by Sophia North
With the fox so close to her proximity, she moved away to perch against the gleaming woodwork of the snooker table. Marvelling at the very male need to have their favourite amusements close by should the mood strike them to have a 'pop', she smiled that Dante's choice involved whacking balls around a green felt surface. The male species were strange creatures, but la - they had their ways.
"I may have been a wee bit condescending in describing it in such a manner. Your home is far from being cold. In fact, you seem to have taken great care over every detail. My rooms for instance, are very well appointed. Do you have many guests?"
"In truth, you are the first one."
Simone stilled. She would have thought he'd have many overnight visitors...but then, the ones she assumed were staying would have no use for a guest chamber. "To stay as your guest?" she asked leadingly.
"To stay in my home full stop. I have some visitors but never intimate ones, be they human or vampress. My home is my sanctuary and I do not share it with many...until you came into my life."
Her toes curled in pleasure at his confession. No female companion had ever shared his bed here. That was...interesting.
Feeling slightly breathless, Simone steered their conversation back into safe waters. Dante may have taken a seat in one of the leather chairs when she'd wandered away from his presence, but even when seated, he could still affect her from across the room.
Keen to not lose track of her plan of attack, she eased off the snooker table and started to ramble about anything as long as it didn't bring them back to his confession of her being his 'first'.
"I should have you come round to my place and work your magic. You've seen the state of my flat's interior decor. It's appallingly empty and...is this you?" she pointed at a small portrait above a book shelf before moving closer to inspect it.
"Yes," Dante confirmed. "It was...quite long ago."
"I can see that," Simone half-laughed at Dante's old fashioned outfit. "I mean, what are you wearing?"
"Fashions were a little different back then."
"Then being?"
"The year I became a vampyre, seventeen forty-eight."
"Amazing," she said breathlessly. She wasn't sure she'd ever get used to the idea of him being so old, which brought her neatly to her first question, albeit a slightly more dangerous one given the mood.
But there was method to her madness...at least she hoped so. She was determined to know more about his kind if she was to seriously contemplate agreeing to staying under his protection.
"You never explained why vampyres only breed with us...uhm, I mean female humans. If there are females of your own race, should they not be able to have children?"
"Well, to start with, I should have been clearer and said vampyres can only breed with certain human women, not all. And as for vampress conception, we males were the only vampyres in existence until...well, let's just say things changed in the seventeenth century."
Simone did not look appeased, and so he continued. "In terms of being a vampyre, I was born from my human mother, grew as a human child grows to maturity, until the time came for me to decide whether or not to ascend to my vampyre form."
"You were given the choice, as a human, on whether or not to become a vampyre?"
"I have always been a vampyre, your mistake is thinking I was ever really human."
"I am confused."
"Most of us were too until the study of genetics came along and enlightened those with the eyes to see. Unfortunately, this pursuit of knowledge led to what we in the vamp world affectionately call, ‘The Terrors’. And it was at the end of this turbulent period vampyre procreation was banned, as well as many other vampyric ways. Too many bad seeds, they claimed. I was one of the last vampyres born - they call us the Final Brood, catchy isn't it? Sadly, there is more truth to the name than given credit."
Simone sat down across from him and took her time digesting what he'd said. That vampyres were the product of genetics took some consideration. The scientist in her wanted to know more, but knew it would lead her down a rabbit hole. And as she was still intent on leaving, it was better left unexplored. Knowing the basics would have to suffice.
Proceeding to her next question, and for the sake of time, she abruptly changed the subject. "Yet you also call yourself a Watcher - what does that entail?" she asked. "You mentioned as part of your duties you hunt Rippers...and that Zara's murder led you to become one again. At the time, I sensed there was more to this than you wanted to reveal. Although, I based my theory on the assumption you were experiencing similar issues to a soldier suffering PTSD and trying to re-enter 'normal' life. Clearly, I was mistaken."
"Perhaps, perhaps not," Dante countered. "Becoming a Watcher again comes with serious consequences and is not usually allowed. But I would not be deterred. No one could reason with me in the weeks following my father’s disappearance and Zara’s murder. In a way one could argue there was a tinge of madness to it all – not unlike someone with PTSD would experience."
Simone could not find a logical conclusion as to why being a Watcher was so important. "Your circumstances sounded rather dire. But surely you are powerful enough in your own right to find and destroy whomever you want."
"Only Watchers are permitted to use certain vampyric abilities. I needed access to them in order to get the job done and I was early enough in my Cleanse to easily reconnect. Another decade or so and they would have been lost to me forever, as intended."
Bloody hell, she should have known there was no such thing as a straightforward conversation with a vampyre. She knew too little and there was so much to learn. Vampyric abilities...vampyre genes...born appearing human with a choice of ascension? Where did one begin? Agreeing to stay here suddenly became more appealing.
Good god, what was she thinking? She couldn't abandon her life to study a supernatural race. She would more than likely be committed to an asylum for believing in such a thing.
