by Helen Harper
‘Bo!’ he barks. ‘Where have you been?’
‘Um…’
‘Honestly, between you and Peter, I feel like I’m herding cats. We’ve got very little time before the official announcement. These walls need to be painted, the furniture needs to be sorted out. Connor needs to stop taking a break every five seconds…’
‘That’s not fair!’ Connor protests. ‘I’m only human. I don’t have super strength.’
Arzo’s lips purse. ‘You’re right. Swap places with Matthew.’
Matt grins, waving frantically in my direction before swooping over and picking the desk up as if it’s made out of matchsticks. Connor stares at him, his mouth dropping open. When he doesn’t immediately move to the window, Matt helpfully drops the desk then picks Connor up, throwing him over his shoulder and depositing him in place. He hands Connor the cleaning rag and spray bottle. Connor still hasn’t managed to shut his mouth.
‘Is Peter here?’
‘Sure,’ Arzo replies sarcastically. ‘He’s just using his invisibility cloak at the moment.’
‘It’s not beyond the realms of possibility.’
He shoots me a droll look. ‘The glamour spell that can achieve that would be something to see.’
I think of Magix. ‘Actually, speaking of spells, there’s a company that’s created some kind of binding device for vampires.’
‘Another holy water trinket,’ Arzo dismisses with a snort.
‘No. It’s the real deal.’ I tell him about the handcuffs without wasting time going into too many specifics.
He looks unhappy. ‘That’s just what we need. Did you tell Lord Montserrat?’ I shake my head. ‘I thought you were meeting him.’
I scratch my neck awkwardly. ‘We were, um, talking about other things.’
Arzo raises his eyebrows. ‘Indeed. He’s a good man, Bo.’
I nod, biting my lip. ‘So, this is it then? Our new office suite.’
‘It’s not the Ritz but it’ll do for now.’
‘Mmm.’
‘It’s a central location. There’s a lot of potential for expansion and we need people to feel comfortable. They can’t walk into an atmosphere that reeks of vampire.’ His eyes are serious. ‘We can’t screw this up, Bo. It’s too important.’
‘You don’t think the protests are just a knee-jerk reaction? That things will settle down in a month or two?’
‘You’re too young to remember Enoch Powell.’
‘His name rings a bell.’
‘Rings a bell? He’s a vital part of British history. “As I look ahead, I am filled with foreboding; like the Roman, I seem to see ‘the River Tiber foaming with much blood’.” He was talking about immigration, but he may as well have included tribers. He came damn close to inciting violence and riots like this city has never seen.’ Arzo’s shoulders tense. ‘And this city has seen a lot. Right now, the movement against us is disorganised. It consists of pockets of people who are using fear to drive their actions. The second a figurehead emerges and becomes an anti-vampire spokesperson, we’re doomed. We need to dampen down the groundswell of fear before we get to that point, otherwise there really will be rivers of blood.’
His expression is filled with foreboding. I try to lighten the atmosphere. ‘Well, we should get a move on then, shouldn’t we?’ I look round the room. ‘Have you managed to find a boss for us?’
‘Not yet.’
Bugger it. I open my mouth to voice my concern at the combined lack of experience of everyone apart from Arzo himself but by his posture, I realise it’s unnecessary.
‘You should go upstairs, Bo. Have a look at your living quarters and see if there’s anything you need. Once we open our doors, there won’t be time for shopping.’
‘Okay.’
‘Then you need to go to the East End.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s where Simon Beauvoit lives.’
My stomach drops. I stare at him. ‘W-who?’ I stammer out. Arzo looks at me and I close my eyes briefly. ‘How did you know?’
‘Let’s just say I caught sight of an old friend leaving the Montserrat mansion some days ago. It didn’t take much to work out what you were up to.’
‘You don’t give much away. Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘You seemed hell-bent on keeping it a secret. The trouble is,’ he says, casting an arm round the room, ‘if this is going to work, we can’t keep secrets.’
I swallow. ‘Do you want to come with me?’
