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

by Cox, Matthew S.

  Brightness makes it difficult to see clearly past about a hundred feet. Everything washes out to a nuclear glowing haze. It’s tempting to detour to a shop and grab a hoodie, but Sophia’s more important than my comfort.

  I’m not prepared for the distance… it feels like we walk for hours before Klepto emits a faint growl and jabs her little paw at a gate. Jaw clenched, I look up from the sidewalk and take in my surroundings. My eyes involuntarily water at the pain of sunlight—it’s like I’ve been given those annoying damn eye drops at the doctor’s office, and my pupils have dilated all the way, making light hurt my eyes. Seems the kitten has led me to the outskirts of London, the start of open land and large estates or fields.

  The gate Klepto’s growling at blocks a long driveway lined with trees leading up to a sizable manor house surrounded by fields and forest. It’s not massive but still enough land for whoever lives here to have stables and probably a few horses.

  “Sophia’s in there?”

  Tribble.

  “Okay, hang on. I’m going to have to climb this wall.”

  “Mew,” says Klepto.

  I swear her eyes light up for a second. The motorized gate kicks on, opening. Wow. I have a universal garage door kitten. She purrs when I kiss her atop the head. Once inside the gate, I head for the trees, trying to stay out of sight by hiding behind each tree in turn, looking around, and scurrying to the next one.

  Eventually, I make it to the top of the driveway and lurk in the bushes, looking at four cars parked by the house. One black BMW, a silver Mercedes, and two… no ideas. Generic middle class British car, kinda small.

  Klepto jumps to the ground and trots off to the right. I follow her around to the side of the house and a door intended for servants, or maybe for bringing in large shipments of foodstuffs. The kitten stares at the door for a few seconds. It shouldn’t shock me to see the knob turn on its own, but it’s still a ‘whoa’ moment.

  She paws the door open and ducks inside. I hurry after her into an industrial kitchen—everything is burnished steel—pulling the door closed behind me. My attempt to lie my way out of getting caught sneaking into the Abaddon Night Club blew up spectacularly in my face. Dalton, I am not. Breaking into places is about as far as an activity can possibly be out of my skill set—and comfort zone. Oh, hell. People keep mistaking me for fifteen, or even fourteen. I could try pretending someone tried to grab me and I ran in here to hide.

  Better idea. Let’s not get caught.

  Easier said than done. Even inside, the reasonably bright day is an inferno to my eyes. I’m doing okay, no smoke or fire, but my reaction time and vision are like an eighty-year-old’s. Okay, I’m lying. I am normal. Just accustomed to being boosted. After spending the winter flying to school, having to drive again in the spring for my early classes is going to be tedious. Same comparison.

  We leave the kitchen for an interior hallway more like a hotel than someone’s actual house. I peer into various doorways we go by, checking out sitting rooms, a dining hall, more sitting rooms, a room full of armor suits on stands and paintings. This is totally like one of those houses you always see in those movies where some tween gets orphaned and forced to live with wealthy tangential relatives who honestly couldn’t be bothered to take a child in but do so for mysterious reasons.

  I’m either going to befriend a ghost who’s not as scary as they appear, foil a murder plot, or end up with the entire Dutch East India company wanting me dead.

  Klepto abruptly darts to the left, jumps at a closed door, and disappears in a brief teleport flash. I run after her without question and nearly crash into the back wall of a smaller-than-expected broom closet. Door shut.

  Ahh, darkness.

  Someone walks by outside. I’m guessing a woman by the sound of her footsteps and pace. I reflexively hold my breath, waiting for silence. Eventually, Klepto licks my ear.

  “Yeah,” I whisper. “I don’t hear her anymore either.”

  Tribble.

  I ease the door open, mentally groaning at the drag of going offline again, and slip out into the hallway.

  The kitten teleport-jumps to the floor. I jog after her to a stairwell. The polished hardwood stairs are too tall for the kitten to manage the traditional way, so she teleports onto my shoulder for a ride.

  At the top, she indicates left.

