by Peter Dawes
“Thank you,” I said, preempted from adding anything further by a click on the other end of the line. As I slipped the phone back into my pocket, I looked at Robin, who frowned at my expression. “It would seem this person who has been aiding them will not speak to us. We are consigned toward waiting for the Order to sort through their available missions.”
“That thought leaves a bad taste in my mouth, though I am afraid I lack any viable alternatives,” he said. “We’re doing our best to circumvent the wards Patrick has established, but as of right now, if we use magic, we must be prepared for it to fail.”
“It would still warn them we were coming?”
“That and give them a chance to retaliate. I would advise it only as a last resort.”
“Without a plan, otherwise, what do we have left?”
Robin only shrugged in response. The more I focused on the impotence of that thought, the more irritated I became. We had barely settled in England and the walls had already begun closing in around me, making me feel suffocated. “I need air,” I said. “Before I break something.”
Without waiting for a response, I rose and paced toward the door, seeing sparks already on my fingertips and forced to thrust my hands into my pockets lest anyone else take notice. It took a few moments for me to settle the pulses of energy which raced through me in as agitated of a fashion as I felt, but even then, I still felt ready to peel the paint from the walls on my way out to the street. When I could finally expose my fingers again, I stopped beside a lamppost, deciding to lean against it, and reached into my coat for a cigarette.
A few stragglers passed me on the sidewalk, stealing occasional glances at me. Ignoring each of them, I closed my eyes and drew from the filter, exhaling the smoke slowly, working actively to block out everything – from both the ruminations upsetting me to the thoughts wafting to me from others’ minds. The world gradually quieted, from cacophonous to a dull roar, as if the Fates had chosen that moment to remind me I was a powerful seer, going to waste while something consumed the person I loved most. I dared not give it a name. I chased even that notion aside, searching for something else to focus on.
That was when I found it – the sensation of something out-of-place, eyeing me from across the street. When I opened my eyes again, I peered in the direction of a parked car, hearing one pulse but keenly aware of two beings, one producing an odd form of resonance when I attempted to examine it. As if sensing me ‘stare’ back at them, they lowered the back window, revealing themselves to me.
A youthful-looking vampire with piercing eyes examined me, her lips curled in a subtle grin and her body otherwise frozen in a statuesque fashion. Dark hair flowed from either side of her face, framing it in a way that only seemed to accentuate that I was the object of her attention. All the while, she made no motion to speak, leaving me to wonder if we would remain embroiled indefinitely in a staring contest. Finally sating my curiosity, I flicked my cigarette away and crossed the street to engage her.
If we had been playing chess, in her mind I had just conceded, and by the way her expression shifted, I saw this pleased her. She remained silent until I made up the distance between us and even then, she only tilted her chin to meet my gaze while I crouched to engage her. “Aren’t you the punctual one?” she finally asked, with a sharp, articulate English accent. “I told Richard that he might have to fetch you, but out you came. Smoking is a nasty habit, though. It’s gone out of vogue with the humans.”
“The world changed in a decade,” I said. “I am still attempting to learn what is in vogue.”
“A decade in seclusion would do that.” Casting a quick glance at the hotel behind me, she lowered her voice when she looked back at me. “I have a proposition for you, Master Seer, and care as little for working with the Supernatural Order as I believe any of our kind would, gifted or not. Let me take you some place where I trust we can chat. This city has too many ears.”
While I had suspected her identity as Gillies’s informant, this confirmed it for me. Giving the matter a moment’s thought, I turned to look toward the hotel. A prolonged absence would cause Robin to be concerned, but the thought of returning to the room threatened to drive me insane. “Very well,” I said. Walking around the car, I opened the door and slid in beside her. She watched as I buckled my seat belt and looked forward once I had finished.
“Let’s be on our way, Richard,” she called toward the driver. “Before somebody else notices us.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, starting the car and pulling out of the spot. After turning from the side street onto a major road, we traversed Whitechapel, heading deeper into London. I glanced once at my companion along the way, but when she seemed apt to ride in silence, I did not pursue any further conversation.
Instead, I focused on the passing scenery. The collection of both buildings and cars accompanying us became denser, the heart of the city swallowing us and pushing us out the other side. We passed a collection of high rise apartments and turned into one, ascending the ramp in a parking garage up to the fifth floor. It took until we swung into a reserved space for me to realize I had been taken to my host’s private residence.
She turned to look at me, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth again. “Follow me, sir,” she said while her human consort shut off the engine. “I’ll have Richard prepare drinks while we settle in.”
“Very well,” I said, wary, but attempting not to look guarded. Emerging from the car when she did, I remained silent, following Richard’s lead as he strode ahead of us and opened the door leading into the high rise. With practiced movements, he produced a keycard and slid it into the lock separating us from the main portion of the building. As it clicked, the light above the device turned green and enabled us to stroll inside.
“This is quite an establishment,” I said, taking idle note of the paintings on the walls once we entered. Neutral colors contrasted against bolder choices in furnishings, leading me to observe in wonder that we had not even reached my host’s apartment. Both a departure from the excess of most covens and yet, indicative of vampire pretention, it boasted a private formality to it, as if she desired to disappear within a sea of elegant humans. I entertained this thought until we paused by a door at the end of the hallway.
