Vengeful Vampire at Wonky Inn: Wonky Inn Book 8

by Jeannie Wycherley

  “Hello,” I greeted him, hoping he spoke English.

  He stared at me through mischievous brown eyes and remained mute.

  “Isn’t this where you’re supposed to say, ‘your wish is my command’?” I asked him. I’d seen the movies after all.

  He cocked his head to one side, looked me up and down with evident disgust and pursed his lips. I decided that he obviously didn’t speak my mother tongue. Silvan hadn’t prepared me for this.

  “My name is Alfhild,” I pointed at myself, speaking slowly and loudly. “And I need your help. If you don’t mind. Please.”

  He sighed. “Why do I get all the amateurs?”

  “Oh you do understand me?” I clapped in excitement.

  “Of course I do.” The djinn bore an expression of extreme weariness.

  “Do you have a name?” I decided to try to coax some warmth out of him.

  He drew himself up, angling his chin, his eyebrows—thick like a pair of furry caterpillars—set in a haughty arc. “My name, Mistress, is Paimon. I suppose I should be grateful that you have hauled me out of the dungeon of djinns; a rat infested and hateful hovel if ever there was one, but to be quite honest, I was enjoying a rest.”

  I nodded as though I understood to what he was referring, but I didn’t have a clue. What did he mean by dungeon? Where on earth did he live?

  He studied my face and tutted. “What is it with you witches? Have they added djinn-conjuring to the syllabus at the London academy or something?”

  “No, I—”

  He raised his right hand to study his nails. “Only, my last three conjurings have involved novice witches who haven’t a clue what they’re doing.”

  “I’m not a novice witch,” I harrumphed in annoyance.

  “You could have fooled me.” He folded his arms with a wry shake of his head.

  I glowered. “I’m not trying to fool you. But I do need your help rather desperately.”

  He raised his impressive eyebrows.

  I needed to communicate the seriousness of our situation. I jabbed my finger back towards the arched door. “Out there is a dark witch who can run rings around your kind, and you’d better believe you’d be doing his bidding if it was him standing here and not me.”

  Paimon followed the direction of my finger, evidently seeing no-one on the balcony. He looked back at me rather warily.

  “He’s hiding out below the balcony. He’s injured.”

  Paimon nodded. “I’d love to help but I’m no doctor.”

  “That’s not what I need you to do for me.”

  Paimon walked over to the doors and stepped outside. “When you say below—”

  “There’s a kind of cutaway in the wall or the rock or whatever it is this castle has been carved out of. There’s just enough space under there for the pair of us to lie flat. Which is what we’ve been doing for the past five hours, in fact.”

  “Ah.” He nodded his understanding. “That’s why you look like a charity shop reject.”

  The impudence. Of all the djinns I could have conjured how had I ended up with this insolent and bad-tempered creature?

  “Listen—”

  Paimon held a chubby hand up. “I can’t carry him either. You’d need more than one djinn to help you with that. If he’s as big as you, maybe you’d need an army of us.”

  “Do you mind?” I erupted.

  He angled an enquiring eyebrow at me.

  I remained silent for a minute, fighting my annoyance. If this little toad couldn’t help me then I needed to send him back from where he’d come from. Paimon watched me, thinking, and perhaps he sensed he’d pushed me as far as he could because he suddenly dropped his puffed-up arrogance and turned a serious face upon me.

  “Mistress?”

  I regarded him in surprise, confused by the sudden change of tone. “Yes?”

  “I sense someone heading our way.” My stomach dropped into my boots. He continued, “If it’s true that you have spent half the night outside in order to avoid a confrontation, I suggest we make ourselves scarce.”

  “Where? Where?” I looked around in panic. There was a distinct lack of hiding spaces in this room.

  “Under the desk, Mistress,” Paimon suggested and without further ado dove there himself. The desk was one of those with an enclosed section at the rear, offering us the perfect hiding place. I hurriedly pulled the door to the balcony closed and dashed after the djinn, ducking under the top and squeezing myself in the well next to him. He lay flat on the rug, peeping out through the small gap between the bottom of the desk and the floor. Meanwhile I folded my legs so that every inch of me was tucked out of sight.

