Chapter Two #2
Dammit, I should have. Our uncle is notoriously unreliable.
In his defence, he’s got a pretty good grasp of the modern world for someone in his fourth century of life, but it’s a very long way from perfect, by anyone’s definition.
I’d just been so relieved to have somewhere familiar to crash after Quinn booted me out that I hadn’t questioned my good fortune.
Guilt suddenly grips at my stomach and I look over at the blonde, who’s now chewing on a nail as she studies me.
‘Lucy?’ I ask tentatively, and she nods.
I can’t help but notice how uncomfortable the action is.
But then that’s probably to be expected, what with her coming into what was supposed to be her home for the weekend to find a strange man waltzing out of the bathroom with nothing but the world’s smallest towel hiding his junk.
And I’m not just any man. I’m aware of how I look.
Six-three in bare feet with tattoos from my knuckles to my neck and pierced ears and nipples, just to start with.
Not to mention that a hot shower never fails to bring out my fangs, and I still haven’t fully mastered control of that particular reflex. I mean, God, I’d have screamed too.
Ok, I did scream. Whatever. No one’s finding that out.
‘I’m sorry about this,’ I say, looking back at Lucy, who hasn’t moved a muscle and is still staring at me. ‘Our uncle isn’t the most reliable. I obviously would have had more clothes on if I knew you were coming.’
I feel a little flustered, I don’t know why. I’m not entirely sure that supernatural beings should be able to feel flustered, but I’ll level with you: I’m nine years, five months and eleven days into this whole vampire business, and I still haven’t quite come to terms with it all.
I actually choose this life – stupidly – but I am far from a natural. Think Bambi on ice, if Bambi were a fledgling vampire and the ice was the ongoing struggle of living undetected in the mortal world, while I try to come to terms with what I did.
I clear my throat. ‘What I meant to say is that I wouldn’t be here at all.’
‘Bram, are you naked?’ Mina suddenly shrieks, before making a noise like she’s hurt herself.
‘No!’ I look down at my body. Peggy really needs to buy bigger towels. ‘I mean, kind of. I just came out of the shower. I have a towel on. I’d have been completely dressed by now if I hadn’t had to save your girl from falling down the stairs.’
‘Thanks for that, by the way,’ Lucy says from her corner. It’s the first time I’ve heard her speak properly, and there’s an edge to her voice that draws a sharp line up my spine.
‘Right,’ Mina says, ever the organiser. ‘Here’s what we’re going to do. Lucy, take me downstairs and put the kettle on. I feel like you probably both need a cuppa. Bram, put some clothes on and meet us down there. We’re going to fix this.’
‘Roger that,’ I grunt, and I vanish into the bedroom, relieved beyond belief when I close the door behind me. I pull on jeans and a band shirt and dry my hair the best I can with Peggy’s ridiculously small towel.
I grab my sunglasses and my leather jacket, and then I pack away the few things I’d got out, try my best to neaten the bedroom up, and sling my backpack onto my shoulder. I can find somewhere else to stay. I’m not a lone woman in a strange town; I grew up here. And yeah, I’m immortal and all that.
If one of us has to leave, it should be me.
* * *
By the time I get downstairs, Lucy’s sitting cross-legged on the sofa, two steaming mugs on the coffee table in front of her. She’s chuckling softly to herself as she thumbs through her phone, but she stops abruptly when she sees me, and I feel almost guilty because of it.
‘Tea?’ she asks, nodding to the mug on the right, its perfectly shaded contents a contrast to the bubblegum pink liquid in her mug.
There’s a tea bag still in hers, though it doesn’t look like any tea I’ve ever seen, and her smile is something like an apology, though I don’t know why. ‘Mina said you’re a milk-no-sugar man.’
‘I am.’ I nod. ‘Thanks.’
I can’t quite bring myself to give up the tea habit, though the dairy’s going to play havoc with my guts later. What can I say? I’m a Yorkshireman first, vampire second.
