Hidden Mortality

by Maggie Mundy

  Seth leaned on one elbow and gazed at her. “Are you frightened of me?”

  She hesitated before answering. “You look scary sometimes. You’re huge in more than one way. I like that, as was just witnessed. When you found Tony hiding in my apartment, I thought you would kill him. I mean literally kill him. I don’t know anyone else in my life that is as intense as you. That’s intimidating. It’s taking me somewhere I haven’t been before, but no, you don’t scare me.”

  “I know what I did to the statue. You must believe I would never hurt you.”

  She touched his cheek. “I’m not frightened at all when I’m with you. I was frightened of dying when I lost the baby. I was frightened of living without love again. I’m frightened of the fact I may never have a child. To be honest at the moment, the only thing that really frightens me is that I might die like Shona and Rosie.”

  “I won’t let that happen.” He took her hand and kissed her palm.

  “I know you won’t.”

  Seth enjoyed the laughter as he stood outside the kitchen. The cottage needed this sense of happiness. Too many years of sadness and anger had dwelled here. He smelled bacon and eggs as he entered the room and the two women turned to look at him.

  “Well, it’s about time. Cara and I thought you’d left the country. You better have the decency to show your face as you woke me up earlier.” Janet waved a whisk at him.

  “I think I was the one who woke you up, Janet.” Cara giggled.

  Seth realized he was the one going red. These women were ganging up on him. Janet had obviously not been out to the forge. If she’d seen the mess he’d made, she would be giving him a much harder time.

  “You know when I was in Paris, the same thing happened to me. On the way out of Henri’s apartment, this woman swore at me in French. From the splattering of English, I knew she was on about us making noise the night before. I’ve decided to do an evening class in French. If someone’s swearing about the sex I’ve had, I want to know what they’re saying.” Janet piled food onto a plate.

  Seth realized he was hungry.

  “So Cara, you accept this extended life of Seth’s. Why?” Janet asked.

  “When he sliced himself open and it immediately healed, I was freaked out. It convinced me at the same time. It may sound crazy but it made the other things happening to me make sense.”

  “I dread to think what other things that could be, for him to make sense.”

  Cara’s hand came across and touched his. Janet listened while Cara explained. She told about Shona’s death, her dreams, her Nanna and witchcraft and how much she cared for him. Seth sat back and watched them talk.

  “You come over so levelheaded, Cara. Now, I realize you’re as mad as the rest of us. Welcome, dear. We’re a very select club. I’m not sure how I’ll introduce Henri to it.” Janet went around to Cara’s side of the table and hugged her.

  This felt good. He had lived long enough to know that. He had also lived long enough to know it wouldn’t last. A taste of bile entered his throat. He couldn’t join in with the laughter. He knew one thing for sure as he smiled and watched Janet and Cara talk. This was the end. He would not live to remember these two people as distant memories. There had to be some way he could avenge Rosie’s death and still live to be with Cara.

  He pulled up down the street from the address Cara had mentioned. He turned off the engine to his bike. She was not joking when she said the house was impressive. No lights were on. Should he risk breaking in? The security system was probably connected to the local police station.

  He hated the idea, but he would have to let Cara deal with this. He had a feeling she wasn’t telling him everything. Maybe he could find out for himself.

  A car came along the street, a Mercedes. The gates at the end of the driveway opened and the vehicle disappeared inside. It stopped outside of the house. Unfortunately the windows on the car were tinted. He hadn’t been able to see what the driver looked like.

  Cara said he was an antiques dealer with a love for weaponry. Seth wondered if a call to his agent might get him an invite to this party.

  Chapter 21

  No sooner had Vincent placed the champagne flute next to the bath then Melanie picked it up and drained it. She burped and screwed up her nose. Why was he wasting good champagne on her? He just needed her dead.

  She held out the glass for more alcohol. “It’s a bit dry, isn’t it?”

