Vampire Innocent (Book 9): An Introduction To Paranormal Diplomacy

by Cox, Matthew S.

  Worse, Sophia’s hip-deep in this mess next to me.

  I really don’t have much choice other than to play meek and hope for a little sympathy. Maybe being an Innocent will help me out there. We’re awesome at projecting harmlessness. Don’t want to overdo it though and come off as fake.

  “Okay… but I really don’t have any idea where he is, what he looks like, or pretty much anything about London.”

  “No worries, luv.” Kallen grins. “You fly?”

  “Probably not, seein’ as how she’s on ’er way ta Heathrow,” says Joan.

  “I can fly, yeah… but not across the whole Atlantic Ocean with a passenger. It’s almost 4,800 miles—yes, I looked it up before we left the hotel room. As fast as I can fly, it would take like thirty hours. Sunrise would probably catch me in the air over the ocean, assuming I didn’t get lost on the way. Hard to navigate when there’s nothing but water to the horizon in every direction.”

  “Aye, pain in the arse ’tis.” Kallen floats a few inches off the ground. “Follow us then.”

  Sophia whimpers.

  “It’s okay. Just a formality.” I pull her on like a backpack, holding her forearms against my chest.

  Meredith and Joan leap into the air. Kallen waits for me, so I launch myself after them.

  Nothing about going with them feels reassuring. There’s a reason I never went to certain parties during high school. These three all look like older versions of the seniors who’d be hanging out drinking, getting into fights, maybe breaking into places for the laughs. Could be, I’m judging too much by their clothes. They didn’t talk like thugs.

  Sigh.

  Guess I’ll find out soon how big a mistake following them is.

  12

  A Matter of International Vampire Etiquette

  Meredith takes the lead once we’ve climbed up to a couple hundred feet.

  Klepto’s burrowed under my shirt, wedged between Sophia’s chest and my back. Ouch, but no big deal. Her claws are tiny. I heal fast. Kallen flies behind and above us, probably on guard for me trying to run away. Meredith starts off pulling way ahead, notices she’s losing me, and circles back, flying upside down right under me.

  “Why ya goin’ so slow?”

  “I’m flying as fast as I can.”

  “Really?” She blinks. “Oy. American vamps must be diluted. Poor thing. Ahh well.”

  She rolls over so she’s facing down at the ground again, then pulls out in front of me before I can reply, matches my speed, and keeps going. According to the GPS app on my phone, my top speed is approximately 140 miles an hour. I can squeeze out a little more in a dive or if I’m emotional enough (extreme fear, anger, or joy—for example, if Dad tells me they’re making a second season of Firefly).

  Our flight doesn’t take too long, maybe six minutes, before she dives toward a building surrounded by manicured grass. I’m not letting go of Sophia’s arms to pull my phone out and check a map. Looks like we’re heading for a stuffy old four-story manor house. Ugh. I’d worry about making a bad impression due to my ordinary top, jeans, and sneakers, but my three escorts aren’t exactly rocking formal wear.

  Meredith lands in a paved circle by a fountain not far from the main entrance. I alight next to her and let Sophia slip down to her feet, but keep a firm grip on her hand. Kallen flies right to the door, opening it and waiting for us. Joan comes in behind me like a security guard. Yeah, this doesn’t feel too welcoming.

  Nothing’s waving any giant red danger flags, so I follow Meredith up the steps and inside. The place feels more like a grand hotel than a private residence. Mortal servants scurry about trying not to make eye contact with us. A few give me pitying looks, their thoughts revealing they think Sophia and I are being brought here as food. They don’t recognize me as a vampire and seem surprised at Sophia’s presence. Good thing. Suppose it means Corley doesn’t make a habit of feeding on children.

  Not a bad quality to have in a vampire king.

  Meredith leads us upstairs to the second floor, then strolls to the left down a large hallway carpeted in red, paintings of landscapes on both sides, stopping at an ornate pair of double doors at the end.

  For some stupid reason, I’m expecting these three to bring me into a room where some big, imposing dude sits on a throne frowning at a court full of socialites. It shouldn’t surprise me to not see such an obviously melodramatic scene, but it does anyway.