‘She had to go,’ Lucy says quickly, gesturing to her phone, and that sounds like an apology too. Surely I should be the one apologising? ‘All that excitement took it out of her.’
I reach for my mug and blow the steam off before I speak, moving to lean against the dining table behind me. ‘She needs to rest.’
Lucy nods. ‘She does.’
There’s silence then, a few awkward moments which pass without either of us talking, and I try not to look at her, but my eyes find her anyway.
She looks different now – more delicate somehow – and for some reason that thought makes me feel even more guilty.
It wasn’t my fault, I realise that, but I’m here now, still in her space when I could very well leave.
I take a gulp of tea, and it burns my throat as I swallow.
‘I’ll find somewhere else to stay,’ I start to say, at the same time as she starts to say something I don’t catch, and we both stop abruptly, her eyes darting up to meet mine.
They’re clear blue – the colour of the sky where it meets the sea – and I fix my gaze on them like she’s the horizon.
For some strange reason, it steadies me.
Honestly, I probably hold the eye contact a second longer than is necessary, and her eyes dart down to my mouth before they quickly flick away again.
I’ve never liked making women nervous, but since my change, since I’ve realised the full potential of my threat to them, it’s even worse.
I need to get out of here as soon as I can.
The last thing I want is to upset her. She’s press, after all, if she’s Mina’s colleague, and I could really do without getting on the wrong side of any more journalists.
Her fingers slip around her mug and she lifts it to her mouth, but she doesn’t take a sip, just blows away the steam with a steady breath. My eyes are drawn to the small hollow at the base of her throat, to the creamy skin of her neck, and my pulse kicks up a notch.
I know, I know, it’s not actually my heart beating, not usually, but it feels almost identical – the rush that throbs through me, the ache, the hunger.
I’m getting much more skilled at controlling it these days, but it still gets the better of me a lot of the time, like I’m still more human than not.
No more immune to lust than I was as a mortal.
There’s nothing wrong with indulging in it, usually. If anything, sex helps stave off the bloodlust. It’s all good, just so long as I don’t break the golden rule: never fall for a human. They’re far too messy and needy. I should know – I used to be one.
Normally I lean into this feeling, this spark of attraction. But with Mina’s best friend? That would be the worst idea I’ve ever had.
Ok, maybe the second worst.
‘You can take the sofa for the night,’ Lucy says, after a moment of consideration, shocking me from my less pure train of thought. ‘It’s too late to sort anything else out.’
I slam my mug down on the dining table in indignation and it makes her jump. ‘Absolutely not. You were offered this place before me. I’ll find somewhere else.’
Her eyebrows pull together and I can’t tell if it’s with concern or irritation. ‘It’s after midnight,’ she says, and though her voice is quiet, her eyes stay on mine, unflinching.
She’s not scared of me, or at least it seems she’s not, and it makes me feel a little better about this whole situation. Just not better enough to actually take her up on the offer, however generous it is.
‘I’d go knock on the cottage door right now,’ I say, taking another gulp from my mug, ‘but Peggy has one of those sleep apnoea masks … it’s like white noise, and they both sleep like the dead.
’ One of them technically is dead, but I don’t think now is a good time to mention that.
‘I’m not Cinderella. I’ll sleep on a bench if I have to.
’ Or a cellar, or a graveyard. ‘I’ll go see them in the morning, I’m sure we’ll be able to sort something. ’
Lucy blows out a laugh, hardly more than a breath. ‘You can’t sleep on a bench. You’ll freeze to death.’
No chance of that, I think, but I don’t say it. Instead I shake my head. ‘It’s mild out.’
She considers me a moment, lips pursing into a pout. They’re plump and pink – the same colour as the tea in her mug.
Wait, why am I staring at her lips? Maybe I am a creep.
‘You can stay here,’ she says eventually. ‘It’s fine.’
