“Id, ego and super ego,” I muttered.
“Sigmund Freud fan are you?”‘ Nick said.
“Shush,” said Miller.
My thoughts delved deeper, remembering what I knew about Hauville and cross referencing it with Freud’s structural model of the psyche. I placed myself in Hauville’s shoes, his love of luxury, the pleasure he garnered from playing golf with the Prime Minister, and him making sure everyone knew of this. His belief he could get away with a crime. His arrogance of not even attending his own fundraising party.
When I opened my eyes again, Nick’s stare was locked on me.
“Steele, Hauville’s middle name, and his date birth.” I gestured for him to try that.
“Why his middle name?” Helena said.
“It’s the same as his only daughter who died,” I said. “Olivia Steele Hauville.”
Nick clicked away on the keyboard. “Bloody hell. That worked.”
“Inspector!” Helena said, astonished. “How did you do that?”
“It’s like there’s a part of my brain that gets it before me.” I raised my hand. “Don’t ask.”
“Some people do it with math problems,” Nick said. “I had a friend in school who could figure out these complex algebra calculations, but had trouble explaining how he’d worked them out. The teachers believed he was cheating but he wasn’t.”
“Hauville’s egotistical,” I said. “I started from there.”
“That’s why we’re calling you, ma’am,” Miller said.
“Lucky guess.” I leaned in to better view the screen.
“You beat the software,” Nick said. “That’s some gift.”
“Emotions lead decisions,” I said. “Which computers lack. Unless of course we’re dealing with a psychopath. And we’re not, apparently. Let’s take a look at what Hauville’s been up to.” There came a thrill of excitement that we might have more on him.
“And we are in.” Nick clicked away, entering the labyrinth of Hauville’s computer files.
“Try that.” I gestured to an icon titled accounts.
“Surely it can’t be this easy?” Miller said. “It’s not even assigned an access code.”
“His arrogance is front and center,” I said.
Within Quick Books software, page after page of accounting documentations flashed on the screen. Records of online transactions from overseas.
“We have him,” Miller said. “Look at that.”
Nick clicked print. “Two years ago I got into a computer and its default was set to fry the hard drive. I’m not kidding. From then on I print every page.”
“Was that the Ribaldi case?” Miller asked.
“The very same,” Nick said. “He literally got away with murder. I still have nightmares over that one.” He glanced over at me. “Ma’am, maybe you’d take it on as a cold case?”
“Maybe,” I said. “Let’s check Hauville’s emails.”
Nick clicked the mouse, taking us back to the main screen.
“Gothique?” Helena pointed to an icon. “What do you think that is?”
“Click on it,” I said to Nick. “Gothique is French for gothic.”
“Fuck!” Nick sat back. “What is that?”
We stared at the photo of the young pretty girl. A brunette, twenty-ish. Her arms were spread out at either side and secured in shackles to a brick wall. She was dressed in gothic attire—corset and black pants. Her dazed stare was captured in a dusky hue of poor lighting. Nothing gave away her whereabouts, or whether her consent had been given. It reeked of sinister.
My throat tightened. “The girl’s left arm. Can you zero in on it?”
Nick coughed. “Fucked up freaky.”
“Nick,” I said firmly. “I need you to close in”
“Her arm?”
“Her inner forearm,” I said. “That tattoo.”
With several clicks of the mouse, Nick zeroed in on the image. There, upon the girl’s left inner forearm, was a small, round circle. The mark of a Gothica. The brand of a vampire’s servant. My gut churned with the realization—
She had the exact same mark I’d been branded with.
CHAPTER 3
Cornwall’s most beloved castle, Saint Michael’s Mount, rose majestically out of the granite rock it had been built upon.
I was finding its far eastern wall not as easy to scale as I’d first anticipated.