‘That part of my life is over. There are echoes of it still,’ he puts a hand to his heart, ‘painful echoes, but I put it behind me a long time ago. Perhaps you should work on putting away your past too. But Bo?’
‘Yes?’
‘Thank you. The sentiment is much appreciated.’ I offer a tiny smile. He smiles back, although his eyes look sad. ‘By the way, your grandfather called. Something about some documents you sent him in the post? He said to tell you they were the most frank and full files on a single person he’s ever seen. He wanted to know where you got them from.’
‘Long story. It’s related to Magix though. They gave me the files they had on a witch in return for some information. The witch is now dead. I think they might be creating some new kind of black-and-white hybrid witch.’
Arso stares at me.
‘I know, I know,’ I tell him. ‘It’s impossible.’
‘Nothing’s impossible.’ He rubs his forehead as if he’s in pain. ‘The world’s being turned on its head. I wonder if anything will ever be the same again.’ He shakes himself. ‘Now get yourself upstairs. And here,’ he says, throwing me a bar of chocolate. ‘A house-warming gift for you.’
I glance down at it. ‘You really do know far too much.’
He winks. I clutch the chocolate, salute him and go upstairs to my new residence. It’s spartan but clean, and there’s already some basic furniture. I give everything a cursory examination but my mind is on what Arzo said about secrets. My life seems to be built on a shaky foundation of hidden truths. By maintaining their secrecy, the five Families may have inadvertently caused the problems they’re now having with the human majority. To be a private investigator is to be absorbed into the world of secrets. Michael Montserrat thinks I’m keeping secrets from myself. And I have two objects in my half-destroyed leather jacket that may be the biggest secrets of all.
I pull out the photo first, staring at it for the umpteenth time. I touch Michael’s face but avoid looking at the corpses at his feet. Then I go into the bedroom. Lifting up the mattress on the bed, I shove the photograph underneath as far as it will go and smooth over the sheets.
Next I take out X’s vial. I wonder how much it would be worth on the open market. I could probably sell it and live comfortably off the proceeds for the rest of my unnaturally long life. Of course, if I drink it and it works, I’ll achieve everything I’ve been striving for since the day Michael told me the truth about what I’d become. I’ll also lose Michael forever. Vampires don’t date humans. And the loss of my vampiric status will probably make me useless to the agency. I’m already regarded with suspicion by most of the vampires I meet; if I become human again, I’ll really be persona non grata. Neither the humans nor the bloodguzzlers will trust me. And I dread to think what will happen to the anti-vampire movement if it becomes known that there is a viable cure.
With a heavy heart, I head into the kitchen and open the battered fridge. I place the vial at the back, then prop Arzo’s chocolate in front of it so it’s no longer visible. Out of sight, out of mind. For now at least.
* * *
Less than an hour later, I’m outside Inspector Beauvoit’s house. Now that I know Arzo is aware of the truth, I’m tempted to leave Stephen and Dahlia Templeton to it. But a promise is a promise: I told Templeton I’d do what I could and I’m not about to go back on my word. Not any more.
Thankfully, Beauvoit must be off duty because there’s a light on. Either that or Dahlia Templeton is home alone. I smirk at the tho
ught of her opening the door. I should have brought her husband along with me ‒ it would have been entertaining to see the look on her face. Taking a deep breath, I ring the doorbell.
A rumpled, tired-looking man answers. ‘Yes?’
I smile professionally. ‘Can I speak to Dahlia Templeton?’
‘She’s not here. Why would she be here?’
Shit. He has to be lying. He’s a police inspector, he’s probably good at it. I try to look behind him but I can’t see any signs of anyone.
I go for the direct approach. ‘You’re having an affair with her, Inspector, so it makes sense that she’d be here.’
He stares at me bleakly. He doesn’t even look surprised. ‘It wasn’t an affair. We were in love. You should know that.’
‘Why would I know that?’ I’m confused.
‘You’re one of her vampire buddies, aren’t you?’
‘Excuse me?’
Somewhere inside a phone starts to ring. ‘I have to go,’ he mutters.