Shaking her head to break this ongoing deluge of ridiculous notions, she pulled hard on the reins and returned to being rational again. "Whoa, you said quite a lot in such a short space of time and the clock is ticking. Let's move on to how a freaky vampyre prophecy has anything to do with me. The story thus far, whilst tragic, does nothing to convince me I am in any true danger."
"Ouch Dr, Radcliffe. Don't sugar-coat it for me."
Simone merely arched a knowing eyebrow at him.
Dante rose to the challenge. "In a nutshell: Anton is leading a rebellion against the Lowerton establishment because of the prophecy. And you, my good doctor, are in the middle because you're the only one who can help me use my visionary power to stop him. Hence, Anton wants you dead and will pursue you until it’s accomplished."
Quite the nutshell.
"I need a drink. Please tell me you have bourbon."
"In abundance."
Moments later Dante presented her with a glass generously filled with the amber elixir. "Here, a particular favourite of mine."
The fiery liquid tasted exquisite, its warmth a welcome sensation to the chill Dante's declaration evoked. Simone leaned back, nestling her head comfortably in the crook of the couch and contemplated the severity of Dante's news.
"I could leave London, the country if needs be. Surely my absence would appease Anton's desire for my annihilation," she reasoned aloud.
"If it was a credible option, don't you think I would have you on the next plane out of Heathrow?" Dante replied. "But all it would accomplish is delaying your demise by weeks, perhaps months if you were particularly resourceful - but sadly the evidence on this score reveals you are severely lacking in that department."
Insulted by his low opinion, she snapped. "Anton is not going to waste his energy pursuing me across the globe! He has far greater diabolical plans to enact based on what you've told me."
"Anton will not be the one doing the pursuing, he will send others - or if recent reports are true, will have one of his many global followers do it."
"Excellent, of course there would be a world-wide vampyre network for me to contend with, how convenient for you. So how exactly will you be able to protect me if I stay here? Isn't London basically ground zero for the coming vamp apocalypse? Strikes me as being the last place I should be."
Oh dear, a distinctly shrilly front had just moved back in.
"The answer is quite simple," Dante responded. "No supernatural creature can enter this house save for a very select few who have been invited."
"Oh, so that bit of vampyre lore is true. What poor human pawn do you keep around to 'own' the house? Is it this private secretary you spoke about earlier - what is his name by the way? I'm sure every human slave deserves one."
A cacophony of caws filled the sitting room.
Simone bolted upright from her relaxed position on the couch. "Good god, where did your pet raven come from? I swear he wasn't here when we arrived."
"Cease!" Dante ordered and the raven immediately quieted. "I keep no human slave to do my bidding, Simone. This house is family-owned, has been for centuries."
This took the winds from her sails. "You have a human family? How ... you fathered children before you accepted your vampyre form?"
"Yes, I did my duty and fathered a son and heir to maintain my family's human bloodline. The Polidori bloodline is very old and powerful in both the vampyre and human realms - yet its human branch is unknown to those in the vampyre world. My telling you of their existence gives you great leverage over me - but I trust you and hope this offering goes some way in getting you to trust me."
It did, surprisingly. Although hearing he had a wife and family in another time niggled her slightly. "I may have never had a family of my own, but I know the value in having one," Simone replied. "I would never betray you or them."
Dante nodded in thanks but was puzzled by her words. "Never had a family? But your online bio states you were raised by your maternal aunt after your parents and baby brother died in an automobile accident. Was she unkind to you, this aunt, to not warrant a mention?"
Simone blushed, slightly embarrassed by her earlier declaration about lacking a true family. "No, I didn't mean to imply that. My Aunt Vivienne was wonderful - albeit quirky. And she did her best raising me but struggled with mental health issues. When I turned thirteen she experienced a breakdown and had to be admitted to an institution. I'll never forget that day for as long as I live. It was the morning of 9/11, but of course, with Britain being five hours ahead, we had no idea what lay in store for all of us until the afternoon. I sat in the hospital waiting room for hours that day, watching the planes hit the towers, over and over again."
The destruction of the Twin Towers in September 2001 had rocked not only the human world. It's ramifications rippled across all worlds, so significant was its message.
Struck by the sad thought of Simone sitting alone watching the world as it was known then disintegrate at the same time her own world fell apart, Dante gently asked. "What happened to you?"
"Children Services tried to find my biological father. He'd left my mother before I was born, but they found no trace of him. Probably dead as well, for all I know." A single tear slipped down her cheek. Frustrated at still being emotional over something she had no control over, she wiped it away.
"But then something remarkable happened," she whispered reverently. "While in the care of a kind, generous family, some very official letters started to arrive addressed to me. Incredibly my aunt had made provisions for my care and education in the event she became unable to do so. I received offer-letters from the best private schools money could buy - and it turns out there was plenty to be had. Amazing really, considering how Aunt Vivienne and I lived. She was an artist in a small seaside village so you can imagine how frugal our lifestyle needed to be in order to survive."
"Your background story is most extraordinary. I don't understand why you've kept it so vague. Surely your aunt's mental health struggles influenced your decision to become a therapist, yet you make no mention of its impact."
