He pulled me tighter. “Know that I share your pain when it comes to us not being a possibility.”
“I thought you were trying to comfort me?”
“Enlighten you.” He pulled the blanket higher over my shoulder. “Let’s savor these last few hours together.”
Surrendering to his hand stroking my damp locks and ignoring my tear soaked pillow, I gave up this impossible fight of wills and drifted asleep.
CHAPTER 12
The cold water felt good.
I captured more of it in my cupped hands and splashed it over my face to awaken me, drenching my chest. My discarded dress, bra, and panties lay on the bathroom floor as a reminder of last night. That faux diamond bracelet rested on the side of the sink where Jadeon had slipped it off my arm. Proof he’d really been here. I fought the urge to stare at the shower and lose myself in the memory of him in there with me and all those sensuous things he’d done. I blushed, my thoughts flittering over the details: his voice, his touch, and everything else about him that I loved so much. The kind of love that hurts.
Jadeon’s presence lingered. His face haunted my every thought. He’d left during the night, leaving nothing but an imprint of his body against mine.
Staring into the mirror, I found my face looked fresh enough, easily hiding my lack of sleep, though smudged mascara gave away a night of reckless abandon.
Although grateful to have survived a trip into the very heart of a vampire’s lair, Jadeon’s annoyance left me feeling bereft and ashamed I’d let him down.
Loathing the hold he still had over me, I silently cursed him.
“Being mortal suits you,” I told my mirrored self. “Let’s stick with that, shall we? And while you’re at it, let’s see if we can stay alive.” There, I’d appropriately chastised myself.
God I missed him.
What is wrong with you? I snapped at myself.
Last night Lord Jadeon Artimas had sensuously burned me up from the inside out in his usual seductive fashion; that was what was wrong with me.
I leaned in closer to my reflection. “Get a grip.”
Grabbing my silk robe from the back of the door, I pulled it on.
If I was going to catch the 7 A.M. tube to Scotland Yard, I was going to have to hurry. Being late-phobic meant I’d rather die than fail to be at work on time.
Heading barefoot into the kitchen, I stopped in my tracks.
Studying my arms, I tried to see if anything was different. The color of my flesh was pink and normal looking. No paleness there, and my reflection had certainly appeared the same. There, see, I had a reflection. Daylight flooded in through the blinds. If I’d been turned that would be bad. Very bad.
Caressing my brow and nursing this headache, I realized these spiraling thoughts were closing in and making me incapacitated. I grabbed the bottle of Tylenol from the kitchen counter and clicked my way into it. I took two, swigging tap water to wash them down.
I ripped off the photo of the Eiffel Tower and threw it across the room. It merely landed a few feet away, mocking me. France, the country Jadeon and I had promised each other we’d visit back when things were normal. Well, as normal as they get when you’re romantically involved with the undead.
It’s for the best, my reason butted-in and it had a point, making a good argument for things not working out. Jadeon did spend his days sleeping and his nights, well, doing God knows what, and I had a job to do that involved following the law and making sure everyone else did too. Incompatible was an understatement. We were oceans apart, not meant to be, a bad fit. So why did my mind lead back to him with every waking thought? I was spellbound, that was it, having fallen prey to his seduction. It didn’t help that he was the sexiest man I’d ever met. Okay, vampire.
This was so unlike me. I was the girl who ignored my heart’s calling and did what had to be done. This crazy crush was addling my brain.
My hand rested on the fridge door and I mulled over whether to brave the cheese stick. It was only slightly less dangerous than entering a vampire lair with no real plan, and later falling asleep with one of London’s most dangerous vampires beside me. Yet somehow I’d survived that experience unscathed too.
Jadeon, my darling nightwalker, was lost to me forever, and last night he’d reiterated the fact. I sucked back tears, trying to reconcile we were over. That cheese stick sounded good right about now.
I flung open the fridge door—
Gone was that lone carton of soymilk, the tin of tuna, and moldy life-threatening cheese stick. In their place was more food then I’d ever had in there. I reached in and pulled out the small pot of Beluga caviar.
Seriously?
So let me get this straight—
I couldn’t contact him, yet Jadeon felt entitled to interfere with my life in any way he saw fit? He had no right to go inside my fridge. No right at all. I threw the caviar back in and slammed the door.
I stormed back into the bathroom.
Within twenty minutes I’d taken a quick shower, donned my blue silk shirt, pencil skirt, two inch heeled pumps, and tied my hair back in some kind of semblance of a chignon.
Heading out, I was more than ready to throw myself into work and get this day going.
Oh no.
There, standing curbside was Henry, the chauffer from last night. He saw me, tipped his hat, and opened the passenger door of the Rolls.
I strolled up to him, offering a polite smile. “Henry, isn’t it? I’ll be taking my car, but thank you for being here. Sorry to waste your time. Please don’t come back. Ever.”
“I can drop you off around the corner of Scotland Yard,” he said in a strong Cockney accent.
“No thank you. Please excuse me. I’m running late.” I turned on my heel and headed toward my Rover. My car’s left back tire was flat. I spun round and glared at Henry.
He gave an unconvincing look of surprise. “I can help you change it if you like?”