  I held my breath as the door opened, clenching my muscles tight, scared that my clothes might rustle and give the game away. Whoever was at the door paused there for a second, muttered something to themselves, then walked slowly across the length of the room. I couldn’t see them, but some of the light disappeared from the room so I could only imagine they were standing near one of the two doors, perhaps looking out at the balcony or the view beyond.

  Or were they looking for us.

  Just when I thought I would explode unless I started to breathe properly, the footsteps retreated back the way they had come. An internal door opened and closed, and I was alone again with the djinn.

  We stared at each other in a newfound unity. This close I could smell his skin and hair. Vaguely musty—a damp dungeon in a place far away perhaps—but with an underlying tinge of some sort of incense and spice.

  “Who was that?” I whispered.

  “A rather large gentleman dressed in black with a mask,” Paimon whispered back.

  “They’re still looking for us then. That’s what I was afraid of.” I stretched my cramped legs out. “Is the coast clear?”

  Paimon concentrated, his eyes swivelling this way and that, and nodded. “There are others around but that one has headed away from here. Who are they?”

  “They’re called shadow guards. They’re the mortal defenders of the owner of this castle.” I winced as cramp set into my foot. “This castle belongs to a vampire and there’s a whole nest of the vicious monsters asleep in various rooms. They’re after my blood.” I shuddered. “And everything else.”

  I shuffled out from under the desk and Paimon followed me. “You’re in quite a bind, Mistress. This place is full of danger.”

  “I know.” I pointed at the fire. “But I have a feeling that someone will be sympathetic to my plight.” I smiled down at Paimon with what I hoped was a mixture of determination and encouragement. “Here’s what I need you to do.”

  Paimon took the lead.

  We crept out into the hallway and he moved swiftly and quietly ahead of me. I held my wand out ready to unlock a door should we need to swiftly locate a hiding place.

  We moved with caution. Paimon’s head turned this way and that as he scanned for more shadow guards. I had my eyes peeled but Paimon’s senses were sharper than mine. Nothing was familiar so I wasn’t sure in which direction to head, all I knew was that I wanted to get downstairs to the kitchen, and we needed to do it without eliciting unwanted attention.

  This wasn’t a part of the castle I had explored previously, but evidently this was where Prince Grigor resided. The rooms on this floor all had some sort of purpose, and we passed a few with open doors including a drawing room, and a smaller dining room for those days when you didn’t fancy The Great Hall.

  We made decent progress until suddenly Paimon pulled up, lifting his hand to warn me. He gestured urgently ahead of us. I tapped my wand against the lock of the nearest door. “Reserare,” I whispered and heard the welcome sound of rolling tumblers.

  Quick as a flash I stepped in and Paimon followed me. I closed the door and leaned against it. I could clearly make out the sound of someone—even a pair of someones—walking down the hallway outside, heading straight for us. The room was dark, hardly a chink of light. I felt around, located what I imaged were tapestries and quic
kly hid myself behind them.

  The footsteps halted in front of the door and I heard someone murmuring something unintelligible. The response was clear enough, however.

  “That would be inconceivable.”

  I waited. Nothing more was said.

  The footsteps started again and disappeared down the hallway.

  Breathing a sigh of relief I fought my way out from behind the tapestry. Dust billowed around me, coating my face, and probably my lungs as I inhaled. I waved it away from my face—entirely ineffectively—and, my eyes now growing more accustomed to the darkness of this room, made out a bed in the middle of the room.

  Curiosity drove me forwards.

  Lying in state on pillows of red velvet, his face as white as the driven snow, lay the ancient body of Prince Grigor. This was his bedroom. I stared down at his hateful visage. If I’d been a vampire hunter, or someone created in the mould of a Van-Helsing, maybe I’d have taken up a stake and plunged it through his unfeeling and slow beating heart.

