by Sophia North
"Fuck, find a witch, you say? No problem, I personally know dozens of 'em."
"This is not an 'any witch will do' sort of problem," she exclaimed, growing more exasperated by his cavalier attitude.
"Mariam, I'm taking the piss. Although to be fair, you were far too easy to bait."
Her cheeks flushed pink. The cad! But he was right. She'd walked right into his trap.
"Petal, I'm going to go out on a limb here, but I have to ask: you do realise it's the twenty-first century, right? And there's this thing called the internet where you punch information in and it finds shit...from all over the globe. So, if you give me the name of the witch in question, I'll have your Dragon in minutes."
"Therein lies the rub, Elder Barath. I have no name to give."
"Right. So how, pray tell, am I suppose to find this witch?"
"Wilhalf said I am to tell you to trust your instincts."
"Fuck, and here I thought I was done with them. And the Serpent traitors? What am I to do about them?"
Mariam's eyes glowed. "For now, Godfrey and I will contend with the Brotherhood. You will have enough to deal with in finding the Dragon, but along with your instincts, I am also looking for a possible lead on a name. Unlike my brother, I do not rely on the intangible alone."
Vlad grinned at her. "You know love, despite the rocky start, I think you and I are going to get on famously. I am all about the tangibles."
"As am I, Vlad. As am I."
Chapter Eighteen
PENNY STOMPED IN PLACE, it was bloody freezing. She should have stayed in Richard's gallery until her Uber arrived. Three drivers thus far had dropped her request at the last minute. And hackney cabs were hard to find in Limehouse, where her friend's boutique gallery was located.
Glancing down at her mobile, she eagerly watched the map of her ride's location. The car was three minutes out, thank the goddess. She'd be an icicle soon.
Before her horrified gaze, the cursor tracking her car disappeared and a message flashed saying her request had been accepted by yet another driver...thirty minutes away! Unbelievable. Now what was she going to do? The thought of standing around in the cold for another half hour did not appeal.
As if in answer to her prayers, a small group of friends emerged from an alleyway across from her. Their shared laughter made them seem a friendly crew. Tempted to try and tag along with them in the hopes of finding another way home, Penny quashed the idea almost as soon as it had surfaced. She wasn't in the mood to be artificially social at the moment. And ingratiating one's self with a group of strangers would require her to be charming.
A pulsing neon sign high on a wall at the opening where the group had come from, caught her eye. 'The Oriental...this way' it read, with an arrow for emphasis. Must be a restaurant or something, she thought. But as long as it had alcohol she didn't really care at this point. The way her luck was going, this latest Uber would disappear too and the inevitable blow would definitely be softened if she had a few drinks inside her.
Tentatively walking down the long corridor of the laneway, Penny followed a steady stream of water that ran down its length. It had been pouring on and off all night and with the drop in temperature a fine mist filled the air.
Another neon sign identified the entrance to the mysterious Oriental at the very end of the laneway. Strange spot for a restaurant she mused, opening the door and stepping inside.
The Oriental was far from being a restaurant. Greeted with the screech of brass and the pounding of a double bass, Penny quickly realised she'd wandered into a jazz club...from the 1940s. At least, that's what its interior decor indicated, because Penny would have sworn nothing about the place had changed since then. A quartet were playing on a small stage at the far end of the nearly deserted bar. Their efforts not all affected by the lack of patrons, they played with the same enthusiasm and joy as they would have to a packed house.
Spying the bar, Penny saw what looked like the only other patron in the joint. Perched on a stool, an elderly gentleman nursed a drink, tapping his finger in time to the band's beat.
He looked harmless enough, so Penny decided to sit at the bar but would keep her distance. One could never be too sure with older men, they may not be as aggressive as their younger counterparts, but that didn't mean their attention could not be inappropriate. And her earlier distaste over the thought of being artificially social had not shifted.
Taking a stool a few stools away, Penny smiled at the approaching bartender. "An Old Fashioned, please," she said before he had time to ask. The man nodded and went off to fix her drink. His silent treatment a refreshing trait in a bartender given their reputations.