  “The best always is.” He refilled the flute. It always worked to get them going, Champagne, bubbles and a Jacuzzi. The fact that there were medications in the drink couldn’t hurt. While she drank, he let his bathrobe fall and stepped into the bath. He wanted to make sure she was clean before he copulated with her.

  As it was, she had been half drunk when he picked her up at a public house in Fishponds. He reassured her he would cover her payment for the whole night. Plus he had offered a bit extra if she wouldn’t mind a bit of roughing up. She said she was okay with it. He had even bought a cheap car for cash and would take it to the crushers tomorrow. It would not do to have someone notice his Mercedes in such an area. She cuddled up next to him as the bubbles floated around them. He needed to get this over and done with.

  Once out of the bath and clean, she sauntered to his bed. She lay down and indicated for him to come over by patting the sheet. He would burn the sheets later. His nostril flared in disgust. He wouldn’t want the smell of her to linger. Kissing her, he felt nothing. It was always the same. Pressing his naked body against hers, he closed his eyes and thought of blood. In his mind, his hand held a knife. He pushed it into her chest and imagining the warm sensation of blood flowing over his skin.

  “What do you want to do next?” She asked in invitation.

  He turned her over and pushed a pillow beneath her hips as she giggled. He grabbed the condom packet from his bedside table. His body would cure him of any disease. The last time he had contracted syphilis, it made him sick for too long. He couldn’t afford such delays right now.

  Pulling her buttocks slightly apart, he plunged from behind. In his mind, he ripped her to shreds. Her blood flowed over his groin and down his thighs. The fantasy made him plunge deeper. Expelling his seed, he withdrew quickly. He was glad she would never be able to live to have his child.

  He ignored Melanie as she sprawled on the bed drunk. Damn it. The pain in his shoulder consumed him. The dark mark ached despite the drugs he had taken.

  Damn Shona for breaking his dagger. No relief had come from the pain when he killed her. When he looked at the knife afterwards, he’d seen the fine line breaking the words inscribed on the blade. He had heard of a new sword-smith in the area. He would get Stephan to contact him.

  Black spider veins spread from the mark down his arm. He would not allow this to happen. He would not become mortal again.

  A hand touched his shoulder. Melanie smiled at him. He needed to kill her now. It was the only way the pain would ease. He thought back as always to Rosie. If he had her here now, he would kill her so slowly. He had been too rash, too young back then. If only he had gotten it right the first time, he wouldn’t need to kill Cara.

  It wasn’t just the immortality though. He enjoyed the cat and mouse game he played as he made friends with his victims. He would kill even if he hadn’t needed to.

  Melanie didn’t take much prompting to visit the cellar and his extensive wine collection. It wasn’t as if he would let her touch anything. The drugs he had given her should have been working better. There were no tram tracks on her arms so she was not a user, but she had offered him pills.

  Perhaps a fight would make things more interesting and take his mind off the pain. Melanie touched his arm. He flinched.

  “I’ve a special bottle of wine I think would be appropriate after such a wonderful evening,” Vincent said, leading the wa
y further into the room. Wine racks covered two walls. The stairs crossed another. A large table was pushed up against the last wall. There was a bottle of red wine already opened. Next to it were two old wooden chairs. Vincent led Melanie to one of the chairs.

  “I want you to experience how special this wine is. Will you let me blindfold you?”

  Melanie smiled and nodded. Vincent placed the scarf from his pocket around her head, covering her eyes. Pouring the wine he added another ampoule to the liquid.

  “I want you to breathe in the fragrance. Tell me what you smell.”

  “It smells fruity.” She giggled.

  He frowned. “Now drink it. There’s not that much in the glass.”

  Melanie downed the contents. Taking off the blindfold he refilled her glass. Two glasses later, she was unconscious.

  He usually liked them to squirm when he killed. Tonight though he needed to get on with this. He lifted her onto the table and undid her robe. Walking over to one of the wine racks, he removed the special bottle. He took the dagger from its hiding place. It was still cracked but he had no choice. A slight relief from the pain would be better than no relief at all.

