by Sophia North
Gabriel joined her at the desk. He stood closer to her than he really ought to have, but he wasn't going to miss the opportunity. She intoxicated him.
Hannah felt his presence keenly as well. His muscular frame encased in London's finest fashion did nothing to detract from the raw power he emanated. When he brushed her fingers briefly as he pulled the catalogue towards him, she nearly melted.
Unsettled by how his lightest of touches affected her, Hannah drew away as discreetly as she could without giving offence. Gabriel recognised her retreat from him and respected it. Even he did not trust himself to be too near, her appeal was far too great.
Focusing on the object she'd wanted to draw his attention to, Gabriel picked up the catalogue. It was a photo of an onyx bowl with intricate carvings around the edge.
"My thanks for the tip," Gabe remarked. Looking up to meet her gaze, he gave her a devastating smile and continued, "Perhaps I could repay your assistance by..."
"Hannah, sweetheart!" A male voice boomed from the door to her office. In it stood Pierce, Hannah's boyfriend. "I was in the area and thought I'd take you for one of our 'special' lunches at the Ritz."
Pierce's thinly veiled innuendo did not go unmissed by either Hannah or Gabriel. Aghast by his inappropriate insinuation, Hannah wanted to hide under her desk from embarrassment, but somehow found the composure to simply smile tightly back at him instead.
As for Gabriel - his immediate opinion of the man was that he was a first class asshole.
"Sorry, did I interrupt something important?" Pierce smoothly provided, noting the look of unhappiness in Hannah's eyes. Striding up to Gabe, he extended his hand. "Pierce Nelson-Aldrich the third. Hannah's other half."
He'd halve the bastard alright, Gabe thought dangerously. In the end he returned the man's fake smile and firmly grasped his outstretched hand. Perhaps a tad too hard. But it was worth seeing him wince slightly at the strength of his grip. Males had their ways of marking rank and Gabriel was not going to let the prick think he had the upper hand.
"Gabriel Rosetti," he returned. "Acquaintance of Lady Woodville's."
"Charmed, I'm sure," the man replied, breaking their handshake and moving to stand beside Hannah.
Returning from his coffee run, Lawrence walked into the room, carrying the two cups. "The queue was a nightmare, boss. Looks like the Social Justice crowd might be taking over. The place was full of them," he said in explanation for the unusually long time he'd been gone. Finally noting Pierce's presence, he stopped short. "Hullo, Aldrich. 'Fraid I didn't get you one. They don't serve double frappuccino-shite."
Gabe wanted to laugh. The look of pure distain shared by the two men was priceless and he immediately warmed to Hannah's assistant. Lawrence would no doubt prove to be an excellent ally should the need arise. He obviously had excellent instincts about people.
"Well, I really should be going," Gabriel announced, clicking his briefcase shut. "I have business in the City. Hannah, your advice will be well rewarded at a later date. Mr. Aldrich. Lawrence." On that note he departed the office, leaving its occupants in various stages of suspicion and disbelief.
Chapter Seven
FASTENING A DIAMOND teardrop earring to finish off her evening look, Hannah stood up from her dressing table. Pierce was expected shortly to take her to dinner. Smoothing the skirt of her electric blue dress, she stepped back to admire her work in the vanity's mirror. The vintage 60's a-line sleeveless mini-dress, with its silver medallion encrusted high neckline, was a recent addition to her wardrobe. The strappy silver heels she wore were also from the Era of Love.
Current fashions were not exactly Hannah's cup of tea. On the rare occasions Beka managed to drag her to London Fashion Week, she always left the various run-way collections on display with a deep sense of disappointment.
What planet were these designers from? she'd always wonder. It was like the female form had become something they manufactured, not one to be admired and enhanced by displaying its natural beauty. Hence, her love for the classics.
Hannah wasn't really looking forward to her dinner with Pierce. After his bizarre jealous peacock display with Gabriel Rosetti, she'd been happy to see the back of him for a few days thanks to a last minute business trip.