Within minutes, he slid her drink in front of her, nodded his thanks for her generous tip and wandered back down the bar to continue polishing glasses. Placing her phone on the bar, Penny swiped it to see how her Uber was progressing. Unsurprisingly, the screen was blank, her last attempt had been cancelled altogether.
Fuck it, the fates obviously wanted her to drink and who was she to question them?
The band played a low tempo number, the haunting sound of a muffled trumpet snaked its way to her ear as she drank. The sole purpose for her outing that night had been to have a chat with an art dealer she'd worked with for years. He had been attending an exhibition opening at her friend Richard's gallery and she'd been trying for days to reach him on the telephone. But Lionel Smitherman was a hard man to track down.
She'd come up with a cunning plan to save her Mystery paintings from the clutches of the odious Reginald Reilly and Lionel was key to the entire operation. And bless him, he was more than happy to help her out.
At least something had gone her way. Her track record lately did not paint a pretty picture. She felt conflicted on so many different levels, it was hard to think straight.
Her increasingly erratic behaviour could no longer be ignored and there was only one person she could turn to for answers. Her grandmother, Esmeralda MacGregor, the fiercest woman she'd ever known.
If Vlad thought Penny was a handful, he should count himself lucky that his path had not crossed her strongly opinionated, fiery tempered Scottish Gran's. Essie, as she preferred to be called, may be about to turn ninety-nine, but she would not hesitate to take him to task - immortal being or not. Yes, his breaking up with her had definitely helped him dodge that particular bullet.
Vlad, her heart sighed.
Finishing her drink, Penny signalled for another. Digging about in her purse for another tenner to pay the man, he brusquely informed her it had been taken care of by the gentleman at the bar.
Looking his way, the older man raised his glass to toast her. Not wanting to be rude, nor interested in encouraging him, she raised hers as well. "Cheers, much appreciated," she said pleasantly.
"Think nothing of it, my dear," the older gentleman returned. "My wife, Rachel, would have thought it the height of rudeness for me to not buy a beautiful young woman with such excellent taste as to drink the same cocktail she preferred. It's rare to meet Old Fashioned drinkers, and rarer still by someone your age."
Penny sat back. How strange? She'd never ordered an Old Fashioned in her life. The name had just come to her when she'd sat down at the bar, and given the club's nostalgic feel, she thought it sounded like the perfect drink to have.
"And is your wife here tonight?" Penny asked politely.
"Unfortunately, no. My Rachel went on to a better place a year ago, tonight actually."
Great, Penny. Upset the kind old man at the bar mourning the one year anniversary of his wife's death, she berated herself silently. What's next, drowning kittens?
"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to..." she stammered, feeling an utter ass.
Holding up a hand, he waved away her pathetic apology. His thick grey brows drew together in thoughtfulness as he stared down into his glass. "Don't fret, pet. She'd have had my hide for trying to flirt with such a beautiful young woman by using the worst pick up line ever. She taught me better than t
hat," he chuckled before finishing off his drink and setting the glass down with a soft thud. "Damn, I miss her."
Penny smiled at the warmth of his words towards his belated wife. "Taught you how to flirt, did she?" she asked teasingly.
"She taught me many things," he sighed, "and if I could have ten more minutes with her I'd be sure to ask one of the most important questions I never had the chance to ask."
Penny was intrigued. "Which would be?"
"How the hell did she cut up pineapple? I've nearly taken a fingertip off...twice!"
Penny's peals of laughter made him smile.
"You're rather good," she said, picking up her drink and moving to the stool beside him. "At flirting," she clarified. "You've certainly drawn me in."
"Ah, don't try your feminine wiles on me, young woman. I am still a happily married man...Rachel's just waiting for me on the other side."
"I'm sure she won't mind if we share a drink. I promise to behave myself."
"See that you do," he admonished with a twinkle in his eye. "Sam, another round for the lady and I. And she's buying. I'm the modern sort."