He shuts the door, leaving me in the porch. I slam my fist against the wall and there’s a loud cracking sound. Alarmed, I pull back; I’ve managed to create a very visible fissure in the side of Beauvoit’s house. I look from my fist to the wall and back again. I’m getting stronger.
Absently rubbing my fingers, I debate what to do next. I can’t force the inspector to talk to me but I have to try again. There’s something strange going on here. I hammer on the door and repeatedly press the doorbell. After about five minutes, however, it’s clear that he’s not going to answer. I could persist and stay here for the rest of the night, which will piss off his neighbours, but I need to tread carefully. If I act like a madwoman trying to break down a policeman’s door, it’s probably not going to do the vampire cause many favours.
Beauvoit spoke in the past tense. Their affair is over – or she’s dead. Right now I’m more interested in what he meant by ‘vampire buddies’. I decide to break my fists on Stephen Templeton’s door instead.
Chapter Nineteen: Epiphany
‘Have you found her?’
‘No.’
‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘If you don’t find a body, can I still collect her life insurance?’
I stare at him in disgust. The speculative gleam in his eyes turns my stomach. For the life of me I can’t imagine why Arzo was ever friends with this man.
‘Who were her friends?’
‘Dahlia?’ He pauses. ‘She didn’t have many friends.’
Like Simon Beauvoit, he’s now speaking about Dahlia in the past tense. He thinks she’s dead.
‘She must have had some. One, even.’
‘We have a next-door neighbour, Alice. I think they went for coffee sometimes.’
‘Anyone else?’
He shrugs. ‘There was the copper, I guess. I’m not sure you could call him a friend though.’
I stare at him. ‘What do you mean?’ I ask slowly.
‘She was shagging him. At least once a week.’
‘You knew?’
‘Of course.’
‘Stephen,’ I say softly, watching his every move very carefully, ‘were you angry that she was having an affair?’
His brow furrows as if I’ve just set him a complicated maths equation. ‘No. She was bored. She needed something to do during the day.’
I lean forward slightly. ‘What?’
‘Oh,’ he says, ‘you think I was jealous. That’s stupid.’ He walks to the mini bar and pulls out a tiny bottle of vodka. I watch as he drains it in one shot.
‘Stupid to think you would be jealous at your wife having sex with someone else? Screaming out someone else’s name?’
He rolls his eyes. ‘We’re not living in the nineteenth century. Look.’ He rummages around in a pile of discarded clothes on the floor by the bed and grabs hold of a laptop. A pair of boxer shorts is still attached to it when he opens it and sets it on his lap. He nonchalantly brushes them aside, then opens a video file.
It’s a shot of Dahlia and Stephen’s bed. On it there is a bald man, his head turned away from the camera although I’m fairly sure it’s Beauvoit. A completely naked Dahlia is on top of him, rhythmically moving her hips. She opens her eyes and looks directly into the camera, licking her lips and mouthing what seems to be ‘I love you, Stephen.’
I’m not quite sure where to look. ‘Uh, you knew all along?’
Templeton’s eyes are slightly unfocused as he watches his wife’s movements gather speed. ‘Mm? Oh, yes. I asked her to do it. She enjoyed it.’
She does look like she’s getting a lot of pleasure from this particular request. I suppose it beats doing the ironing.
‘Why didn’t you tell me about this before?’
He seems surprised. ‘Is it relevant?’
I resist the urge to smash the bloody laptop over his head. ‘Do you think he might have harmed her?’
‘Him? No way. He was in love with her. Wanted her to run away with him.’ He laughs. ‘Like that was going to happen.’
‘Were there others like him?’
‘Sure,’ he says easily. ‘We stuck to one at a time, though. Dahlia said she found it too hard to remember their names if she was sleeping with several guys at once.’
‘Did she?’ I murmur. ‘How long was Beauvoit in the picture?’
‘A year, maybe two. But I think she was ready for a change. We were talking about maybe mixing things up a bit, perhaps experimenting with a triber.’
‘You mean like a vampire?’
‘No.’ He shakes his head. ‘We might have run into Arzo. It could have been awkward. I was thinking witch, but Dahlia wanted to try a daemon.’