But he'd returned from his brief trip to New York yesterday and insisted she come to dinner with him. He wanted to make up for his 'deplorable behaviour at the museum' - his words. And that he needed to explain why he'd acted like such an ass.
The genuine regret he'd expressed made her agree. But deep down, she felt herself pulling away from him even more.
His cause wasn't helped by the fact Hannah had spent most of her time in his absence thinking about Gabriel Rosetti and his strange appearance at the British Museum.
Her attempts to contact Simone about her encounter with the mysterious Mr. Rossetti were at a standstill. Her father, Horatio, had yet to return any of Hannah's messages, which was incredibly frustrating, much like her research into Penny's Dragon Curse. The usual ease she had at finding obscure links to help narrow down the field of possibility was not working.
She'd not had the chance to explain to her friends the other night why she'd been invited to join the OO, or the type of work she did for them. Penny's cutting remark over her being in the dark about the true purpose for the Order's existence had hit a nerve with her. It wasn't that she was unaware of the study of the supernatural, she just hadn't known it pertained to the existence of real supernatural creatures, like vampyres.
Her work had primarily focused on the more human side of the mysterious, such as cases about past life experiences and the validation of what was revealed by tracing it archeologically. There had also been the odd 'haunting' case, where she'd been asked to read through various statements to try and find any links between what was observed and historical fact.
It was important to stress, Hannah's experience remained firmly in the arena of theory, not practice. She dreaded what her OO mentor, Melinda, would do if she learned about Hannah's extra-circular activities with her vampyre and dragon friends.
Maltby arrived at her door to inform her of Pierce's arrival.
Turning to greet him, she asked: "What do you think of my latest acquisition, Maltby?"
"I swear, if I close my eyes, I can see you back there. The sixties, now that was a decade to try and remember."
"Bit wild back then, were you?" she teased. "I shall be home late, Maltby. Please don't wait up, you need your rest." Pressing a kiss to his weathered cheek, Hannah floated past the family's oldest and dearest member into the hall. Maltby may not be blood related, but he and his forefathers had served the Woodville family for what felt like forever.
Walking over to the railing, the older man looked down to the main hall below and watched Hannah greet Pierce. He'd been watching over the Woodville sisters since their births and was never at ease when he had to release one of them from his charge to partake in whatever life had to throw at them. It wasn't rational. But when was duty ever completely logical? Men had thrown themselves in front of swords, knives, bullets - you name it - to protect those they were sworn to protect. And Maltby would do the same, should it ever come to it.
But lately his concern had begun to focus on Hannah, which was unusual, for of all his charges she was the one he worried least about. Yet, he could not ignore what he'd been feeling of late. There was a darkness rising around her and in its shadows a great danger lurked.
He needed advice, lest he miss something of importance in what he was picking up. And a blind spot could end up costing him dearly.
Hannah's soft laugh wafted up to where he stood. She had been amused by something Pierce had said. Maltby smiled. He did so want to see Hannah happy.
The click of the front door sounded. The couple had left.
Transforming into a large, golden-eyed owl, Maltby spread his wings and took flight. It was time to get some answers to assuage his worries.
"MR. NELSON-ALDRICH, LADY Hannah. Ple
asant evening to you both. If you would follow me, your table is ready."
Hannah had to temper her surprisingly strong ire over Pierce's choice of dining establishment. Granted Claridge's was her favourite spot, but on some level she could not help but wonder if this was a passive-aggressive move on his part. He had questioned her at lunch the day Gabriel had come to visit her on the how and when the two of them had met. She'd not thought much about telling him about her encounter with him at Claridge's, but now she was rethinking her position.
Steering them to a secluded table, Winston was quickly on hand to take their drink order.
"I hope you don't mind, but I've asked the Chef to prepare a special menu for us tonight," Pierce informed her, his rich hazel gaze warm with affection. "It's a special occasion. At least, I am hoping after what you hear, you will want to celebrate with me."