  We go all the way to the end of a long corridor, following it around a corner to the right, and down another stretch of corridor to a set of double doors. Something tells me Sophia’s in there. A bit overcome with eagerness, I rush forward lacking due caution. Fortunately, I don’t set off any traps or walk into an ambush.

  Unfortunately, the room is devoid of small blonde girls.

  It’s a study with a huge hardwood desk, marble-inlaid fireplace, some potted plants, and obnoxiously large windows looking out over a second-floor patio big enough for a soiree. Klepto jumps down and scurries over to a closed curtain.

  “Sec.”

  I push the double doors closed, trying to be as quiet as possible. The whole sneaking thing works much better when I don’t make tons of noise or leave doors open as an obvious sign someone’s invaded the place.

  Squishy teal carpeting absorbs any sound from my footsteps, letting me hurry across the room to the big curtain. Pulling it open reveals a breathtaking ornate brass door with more gears, cogs, and pointlessly elaborate moving parts than a steampunk novel. Two giant gear rings, each three feet across but thin, have possibly Latin writing etched into them.

  One lever-style handle of white porcelain juts out of the middle of the central gear. I grab and try to turn it, but no luck. Locked.

  “Go away,” says Sophia from inside.

  “Soph!” I whisper-shout. “It’s me.”

  “Sare!” A soft thump hits the door. “Let me out! It’s really scary in here. There’s all this writing on the walls like a crazy person used to be in here.”

  I struggle at the annoying handle. “Umm. How? Wait. Klepto, can you make this open?”

  “Mew.” She hangs her head.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No. Little scared, but they didn’t hurt me.”

  I study the door. So many moving parts. My eyes cross trying to make sense of it. Error. It’s not going to make sense. It has to be magic.

  “Who is they?”

  “Umm. Not sure. There’s a woman and a man. I didn’t see them. I woke up inside this cell. They spoke to me through the door. Said I shouldn’t be scared and they’ll let me go once it’s finished.”

  “Once what’s finished? Are they doing something to you?”

  “Umm. I dunno. I can’t do any magic. Maybe they’re trying to steal it.”

  I grab a fireplace poker and try to jam it into the gears. The tip bounces off an invisible barrier. Multiple jabs confirm the same ‘glass’ covers the whole front face. Damn. Probably wouldn’t matter anyway. Nothing except cuckoo clocks and watches have this many gears. A door does not need gears. They’ve got to be decorative. Jamming them won’t help.

  Klepto hisses.

  Crap.

  I look behind me.

  A man and woman freeze not quite halfway to me from the door, as if they’d been trying to sneak up on me. Both appear to be in their thirties and wear black—dress for her, fancy suit on him. She’s rather pale, but obviously not a vampire.

  “Gomez and Morticia are here,” I mutter.

  She almost smiles, but catches herself.

  He raises his arm, pointing a small gun at me I hadn’t noticed.

  Ack.

  I do not want to be shot while basking in sunlight-flavored fail.

  The man raises an eyebrow. “I’m confused, Katy. Didn’t you say the older sister was quite dangerous? She’s a kid, too.”

  “Vampire or something, I think.”

  “Clearly not.” He gestures the gun at me. “She’s out in the day.”

  Repeat: I do not want to be shot in sunlight. It might be final death. I may be a
terrible liar, but really being afraid of the gun helps me act timid. I raise my hands in surrender.

  “Umm, sorry for sneaking into your house, but you guys did kidnap my sister. I’m only here to get her and go home to the US.”

  “That’s fine,” says the man. “But not yet.”

  “What do you mean ‘not yet’? Why did you take Sophia?”

  He wags the gun toward the door. “Walk.”

  “Aww, come on. You guys caught me. This is the part of the movie where you’re supposed to villain monologue and tell me all about your evil plans.”

  Katy snickers. “Go on, Jacob. Tell her. Not like it’ll matter.”

  Wow. Is she running with my joke or does she not realize how she sounds exactly like a movie bad girl?

  “Fine. Shall I presume you have never heard of The Serene Lodge?” asks Jacob.

  “Are we standing in it now?”

  He sighs. “No. It is not a place, but an order. Similar to the Aurora Aurea you’ve aligned yourself with.”