  She barely moved when he made the slits to her forehead. The other drugs and the added alcohol had finally kicked in. With her abdomen sliced up, Vincent plunged the knife into her heart.

  Nothing happened. Before, there was always a surge of energy. Pain would be relieved. Even with Shona, he had gained some relief. Pulling open his robe, he noticed there wasn’t any change. The mark on his shoulder was as livid as ever. The pain throbbed. This wasn’t meant to happen.

  Grabbing the dagger, he stabbed her again and again. He slashed her abdomen open, so the bowel protruded. Throwing the dagger aside, he plunged his hands into the warm bloody mess of flesh.

  Again nothing happened. Grabbing the empty wine bottle he bought it down on her head with a thud. He smashed repeatedly until Melanie’s face looked like a bloodied pulp. He would not wait for mortality to catch up with him.

  He would kill Cara and soon. If he didn’t, all these years would be for nothing. Teasing and tempting her with her own death had been stimulating. Playing her parents for fools as they offered up their daughter on a platter for him was satisfying. He needed her power now and nothing would stop him.

  Chapter 22

  Cara’s stomach knotted when she pulled up outside Vincent’s house. It wasn’t the prospect of the party being a disaster. She knew they would do a good job and the guests would enjoy the food. At some point this evening, she would have to slip into the library and replace the book. If Seth read it, he would rip Vincent limb from limb to find out more.

  Robert Middleton might have lived a hundred years before Seth, but she was sure that they were connected. The ritual that had killed Rosie would have been the same as the one on Lillie.

  Vincent had to know who the killer was. What she needed was more proof to get the police involved. The book didn’t mean anything on its own. Vincent was allowed to collect old books. It was part of his job. The fact that the killings in this volume were repeated now in detail on victims could be attributed to a copy-cat murderer. It wasn’t a comforting thought.

  Telling Seth about the picture of the dagger, the cults, and murders was enough. In retrospect, she had been crazy to tell him that much, but she needed a reason for being there that night. Apart from wanting to jump into his bed again.

  So far the evening was going incredibly well. The food disappeared from platters almost faster than they could fill them. Even Vincent’s friend who was allergic to everything sent a special thanks to the kitchen. Thankfully, as the evening wore on, the numbers started dwindling, and then a message came through that a small group would be staying longer. There was still enough food left to set up a few platters in the front parlor as Stephan called it.

  Cara would drop off one of the platters. Afterwards, she’d make her way to the library to replace the book. It was the perfect opportunity, as long as Daniel and Matcher weren’t stalking her. As she walked into the parlor, her jaw dropped. Seth sat in one of the chairs next to a beautiful blond woman. Why hadn’t he told her he was coming?

  Stephan came over and took the platter. He even smiled at her, which had to be a first.

  “Ah, here is the elusive Cara,” Vincent said. He came across and took her hand. “You’ll come and join us, won’t you? The seafood from Dingle was wonderful and the turkey pate from Dunmanway made me sigh.”

  “Just for a moment, Vincent. Duty calls.” Cara wanted out, but that wasn’t going to happen.

  Vincent introduced everyone including Seth, and Robert Fetter, his agent. She also met Craig, who had to be one of the world’s fussiest eaters. He was so excited about his food he gave her a hug. He had their card in his hand. It was wonderful and nothing to do with dead bodies and magical powers. Someone just liked her food.

  She struggled not to gape like a fool when she was introduced to Jane Purcell, one of the BBC presenters from the Ten o’clock news. She felt tongue tied before a woman who could make a Prime Minister stutter.

  It was stupid to be impressed by someone like that when she had an immortal lover and he wanted her. Of course said lover was sitting next to a blonde goddess on the other side of the room at the moment.

  Where was Daniel when she needed him, Cara wondered? She breathed a sigh of relief when he walked in.