‘It’s not fine.’ I finish my tea and take the mug to the sink out of habit. I’ll be damned if I’m leaving it for her to do. ‘You don’t know me.’
‘No,’ I hear her say over the sound of running water. ‘But I know Mina and I trust her, and she trusts you.’
I can’t hold back my smile. I’d forgotten my cousin was involved in this.
Mina’s six years younger than me, over a foot shorter, and entirely human, yet she still likes to think of herself as my personal bodyguard.
I don’t need it, of course, but Mina rarely lets facts hold her back.
She’s one of the handful of people I trust with my secret, along with my sister, Peggy and W?adek, the guys from the bar, and Elias.
Not that Elias needed to be told, obviously.
I turn back to face Lucy, propping myself against the kitchen worktop. The annexe is so small that she’s still only about seven feet away.
‘This was Mina’s idea.’ It’s not a question. I already know the answer.
Lucy nods, waves of her hair untucking themselves from behind her ears. She looks almost ethereal: that light blonde hair, the blue of her eyes, the pale cream of her skin. She doesn’t look like she belongs in my world at all. And yet here she is.
‘You don’t have to go along with it,’ I say, and my mouth hitches into a smile again. ‘I won’t tell her.’
She doesn’t react at first, and for a moment I worry that I’ve offended her somehow. Mina will never forgive me. But then she takes a breath and, as if that had reset her, breaks into a huge, beaming smile which makes my breath catch in my throat.
She’s beautiful.
I mean, not that it matters in this situation – we’ve already covered the reasons why she’s a no-go zone – but it’s an unavoidable truth.
And yes, I still breathe, although technically my body doesn’t need to.
Elias says it’s a side effect of the way I choose to live.
The longer it’s been since I ingested human blood, the closer I’ve come to being like my old self.
I breathe, I go out in the sunlight … my heart even beats a little from time to time, though it’s sporadic and I’m not kidding myself that it’s actually doing much pumping. Just a reflex now.
‘Mina’s like family to me,’ she says, adjusting her position on the sofa.
‘And you’re actual family to her. That makes us …
well, not related, exactly, but I still don’t want you to come to any harm.
’ She chuckles, and it sounds the way I imagine angels’ laughter would – soft and melodic. ‘She’ll never forgive me.’
It’s my turn to frown. ‘You’re serious.’
She nods. ‘I would never have offered if I wasn’t. It’s not ideal for either of us, but the mix-up wasn’t your fault either.’ She smiles again, gesturing to the seat underneath her. ‘Sleeping on this sofa will be punishment enough.’
Eh, I’ve slept in worse places.
She’s right, though, even though I still don’t love the idea. It wasn’t my fault any more than it was hers. And it’s only for a night. She’ll be upstairs, and I’ll be downstairs, and as soon as I wake up tomorrow I’ll sort something else.
I blow out a breath – an acceptance. ‘Well, thank you,’ I mutter. I’m not sure what else I can say.
But she just waves me away. ‘Thank Mina. But you’re welcome.’ She yawns, hiding her mouth behind one hand, the pale pink of her sweatshirt pulled over her knuckles. ‘And on that note,’ she says, her face tugging into a sleepy grin. ‘I’m going to go to bed.’
‘Yeah, same,’ I say through a yawn of my own. I hadn’t realised how knackered I was, but now that the tension of the situation has drained away, so has all my energy. This vague, creeping fatigue is another symptom of not actively feeding, but given the alternative, I deal with it.
She smiles awkwardly at me and gathers her things, dropping the mug in the sink before climbing carefully up the stairs. I watch her all the way. Not with any kind of sinister intentions, obviously, I just want to make sure she gets up there ok. It’s a very steep staircase.
But she makes it without incident, and just before she vanishes from sight, I call out, ‘Thanks again for this. I’ll be out of your hair first thing tomorrow. You won’t even know I’m here.’
* * *