  The room ahead of us reminds me of going to the Boeing Christmas party with my parents in years past, only without the festive decorations or lame karaoke turned up so loud it hurts. Somewhere between eighty and a hundred people stand or sit around in small conversation clusters. Their attire ranges from punk—like my escorts—to expensive evening gowns or suits. I’m not getting the same vibe from this as the soirees back home Aurélie brings me to. This feels more like a ‘happens every night, attend as often as you wish’ situation.

  The sight of ninety-ish vampires in the same room gives me pause. I sincerely hope this is the majority of them in the area. Or maybe not. Fairly sure the population of London and its surroundings is a little higher than Seattle.

  My new ‘friends’ bring me to the inner left corner of the room, where a group of well-dressed people have gathered around a pale, silver-haired man in a dark suit. His face doesn’t look quite old enough for grey hair, but I’d guess him a little older than Dad, who’s forty-six. The man radiates a quiet, imposing presence more like a no-nonsense CEO than a literal king. It’s pretty clear he’s Mr. Corley given the way everyone close to him is throwing off serious bootlicker body language. One of the women keeps calling him ‘Peter,’ which he doesn’t appear to mind, but every time she says it, all the others cringe.

  Meredith, Kallen, and Joan stand close to me, making no move to approach closer. We’ve stopped at an uncomfortable distance for conversation, far enough to encourage raising my voice were I to speak. The hint is obvious… stay quiet and wait to be noticed. See, being around Aurélie has taught me something.

  Corley and those around him appear to be discussing something political about the Middle East and its effect on the stock market here. I neither understand stock markets, nor care to… and the din of other conversations provides enough interference for me to deliberately avoid eavesdropping. It’s unclear if I’m being tested or simply ignored for some predetermined time all who wish to speak with Corley are forced to wait through. Either way, no point in causing a scene. I’m a foreigner here in a land basically without a consulate. Whatever happens to me—and Sophia—tonight is going to be based entirely on me, not on vampires maneuvering around Aurélie’s influence or pissed off at Dalton.

  Yeah. No pressure, right?

  A mild eruption of laughter comes from those around Corley. Seems he cracked a joke. Hopefully not at my expense, though even if it is, I’m in no position to protest. A few minutes later, he looks at us. The man has to have some manner of radiant power like Aurélie, only it’s not making me think of him as the most handsome thing on the planet… more like he’s the principal and I’ve been caught with a locker full of weed. Hey, I haven’t been out of high school for a full year yet. So what if I keep comparing stuff to school? It’s my only real frame of reference. Geez. Okay, looking at him makes me feel like a level one character being brought before the archmage? There? Happy? Nothing to do with school.

  Anyway, as he moves closer, I realize he’s larger than I thought. Under the expensive suit is a body of a retired soldier who still hits the gym four times a week. He’s no musclebound monster, but the man’s definitely not a pencil-pusher.

  Meredith, Kallen, and Joan all bow their heads in a brief show of respect.

  I do the same.

  Sophia edges behind me.

  “Mew,” says Klepto, thoroughly unimpressed.

  The initial ‘oh, there’s the miscreant’ expression he gives me eases off to neutral in a few seconds, then a sort of confused interest. He walks right up to me, which catches me of
f guard. Everything I’m reading about this place and this man so far makes it seem like he really would prefer to be on a throne up above the common vampires.

  “You must be the new arrival,” says Corley. “Younger than I thought. Tell me, why have you chosen to disregard our customs?”

  “No disrespect intended, Mr. Corley,” I say. “I’m unfamiliar with the traditions here because I’m from America. We didn’t even intend to be here. Mystics ambushed us. One moment, we’re at home. The next, we’re in London with only a little time before sunrise. Someone I know back home did mention Europe has some differences, but being dragged across the world kinda freaked me out. Didn’t think about it as much as trying to get to the airport so we could go home.”

  He narrows his eyes for a second or two before widening them back to normal. “Interesting. Brought here against your will and not intending to remain.”

