by S J Williams
“I doubt she survived much longer after that phone call. When he hung up, he was in a rage. Vampires are known for lashing out in anger and she would have been just within reach.”
Effie glanced up at him. It broke his heart to see there was just a little bit of hope in her eyes.
“I’m not saying it’s what happened, but it is a highly likely possibility.”
She groaned and ran her hands through her hair.
“I hate him.” She said, her fingers clenching into fists at her temples. “I want him gone.”
“You’re not alone there.” He said grimly. “There’s quite a queue if you’d like to join it.”
She shot him a wry smile. “Just so long as somebody gets him. I don’t mind not being the one to pull the trigger.”
“I would infinitely prefer it if you weren’t.” He drawled.
She gave him a shove. “Of course you would.” A pause. “What was your phone call about, yesterday?”
Sebastian coughed, an embarrassed expression crossing his face.
“Ah, yes. An old acquaintance of mine I’d contacted who’s currently on the council. I’d hoped to speed up sending someone to supervise your turn.”
“An old acquaintance? How old? I’m aware that with you, ‘old’ could be misleading.”
“We go back to about the ninth century, give or take.” Sebastian said vaguely.
Effie’s eyebrows raised. “So, not that old then.” She grinned at him. He returned the smile, his teeth slightly clenched.
That put her on high alert. “What is it?”
“I’m not sure how you’re going to take what I’m about to say next.”
“Sounds ominous. Would it help if you said it? I might then be able to tell you how I’m going to take it.”
Now it was his turn to give her a shove. His arm snaked around her shoulder a moment later, hugging her close to him.
“I just remember that you didn’t like her the last time you met, in the fifteenth century.”
“Her?” Some of the puzzle pieces clunked into place. “Would I be right in guessing that she didn’t like me either?”
Sebastian’s arm squeezed her a little tighter. “You would.”
“But she’s not here right now, and there’s no reason why we should meet any time soon.” Effie reasoned. “So why are you worried about her?”
“She wants me to bring you to Paris. Something about wanting to make an occasion of the first immortal to be reborn in centuries.”
Effie pulled a face. That didn’t sound like fun on so many levels.
“I see. And would this be a ‘wouldn’t it be nice if you came to Paris’ suggestion or a ‘come to Paris or else’ suggestion?”
“She might have worded it a bit more pleasantly than that, but it was an order.”
“Hmm.” Effie pulled at her bottom lip. “Sounds like the woman has an instinct for causing trouble.”
“You know,” Sebastian turned her to face him, “you said something along those lines the first time you met her.”
Effie’s mouth opened and closed. “There’s not really anything I can say to that except it’s good to know the woman is consistent.”
Sebastian’s bark of laughter echoed out into the garden.
Catarina’s reaction to the news was gratifying to say the least.
“The old harpy wants what?” She demanded as they all sat around the breakfast table.
“Something along the lines of a soirée, I believe.” Sebastian drawled.
“Good grief.” Catarina sat back with a thump against her chair. “The woman is living in the eighteenth century.”
“If not earlier.” Lucien murmured, his nose in a handful of Effie’s notes he’d brought into the kitchen to study.
“You’d have thought the trial and everything would put people off going to parties,” Catarina continued.
“Perhaps she thought it made a good occasion. After all, how often does she get a chance to hold a we’re-all-going-to-hell-in-a-handcart party?” Henry quipped as he brought a fresh pot of coffee to the table. “I’ll just get your tea.” He said to Effie, who smiled at him in gratitude.
“Is she going to let us deal with the Bartholomew problem first?” She asked the others.
Catarina pulled a face, but it was Sebastian who answered.
“Probably not. She’s given us a rather tight time frame. She wants us in Paris by Friday at the latest.”
Effie stared at him. “But today is Monday. I thought you said she wanted to organise a grand party. Surely that sort of event should take a little longer to get going.”
“It’s possible she wants you to attend a soirée she’s already organising.” Henry suggested, placing her tea in front of her.
“Is organising parties a thing for her?” Effie asked.
Catarina snorted into her espresso. “You could say that. Put it this way, if the world was ending tomorrow, Sonya would throw a party to celebrate.”
“Sonya.” The name was, she realised, vaguely familiar. She couldn’t remember any details but she did have a hazy feeling of dislike, like the memory of a hangover.
Effie had started paying more attention to these vague feelings she kept getting, the more she embedded herself in the world of immortals. Whereas before, she’d dismissed them as figments of her imagination, created more by her desire to belong to this world than any genuine recollection of it, ever since the crystal clear memory of her last moments with Sebastian, she’d started to trust that her mind wasn’t just playing tricks on her. If anything, it was more frustrating to have these tiny glimpses into another life without being able to pin the feelings onto actual memories. Because that was all they were, just feelings, gut reactions that felt more like muscle memory than anything else.
She wanted more.
She wanted to be able to remember the better days with Sebastian. She could tell he had a whole wealth of memories he was keeping back, afraid to share them with her because he didn’t want to upset her. And, despite herself, she was afraid to ask. She couldn’t bear the thought of hearing lots of wonderful things about a woman she couldn’t hope to equal. Even if she was the same woman, would Sebastian find that Effie 2.0 was a huge let down after five hundred years of waiting?