Reaching across the table, he grasped Hannah's hand. On contact, a jolt passed through her. The vision of her about to eat dessert materialised clearly in her mind's eye. There was a large diamond ring nestled atop of it. The sound of Pierce saying: 'Hannah, will you marry me?" echoed in her head.
Snatching her hand back in shock over what she'd just experienced, Hannah quickly realised her behaviour was completely out of proportion to what he had done. Desperate to redeem the situation and not alarm Pierce, she covered her reaction by breaking into teasing laughter. "Darling, forgive me. Your news deserves my undivided attention and I fear I need to excuse myself for a moment to attend the ladies room."
She softened the moment further by kissing him tenderly on the lips on her way from the table.
"Of course, sweetheart. Hurry back."
"I won't be a minute. I cannot wait to hear your news. It feels like it will be quite exciting."
"It will, my darling. I promise."
Hannah wove her way through the dining room towards the restrooms. Once certain she was out of Pierce's eyesight, she darted towards the doors to the main lobby. She needed rescuing, fast. And there was only one person whom she could count on when finding oneself in a pickle.
Slipping into the bar, Hannah found an empty booth and slid into it. She opened her small clutch and removed her lifeline. Thank god for mobile technology.
The line took what felt like an inordinate amount of time to connect. When it finally went through, all Hannah could hear at first was loud thumping jazz music.
"Beka? Can you hear me?"
Trumpets rang out.
"Beka!" Hannah tried to shout as loud as an upscale hotel bar in Central London would allow. It wasn't much.
"Hello? Hannah is that you?"
She daren't ask why her sister would be asking her such a ridiculous question seeing as her name would have been clearly displayed on her phone's screen.
"Yes," she hissed. "Go somewhere quieter, I need to speak to you properly. Good lord, it's half-nine! Where on earth are you? A speakeasy?"
"Hold on, Hannah. It's frightfully loud in here. I will go somewhere quieter where we can speak," Rebeka echoed.
She rolled her eyes at her baby sister's mimicked reply. Leave it, her inner voice advised.
"There, that's better," her sister declared moments later. "What's wrong? Is it mummy and daddy? I told them it was silly to stay during the rainy season...or is it Abby? Is she alright?"
Goodness, was ringing her sister such a rarity that it brought about fear of family tragedy when she did? "Everyone is fine. I'm the one in trouble. I need your help, Beka."
"Please tell me you're under arrest at a police station for something unseemly."
"If only," Hannah sighed. "It's worse. I think Pierce is going to propose tonight!"
There was a long silence on the other end of the line.
"Isn't that a good thing?" Beka eventually asked. "I thought you and he were serious. It's been three years, Hannah. Weren't you expecting him to?"
Hannah didn't have time to explain her reasoning to her. "Beka, I'm not ready. I'm not sure he's...the one."
Beka did not need to hear more. "Hold tight, my sister. One proposal diversion is on its way. Where are you?"
"Claridge's. And hurry, we only have until dessert to stop it."
"Then eat slowly, sister. It may take me nigh on an hour to get there."
Rebeka rang off. Relieved, Hannah sat back in the booth, taking a moment to calm her nerves. Glancing at the time, as she put her mobile back into her bag, she realised Pierce would begin to wonder if something was wrong if she didn't return soon. Sliding from her hiding spot, she smoothed her skirt and left to make her way back to the dining room.
Seated in the booth next to hers, Gabriel sat smiling.
Well, well, well. It would seem his night had just got much more interesting. He'd be sure to keep an eye out for the youngest Woodville's arrival. She may need assistance with saving her older sister, and he, being the gentleman he was, would be more than happy to extend a helping hand.
Chapter Eight
GABRIEL TRACED THE rim of the cut glass tumbler filled with a generous amount of Scotch. He expected the arrival of his new London operative, Vlad, at any moment.
None too thrilled with Alessio's suggestion he utilise Vlad with his investigation into the Serpent Brotherhood, Gabe found, against the odds, he'd immediately warmed to the vamp-turned-human. A rarity for him.
