Chapter Twenty-Three
Theo watched over his laptop as Verity cocked a hip and waved the bread he’d brought.
After her lecture on the importance of breakfast, he’d made sure he had something for her, and she swore she’d be happy with toast, insisting she didn’t need anything fancy.
However, the look on her face told him she was waiting for something, and he had no idea what.
“You don’t like sourdough?” he asked.
“No, sweetie, I love sourdough. I love it with eggs and bacon, or jam… or even just a bit of butter…” she said, plonking the bread on the counter in front of him with a smirk.
Fuck. He hadn’t brought butter.
“I’ll go to the shop,” he said, jumping up from the stool.
“Don’t,” she laughed. “I’ll go, you focus on getting to the end of the register.”
He wanted to protest but within seconds she dipped into the spare room and emerged with knee-high boots and a jacket.
“I won’t be long,” she said, pulling the boots up and Theo didn’t bother hiding the way he watched her. Not the most graceful creature, as she bounced on one foot, forcing her other into a boot, but gods she was adorable. The look of frustration, the way she scowled when she noticed him watching.
“I’m taking your keys,” she said, grabbing them from the table by the door. She blew him a kiss and was gone.
He watched the door for a moment. Why didn’t he get butter? Was she supposed to eat dry toast? Idiot.
Rubbing his eyes, he turned back to his laptop.
After their little heart-to-heart last night Theo showed Verity the donor register, the fake files and missing people.
A major breach of confidentiality but a wise man knows when he needs help.
Theo, however, had sailed straight past the point of needing help; he needed a damn miracle.
And that miracle was called Verity.
Nudging him out of the way, she’d searched through files, opened windows and tabs and scanned over documents, faster than Theo could keep up with. He couldn’t find sense in her frantic clicking until she declared that she’d got it. He could have kicked himself for not seeing it.
The relationships tab. Theo hadn’t thought it important, thought it a little ridiculous that donors‘ background searches went that deep, and he was right. They didn’t go that deep.
Every single donor, real and fake, had one of the same eight profiles for past relationships.
It was pretty lazy really, sometimes a new name would be thrown in, or five years would become seven, but on the whole, it was word for word. Copy, paste. Copy, paste.
Until the last line, the pattern so basic it was laughable.
In a relationship: real donor.
Single: fake donor.
Long distance relationship: missing.
With that formula in mind finding the truth behind the numbers became far easier.
Once he’d convinced Verity to go to bed, Theo had sat in his room powering through the register until he struggled to keep his eyes open.
Thankfully, the number of fake donors tapered off, but there were another three missing donors, taking the total to twelve.
Twelve missing people, in Ashhaven alone, and no one looking for them.
Well, that ended tonight.
After flicking through the final registered donors, another fourteen real and three fake, Theo had a comprehensive list of exactly how many donors the Exchange really had, and exactly who was missing.
Footsteps sounded, approaching the door, followed by a sweet voice.
“… I don’t know… No… no, Dad, we’re about to have breakfast, I’ll call later…”
A key jingled in the lock - the wrong key - and Theo headed for the door to let Verity in a moment before she found the right one and the door swung open. She smiled up at him, brighter than the sun, as the man, her father, argued on the phone trapped between her ear and shoulder.
“We just want to know where you are, love. We’re worried…”
Theo took the shopping bag and turned, trying to give Verity some privacy. No doubt she was well aware he could hear every word, but he tried all the same.
“Honestly, Dad,” she said, trying to pull her boots off without dropping the phone. “He works all week. We just want a quiet night in.”
“I don’t want you getting the bus. If you want to come home…”
Theo set the shopping bag on the side and rummaged through the contents, far more than just butter.
“If I want to come home,” she said, “he’ll probably insist on driving me anyway.”
True. There was no way Verity was travelling on the bus, not after last night. If one of those protesters recognised her, if she were alone… not happening.
“Well, you call me anyway. And text your mum back.”
She sighed and Theo could almost hear her eyes rolling. “Will do, love you.”
“I love you too.”
He hated that her parents were worried about her, that the situation warranted it. Would they worry more or less if they knew where she was? Who she was with?
More, he thought, definitely more.
Verity hung up before joining Theo, striding through the living area to take a seat at the island and examining the list.
“You’re done?” she asked.
“All done. What’s this?” He held up a green… fruit? Vegetable? Whatever it was it had a thick bumpy skin and didn’t look particularly appetising.
“You’ve never had avocado?” She jumped down and pushed him out of the way with a pop of her hip. “Sit, I’m making you some too.”
He wanted to argue, wanted to grab her chin and tell her not to boss him about.
But if he did that, he’d lean into her, he’d press his body to hers, stealing her warmth, her breaths.
He’d try to wring another moan from her, that sound on her lips last night, when his teeth had threatened to mar that perfect neck.
It had been a struggle to hold back, and Phoenar save him, he wished she’d stop asking him to bite her neck. He ached for it. To sink his fangs in deep, her sweetness on his tongue, as his hands roamed every inch, every curve.
“I said sit,” she said again, herding him back to his seat.
He wanted to argue, but in truth he kind of liked her bossing him about.
So, he sat, watching as she fried eggs and cut open the avocado, removing the huge stone and scooping the flesh into a bowl as if she'd done it a thousand times before.
“You said that Harris wanted to lower the age of donation?” Verity asked as she cooked.
“Yeah, and get rid of the upper limit.”
She hummed. “I don’t think it would look good, asking pensioners to donate.”
“And you think asking children to donate would look better?”
“Well, no,” she said, pulling toast from the grill. “But lowering the age from twenty-one to twenty could make a difference.”