  “Yes, sir. If I really understood how important it was to present myself to you, I would have.”

  “I see.” Mr. Corley folds his arms, tapping his fingers on his elbow. “Has America descended to such depravity? Tell me, child. How old were you at the time of your Transference?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “I find that difficult to believe, yet you do not seem to be trying to deceive me.”

  “I’m an Innocent. The Transference shaved a couple years off my face. Everyone mistakes me for a kid.”

  “Innocent, you say…” He raises both eyebrows. “And yet you do not seem… mentally affected.”

  Say what? I pause, looking at him for a few seconds before catching myself acting too informal. “Umm. Thanks?”

  “Tell ya later,” whispers Meredith.

  Mr. Corley gestures at me. “I understand the reasons you did not keep the tradition, and they are understandable. The lax education in proper tradition is America’s fault, not yours. Nor, did you intentionally enter my city.”

  Whew.

  “However…”

  Crap.

  “While I do not consider your failure to appear an affront or insult, tradition must be maintained. As such, you will need to perform a minor service as a gesture of respect.”

  Oh, please be a simple fetch quest.

  Mr. Corley pauses, quirking an eyebrow.

  Uh oh. He’s old enough to hear my thoughts. Umm… sorry. A fetch quest is a video game thing. Means an easy ‘go here and do something’ job.

  He chuckles. “Ahh, yes. I believe the task I had in mind for you meets the definition. There is another in the city who defies tradition wantonly. He is an annoyance who’s been pestering us for some time. I charge you to eliminate the threat of the werewolf known as Ronald Haddon.”

  Sophia gasps.

  Corley’s entourage all seem to notice my sister at the same time. About a third of them react as if they’d spotted a stray kitten on the street. A handful look at her like a fancy, expensive chocolate treat.

  I gawk. “W-werewolf?”

  “Yes. Is that a problem?” asks Mr. Corley.

  Refusing his task feels about as smart as making fun of a Mafia don’s ugly daughter, right in front of him. Sending me to kill a werewolf—holy crap, they’re real, too?—sounds an awful lot like a fancy way of sentencing me to destruction for breaking rules. The guy’s impossible to read… and he’s probably listening in on my every thought.

  “I, well… haven’t been a vampire long, and never even saw a werewolf before. Wouldn’t he tear me to pieces? Besides, I don’t like to randomly kill people.”

  “Says the girl with a little kid thrall,” mutters Meredith.

  “Oh…” I glance at her. “Sophia’s not my thrall. She’s my actual sister.”

  Corley raises both eyebrows.

  “What?” Joan grasps Sophia’s left wrist and lifts her arm up to her face.

  Sophia’s eyes widen into veritable platters, but she doesn’t move or make a sound.

  I tense. Don’t care. If she bites my kid sister, I’m going to do something severely stupid.

  The woman merely sniffs her hand. “This child is mortal.”

  “Yeah. Like I said, she’s my actual sister. I’ve only been a vampire for six months.”

  “Aww, she hasn’t peeled off the little sticky things yet.” Meredith lets go of Sophia’s wrist.

  My sister’s attempt to emit a ‘whew’ of relief too quiet to hear fails. Several vampires near us chuckle.

  “What are you babbling about?” Kallen squints at her.

  Meredith waves randomly. “You know how when ya get some new electronic bits, they always have them plastic films on? The ones ya try ta leave there to stop scratches, but always cave in and peel off after an hour?”

  “Kinell, ya start makin’ sense someday, girl.” He chuckles.

  “I’m sayin’ she’s new, ya oaf.” Meredith slugs him in the shoulder.

  “For what reason is your mortal sibling with you, much less aware of the existence of vampires?” asks Mr. Corley.

  Uh oh. Cheesy, innocent smile time. “Do you want the long version or the short version?”

  “The version which offers me enough information.”

  “Right…” I take an unnecessary breath in search of calm. “My ex-boyfriend stabbed me to death when I tried to break up with him, but a vampire named Dalton had been stalking me for a blood meal. He thought I was younger than I am, and didn’t want to watch a kid die, so he gave me the Transference to save me. The police showed up before he finished killing my ex, so they got me to the morgue. I woke up alone, freaked out, and couldn’t stand the guilt at what my death would do to my family, so I went home.”