He was still nowhere near to putting complete trust in the man. He didn't care how amiable a chap he appeared to be. But Vlad's connections across the supernatural world were impressive and Gabriel recognised an asset when he saw one.
"Evening, mate. Apologies for my delayed arrival," Vlad announced, sliding into the other side of the booth. "My wife had, er...need of me."
Despite Vlad being flesh and bone again, Gabe found it strange to hear a former vamp refer to a woman as his wife. It would seem 'wives' were popping up all over the vamp world. The concept was utterly lost on him.
To have the company of only one female over an extensive length of time sounded like hell. And in the case of Dante, Simone's husband, it was even more serious. For all intents and purposes, their marriage could last forever. Fuck that.
Gabriel had no interest in knowing more about Vlad's wife’s needs. In his opinion the man was consigned to his fate. Poor bastard.
"Any progress to report?" he asked without any of the customary polite preamble one usually offered on another's arrival.
Vlad eyed the vampyre across from him. He'd met many a vamp in his time, but these Praetorian bastards were some of the coldest fuckers he'd ever come across.
Pouring a scotch for his guest from the bottle he'd ordered for the table, Gabe waited silently for an answer.
Vlad took exception to his dismissive attitude. The Consul, or whatever the fuck the Praetorian cunt wanted to call himself, needed a reality check. Vlad was not at his beck and call. His involvement with the Lowerton investigation was solely based on his deep sense of loyalty to Dante, his best friend, his brother.
It had been hell for Vlad to watch Simone's faith in Dante returning slowly deteriorate over the past few months. And although prepared to move heaven and earth to find his friend, this Praetor bastard tested the limits of his patience.
"What fucking progress have you made into finding Dante?" he challenged back. "You do realise once he returns my cooperation ends, right? I could give a fuck about Alessio's issues with the Serpent Brotherhood. It's his bed and he can bloody well lie in it."
It wasn't true, of course. Vlad gave a huge fuck about the Brotherhood. They were the creepy fucks hell-bent on killing Penny and his child in order to break the Dragon Curse. Vlad would go to great lengths to remove their threat to his family. But his plans to do so were still unknown to Alessio, and therefore by extension, Gabriel.
In fact, as far as he was aware, there were only a handful of souls who knew the truth about Penny's link to the Dragon Curse. And Vlad was 'at war' - his words - with most of them.
The only ones entrusted with his wife's identi
ty as the Dragon from the bloodline responsible for the curse were Simone, Horatio and Alfred. At least, that was until Hannah Woodville had entered the scene.
Vlad had been none too pleased to learn of Hannah's addition to those-in-the-know. But Penny had assured him she could be trusted, and more importantly, her old friend's expertise was needed if they were to have any hope in breaking the curse their way. AKA Penny and baby being unharmed in the process.
Thank god initial research had revealed such a feat was possible. Otherwise, the underground bunker Vlad had planned on constructing to live out their lives in would have been well underway.
"Your concern for the future of the Empire is touching," Gabriel returned with a deceptively cool tone. He did not believe Vlad's bold declaration of not caring about Lowerton's fate at the hands of the Serpent Brotherhood. Haan's loyal followers were most likely the ones responsible for Dante's capture. And once Lash freed the missing vamp from their clutches, their pursuit to reclaim such a prized hostage would be unrelenting.
The only way Vlad walked away from that was if he was prepared to walk away from his friend, which they both knew was never going to happen. So why the grand words?
"In answer to your question, neither of my Prefects have provided much on the locations on either of Alessio's sons. Mariam appears to be wily enough to have gone completely off-grid and Lash complains that America is simply 'too fucking big'. But he will be in L.A. shortly to follow up on a lead about whether or not the Serpents are behind the abduction. If so, you may find yourself giving more of a fuck about them, will you not?"
Vlad didn't like his tone. But the bastard was right. All trails of breadcrumbs were leading to the inevitable conclusion of the Brotherhood's involvement. Brotherhood allies were crawling out of every crevice of the supernatural world. And some were more disgusting than others.