Although only halfway up, the above turrets were now in sight, and if I kept this pace I’d be standing on top of St. Michael’s roof by nightfall. The brickwork was solid granite, making it impenetrable, but the surrounding plaster and whitewash were malleable, allowing for the hammering in of my climbing blade. I attached my metal D-shaped carabiner through it and my rope through that, tugging it tight. If I lost my footing, I’d only fall as far as the last blade.
Considering I’d been trained to climb with a partner, I was excelling on my own, and though I’d tackled vertical climbs less than a handful of times I’d not forgotten the technique of maintaining my balance and using the strength in my legs to hoist myself. Taking short breaks when needed, I recalled my instructor’s warning not to ignore the body’s symptoms of stress: first shaking legs, followed by calf pain and, if ignored, immobilizing cramps, which at seventy-five feet up wasn’t good.
Below, a blue-green ocean shimmered hypnotically. A crisp orange and yellow sunset burst forth shards of light over the water and glistened on tumbling waves. A cool breeze blew in from the east, causing the fine hairs on my forearms to prickle. I closed my eyes to let it wash over me, refresh me. Resting my face against the cold brick, I took a few moments to gather my thoughts.
This morning, what had seemed like a routine case of counterfeit activity had quite possibly turned into a kidnapping case. That one image of a restrained female had been the catalyst for Hauville’s computer being transferred over to S C & O, Scotland Yard’s Homicide and Serious Crime command. My team had been left with a few folders, some fake samples, and that old boar’s head. Protocol had been followed, satisfying everyone except my team.
Risking my life to get inside this castle was no longer about me needing to see Jadeon. That girl in the photo may very well need rescuing. That symbol on her left inner forearm had marked her as a Gothica. The exact same circle brand that was given to young men and women when they took up the life of a vampire servant, with the promise of one day being transformed into a vampire themselves. The same symbol that had been forced upon me not so long ago to protect me from a rogue immortal’s attack. Apparently no one would dare harm a Gothica belonging to Orpheus. Though I was never his servant, and had never belonged to him. Perhaps that was why my circle had been placed around a birthmark, which transformed the symbol into a circumpunct. A circle with a dot in the middle was the most ancient of symbols, representing balance. I’d actually become rather fond of this lasting proof of all that had happened. Or perhaps it was all that I had to prove it really did happen.
I rammed another blade into the rock, scattering dust. Hammering the blade felt cathartic, my right bicep feeling the tension of each strike. After getting into the rhythm of the climb, it didn’t take long to arrive at the turrets. Reaching up, I pulled myself through one of them, twisting on its ledge and landing firmly on the castle roof.
‘Usual haunts,’ Orpheus had told me when I’d asked him where Jadeon was, and this castle had been Jadeon’s family home for centuries. The thought of seeing him made me shiver with excitement. My flesh tingled with the memory of his touch. His embrace. If I could just make him see reason.
I climbed out of my harness and shoved it into my backpack, and then placed it against the wall where I’d easily find it should I need to make a quick escape. After the long climb, it was a relief to find the roof door unlocked. Though I’d brought my pick with me just in case.
Once inside, I ascended the thin stone stairwell and soon found myself standing in one of the castle’s uppermost corridors. I breathed in the scent of hist
ory. It reminded me of the smell of candle wax and oak. A thrill of anticipation shot up my spine at the prospect I was here again. I tucked my flashlight into my jacket pocket, not needing it as my eyes adjusted to the dimness. Continuing on, I cautiously strolled along the corridor of the second floor.
From the upper balcony, I overlooked the enormous foyer. The low hanging chandelier was free from cobwebs, its sconces holding new candles, though the wicks had been untouched by flames. The marble flooring sparkled. The two suits of armor guarding either side of the stairwell had been polished. Running my fingertips along the banister, I found no dust.
A series of chimes from a grandfather clock announced it was ten o’clock.
How ironic I mused, the mysteries of this place were nothing compared to those who lived within its walls. My memories drifted back to the first time I’d visited. I’d accepted the invitation from Lord Jadeon Artimas to spend the weekend here. I’d been so naive, having no idea immortals even existed. Of course I’d heard of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, but never considered they really existed. Never.