With fresh drinks in front of them, Penny turned to the older man. "My name is Penny, and you are..."
"Bertie, of the Albert variety. Pleased to meet you, Penny. What brings you to the Oriental? You're new to the club, I can tell."
"You can tell, can you? Do I stand out so very much?"
"Something tells me even in a crowd you would stand out, my dear. And the simple answer to your question is: Rachel and I came here religiously for as long as we were married. We'd have remembered seeing you, that I can guarantee."
Penny didn't know whether to be complimented or slightly unnerved by his admission. She opted to err on the side of reason and took it as a compliment. Bertie had to be eighty if he was a day. Creepy old guy stalker did not fit.
Propping up a cheek, she felt the effect of the three Old Fashioned drinks she'd consumed. The world was starting to take on a rosier look. "How long were you and Rachel married for?"
"Fifty-six glorious years of war and peace," he replied fondly.
"War and peace? You mean to say your marriage was like a Tolstoy novel. Do tell," she laughingly replied. "I adore a good love story."
Bertie eyed her sharply. "I'd wager you may have one of your own. Why is a beautiful, and obviously intelligent woman such as yourself, sitting in an obscure jazz club on her own?"
"Looking for my frog, because my last prince turned out to be a toad," she said, chuckling at her own wit. "Sam! Another round for Bertie and me. These Old Fashions are quite...hic...delicious. Tell me, Bertie," she gushed drunkenly, patting him affectionately on the arm. "Is the entire male species dominated by arrogant assholes?"
"Right, that's enough for you, miss," the spritely older man declared, taking her drink away. "Samuel, a cup of coffee for my young friend here." Turning on his stool, he looked her squarely in the eye and said: "May I have this dance? They're playing one of mine and Rachel's favourites and a turn around the dance floor will work wonders at sobering you up."
The band was playing a lively swing number. When Penny hesitated, Bertie raised a bushy eyebrow at her. "You afraid you won't be able to keep up?"
Hopping off her stool, Penny extended her hand to him. "I'll have you know I attended an incredibly posh, stuck-up private school and can fox trot with the best of 'em."
Out on the dance floor, she and Bertie two-stepped their way through one song and then another. When the band crooned their way into a slower number, the pair stayed on the floor to sway gently to the rhythm.
"Thank you, Bertie. I'm feeling much more myself. The dancing really did help. And may I say, you're incredibly light on your feet."
"There you go again, lass. Stealing all my best lines." Bertie spun her away from him and brought her back smoothly. "Now, why don't you tell me about this toad of yours," he offered magnanimously. "I'm sure he cannot be so foolish as to break your heart without a damn good reason."
Penny bit her lip, unsure how to explain a love affair with a vampyre to a sweet old man. "He thinks our being together will bring me nothing but pain," she confessed softly.
"Hmm, I see. Bit of a player, is he?"
She thought back to Vlad's heart-breaking confession of being with other female vamps. Penny knew it wasn't true...now. At the time, however, she'd been too hurt to see it. He would have done anything, said anything, if it had resulted in pushing her away. His reaction to Darius's courting declaration told her that much.
Her cheeks flushed when she thought about how she'd accepted Darius's invitation to dinner out of spite at Simone's. It wasn't one of her proudest moments.
"He likes to pretend he is," she answered.
"A bounder! The preferred choice for an independent, courageous woman...and this is coming from one...in my younger days, mind," Bertie clarified with a wink. "That poor sot of yours is probably scared out of his mind at the prospect of change. You shouldn't be too hard on him. He must love you very much to be so incredibly obstinate about not wanting to hurt you, he has done exactly that."
Penny hid her tear filled eyes from his view. If Bertie knew the whole truth, he might not be so optimistic in his opinion about how Vlad felt about her.