“I’m going to be late.”
“There’s fresh coffee and a bagel waiting for you.” He peered through the black tinted window. “Wasn’t that a bit of luck?”
“Bit convenient.” I pointed to the wheel.
“It’s a good thing I’m here.” Henry gave a knowing nod.
With clenched teeth, I cursed Jadeon. He had no right to push me away one minute and seduce me with bagels and coffee the next. Something told me that puncturing my rear wheel, or getting someone else to, was the least of what he would do to keep control of me. This was his way of tracking my whereabouts, I was sure of it.
“Madam.” Henry opened the passenger door. “We don’t want you to be late.”
Reluctantly, I lowered my head and climbed in.
The aroma of fresh coffee hit me and I breathed it in, hating that I wanted it this much. Leaning back against the leather seat, my fists clenched in my lap. “Aaaahhh.”
“Music, ma’am?” Henry offered.
“Sure. Why not.”
A backdrop to all this misery might be just what I needed.
Coldplay’s Paradise blared through the car’s speakers. Henry turned up the music, drowning out the sounds of traffic.
I eyed the large cup of Starbucks as though it were the enemy and took a peek inside the brown paper bag, expecting to find evidence and not the toasted salmon and cream-cheese bagel, which in no way was I eating.
Henry peered up at me via the rearview mirror. “Apparently all the tubes are running late, ma’am,” he said, pulling the Rolls away from the curb. “Good old British Rail.”
I snapped and took a bite of the bagel, resisting the urge to roll my eyes in ecstasy as the texture of rich salmon mixed with the tang of cheese. The cucumber added freshness. Other than the bowl of Special K last night, and not counting the Mars Bar I’d had for lunch, I hadn’t eaten a proper meal in over twenty-four hours. The coffee tasted good as well, and I conceded I had a long day ahead. Fueling up on carbs and caffeine was actually a good idea.
I’ll allow yo
u this one, Artimas.
Peering into the rearview to better view Henry’s eyes, I asked, “How long have you worked for Lord Artimas?”
Henry turned the music down. “That’s restricted I’m afraid.” He gave an apologetic shrug.
I sat back. “I can always use Scotland Yard’s database.”
“Well for that you’d need my last name, ma’am.”
I took another sip of coffee to hide my annoyance. “I have this number plate memorized.”
“I have a message from Lord Artimas.” Henry steered the Rolls around another car waiting to park, its indicator flashing. “He knew you’d want to question me and asked that you respect my privacy.”
“Do you know who you’re actually working for?”
“I do, ma’am, yes.”
“Tell me what you know about him.”
“Lord Artimas is one of the wealthiest men in Cornwall. A Peer of the Realm. You’re a lucky woman.”
“We’re not dating.”
“I just thought—”
“We’re friends.”
Though from last night’s adventure, friends wasn’t the first word that came to mind. Lovers was more appropriate. Fuck-buddies even. But he hadn’t fucked me, had he? He’d held back on his own pleasure, merely concentrating on mine and giving me the most mind-blowing orgasm I’d had in months.
I took another bite of bagel.
Henry’s cufflinks bore the insignia of a parachute with wings. Those, and his short haircut, revealed he was ex-army, a retired paratrooper.
I mulled over the idea that Jadeon knew I’d interview Henry at the first opportunity. He’d warned Henry about me. Still, like most men, Henry probably underestimated what I was capable of. The art of an interrogation was to make it seem more conversational, lull the interviewee into thinking we were sharing a nice little chat and get them to a place where they wanted to talk about themselves. All I had to do was push the ego button and sit back and listen.
“Lord Artimas has saved my life on numerous occasions,” I said. “I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
“He’s been very good to me too, ma’am.”
“Jadeon’s very selective about who he hires. You must be special. You’re not just his driver are you?”
He stared dead-ahead at the road.
“Thank you for driving me today. I hate being late.”
“My daughter’s the same way. Very punctual.”
“What does she do?”
He twisted him mouth, contemplating going there. “My daughter works for a colleague of Lord Artimas.”
“That’s how you got this job?”
“Yes, I was in the army before this.”
And, bam, there it was. The door opened to his world like I’d pushed play on a movie.
“My dad was in the army,” I said. “Served in Afghanistan.”
“Where’s he now?”
“Retired,” I said, not wanting to share he’d committed suicide when I was fourteen; my ability to shove that one away into the recesses of my consciousness was legendary. After taking another sip of coffee, I said, “What does your daughter do?”
“She an executive assistant.”
“A goth?”
His eyes flashed with surprise.
I held his stare until he broke it off to concentrate on the road ahead.
“She’s one of those well dressed goths,” he said. “Although she always dresses in black, she looks classy.”
“I imagine if she’s working for Orpheus she has to be,” I said. “I’ve had the pleasure of meeting many of his employees and they’re all well-educated and high-achievers.”
“I didn’t tell you she was working for him.” Henry looked worried.
I gave the sweetest smile.
“This job comes with a mighty fine pension,” Henry said. “I consider myself a lucky man. Wouldn’t want to do anything to threaten it.”
“I think Lord Artimas is the lucky one,” I said, and I meant it too, though I detected he had no idea he worked for a vampire.