My mind flicks to X and I quickly push him away. ‘Beauvoit seemed certain Dahlia was friends with some vampires.’
‘Really?’ He laughs. ‘Well, that’s Dahlia. Always walking on the wild side. She wouldn’t have gone near a Montserrat though.’
He leans back and grabs the remote, turning on the television. I snatch it from him and switch it off again. ‘Think, you idiot,’ I hiss. ‘She might still be alive. Did she ever mention anything about vampires? Or anyone else?’
‘No.’ He scowls at me petulantly. ‘I don’t see why you’re here interrogating me when you should be finding out where she is.’
‘I am sodding well investigating where she is! If you’re not prepared to cooperate, then there’s not much I can do.’ I walk over to the window and stare out at the bright city lights. My frustration is building up to boiling point. After several deep breaths, I turn round and try a different tack. ‘Why do you have a photo of Arzo on display in your house?’
‘What? We don’t.’
‘Yes, you do,’ I say impatiently. ‘It was in the living room, smashed on the floor with the others.’
‘We got rid of everything we had to do with him after he left.’
I ball my fists. ‘You mean after you made him leave.’
‘He got a long life and lots of power. It wasn’t a bad deal for him. I might just let them recruit me, you know. In a few years’ time, before it all starts to grey.’ He points up to his hair. It’s a flippant, throwaway remark but I still rise to the bait.
‘You’re already grey. And no one would have you.’
‘I’m a very good accountant,’ Templeton says stiffly.
‘You’re a cheat, a liar and a thief.’ I stop. Actually, who am I kidding? The Families would probably jump at the chance to bring him into the fold. Wanker.
‘The photo,’ I say, returning to the topic.
‘I’m telling you we don’t have any photos of Arzo. Honestly, do you feel the need to question to every single thing I say?’
‘Why would it be in your house?’
‘How the hell should I know?’
I try to think. I pinch the bridge of my nose. Then I pick up the hotel phone.
‘Hey!’ Templeton protests. ‘It’s expensive to call from here.’
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I ignore him and dial directory inquiries. When I get the number I need, I ask to be transferred. After a few rings, someone answers.
‘Medici Family. How may we be of service?’
I deepen my voice to disguise it, not because the Medici receptionist will know who I am but in case the call is recorded and someone decides to trace it.
‘You bloodguzzling bastards,’ I snarl. ‘How many children have you killed today?’
Templeton stares at me wide-eyed.
‘I don’t know who you think you are but we are not in the business of killing children. Or anyone,’ the receptionist responds indignantly.
‘Oh yeah? The whole lot of you are going down. No one’s going to want to be recruited by you ever again,’ I taunt. ‘You’ll die off and there’ll be no one left.’
‘Piss off!’ she shrieks. ‘Stop bothering us! And for your information, we recruited someone just two weeks ago so our numbers are doing fine.’ She hangs up.
I slowly replace the receiver, then I look at Templeton. ‘I don’t think you’re going to see Dahlia again.’
* * *
Arzo grips the edges of his wheelchair. ‘You think Medici is responsible? That doesn’t make any sense.’
‘It makes perfect sense. Lord Medici approached me. I turned him down and he said there would be consequences. Except those consequences were already in play because he’d already snatched Dahlia. He must have been hedging his bets. And it wasn’t just me‒ Connor was made an offer. He turned it down. Medici left you and Peter alone because you’re Montserrat Sanguine and therefore intrinsically loyal. Matt’s never been alone outside so they’ve never had the chance to grab him. If they did…’
‘Matt would be gone. He might have Montserrat loyalty but the effects of Nicky’s machinations mean he’d do whatever they told him to. What’s Medici’s motive though? It still doesn’t make any sense, Bo.’
Michael’s dark eyes are hooded. ‘Yes, it does. Medici doesn’t want our new venture to succeed. He’s the only Family Head who voted against it. He sees it as pandering to the whims of the humans and a sign of weakness. He’ll do just about anything to avoid relinquishing power.’