  Katy frowns at the words ‘Aurora Aurea,’ kind of the way Sierra does whenever anyone says ‘Brussels sprouts.’

  “We’re not aligned with them. They kidnapped us from the US against our will.”

  “You spent most of last night at their sanctum.” Katy folds her arms. “Rather cozy with your kidnappers.”

  Jacob steps toward me. “If you are no friends of theirs, then you will not mind staying with us for a few days.”

  “Why can’t we just leave?” I ask.

  “Because… we know why they brought the child here.” Katy taps her foot. “The phantom running around loose and preying upon them. They believe she can stop it. We don’t want this to happen. The two of you will stay here until the spirit finishes its task. Neither of you will be harmed, but we cannot let you leave until the Aurora Aurea has been wiped out to the last.”

  I can’t help but stare at the gun. It might be one of those little James Bond ‘slightly bigger than a BB gun’ pistols, but a bullet is still a bullet. “We’re not trying to stop it. My sister is only ten.”

  “She won’t let me do it,” yells Sophia from behind the door.

  “You may well be telling the truth.” Jacob flicks the gun twice toward the door, ordering me to go there. “Sorry, child. We cannot take the chance. This war is a thousand years old and could end in a mere week.”

  Jacob’s pants vanish.

  I blink.

  Katy gasps.

  “Wow. You didn’t really strike me as the sort of guy who goes commando.” I cringe.

  Jacob hesitates for a second, but finally looks away from me, down at himself—rather Klepto sitting between his ankles. I swear the damn kitten grins, and launches herself straight up at the dangly bits.

  He howls in pain.

  A few facts stand out in glaring neon-flashing marquee style. One: I can’t open the door trapping Sophia. Two: them locking me up is bad in multiple ways I don’t have the time to ponder at the moment. Three: Asher and his friends are going to die. Four: Asher and his friends might be able to get Sophia out. I’m damn sure they’d try, considering she is their best ticket at living. Oh, and five: I doubt the mystics will try to follow Klepto back here to save both of us.

  I’m sorry, Soph, but the only thing I can do right now is run like hell and get help.

  Jacob howls, spinning in circles with a small furry critter dangling from his small furry critter. He starts to point the gun at the kitten, but hesitates. Can’t blame a guy for not wanting a gun pointing there. While he’s eminently distracted, I pounce at Katy, shoving her out of my way and running for the door.

  Only, she doesn’t go down as easy as I’d hoped.

  No, she’s not a vampire or super strong.

  She grabs my arm as I try to barge past her, trapping my wrist and swinging me into a face-first meeting with the carpet. Before my brain can even fully process what the rug tastes like, she’s got her knee in my back and my arm twisted up behind my neck.

  Ow.

  The bitch is like a jiu-jitsu master or some crap.

  Even without the intense pain in my shoulder, elbow, and wrist, I’m not strong enough to do a one-armed push up with all 130-some-odd pounds of Katy on my back. Jacob grabs Klepto and yanks her away, doubling over and gasping. The kitten disappears from his hand. I can’t see much from this angle, my face mushed into the rug, but Jacob screams in pain again.

  “Katy! Get this daemon off me!”

  “Little occupied. Or do you want this one telling the fools where we are?”

  Jacob wails and growls, bumping into chairs and a bookshelf in his ongoing battle with the furry terror. I rock side to side, trying to throw the bitch off my back, but she twists my arm a tiny bit more—the blinding flash of agony makes me scream and stop trying to move. Dammit! I hate being offline.

  Thump.

  My eyes focus on a little grey furball bouncing across the rug, having been thrown. Klepto catches herself, skidding backward to a halt, claws in the carpet.

  Pop!

  The gun goes off, sounding more like a firecracker than a firearm—and Klepto disappears in a brief flash. Jacob spins, aiming around the room, breathing heavy.

  “Did you get it?” asks Katy.

  “I don’t know. I hit it and it burst into loose energy.”

  It did kinda look like her teleportation, but I’m not completely sure.

  Thirty seconds of silence becomes a minute. Klepto doesn’t reappear for a counterattack.

  Shit… I can’t help but choke up.

  Jacob hands the pistol to Katy.