“You have the same tattoo as my daughter.” He raised his eyebrows to make his point.
I realized he’d seen my brand last night when I’d travelled back with Orpheus. My bracelet must have slipped after Orpheus had manhandled me out of the Athenaeum.
“That tattooed circle?” he said. “The latest fashion?”
I twisted my mouth to indicate it wasn’t up for discussion.
“Ma’am, to be honest I’ve never heard anyone talk to Orpheus in the way you did last night. He doesn’t intimidate you?”
“I’m not a Gothica.”
I caught that tell-tale sign of tension as he swallowed hard, and with a brief flush of his cheeks he’d told me his daughter was.
“Henry, if that is indeed your real name, can I expect your complete discretion?” I raised my hand to make my point. “Because you are assured of mine.”
“Of course.” He beamed the widest smile. “How’s your bagel, ma’am?”
“Delicious, thank you. Where’s your daughter now?” I tried to make it sound casual.
“The company insists their employees are fluent in at least one other language,” he said. “She was sent to Rome to brush up on her Italian. In fact, the company has sent her entire department overseas.”
“Sounds fantastic.”
“I talked to her last night on the phone. Orpheus has put her up in this really swanky five-star hotel. She’s staying in a suite. Great view of St. Peter’s Basilica.”
“Lucky girl. I’m sure she deserves it.” I gave a nod, doing my best to process what he was telling me without showing any reaction. Hauville’s threat had resulted in Orpheus sending every last Gothica out of the country. They really did know something I didn’t.
Henry held up on his promise to park around the corner from the Yard. After an extended narrative of reassurance from him that discretion was his highest prerogative, I thanked him and got out of the Rolls.
It was hard to contemplate that Henry’s little girl was heading for vampiredom, and depending on how long she’d been a Gothica she might soon take the final step into immortality. Henry seemed like such a great father. I wondered what might have been the trigger that pushed her into becoming a servant of Orpheus’.
Though something told me Orpheus was a goth girl’s dream come true.
CHAPTER 13
On the way to my office, I stopped off at Nick’s cubicle.
His focus was on his computer screen and he looked like he was doing something fancy with complicated coding.
“Hey there,” I said, snapping him out of his trance.
Nick spun round. “Hey boss.”
“What are you working on?”
“Chief Inspector Brook’s computer crashed so I’m trying to salvage his hard drive.”
“I hate it when that happens.”
“I set him up with an external hard drive a few months ago and apparently he took it home and attached it to his laptop.” Nick opened his mouth in a silent scream.
He made me smile. “When you’re done saving the boss’ arse will you do me the most amazing favor?”
“Sure.”
I handed him a post-it note. “Can you find everything you can on this building in Pall Mall?”
He took it from me. “The Athenaeum? What’s it for?”
“It’s for off the record.”
He tilted his head back. “Looking for anything in particular?”
“Names, dates, schematics. Anything you find.”
“You want me to hack into their computer system?”
I flashed a look of surprise.
“Because that would be illegal,” he said.
“And highly inappropriate.”
“Give me an hour.”
“You’re the best.”
With Nick’s cyber detective work set in motion, I headed to the staff break room and poured myself a large mug of coffee. After resting it on the table, I slid two
pounds into the vending machine and punched the keypad to deliver lunch. A packet of salt and vinegar crisps and a Marathon Bar fell into the lower pocket and I fished them out. The promise of improving my diet after I’d resolved my latest case was a tried and tested lie I’d been telling myself since graduating from the academy. Seriously, I knew this stuff was bad for me but the idea of wasting time eating a sandwich made me cringe.
“I see you’re planning on visiting me in the morgue sooner rather than later.”
Dr. Riley Russell critically eyed my snacks and I felt like I’d be caught red-handed at something more sinister than buying crappy food. He looked decidedly old-school with those round-rimmed spectacles, yet appeared dashing in scrubs. His white coat barely covered a small stain on his scrub top that I in no way wanted to know about.
“Good morning,” I said, slipping my snacks into my handbag to conceal the evidence.
“Seriously, inspector,” he said. “I’m worried about you.”
“I promise to start eating right tomorrow.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“More disturbing is you calling me, inspector.” I frowned.
“You didn’t get the memo? The one from the higher-ups reminding us that informality is against Met policy.”
“I filed it away in the bin,” I admitted.
“Me too.”
“Shouldn’t they focus their energy on solving crimes?” It sounded pedantic but reasonable.
“Have you seen Constable Noble?”
“Just got here.” I gave a smile.
“Do you ever turn that radar off?”
“No. How long?”
“And go against policy?” he denied my probing with panache.
“Please tell me you don’t think I’ll have an issue with it?” I said.
He looked uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot and glancing away.
I felt deflated. “Am I really considered that stuffy?”
“Well you are considered a high-flyer. You are the Met’s blue eyed girl.”
“Hardly. You and Helena had an argument?”
“How do you do that?”
“If it makes you feel any better it’s a trait that’s as equally annoying to me. I see more than I want to. For crime fighting, it’s an asset. For everything else I see too much.” I gave a shrug. “What was it over? Your argument?”
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