Chapter 4
JAMES
“The hell is that? It looks like an old railway carriage.” It wasn’t the weirdest thing that had happened to me this week, or even today, considering my companion’s thrall-laden approach to hitchhiking all the way from Leeds in the dead of night, but it was dark, I was travel-weary, and in need of a shower and some grub.
I really didn’t want a detour to see some old heap of train nostalgia, even if the courtyard we were standing in front of was kind of cute in a low-brick-walls-and-flowerbeds kind of way.
Edwin made a hmmph sound, like he wasn’t happy I was dissing the place.
“That’s my home. And it is an old railway carriage.
The tenants I got rid of a few years back weren’t great at even basic DIY so she’s looking a bit sad right now.
Don’t worry, it’s sound inside. Come on.
” He hefted my suitcase — which had wheels, thank you very much, I’m not some old-school weirdo — as if it was made of feathers, and headed down the path to a low gate and an honest-to-God white picket fence that surrounded the carriage.
I took another glance around, because I’d fallen asleep in the last car and only had Edwin’s word for it I was actually in London, picked up my assortment of carrier bags, and followed him.
Inside, it was in much better shape than the exterior suggested.
Edwin locked the door behind me and indicated I should drop my bags in the corner by my case.
He held up a finger for me to stay put, then strode down the narrow corridor that ran the full length of the carriage.
He opened a door, shoved his bag inside, then returned to me, looking thoughtful.
“You’ll need food, won’t you? I’m not very good at humans apart from booze. And, what, tea? Do you really all still drink tea like it’s going out of fashion?”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Bad enough I now knew vampires were a reality and not the fever dreams of sexually-repressed Mormons, but it was a Bad Idea, capital letters, to annoy one.
I still wasn’t sure if I’d escaped one horrific situation only to put myself in the path of another speeding train.
Ha, a very apt analogy considering my new home.
I said, quietly, because Edwin has ears like a fucking bat — no, vampires don’t change into them, sadly —, “I like tea, and yeah, I could eat.”
“But do you need to?” he insisted.
I nodded. “Please. Being hungry makes me cold and sleepy. And,” I added in a moment of inspiration, “I might not be able to feed you if I don’t eat properly.”
Edwin sighed. “Baxter said I’d be shit at this. I don’t want to prove her right. What do you need?”
I blinked at him. “For tonight? I dunno, anything.”
“No, James, not just tonight. You know I sleep during the day?” I nodded again.
“Well, I presume you’ll need breakfast, lunch…
and an evening meal too? That’s normal human behaviour, isn’t it?
How come I don’t remember this stuff? I’m younger than anyone I know except that damned wolf.
” He blew out a breath I knew he didn’t need — vampires don’t need to breathe at all — and gave me a determined look.
“There’s some shops around here somewhere.
I don’t use them, but we’re bound to find some food if we look, right? ”
“That would work. Even garages sell snacks,” I pointed out, trying to be helpful.
Now I was here, I was keen to prove myself.
Last thing I wanted was to piss him off so I ended up homeless in a place I didn’t know.
My shared flat back in Leeds had been a shithole, but it was familiar, as was the area. London was not.
We ended up at a small independent supermarket which seemed expensive to me, but Edwin didn’t care.
He was weirdly enthusiastic about adding items to a basket, although he did pull a face at blue-topped milk.
But I like that creamy shit and it’s not like I’m bursting out of my clothes right now.
We walked back together, him carting all the bags although I told him I wasn’t some weakling who needed help.
He ushered me through to his kitchen, the second room along from the front door, telling me to put everything where it seemed the most logical. It was then I noticed a problem.
I forced my mind away from a few packets of what looked like blood at the back of his otherwise empty fridge, hoping he wasn’t going to be mad at me.
He’d been friendly enough, seeming to regard me as some kind of new pet, which I suppose I was, but my first impression of him had been that he was a bit of a dick.
I wasn’t yet sure enough to know how quickly his moods might change.
Hell, I still wasn’t sure what had possessed me to sign up for this shadow/blood slave lark.
I assumed temporary insanity after that C-C…
No, it was no good, I could barely think his name, even though I knew he no longer had any power over me.