  But that’s not who I was.

  Even with Silvan hiding in abject pain outside, I couldn’t lift my wand to finish him off.

  I leaned over him, turning my nose up at his rancid stench. My heart thumped in my chest as I imagined him suddenly opening his eyes and sinking his razor-sharp fangs in the veins at my throat. Nonetheless, the beating of my own heart reminded me of how alive I was, and how I would fight to remain so.

  I had a message for Grigor though. One he seemed intent on refusing to hear. “I didn’t kill Thaddeus,” I said, even though I assumed he couldn’t hear me. “And blaming me for his death is never going to help you find the person who did.”

  I turned on my heel. “Let’s get downstairs,” I instructed Paimon and he nodded in agreement.

  We exited the bedchamber and quietly closed the door, leaving Grigor to sleep the sleep of the wicked.

  Like a pair of stealthy ninjas we continued on our way. Along hallways and down flights of stone stairs, avoiding main thoroughfares where possible. Occasionally we had further need to slip inside locked rooms, and always we found another vampire dead to the world on a bed. It appeared as if each of them was lying in state, and every single one we gazed upon seemed more beautiful and younger than the last.

  Harmless at rest, I could only remind myself of the power these immortals wielded when awake. Deadly and frightening.

  I remembered the rustling in the dark shadows of The Great Hall during my supposed trial. I could only imagine what devastation these beasts would have inflicted to me had I attended sentencing at midnight the previous evening, as Grigor had planned.

  The kitchen was located in the basement, more or less positioned underneath The Great Hall. This must have been handy for when banquets of the more mundane variety were ordered. Paimon and I arrived at the hall via some grubby back stairs rather than the grand staircase. I cracked open the door and peered out. Someone—a caretaker of some kind—was pushing a broom around and whistling. The dais had been moved from the side of the room to what had effectively become centre stage, and I knew that had I been brought down here the previous evening, it would have been me who’d become the star attraction.

  The whistling cleaner moved into view and I ducked back out of the way. An old man, he didn’t look like he’d present much of a problem to us, but at this stage it seemed wise to take precautions. I knelt down so I could whisper in the djinn’s ear.

  “I need you to slip out and find a way down to the kitchen. Keep a good lookout for shadow guards, hide if you have to. Then come back.”

  He nodded and darted through the gap in the door, streaking past the old man with his broom. I remained on my knees, hunching close to the floor so I could watch the djinn without drawing attention to himself. The old man must have spotted movement out of his eye for he turned. Seeing nothing, for Paimon had ducked behind the dais, he carried on sweeping.

  Paimon took stock of his surroundings. The main entrance was off to his right, the enormous fire in front of him. I watched him scan the walls and then head for something directly to the left of where I was hiding.

  He disappeared from view and there was nothing I could do but wait.

  I tried to remain calm despite the adrenaline pumping around my body. We were so close now. I could only ask the universe to give me a break. I waited an age but eventually I heard the soft sounds of Paimon’s bare feet as he padded across the wooden floor of The Great Hall. The whistling had moved to the far corner. I eased the door open a little more and the djinn slipped to the floor beside me.

  “Mistress, I have good news and bad news.”

  Isn’t it always the way? “Go on.”

  “The woman you seek is below.” That was good news indeed. “Unfortunately it also appears the shadow guards have their headquarters on the same floor and you’re going to have to get past them in order to speak with her.”

  This was a disaster. “How many of them?”

  “A dozen. Maybe more.”

  I rolled my eyes in exasperation. That many? I suppose in a castle this size, and given its many occupants, it wasn’t entirely surprising. But what was I going to do? I couldn’t kill them all. Couldn’t send them into some endless sleep like their handlers…

  I jolted at the thought.

  Not an endless sleep… but a temporary one.

  “Paimon?” He had poked his head back outside, keeping an eye on the caretaker. I tapped him excitedly on the shoulder. “I need you to dash upstairs and bring down a feather pillow. I’ve had a great idea.”