Simone smiled softly to herself. "My Aunt Vivienne never asked much from me. She was a free spirit and wanted me to be one too. But there was one promise she insisted upon, even on the rare occasions before she died when she was lucid enough to know who I was - she demanded I reaffirm it to her."
"Which was?" Dante prompted.
"I was never, ever to speak about my past or what happened to her. And any talk about my family needed to be resigned to history and never dredged up again."
"It is a rather strange request to make of you," Dante commented. "Why did you comply? Your aunt seemed a deeply troubled woman, perhaps the request stemmed from her own personal demons?"
Simone hesitated. Other than Penny, no one else knew about her secret. Could she trust Dante with it? Trust Dante, Simone, a voice whispered in her ear. The hairs on her arms tingled to an upright position. Bloody hell, that was new. She'd never heard a voice before, her intuition had always been more feeling based.
"Simone?"
Dante's look of concern snapped her from the peculiar sensations she was experiencing. "I knew she was telling me the truth because I psychically know when someone is lying to me."
"Ah, I wondered what your gift may be - I knew you possessed at least one. And I suspect you may have more - you're just not aware or cannot access the others."
She remembered him alluding to 'gifts' in their session together. It had made her very uncomfortable to learn her secret self could be sensed by another. And here he was doing it again by implying she may have multiple powers just after something whispered in her ear.
"Why would you think that? Do you have some sort of vampyre radar to find those of us who are ... gifted? What am I saying? Of course you do, you confessed being drawn to me because of my voice."
Dante sighed. Simone's data download requirements took some feeding and he was ravenous himself. Where the hell was Vlad? He could really do with his friend arriving right about now.
Dong ... dong ... dong
The grandfather clock at the far end of the room started to chime the coming hour. Dante focused in on its face. Eleven o'clock? What sort of time vortex had they been sucked into? Two hours had passed in a blink of an eye. And there was still no Vlad. He would have risen hours ago. Dante started to worry.
"Something is wrong," he announced, rising abruptly.
Confused by his outburst, Simone rose to her feet as well.
"Stay here, Simone. Alfred, keep her safe until I return," Dante commanded.
In the wake of his speedy departure, Simone had little choice but to obey. The bastard had locked the doors to the library on his way out.
She was trapped!
And for the millionth time she wondered - who the hell was this Alfred Dante kept talking to?
Chapter Fourteen
HE'D LEFT HER.
Barked out a couple of random commands and then...poof... was gone.
Simone rattled the brass door handles again, hoping they'd miraculously unlocked since her last attempt.
"Come back, you bastard!" she cried in vain, pounding on the doors.
Defeated, she slid to the floor, her back pressed against one of the massive walnut panels masquerading as a door. Trapped in a vampyre lair. Penny would have a field day if she knew.
Penny!
Simone scrambled to her feet and ran the length of the room. Tucked in a far corner, beside another wingback chair, was a beautifully crafted side table with an elegant Tiffany lamp aglow on its reflective surface. Perched in the haloed light stood the object of her desire - a telephone. She'd noticed it during her earlier exploration and thought how quaint it was to still have an old-fashion rotary phone on a landline. Or at least she hoped the phone was still connected to an outside line.
Her relief at hearing a dial tone, quickly turned to horror when she couldn't remember her friend's number. Damn our twenty-first century laziness, she silently cursed.
"'Allo darlin', ap
ologies for the wait. The switchboard is on fire tonight - name and address?"
Simone nearly dropped the chunky black receiver. The line was connected to a manually operated telephone exchange! Why would a vampyre-world operate on early twentieth century technology?
"'Allo? Anybody there?" the female voice on the line asked.
"Hello. May I have Penny MacGregor, 223 Trinity St, Unit B, Southwark please?" God she hoped vampyres connected to the human world.
"Puttin' ye through love. And 'ave yerself a lovely evenin'."
Well, vampyres certainly had much better customer service. Excitement surged through her as the line began to ring. Please Penny, be working in your studio tonight, she prayed.
"Hello?"
"Pen! It's me. I swear I'll never make fun of your insistence on keeping your landline ever again," she burst out with.
"Simone? Thank the goddess, I've been out of my mind with worry. When you didn't ring Thursday after the show, I knew something was seriously wrong. I even went to your flat tonight hoping to find some clue as to where you were but didn't find a blessed thing. It was like you'd simply vanished from the face of the earth."
"Pen, listen. This line may not be secure, so I need to be careful about what I say ..."
"Not the best way to open, Simone ... what's happened, who's listening? Is it Daryl ... is he really ex-MI5? I thought you were taking the piss ... but wait, this is all starting to make sense .. when I tried to speak to Daryl tonight the guys on duty swore they'd never heard of him. Goddamn government! Shit, I didn't mean that last part," Penny interrupted with a flurry of words.
"You done?" Simone's no nonsense tone elicited a sheepish 'yes' from her friend. "I am safe, you need to stop worrying and focus. Do you remember our Godolphin getaway plan?"
"Operation FU Bitches ... god, do you remember Violet Howard, she was a right snobby ..."
"Focus," Simone repeated forcefully.
"Bloody hell, yes I remember it. Happy?" She fell silent on the other end of the line.