Shoving those haunting thoughts aside, she asked, “Do we have any more leads on what to do about Bartholomew?”
“No.” Henry grimaced. “Well, not when it comes to chasing the man himself. We’ll have a better idea of how easy that will be by tonight, after we’ve had a day of looking for him at the university.”
Effie sat up. “When I was talking to his colleagues earlier, no one mentioned having seen him. Are you sure he’ll be there?”
“Just because they haven’t seen him, doesn’t mean he’s not there.” Catarina said with a frown. “If we know one thing about Bartholomew, he’s very good at keeping under the radar.”
“Tackling the problem from another angle,” Henry continued, “I’ve worked out the extent of Bartholomew’s publicity for the gallery. Fortunately for us, he didn’t get round to doing much. There’s just a website online which, with a bit of work that was less than legal, I’ve managed to take down.”
“Just a website?” Effie frowned at him. “Are you sure that’s all? I’d got the impression when I was working with him that he was contacting all sorts of people about the gallery.”
Henry shrugged.
“Well, if he was, there’s no lasting evidence of that online.”
“That’s a good thing isn’t it?” Catarina asked, looking between them. “It means it will be harder for the general public to find out about the portraits.”
“Yes,” Sebastian said slowly, “but you also have to wonder how Bartholomew was planning to use the portraits to expose immortals. I don’t like it that isn’t clear. It means we’re less able to forestall him.”
“And that’s not to mention Effie’s involvement in this.” Lucien said, looking up from the notes. “W
e have no way of knowing how far he’s brought her into his networking.”
Effie looked from one grim face to the next.
“What do I do?” She asked bleakly.
Lucien sighed, resignation heavy in the lines on his face.
“You disappear.” He said shortly. “You cut all ties with your old life and make sure no one, mortal or immortal, can find you.”
Effie stared at him, her jaw swinging open. Disappear? Where would she go? What would she do? The future yawned like a chasm in front of her.
“You could always take the time to retrain as a classicist.” Sebastian suggested, breaking into her mounting panic a note of mischief in his voice.
Effie glanced at him and felt a smile grow on her face.
“Yes. I could.”
Sebastian put his foot down on Effie’s return to the university. Since Effie showed no inclination to risk a repeat encounter with Bartholomew, he got his way without much of a fight. While Henry, Catarina and Lucien rode off looking like a trio of fresh faced Italian students, Sebastian stayed behind to help Effie start the long process of erasing her mortal life. Mostly, he just watched her, amusing himself with teasing out the curling ends of her hair using his telekinesis.
Effie looked up at him from under one raised eyebrow as a curl stretched out in front of her nose.
“Stop it,” she said, a reluctant smile pulling on her lips. “You’re making it really hard to concentrate.” She returned her gaze to the laptop she’d borrowed from Henry.
Sebastian waited a couple of seconds, then pulled the curl out again, making it linger in front of her face. Effie blew at it and Sebastian let it fly away from her face.
Effie sighed and sat back, staring at the screen with regret in her eyes.
“I think I’ve done all I can for now. I’ve taken down my profile on the university of Durham website so no one will contact me for art history research any more.”
“This doesn’t have to be the end of your career Effie.” Sebastian reminded her, leaning forwards to rest his elbows on the table. “You can always return to art history once the danger of the portraits has passed.”
“Maybe.” Effie agreed, not sounding very convinced. She gave herself a little shake. “About careers. What do you do? Spend all your time hunting vampires?” She turned herself so she was facing him.
Sebastian watched her carefully. He wasn’t sure he’d like where this conversation was going.
“Yes. Essentially. Though we can take long breaks as I have been doing.”
She frowned. “How long?”
“I haven’t been actively hunting vampires for about a decade now.”
She snorted softly. “Practically the equivalent of a long weekend for you.” She frowned again. “So, what have you been doing?”
He sighed, eyes dropping to his hands clasped on the table. “Wasting time? I was doing what I originally told you, on and off.”
“What? Collecting fifteenth century jewellery?”
“Among other items. I was padding out your library. I do that when…”
When missing her became too much. He didn’t say the words out loud. He didn’t want to muddle the view Effie had of him now with what he’d been like then. Looking back at himself now, he felt like he was looking back at a ghost.
He glanced at Effie again. There was a sad knowledge in her eyes. He’d forgotten how hard it was to hide things from her.
“Do you think you’ll go back to hunting vampires?” She asked after a brief but poignant pause.
“Most likely. I’ve already started, haven’t I?”
“I’m not sure personal vendettas count.” She teased him.
“For many of us, hunting vampires is precisely that. We have all lost loved ones to our not so dear cousins.”
“Did you lose anyone else?” Effie asked, looking up at him with concern.
“No. I was fortunate. You were my one and only loss.” Not that he’d felt very fortunate. He’d been considered one of the hardest hit of all the immortals to have lost someone.