When Richard opened the door, she gestured inward. “After you, Master Seer,” she said.
“Please, call me Peter.” Walking ahead of her, I nodded at Richard as I strode into her residence and stopped near the entrance. The room opened to a large seating area with a television, two couches, and a fireplace that seemed electric in nature. Behind that, I saw shelves filled with books, presented mostly for their aesthetic appeal. This made me think of Robin, and while it summoned the notion that I should at least call him, I failed to follow through with it.
Instead, I focused on my host. She strolled inside, a pair of heels which must have cost more than my suit clacking across the hardwood floor. An A-line skirt hugged her hips, the fabric at the end swaying with each confident step she took. While I had avoided admiring her in the car, there was no mistaking that she knew her finest features and how to flaunt them. “I’ve always liked the name Peter,” she said, shrugging off her coat and passing it to Richard as if merely another step in their routine. Slowly, she removed a pair of gloves from her hands and gave them to him as well. “My name is Evie Stanton, but you can call me Evie.”
“Charmed to make your acquaintance, Evie.”
She flashed me a smirk, more than aware of the banal nature of our pleasantries. Lowering onto one of the couches, she pointed at the other and waited for me to sit before settling into business. “Now, tell me how much in the way of introduction do I need to make? Has Brandon Gillies explained my involvement yet?”
“No, I admit I do not know much about you,” I said. “Brandon Gillies referred to you only as somebody offering them assistance. Nothing more.” My eyes traced across her again, weighing her neutral expression before I added, “Though you have a st
range aura to you. I have not been able to place what it is about you exactly.”
Evie laughed. “A strange aura. Oh, you are a young one, aren’t you?” Tilting her head, she sized me up without apology, a quid-pro-quo for my assessment of her. “You’re trying to figure me out and here I am realizing you’re the stuff of mythology, if you don’t mind me saying. I don’t think any of your kind have ever boasted being an immortal seer.”
“Not that I know.” I perked an eyebrow. “Of my kind? You seem to be a vampire, at the very least.”
“A vampire, yes, but not the same bloodline as yours. That seems to be what your keen gifts are telling you about me. As I recall, the scoundrel behind your bloodline bastardized ours to continue wielding magic. While I don’t mourn our lack of ability, it does leave us vulnerable when we get pulled into your fights with the Supernatural Order.”
“You are the vampires which preceded us? I did not know you were still alive.”
“Alive and well. Normally, we prefer to blend into our own little world, but that’s become difficult in recent years. Otherwise, we probably appear the same to the casual observer.” Her lips quirked again. “Those without your talents, that is to say.”
Nodding in recognition of her statement, I fought the urge to ask questions I feared would go unanswered. Instead, I shifted back to the intention behind our meeting, lacking a taste for formality as much as it seemed Evie did. “I assume there is a reason why we are doing this away from the normal channels. Apologies if I am a little wary, but it has been my observation that people with secrets often only have their interests at heart.”
“I won’t pretend otherwise, Peter, though I’m more focused on the bigger picture than many of the other vampires in my bloodline.” The frightening level of sobriety that washed over her unnerved me almost as much as her general lack of movement. Whatever it was about Evie – or any of her ilk, I reckoned – the shifts in their demeanor seemed more severe. She arched a brow at me, ensuring she had my attention before asking, “Why do you think I chose to meet with you away from the Order’s watchful eye?”
Her gaze threatened to dismantle me, presenting a challenge I felt compelled to rise to. “You mentioned your distaste with the Supernatural Order,” I said.
“Yes, I did.” She paused, peering up at Richard as he strode into the living room and handed her a glass of what appeared to be blood. After accepting it, Evie nodded toward me and I took my glass when offered, confirming its contents upon sipping from it.
Evie waited for Richard to leave before continuing. “We are very old and have been content minding our own business much longer than any of your kind have been in existence. As I said, we are the blueprint upon which your bloodline was formed and ever since that unholy alliance, we’ve kept our distance from you. I could count the number of times we’ve found ourselves in the middle of your affairs on one hand and that stretches the full length of a millennium.”
She paused to take a drink from her glass. “Considering that, our recent involvement with the Order has been strained, at best,” she continued. “We only approached them out of necessity, after losing many of our kind at the hand of your human brethren. When Brandon Gillies described a powerful vampire-seer who had recently returned to the fold after a decade of absence, I assumed a few things about you.”
I perked an eyebrow. “And what is that?”
“You understand our privacy, if you spent so long avoiding them.” Evie countered my expression with an arched brow of her own, reaching forward to set her glass down on the coffee table between us. “Either they don’t care for a fanged member in their fold or your nature makes them more apt to exploit you.”
Not wanting to grant her second point, I addressed the first. “I take it your mention of privacy means you would prefer this handled discreetly.”
“I would prefer handled, period, Peter. Ended, to be precise. And if your involvement in this debacle is personal, as I suspect it might be, I have some confidence you do, too.”