  She was a happy to let him take over. Anyway, he was in his element. All in all, it was the perfect function. Death and insanity revolved around her. Yet she still wanted to be seen as a thorough professional.

  “I need to deal with a few final things in the kitchen. It’s been wonderful meeting you,” Cara said. She wasn’t sure who was more relieved, her or the guests. Daniel was more than happy to take on the social challenge.

  As soon as she was out of the room and in the hallway, she let out a deep breath. Leaning back against the wall, she put her hand to her chest. Her heart pounded away. This had to be done. She hurried down the hall.

  The library was dark. Her eyes took a while to adjust. Making her way over to the desk she stubbed her toe, but managed not to yell out. Pulling the book out of her apron pocket, she placed it back on the pile. This room gave her the creeps. At any moment, she thought books would fly off the shelves and attack her. She turned and fled back to the safety of the kitchen.

  Although they returned to her flat by twelve, it took forever to sort out everything. The office was full of equipment. She couldn’t have swung a cat in there. Merlin was probably glad about that as he curled up on the couch.

  Daniel had gone and picked up Jeff. It was two weeks since the operation. He was doing well, though he still moved a bit stiffly at times. She was glad they had only been doing the food at Vincent’s tonight. Organizing the drinks and glasses would have sent her over the edge.

  “We have no jobs tomorrow. Who’s up for wine and nibbles?” Cara asked.

  All hands went up. Matcher sat in the beanbag, with Rachel cuddled up next to him. Daniel was in the kitchen making nachos. Jeff lounged on the couch. Cara grabbed some dips and a bottle of red. It was half past twelve. They needed to chill. Daniel always liked this time. She usually did too, except tonight she kept thinking about the book and Seth.

  “I’m not so sure about weddings after dealing with sixty ravenous drinkers. They devoured food like they’d never eat again.” Daniel poured the wine and sat down.

  Cara grabbed her glass and took a sip. “Yeah, but we did it with class. We really need to look at what we want for the future, especially if any bookings come in from this.”

  “I want new feet.” Rachel chimed in, taking a big swig of wine.

  Cara tried to remember how old Rachel was. She didn’t relish the idea of angry parents at the door. From what Matcher said, they wouldn’t care.
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  “I’d like to say you get used to it, but you don’t. Your feet, your back, they can kill but you keep going all night on the adrenaline,” Cara replied, massaging her own feet. She straightened, fighting the urge to yawn.

  “Did you see Peter from The Post was there?” Daniel asked.

  “Yes. I still can’t stand him,” Cara said. She still remembered how he tried to grill her for information about Shona at the dinner party at his house.

  Jeff rubbed the back of Daniel’s neck and he relaxed back on the couch. “Daniel told me about him. I see his sort all the time. When they look at you, their eyes are working out whether you’ll make them money or not. As tonight went well, he’ll watch where you’re going. If it’s good, he’ll claim he helped. If not, he’ll say he saw you were flawed from the start.” Jeff turned around slowly. He stretched out and stuck his feet on Daniel’s lap.

  Daniel didn’t say anything but started massaging them. Not delicately but methodically pressing and sensing where his partner was holding pain.

  Jeff yawned and relaxed even more. “I should be doing yours.”

  “You can, when they don’t stink from standing on them all night.” Daniel laughed.

  Cara knew what she was witnessing was a basic relief of tension. Yet, she also saw closeness and love. She wanted it too. Was she fooling herself with Seth? He could be with the blonde now. No he wouldn’t do that. No book, no man, no answers. That was her life right now. Feeling pathetic, she went to the kitchen and got out some Camembert and crackers. She’d distract herself by taking care of her guests and being a good hostess. She was just being silly because she was tired.

  Matcher followed her. “Do you remember me saying Vincent’s aura was odd?”

  “Sort of. Wasn’t there something about him being weird at my mother’s dinner?” Cara nibbled on a cracker.