  Most of the vampires in earshot laugh like they watched a two-year-old pick up a blob of mud and try to eat it. Finding me cute, moronic, and nauseating all at once. Yeah… a vampire going home to their mortal family, to them, is probably about as stupid as a toddler eating mud.

  “It works. My family is on board with the whole ‘don’t talk about it’ thing.”

  Mr. Corley raises one eyebrow. “I am curious as to why these mystics would go to the trouble of bringing you here.”

  “It’s not me they wanted. Soph broke a soul jar and let a bad ghost loose. They want her to destroy it.” I grimace. “Magic doesn’t make any sense to me. Somehow, because she broke it, they say she’s got extra power over the spirit.”

  Murmurs drift among the vampires close enough to hear us.

  “Mr. Corley,” I say, in as respectful a tone as possible, “I’m sorry I entered your territory without announcing myself. I didn’t know it was required. My sister and I were kidnapped through a magical portal. Kallen, Meredith, and Joan found me while we were on the way to the airport.”

  He raises a hand to stall the rest of my sad attempt to weasel out of his task.

  “I understand you are new, unaccustomed to our ways, and here against your will. These are reasons I am not angry with you. But, our rules are not to be cast aside. A token gesture of atonement is needed. For this, I have decided you will deal with the werewolf Ronald Haddon. Ensure he no longer presents as a nuisance. This werewolf kills wantonly, including children.”

  Sophia squeezes me.

  I cringe. Yeah, sure. Hit me where it hurts. “Can I ask a stupid question?”

  He nods once.

  “If he’s such a danger or pest for so long, why haven’t any of the older vampires around here dealt with him?”

  “A valid question.” Mr. Corley smiles. “Delicate politics. We have treaties in place with his kind. Killing him would create a disturbance in the balance more severe than his presence. You are not one of us, which affords us the necessary leeway to preserve our arrangements.”

  Hmm. I could always forget the werewolf and run home. Not like I ever plan on returning to London. But… agreeing to this task and skating is sure to tick Mr. Corley off way more than a minor faux pas of etiquette. I seriously had no idea about the show up and say hello rule. Running off would be a deliberate middle finger to the guy
. Besides, they know Sophia’s mortal. Easy for them to threaten her to get me to do whatever they want, and they haven’t gone there. I’m much better off making allies—or at least keeping them neutral—than creating enemies. The last thing I need is another LA vampire situation. My life is complicated enough without a steady stream of London undead showing up in Cottage Lake trying to rip my head off.

  How dangerous can a werewolf be?

  “You will deal with this threat, then?” asks Mr. Corley.

  Nice of him to wait for me to stop arguing with myself.

  “Yes, sir. I’ll do it.”

  13

  Were in the World

  Problem, thy name is little sister.

  No, Sophia isn’t a problem in and of herself. But I am now in a completely untenable situation. Do I bring her with me to kill a werewolf? Do I leave her here with a hundred vampires—some of whom are looking at her like a Godiva treat? The mystics wouldn’t hurt her, but leaving her alone with them would certainly result in her agreeing to help them, and getting herself hurt or killed in the process. Can’t leave her randomly on the street somewhere. Pretty sure no one operates boarding kennels for little siblings.

  Dammit.

  “So,” whispers Meredith after Corley goes back to his entourage. “If you’re wondering why he made the comment about mental damage… there’s an Innocent here who’s not right in the head.”

  I raise both eyebrows. “One Innocent being not right in the head makes him think we’re all the same?”

  “Aye, seems.” Meredith shrugs. “There’s only one of them in all o’ London.”

  “Technically two now.” Joan indicates me.

  Sophia squeezes my arm. “What’s gonna happen?”

  “Still working things out. A werewolf can’t be worse than a giant troll, can it?”

  “Come again, luv?” asks Kallen. “Did you say troll?”

  “Yeah. Long story. My life is weird.”