Yet those first few hours here when I’d explored the castle alone, accepting Jadeon’s offer to look around, I’d uncovered objects dating back two hundred years, and more alarming still they pertained to him. Like the goblet engraved with his name and dated 1798.
Blushing wildly, my cheeks burned like fire as those moments found their way back to me. I pressed my fingertips against my lips, remembering how he’d seduced me, guiding me into the dungeons and laying me on that central table. He’d taken me there, taken my breath away, entrancing me completely, his touch alighting my senses and awakening my desires. I’d given myself over to him and allowed myself to truly love and be loved for the first time in my life.
My hands eased up on their grip of the banister. Even here, surrounded by all that was his, the vastness of how much I missed him still wrenched at me.
As I headed in an easterly direction, all my senses were on edge.
I’d discovered there was far more to this place, with its hidden rooms leading to breathtaking revelations. Others very likely waited to be discovered. I’d sworn never to share what we’d found in the lowest room. Even now, I remembered seeing it for the first time, that towering five ton, twenty-foot rock. The centerpiece within a cathedral-styled chamber. The rock matched its brothers that stood tall at Stonehenge. Just what the men who’d dragged that lone rock here had intended it for remained uncertain.
I’d helped decipher the clues that led us to this remarkable find. Jadeon had lived here for over two hundred years and only now discovered it beneath the castle, using the most secret of staircases to reach it. I’d been the one to solve the clues which led us to it, proving once again my worthiness to mingle amongst them.
Hadn’t I?
I rested my forehead against Jadeon’s bedroom door.
Braving my first step, my heart pounding with anticipation, I pushed it open. He wasn’t here. Perhaps I’d find him reading in the study? Or in the highest tower painting a nightscape? I swallowed my disappointment.
Running my fingertips along his neatly lined suits hanging in his closet, I hoped he was here. I headed to the top of the stairwell and down.
Lingering in the center of the foyer, I considered which way next. Jadeon had told me that having been born here he’d gotten used to the enormity of the place. He much preferred the cozier rooms, like the library with its collection of well-stocked books, or even the drawing room with its leather couches and open fire, along with the grand piano.
Above my head, the chandelier swung wide.
“Bloody hell.” I dropped to my knees, my heart thundering, my throat too tight to scream.
An enormous bat-like creature hung upside-down from the chandelier, his wrinkled face human enough, but not his leathery flesh or widespread wings. He peered down at me with curiosity, his black beady eyes locked on mine.
“Paradom?” I screeched, remembering him from Bodium castle when I’d been trapped in a cell with him. He had sucked the life out of one of the other captors in the prison with us, and yet I’d remain unharmed. That circled brand had indeed kept me safe. Pushing those frantic memories away, I bolted onward across the foyer—
And ran right into Sebastian Price and almost knocked him backwards.
“Whoa,” he said, sidestepping. “Ingrid?” His Welsh lilt echoed.
I glanced back.
“He won’t hurt you,” Sebastian said, offering his hand to steady me.
I flung myself into Sebastian’s embrace and wrapped my arms around him.
“Hey, you,” he said, hugging me back.
I broke away and took a good look at him, daring to see how he’d changed with the kind of transformation brought on by being turned. Sebastian looked well. His black complexion was healthy with no sign of translucence, and his chocolate brown irises were rich in color but not fluorescent. He wore jeans and a shirt, perfectly molded to his dancer’s body. He looked fitter than ever, his eyes twinkling with a happiness I’d not seen before.
“How did you get in?” he said.
“This is how,” came a clipped English accent.
There, halfway up the central staircase, stood Alex Artimas, and he was holding my backpack. He looked ethereal, his blond curls and blue eyes radiating the illusion he wasn’t a vampire but merely a twenty-something young man. He was dressed in ripped jeans, the designer kind, and a crisp white shirt open at the collar. His beauty was startling even now. High cheekbones, furrowed brow, and an intense glare that went for the jugular. Mine.