“But, what I mean is, after all this is over, whatever that might mean, will you go back to hunting vampires?”
“That depends entirely upon you. I for one would not be averse to a second honeymoon.”
That won him a smile. But it was quickly chased away by one of her thoughtful frowns.
“So, let’s say I want to be a vampire hunter.”
Sebastian sat up. He was right. He definitely didn’t like where this was going.
She blew out a breath, no doubt noticing his hostility to her proposal. “What I’m basically saying is, I want to learn how to fight.”
In the silence that followed her words, Sebastian grappled furiously with himself. He knew teaching her to defend herself was a good idea. Not only that, it was imperative that she learn. She could not be weak in any way if she was to survive immortality. But seeing her throw herself into harm’s way, as he knew she intended to do… How long would it take before he stopped seeing her bloody and unconscious under a pile of screaming men? How long before the ghosts of the smoke and flames that had consumed her would leave his nightmares? Whatever faith he’d had in immortality, he’d lost on that night. Now, every moment he knew she was in danger would be a moment spent in torment.
He came to a decision.
“I will train you to fight on the condition that you wait until you have reached a sufficient level of competency before you actively join the ranks of vampire hunters.”
She screwed up her nose as she considered his terms.
“Deal. But only if someone else, not you, is the one to assess me. I want my ability to hunt vampires to be judged by someone who won’t be finding every excuse they can to keep me back in training.” She raised an eyebrow up at him, daring him to refuse her proviso.
He sighed. “Deal.”
“And no buying out the judge.” She lifted the eyebrow even higher.
He laughed, as he knew he was meant to. “Understood. The judge will be an entirely neutral party. Though, you have to understand, it will be a long while before we get to that stage.”
“Oh, ye of little faith. I could probably pick it up quite quickly. I’ve been keeping myself fit, you know.” She raised one arm and flexed her biceps. He laughed again and leaned over to pinch her muscle.
“Very impressive.” He closed his hand over her upper arm. He could nearly get his fingers all the way around. There was muscle there, but not much.
“Okay, okay. Point taken.” She said grudgingly, shaking her arm to dislodge his grip. But there was humour in her eyes. “So a few years before I take on the big boys. I can still be useful in that time. I might only be an art historian but I know how to hunt down information.”
“Indeed.” He said, standing up and walking round to her side of the table to wrap his arms around her neck and shoulders.
She hummed with pleasure, pressing her cheek to his. Catching her lips with his, he lost himself in her mouth, in her taste, drinking her in.
“You know,” she said breathlessly when they came up for air. “For a man who hasn’t done this for five hundred years, you’re in remarkably good practice.”
“I have an excellent memory and a lot of motivation to brush up on my skills.” He said, giving her wolfish smile.
“Bully for you.” She said comfortably, hugging his arms to her chest. They watched the laptop screen go black, both happy to stay exactly as they were.
“Who was this Sonya to you?” She asked finally.
He struggled to think about the answer to her question, to drag himself away from the peace they’d found.
“I’m not going to lie to you. We were lovers, once, back when we first met. But, you have to believe me. That was over twelve hundred years ago and we have never once renewed that relationship.”
She angled her head to watch him with cautious eyes. “Some people have longer memories than others.”
He nodded. “Sonya has dropped t
he occasional hint.”
She raised one eyebrow. “Quite the catch, aren’t you?”
He gave her a frustrated look. “That wasn’t what I was getting at, and you know it.”
She chuckled, her body vibrating against his again and reminding him of all the others things they could be doing apart from having this conversation.
Stilling again, she watched him, eyes assessing as she considered what he’d said. He held his breath, waiting for her verdict. Had they had this conversation before? He couldn’t remember. And he thought he would remember feeling like he was being judged by the keeper of heaven’s gates.
At long, long last, though it was probably less than a minute, she relaxed against him again.
“I believe you.”
And with those three little words, she made him her slave.
“But all this gives me an extra incentive to learn martial arts.” She continued.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “How so?”
“I have a feeling, by the time Sonya and I meet, I’m going to have a lot of frustration to work out on her and I don’t want to make a fool of myself while I’m at it.”
Sebastian laughed and squeezed her closer to him. She had nothing to worry about. He’d rather carve out his own heart than let her go now.
A buzz from the callbox by the door made them both tense.
Sebastian frowned. “That will be someone at the gate.” Throwing his energy outwards, Sebastian scanned the entrance.
“Ah. It looks like we have a delivery.” He said, relaxing. He went to the phone by the front door, Effie trailing him. In rapid Italian, he instructed the courier to post the parcel through a letter box to the side of the gate.
“Shall we go and see what it is?” Effie asked when he put down the phone.
“No need.” He told her with a sly grin. Behind him, the door opened and a small post bag flew in. Sebastian enjoyed the look of utter astonishment on Effie’s face.
“Wow.” She said as the bag landed neatly into her hands. “You really do come in handy.”
“Are you going to open it?” He asked, when she just stared at the parcel.
“What?” She jumped slightly then blushed. “Oh, yes, of course.”