  She presses it against the back of my head. “Be good and don’t move, all right? I promise you won’t be hurt. Merely delayed.”

  Grumbling, Jacob retrieves his pants from the floor.

  Katy holds me at gunpoint until he finishes putting them back on—he had to take his shoes off—then passes the weapon back to him.

  “Stand up,” says Jacob, still sounding winded.

  Katy lets go of my arm and gets off me.

  I push myself up, shaking from a mix of fear, sadness, and anger. Sophia’s quiet. Either she felt Klepto explode and she’s curled up too heartbroken to cry, or she hasn’t realized what happened. Once on my feet, I fire a side-eye glare at Jacob. His hair’s a bit messy, but he otherwise looks unhurt.

  “Walk,” says Jacob, wagging the gun at the door.

  They escort me down the hall, around the corner to the left, and back to the stairwell. Since the guy shot a rolling kitten on the first try, I’m too scared to attempt running. Better I have time to figure out a way to escape or do something than take a bullet to the head and my family has to lose me a week before Christmas.

  We cross the downstairs to a basement door. Ooh. The fools. As soon as I have darkness, Jacob’s little gun is going to get rammed into a body cavity. Metaphorically, I mean. Not literally going to… yeah, gross.

  Katy opens the door, revealing a passage with a rounded ceiling, all bricks covered in peeling white paint. A narrow wooden stairway leads to the basement… which is sunlit. Dammit! Who has sunlight in their basement?

  Okay, to be fair, my house did, too, before Dad mega-tinted the windows. My new bedroom doesn’t have windows. Maybe this basement has a chamber or two without them. I grab the banister and make my way down into a damp, musty former wine cellar. The basement is massive. Stone columns support a ceiling of filthy boards littered in dangling scraps of wire hanging on ceramic insulators. This place is old.

  Katy prods me past the columns and a large stack of antique furniture piled into a veritable wall. On the other side, channels of sunlight filter in from narrow windows at the ceiling level, illuminating a row of five large cages next to a legit medieval torture rack. Various manacles hang from hooks on the wall above them, along with stuff like little whips, metal tongs, giant tweezers, and a whole bunch of other ‘tools’ I don’t recognize. Three creepy-as-hell cages shaped like people farther away in the corner give
me the chills. Someone standing in one of those things couldn’t move much at all.

  Oh, hell no. I’ve gone straight from Boris and Natasha to The Hills Have Eyes.

  “Uhh…”

  Katy steps past me, Jacob keeping me at gunpoint, and pulls one of the big cube-shaped cages open. “Go on. Crawl in.”

  “Why do you guys have a torture chamber in your basement?”

  Jacob waves dismissively, his expression blasé. “Any self-respecting order of practitioners should have some means of containing specimens. The other implements are mostly for ambiance. We never use them for their intended purpose. These items are charged with energy we find helpful to amplify certain workings of magic.”

  My smarm-thrower is about to fire up, but it’s a little difficult to cop an attitude with a guy pointing a gun in my face when I’m not immune to bullets. Also, playing up the harmless child angle might work better.

  “Can you guys please not leave me down here in a basement? It’s really scary. Couldn’t you put me in the same room with my sister? Sophia’s terrified. She hates being alone.”

  “It’s an involved pain in the ass to seal the ward. We’re lazy.” Jacob pokes me in the sternum with the gun. “Go on and get in the cage. It’s only for a few days. Less if the spirit works fast.”

  “But she’s only ten. You don’t need to put her in solitary confinement like Hannibal Lecter. What are you doing to her in there?”

  Katy taps her nails on the cage door. “The girl possesses the art. We can’t risk her using it. She is merely in a warded room to contain her abilities. It isn’t harmful.”

  “Your demonic little furball from hell has left me in a rather foul mood,” says Jacob. “You and your sister have stumbled into a centuries-old war. While I have no great desire to harm you, if it must be done to secure victory for The Serene Lodge, so be it. Now, crawl into the bloody cage.”

  “Okay… okay. Chill.” I get down on all fours and crawl into the four-foot cube of metal bars. At least it’s super dusty and doesn’t appear to have been used recently. “You guys really aren’t that serene.”