Sensing her upset, Bertie kept them dancing cheek-to-cheek so he could speak softly into her ear. "I'll tell you a secret, pet. There were times when I wanted to walk away from my Rachel and never see her face again. And there were times when we were inseparable. My point is, that woman was the love of my life, and losing her has been the hardest lesson I've ever had to accept. But if I had to do it all over again, even knowing how much it was going to hurt, I would - in a heartbeat."
"Bertie?"
"Yes, pet."
"Thank you," Penny whispered in his ear before pressing a kiss to his weathered cheek.
The pair returned to silently dancing together.
"Pet?"
"Yes, Bertie?"
"You don't happen to know any Viking bikers, do you?"
Chapter Nineteen
PENNY HALF-TRIPPED OVER her feet in surprise. What did Bertie mean?
And then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him. Vlad leant against an iron pillar at the edge of the dance floor, arms crossed...watching them.
"Bit big to be a toad, if you don't mind me saying," Bertie observed wryly.
Penny's eyes flew to his. "Stop, you'll make me laugh and I'm supposed to be all sophisticated and cool right now. He needs to think I've moved on and am happy, carefree."
"You'll forgive me, if I have some doubts about your plan, pet. I don't think I can take him, even if I was in my prime."
Penny couldn't help herself, she burst out laughing. The image of Bertie trying to defend her honour was just too hilarious.
The band finished their latest song and seamlessly moved on to another one. The older gentleman, took her hand and pressed his lips to the back of it. Then with a gallant bow, offered it to Vlad.
Penny wanted to run in the opposite direction, but Bertie's firm grip held her in place. When she felt Vlad's cool touch on her hand, she wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole.
Before completely surrendering her to Vlad, Bertie made sure to leave a lasting impression. "I may be an old man, but I know people, young man. Be sure not to upset the lady."
Vlad smiled and regally nodded his head. "I'll do my best not to, sir. But I think we both know that may not be an easy feat. She's...a special case."
Bertie snorted in agreement. "That she is, mate. That she is. All the same, remember...people. I know some."
The band were playing 'On the Sunny Side of the Street', as Vlad circled her waist with his other hand and eased them into dancing. Robotically, Penny complied, by letting him take the lead, her gaze firmly fixed on the floor.
After a few turns around the dance floor, her startled gaze lifted to meet his - he was an excellent dancer. She would never have guessed. He'd always snorted
in disgust when she asked him to go dancing with her.
"You look surprised, love," he remarked, seeing her look of disbelief. "In three hundred years, I've picked up a few moves."
"I can see that," she answered. "But my surprise has more to with why are you here. I was under the impression we were over, done...finished."
When a slower number started, he pulled her closer. The feel of her body against his, sent tingles of excitement coursing through him.
"I didn't want to leave things between us so...unresolved."
Penny missed a step at that bizarre declaration. "I wasn't aware there were 'unresolved' issues. The end seemed pretty clear to me."
"Smile, sweet. Bertie is watching and I'd prefer to avoid dealing with his 'people'," Vlad whispered in her ear, as he flawlessly masked her misstep.
Her suspicious nature immediately flared to life. "How do you know Bertie's name?"
His warm chuckle nearly melted her resolve, but she held firm.
"Vamp hearing, sweet. Us, bounders, have to use every advantage at our disposal."
Her cheeks burned in embarrassment. He'd heard every word she and Bertie had exchanged while they'd been dancing dammit!
"Is this your way of telling me you regret being an utter bastard and want to make up? Because, I can assure you, that is not going to happen."
"I know," he sighed softly, his voice barely audible.
"Oh, you know, do you? Then I'll ask you again. Why are you here?"
Seeing Bertie slam his glass down on the bar in the distance, she quickly realised her behaviour was inflaming the older man and adjusted it accordingly. Forcing herself to smile at Vlad, she hissed at him to smile back. He caught Bertie's eye and grinned like an idiot.
"You do make a habit of collecting your fair share of knight errants, my sweet," he said through gritted teeth.
Ah, now they were getting to the heart of it. He didn't want her, but was pissed about Darius showing an interest. The hypocrite.