“No offense intended, Evie, but I would prefer to keep the nature of my involvement to myself.”
“None taken at all.” The way Evie smirked indicated I had shown her my hand regardless, though I did not know if that meant I had revealed a weakness or endeared myself to her. I feared both. Settling back into her statuesque posture, she sobered once more, though not as dramatically. “I represent an institution called the Primael,” she explained. “We oversee both our bloodline’s social structure and our involvement with other entities, human or otherwise. I’ve been installed here to ensure this conflict in Europe comes to as swift an end as possible, before more casualties are amassed.”
“How many vampires have you lost?”
“It isn’t merely the quantity, but the pedigree. While the more Darwinian of us would argue survival of the fittest, losing our leaders breaks down the civility of our governing structure. Or, put another way, when a ruler dies, the feeding frenzy for his or her position sends us hurtling into chaos. My superiors sent me to London after we lost a monarch in Greece. While his replacement has proven to be an adept woman, too much of this will be disastrous to sort out.”
I nodded, both confused about certain things Evie stated and understanding at the same time. Taking another drink from my glass, I found myself relishing the sustenance, if for no other reason than the soothing effect it had on me. Something about the threat of having something to do – some way to distract myself – aided in this. “What would you have me do for you, then?” I asked.
Evie tilted her chin. “Run whatever errands the Order has for you while I feed them breadcrumbs,” she said. “The Order has squandered most of our promising leads in dealing with this dark magician who calls himself Napoleon, which has me apt to share them with you instead. Do you plan on operating out of London?”
The mention of Patrick’s pseudonym threatened to disrupt my calm. “We had no intention of going elsewhere.”
“Good.” Her brow arched again. “Who is ‘us’?”
“My immortal brother, Robin, and a human sorceress he’s taken on as a ward. Her name is Katerina.”
“I trust your involvement with them means you vouch for their discretion.”
“If it makes you feel better, I can handle our interactions. But they will be working for me. And yes, I do trust them.”
“This has little to do with my comfort and more to do with my willingness to be agreeable,” she said, in such a manner I could not determine whether she had issued a threat. That debate remained unresolved. “To underscore the point, what I offer you isn’t simply another opinion. Our tight-knit social structure has a beneficial side-effect. We know when suspicious things happen in our regions. Those who oversee them report these occurrences to me and I pass the information onto you. You sneak your way in, to hunt the psychopath who is putting our people at risk, and gain whatever personal benefit from it you’re seeking. It’s a tidy arrangement.”
Nodding, I finished off my drink and set the empty glass on the same table where hers sat ignored. “Then consider me vouching for my compatriots,” I said. “And promising to follow through with your leads as discreetly as possible.”
While I thought we had reached a bargain, something about my willingness to comply seemed to strike Evie as peculiar. The weight of her scrutiny settled over me again, unflinching and silent while she looked at me like a riddle to be solved. I remained still until it appeared she had finished. “Your investment isn’t just personal, it’s emotional,” she said. “Isn’t it?”
I tensed, summoning the numbness which had kept my composure intact and fighting off the thought of Monica. My skin prickled where her ghost had touched me, her taunting laughter filling my head like evoking her had a greater power than merely mentioning Patrick had. Slowly, I rose to a stand. “My qualm is with Napoleon himself. That is all you need to know. I will find him, and rest assured, I will kill him when I do.”
“Such surety, Master Seer. We bot
h would do well not to get on each other’s bad sides.” Evie rose to her feet as well, and while I had done so to avoid any further scrutiny, her action felt dismissive; like our business had naturally come to an end. “If you don’t mind, then, I have some people I need to get in contact with, Peter. Leave your number and I’ll be in touch.”
I nodded, adjusting my suit jacket as an afterthought. “And what should I do in the interim?” I asked, following her toward the counter which framed the division between an unused dining area and a kitchen.
“Dance a little for the Order, I suppose.” She reached for her ear, removing one of the earrings dangling from it. “I don’t think it will take long for one of my people to be in contact, though, so don’t get too entangled.” Setting the piece of jewelry onto the counter, she nodded at the space behind me. “Richard will return you to your hotel.”
I turned to find the human servant standing behind me. He glanced from me back to Evie, prompting me to pivot so I might do the same. “Good evening, then, Evie,” I said. “It was a pleasure.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” She graced me with a smirk, pausing to remove her other earring first before walking away. I heard her disappear into the confines of her bedroom and thanked Richard when he handed me a writing pad and a pen. Handing the slip of paper with my mobile number to Richard, I walked with him out of the apartment and back into the parking garage. Within a few minutes, we had returned to Whitechapel.
Robin greeted me at the door of our hotel room with exasperated relief, sadly confirming that Katerina had come no closer to a locating spell and moved onto other things. As I settled into the chair where I had been sitting before receiving Gillies’s phone call, I expressed my apologies to them both for worrying them. “I had a visit from a potential ally,” I said, focusing especially on Robin. He sat and I sobered, as if Evie’s demeanor had become contagious. “The Order’s informant wants to work more directly with us.”