She laughs lightly and the sound is so soft that I see it rather than hear it.
‘Educated guess.’ One of her hands gestures to the adjoining building.
‘I delivered three babies in that building. Twelve in the one behind me. The building the bar is in is older than I am, but this bit is new.’ She motions to the wall in front of her. ‘So I took a chance.’
Something erupts in my chest at her words, at the idea that she came looking for me. That she found me. I don’t even know what it is that she wants, but I’m as giddy as a kid on a fairground ride.
‘Why are you here?’ I ask, ignoring the voice I’m not supposed to trust. The voice that says she’s here for you.
She shuffles, moving her weight from foot to foot. ‘I want to show you something.’
And that’s ok, isn’t it? I did say I was going to lay off dating for a while, but this isn’t a date. Just one casual acquaintance showing the other something. In the dark.
Ok, so it sounds quite bad when I say it like that, particularly when one of us is a blood-sucking creature of the night and one of us is a mere mortal filled to the brim with said blood, but Florence said she didn’t plan to hurt me and I believe her.
So I don’t make my excuses and go back to bed, even though I recognise that I probably should. Instead, I take a leap of faith, pull on some clothes, and head out into the dark with her.
* * *
‘Come on,’ Florence says over her shoulder. I think it was meant to be motivational, but it makes her sound a bit like a drill sergeant. And I am playing my part as the unfit recruit perfectly.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m in decent shape.
I go to the gym a couple of times a week and do more than my fair share of hauling kegs around.
But next to Florence I feel like a horse bound for the knacker’s yard.
We’re halfway up the 199 steps, I’m breathing hard, maybe complaining a little, and she’s loving every last second of it.
‘Maybe you need to do more cardio,’ she says through a smirk, and I narrow my eyes at her.
‘Sex is my cardio,’ I grumble. ‘And I’m on a sex hiatus.’
She skips up the next few steps and then turns to look at me while I climb. ‘I thought you were on a dating hiatus?’
I shrug, trudging up another few steps. ‘Same thing.’
‘Is it?’
It is for me. I grew up watching my dad sleep around, and I decided I didn’t want to be like that. But I don’t say that. All I say is, ‘I don’t sleep with people until we’re in a relationship.’
Ok, maybe I find it easier to slide into relationships than most men do, but the sentiment is still true. It makes Florence look at me with an expression I’ve seen on her a few times – like she’s trying to figure me out.
‘What?’ I ask, a little more bite in my words than I intended. But it doesn’t offend her. She just shakes her head, a smile playing at her lips as she carries on climbing.
‘Sorry I hauled you out of bed for this,’ she says, once I’ve caught up to her at the top of the steps.
It’s a clear, cold night, and the sea breeze comes at us from two different directions now we’re higher up on the cliff.
I probably could have done without the trudge up the steps, but I can’t pretend I’m not pleased to be here. Whatever it is we’re here for.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I say, a little easier for the rest. ‘I’m a single man who works at a bar. I’m basically nocturnal at this point.’
‘It’s my ideal time of day,’ she says, looking out over the bay for a moment before she turns back to me. ‘UV index of zero and no pesky humans around.’ Her eyes snap back to mine and I know from the curl of her smirk what she’s going to say next. ‘Well, maybe one pesky human.’
The mere sight of that smile on her ignites the lick of a flame at the base of my spine, its heat spreading through me like wildfire.
I’ve met buttoned-up Florence and soft Florence, but this is another version of her entirely – something playful, maybe a little flirty.
She told me she didn’t pose any danger to me, but she was wrong.
One of those smiles could tear through my feeble human resolve in seconds.
I’m absolutely fucked, and I’m not even mad about it.
‘Right,’ I snap, turning on my heel and making like I’m going to march back down the steps, but she just grabs for my arm and laughs that same rough laugh, her head thrown back. The sound is so infectious that I can’t help but laugh too.
‘Come on,’ she says, guiding me to the right, past the church. ‘We’re nearly there.’