“I don’t think it would be enough. We need hundreds to make up the numbers, there just aren’t enough residents that age.”
“Then don’t go after residents,” she said, pushing a plate in front of him and taking the stool at his side. Theo had never been one for breakfast, but the toast piled with avocado and eggs did look good.
“And how do you suppose we get non-residents to join the Ashhaven Exchange?” he asked.
“Easy. Advertise at the uni.”
Theo thought for a moment. The university wasn’t the most esteemed in Havenshire, nor was it the biggest, but with around nine thousand students if just a fraction were willing to donate, they would be saved.
Other than the fact their parents would go crazy, accusing them of exploiting their children, it wasn’t a bad idea.
“What about safeguarding the donors?” he asked. “I worry about people donating that young at the best of times, but in light of recent events…”
The list sat watching from his laptop. People missing, taken advantage of.
He’d seen it over and over, humans being sold a fairytale.
Seduced and used until they had no more left to give and were cast aside.
Forgotten. Only in the moment of abandonment do humans truly realise how vulnerable they are.
Just because there weren’t more missing people, didn’t mean there weren’t more victims.
More people he’d failed.
“Make it supervised,” Verity said, waving a fork in the air. “You could consider making it younger, but under twenty-ones have to be supervised in a public place. I’m sure they can find somewhere at the uni for it.”
She watched him consider it, waiting for a verdict.
“That would help,” he said. “Actually, what if they don’t have set clients?”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Well, we’re talking about students so full-time donation is out of the question, especially at their age. They stick to the part-time system, donating every two weeks but we treat it like a donor pool. One for each blood type, vampires don’t book a specific donor, just someone from the pool.”
It would make donations less personal. Stop inappropriate relationships forming.
Inappropriate relationships. He was a fine one to talk.
“That would work?” she asked.
“We could make it work.”
They finished breakfast in a comfortable silence, both mulling over the start of a plan. Theo found that he quite liked avocado, the creaminess paired with velvet yolks and crisp toast was surprisingly enjoyable.
He cleared the plates, washing up as Verity started examining the documents from Harris. The idea of collaborating with the other vampire filled him with dread, but being the Vital Exchange Director Theo had no choice but to discuss the university idea with him.
“Did he say how he got all this?” she asked, pawing through the reports from Stonehaven.
“No. He refused. It’s the whole reason I haven’t looked into it sooner. He could have written them himself for all I know.”
Her brows knitted, biting her lip with a sigh.
“What is it?” he asked.
“The problem is bigger than just missing donors. Bolstering the numbers doesn’t fix anything if someone is fudging the reports. We know this goes higher, protecting vampires.” She rubbed her face. “If we had solid proof, told people the truth…”
“Verity…” he warned.
“I know. Don’t worry, I know. I lost everything once for telling everyone the truth; we need to be more careful this time.”
“You can’t just write an article and tell people, there’d be an uproar.”
“There should be an uproar,” she argued.
“I know, but it can’t be at the detriment of the Exchange.”
If everyone knew what was happening then no one would donate, then the Exchange really would collapse.
“I agree,” she said. “But if we can verify these documents, if we had solid proof that people are missing then at least, we can look for them. Investigate what happened.”
The look on Verity’s face, when she told him about her missing friend wasn’t an image he could easily forget. Looking for missing people was reasonable, necessary, but it needed to be done in such a way that it didn’t incriminate the Exchange.
“We still need proof,” he said. “If we start talking to families and someone notices…”
“I have another idea.”
Verity pulled her phone out, flicking through contacts.
“No journalists,” he said, giving her a look that he hoped belied his seriousness.
“Yes, journalists,” she countered. “But first, I know someone who works for the Stonehaven Council. If she can confirm everything... then we take just one missing person to the papers, maybe two...”
“That might spook whoever’s covering it up. The papers might not report it anyway.”
“Good, they should be spooked,” she said, tapping a contact and hopping from her seat.
Theo didn’t like this. He didn’t like this one bit. They needed to be careful. Once the papers caught wind of this, it would be out of their control, and if Theo hated one thing, it was not having control.
Reckless. She was being reckless again.
He strode over, about to grab the phone from her when a male voice answered.
“Hello?”
“Hello,” Verity sang. “Is Cecilia there?”
“Who’s asking?” the man asked, sounding put out at the simple request.
“It’s Verity…”
“Harper?” he asked. A muffled female voice spoke in the background, asking who he was talking to.
“Yes.” Verity looked up at Theo, as he made no effort to hide the fact he was listening. The look on her face told him she already knew how this was about to go.
“You’ve got some fucking nerve. No, she isn’t here and if you call again, I’ll be making some calls of my own.”
The line went dead.
“Fucking dick,” she muttered.
“Who was that?”
“Cecilia’s wanker of a fiancé. Don’t know what she sees in him,” she said, as if that explained it.
“And Cecilia is...?”
“Cecilia was the whistleblower for the article.”
“The article?” he asked.
“Yeah. Only her family’s minted, so when I got fucked over, she got a new fancy job working for human relations at Stonehaven.” She scoffed. “I was made out to be some sort of traitor, but she managed to spin it as a good thing.”
Another injustice to add to the list.
She stared at her phone, pouting as if waiting for it to ring.
“I doubt she’d have access to what we need,” he said, taking her hand. “It was worth a try though.”
“I’m gonna text her.” She started typing and Theo resisted the urge to remind her to text her mum while she was at it. Her dad had asked her too and he knew she’d forgotten. Would that be helpful or overbearing?
“I’m going to call the police chief about your friend,” he said, heading to his home office.
“At least it’s a start,” she grumbled.