I’d call him the Fucker With No Name. The vampire who conned me into going home with him then took me prisoner and hurt—
Yeah, not going there either. The human brain has an amazing ability to block out stuff it can’t deal with.
I was a past master at that. The FWNN had probably added a few years’ worth of therapy I’d never be able to afford to my already bulging cupboard of rattling scary shit, but whatever, putting some distance between me and my home town had seemed like a plan.
And, for some weird reason, Edwin seemed to like me.
After that first hour when he’d been a twat, he’d somehow been the one I felt I could trust, even more than Sorley, although I liked him a lot too.
I was glad he was free of the FWNN as well.
Anyway, enough about that. The kitchen problem remained. I chewed my lip, then decided I had to tell him.
“Um, Edwin?”
He was beside me in an instant, his brow furrowed. “Problem?” Jeez, was I ever going to get used to his awesome hearing and the way he could sneak up on me?
“You don’t seem to own any plates.” I paused. “Or bowls, or anything but teaspoons in the cutlery drawer. You, uh, don’t have a kettle.”
We stared at each other for a few beats. It’s fucking creepy how still vampires stand when they’re not pretending to be human. Then he laughed, rich and warm.
“I am so bad at this. I do have a small saucepan. And a couple of mugs. For tea, right?” I’d seen the saucepan and eyed it cautiously; it looked like it belonged in a museum even though it was blessedly clean.
He was talking again. “Do you like pizza? Everyone on television gets takeaway pizza, right?” He sounded unsure of himself, like maybe he shouldn’t assume TV was realistic. It suddenly made me less afraid of him.
“I love pizza.”
“Thank fuck. Come and tell me what you want.” He thumbed his phone open, fingers flying at unnatural speed over the keyboard, then crooked a finger at me. “Closer. I don’t bite.” A fangy grin. “Well, I do, but not when you need to feed.”
“Eat,” I corrected him, resisting the urge to adjust myself.
He smelled too good, and when he flashed those bitey sex darts in my direction, I swear I lost a few brain cells every time.
He was so fucking hot. Another point in his favour though, more than being impossibly attractive, was how he hadn’t laughed at me for having been such a monumental idiot I’d let na?vety and an unhealthy dose of fear prevent me from learning the correct terms about certain aspects of my sexuality.
He’d looked stunned, but he hadn’t so much as cracked a smile while he explained.
I, however, still had the urge to throw myself in the sea when I recalled how embarrassed I’d been.
The fact I’d genuinely thought you were only gay if you bottomed was going to mortify me until my dying day. What a fuckwit.
He ordered pizza and cheesy garlic bread, because I must have given myself away by drooling when I looked at the menu, plus a litre of cola. “We can buy you crockery tomorrow,” he promised. “Do you want to put your stuff away while we wait for your pizza to arrive?”
“Can I see the rest of the place?” I countered.
It was strange how this tiny kitchen felt like a kitchen rather than a train carriage, except for the shape of the window — it was covered with a heavy dark blind but I’d peeked behind it — and the curve of the ceiling.
I was rapidly becoming more interested now it was to be my home. Or, I hoped it was.
The living room furniture was a little old-fashioned, but it had a decent-sized TV on the opposite wall, a small desk and chair, plus a couple of bookcases, as well as a couch and a large armchair.
It had heavy floor to-ceiling-curtains across the far wall.
I had the feeling there would be blinds behind them too.
I was learning quickly how seriously vampires took fending off the daylight.
So, living room, kitchen, bathroom with a shower, and then,
“It’s a bit on the small side and there’s not anywhere to hang stuff up,” Edwin said apologetically, gesturing at the slimline shelving unit running alongside the bed, which was narrower than a standard double, “but you can use the overhead storage too. That’s original,” he told me, sounding proud of the fact.
“I never planned on a permanent guest, but I’m sure I can find you some more space if you need it.
” The foot of the bed was inches from the door, meaning you had to practically shuffle in sideways, but the blue and brown room was spotlessly clean, even if the storage racks appeared to be made of old rope netting.
I could deal with anything right now, even a miniature bedroom straight out of a vintage film. Except…