Turning my gaze from him, I faced Sebastian again, finding his smile a safe haven. There came a glint of hope that if Jadeon’s younger brother Alex was here maybe Jadeon would be too.
“What did you do to my wall?”Alex snapped, holding out a palm in which lay several climbing blades.
“You’ve placed locks on all the doors,” I said. “You gave me no choice but to be a little inventive.”
“Those locks are meant to keep people out.” Alex dropped the rucksack and it tumbled down the stairs.
I glanced back up to see Paradom sucking his thumb.
“Paradom doesn’t like arguing,” Sebastian said.
“We’re not really arguing,” I called up.
“We are,” Alex said.
I gestured my sincerity. “Sorry.”
Alex looked incredulous. “You’ve done more damage than when the Spanish raided the castle.”
“The Spanish didn’t actually attack though, did they?” Sebastian said.
“Jadeon’s not here,” Alex said. “So you fucked up my wall for nothing.”
“After all we’ve been through.” I took a step toward him. “Surely you’ve come to trust me.”
Alex vanished and I blinked several times at where he’d been standing.
The chandelier creaked its disapproval at having both Alex and Paradom now hanging upside down from it. Though unlike Paradom, who used his clawed feet to grip a rung, Alex wrapped his legs over an arched arm.
“Welcome to my world,” Sebastian said, smiling.
“You should try it, Seb,” Alex shouted down. “It’s actually rather comfortable.”
Sebastian’s attention fell back on me. “I’m sorry. Jadeon really isn’t here.”
“Do you know where I can find him?” I said.
His expression was consolatory. “I don’t. He never tells us where he is.”
“What if you need to contact him?”
“Alex can always send Jadeon a mind message,” Sebastian said, cringing at giving that away.
I faced Alex, ready to beg him.
He merely rolled his eyes and said, “No.”
“How have you been?” Sebastian asked, pulling my attention back to him.
“Fine, and you?” I said, running through the words that would change Alex’s mind.
“Still no,” Alex shouted at me.
Seb chuckled. “I’m fine too.”
�
��You look well,” I said. “Really good, Seb. You look happy.”
“I’m training again.”
“Ballet?” I asked, and on his nod, “Oh Seb, that’s wonderful.”
“Jadeon made it a condition of me staying here.”
I held back my tears at seeing Sebastian again, at being near the friend I’d shared so much with. I’d not realized how much I needed this.
“Tea?” Sebastian offered.
“Tea would be lovely.”
I could see why Jadeon was so fond of him. He had a way of accepting the moment for what it was, not pushing back, not needing for it to be anything other than what it was.
Paradom leaped off the chandelier, leaving it rocking with Alex still hanging from it. He hopped toward me, his toenails scratching the marble flooring. Paradom’s head tilted as though he was as equally fascinated with me. Jadeon had told me that Paradom had been burned literally to ash, and those remains had been joined with another vampire’s ashes. After being resurrected, Paradom had lived as one vampire with two personalities, until those individuals with good intentions had tried to separate him. During this experiment, the other vampire had apparently died. What was left of their union was Paradom, a winged creature, his thoughts as muddled as his words, though his sweetness never wavered.
Although doubt flooded my belief in this fanciful story, it was hard to come up with another explanation for what created this unique being. This winged miracle.
My thoughts scattered into a thousand unreasonable images as those awful memories of the same thing happening to Jadeon and Orpheus found its way back to me. They had been joined as one. Though they had survived the ordeal and were now back to their separate and very different selves. That was a long time ago, I reassured myself. Three months, my muse kindly reminded me. Though it felt like yesterday.
Madness.
Impossible.
Don’t go there and put that kind of strain on yourself again. The kind that almost led to a breakdown.
A Vampire's Bohemian Page 3