  Back in the days when I attended a witch school at weekends—before I thought I’d killed my father and decided I didn’t want to be a witch any more thankyou-very-much—I’d been a fairly good student. One of my favourite spells—more hoax than hex—had been the slumber spell. My classmates were terrible for inflicting it on each other, resulting in one poor pre-selected victim falling asleep in class. Our teacher would be furious and produce their own wand to reawaken the victim, and would then be irritable for the rest of the lesson. I hadn’t used the spell in a long while, and I’d only ever used it on individuals. Now I was going to try and cast it on at least a dozen people at once.

  I carefully ripped open the pillow’s seam, just a little, and gave it to Paimon to carry. Once the caretaker had his back to us, the djinn led me out into The Great Hall. Hugging the wall we flitted to the next door, with me mentally apologising to the caretaker for the trail of feathers we were leaving in our wake.

  Once inside the stairwell, I noted that the walls were plain and the stairs twisty. I could smell the faint scents of roasted meat and vegetables. Plates of food had been carried up these stairs for centuries, used in a bid to tempt the appetites of unsuspecting guests who probably eventually went on to become supper themselves. We wound our way down, round and round, three twists of the staircase, before Paimon halted. I craned my neck around the bend to see what he could see.

  Once upon a time this would have been a vast open space. Now it had been divided into three. To the right, through the glass of steamy windows I could see the kitchen. A few civilians were busy inside, chopping up what appeared to be a massive carcass. For the sake of my sanity, I assumed it was beef.

  In front of us was a vestibule with a number of plain hardwood benches. Several shadow guards lounged here, a few dozing, the others chatting. They had their masks and leather gloves off, and now that I could see their faces they seemed a great deal less sinister than I’d supposed. They were young for the most part, pimply faced locals who needed to earn some cash.

  To the left was the shadow guard base. It had been partitioned but there was no glass so you could view what was effectively a single large space containing a desk and some lockers, and a place where weapons were stored. There were several older chaps in there, poring over a map or something similar on the desk.

  This presented a problem.

  I pulled my head back and leaned down to Paimon. “You’re going to have
to throw that pillow as high as you can. Aim for the partition on the left. I’ll do the rest.”

  He nodded his understanding.

  I mentally rehearsed the moves and the words I would need and then grounding myself lifted my wand in front of my face.

  “Go.” The low command seemed to carry in the stairwell, but I didn’t have time to worry about that.

  Paimon scurried through to the vestibule and planted himself centrally.

  “What is that?” someone shouted.

  My turn to show myself.

  I took a step, rounding the corner. In another few paces I was behind Paimon.

  “This is a djinn,” I told the astonished men, “and he’s here to help you sleep.”

  “That’s her!” One of the two guards nearest me on the benches stood as though to rush me. “The one we’ve spent all night looking for!”

  The other remained where he was, looking more than a little scared, but their compatriots in the office made a move to join us.

  “Now!” I told Paimon and he threw the pillow high into the air, twisting his wrist as he did so in order to make it spin. After that, everything happened in slow motion. Heads swivelled to watch the pillow rise and mouths opened as it began to fall.

  I took aim with my wand, needing to get the timing just right. “Pluma! Displodo.” The pillow erupted and feathers flew everywhere, a white downy explosion that tickled and irritated as they began to float to the floor. As the shadow guards batted them away, I circled my wand gently, caressing the air around me. “Somnus enim a dum.” I kept my voice low, soothing, almost mournful.

  As one, slowly and without harm, the guards slumped to the ground as the spell worked its magick and their bodies fell into a deep sleep. I prodded the nearest one with my boot. He emitted a pig-like snore. Perfection. Stepping carefully over him, I headed for the kitchen. Several of the workers had seen what had happened. Scared they would come at me with their carving knives or butcher’s knives I raised my wand. I needn’t have worried. These were ordinary citizens and they had no desire to pick a fight with a witch.