The final assailant put both his hands up, turned and ran. Leaving his wounded and broken companions to fare for themselves.
Emily spent a minute putting all of the unconscious men into the recovery position, ensuring that they were breathing freely and there was no possibility of their airways becoming obstructed.
Then she left the alley and hailed a cab to take her back to the apartment.
Chapter 12
‘Over six hundred years of combined wisdom between the five of you and this is the result,’ said Radford Cromwell, the head of the Nosferatu Enforcers.
‘With all due respect, master,’ answered one of the Aspirants who knelt in front of the Enforcer. ‘We were told that the Sir William might have had the relic. We were simply searching for it.’
The Enforcer glided across the floor and stood in front of the kneeling Aspirant. He looked down at him, an expression of utter disgust on his face as his fangs extended, sliding past his lower lips.
‘With all due respect,’ he whispered. He bent down, his face now level with the terrified junior vampire.
‘You have no concept of what respect is, you worthless leech. Did I tell you to search the Emporium?’
The Aspirant shook his head.
‘Did Lord Byron instruct you to do it?’ ‘No, sir.’
‘Correct. So why did you and your gaggle of moronic parasites break into a place that was covered by closed circuit television and then not even bother to remove the evidence?’
‘There was no way that the cameras could have identified us, my lord Enforcer,’ answered the Aspirant. ‘We moved far too fast.’
The Enforcer stood up. ‘Oh well. That’s fine then. Not a problem. Too fast for the cameras you say?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Faster than a human is capable of moving?’ ‘Much faster, my lord,’ agreed the Aspirant.
The Enforcers hand flashed forward, claws extended. The razor sharp talons tore through the kneeling Aspirant’s neck, separating his head from his shoulders in one single mighty blow. The severed cranium bounced along the floor until it rolled to a stop against the wall with a dull thud.
Cromwell grabbed the next Aspirant by the neck and picked him up one handed. ‘And now, because of you swarm of cretins, somebody out there has photographic proof of someone, or something, that can move ten times faster than a human being.’
‘My Lord,’ rasped the Aspirant who was still suspended by his neck. ‘I am sure that they will merely think that the cameras have malfunctioned. No one will believe what they see.’
‘No one?’ Bellowed Cromwell. ‘No, not “No One”. Most humans will not believe. But there are some that will. In fact there are some that will know exactly what they are seeing. And those are the very people that we do not want looking into what we are doing.’
‘With a casual shrug of his shoulders the Enforcer separated the Aspirant’s head from his shoulders. Tearing it off like he was plucking an over ripe fruit from a tree. He tossed both head and body aside before turning to the remaining two kneeling Aspirants.
‘Get out before I destroy you,’ he growled.
The two juniors sprang to their feet and ran from the room, their bodies a blur from the speed at which they moved.
Cromwell stood still for a while as he pondered. He wasn’t worried about Sir William as such. The man was a mere human. Weak. Nothing more than prey. No, he was more concerned about who else might see the CCTV footage. Namely – the Olympus Foundation.
It was true that they were no longer the force that they used to be a full century ago.
Their numbers had dropped as the vastly superior numbers of the brethren had slowly whittled away at them.
Oh, the house of Lord Byron had lost many hundreds, if not thousands, of brethren to the blades and bullets of the Shadowhunters.
But unlike them, vampires could beget more vampires. Whereas the Olympus Foundation was stuck with a slowly dwindling line of succession that was literally dying out.
But they could still cause untold problems, thought Cromwell to himself. Especially that disgusting old magician. He had been a thorn in the brethren’s side for centuries now. An unacceptable situation as far as the Enforcer was concerned. In fact, he continued to think, it was time to approach the Grand Master with the plan that Cromwell had been working on. A plan to eradicate these so called Shadowhunters and their despicable leader, once and for all.
A purge, as it were.
Cromwell smiled to himself. And his canines shone as white as innocence in the darkling light.
Chapter 13
When she had arrived back at the apartment the night before, Emily had decided not to tell Bastian or Nathan about her run in with the thugs in Soho. No harm had been done to her and she was afraid that the men would overreact and put some sort of curfew on her.
‘I got no girl clothes,’ she said to no one in particular, as she entered the sitting room the next morning.
‘What do you mean?’ Asked Nathan. ‘You have clothes. That’s what you wear every day.’
Emily rolled her eyes. ‘I’m meant to be going on a date tonight and all I have is jeans and t-shirts or our black Shadowhunter outfits. I mean, they’re pretty cool but I don’t want to go out to some fancy place looking like I’ve just walked off the set of The Matrix.’
‘Going out on a date?’ Asked Nathan. The surprise sounding clearly in his voice.
‘Yeah,’ confirmed Emily. ‘What? You think that I’m too hideous to be invited out?’
‘No,’ Nathan shook his head. ‘It’s just that, well, who is he? Or she, whatever. You’ve only been in London for a day. How did this happen. Is it safe?’
‘It’s all cool,’ interjected Bastian. ‘Some posh nob who owns the Antique Emporium that we went to yesterday. You would know if you actually did any work instead of swanning about on your own private business instead.’
‘I wasn’t swanning about,’ denied Nathan. ‘I had stuff to do.’
‘Sure,’ countered Bastian as he stood up. ‘Tell you what,’ he said to Emily. ‘Let’s go out. You got a Foundation debit card; we’ll use it to buy you some “Girl Clothes”.’
‘The card is not for frivolities,’ snapped Nathan.
‘Lighten up, dude. Stop being such a fassy-man. The girl needs some clothes and the Foundation got more money than god, so shut your pie hole, right?’
Nathan held his hands up. ‘Fine then, whatever. But let it be known that I don’t approve.’ He stood up and went through to his room, slamming the door behind him.
‘Wow,’ exclaimed Emily. ‘Who put a bug up his ass?’
Bastian grinned. ‘I think our Canadian boy is jealous.’
‘Of what?’ Asked Emily.
‘Don’t be so dense,’ answered Bastian.
Emily blushed. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘But, we’re just friends. I mean, I hardly even know him.’
‘So? You don’t know William either and you’re going on a date with him.’
‘That’s different.’
Bastian shook his head. ‘No. Not really. And you still haven’t worked out how to control that blush response of yours.’
Emily stuck her tongue out.
‘Charming,’ laughed the Jamaican. ‘Let’s go.
We got some plastic to bend.’
Emily spent the rest of the day choosing clothes and accessories, helped by the surprisingly knowledgeable Jamaican. When she commented, he informed her that he had grown up as one of seven children. And he had been the only male.
When Emily had enquired where the rest of his family was now he had simply shaken his head. She could see by the look of anguish in his eyes that bad things had happened. She grasped his shoulder in mute understanding and he smiled back at her in appreciation of her sympathy.
That afternoon Emily arrived back at the apartment with three separate outfits complete with matching accessories and, after much deliberation, she decided on the one that she was going to wear that even
ing.
At half past seven she emerged from her bedroom, fully dressed and ready for the first date that she had ever had. Nerves chewed at her stomach and caused her heart to flutter madly in her chest and, for a moment, she actually contemplated calling the whole thing off.
She walked into the sitting room and stood still, waiting for some sort of comment from either Bastian or Nathan. Hoping that it would be complimentary.
Or at least not insulting.
Bastian stood up as she entered the room and he gave a long, low whistle. ‘Hey, all de fruits are right, girl,’ he said. ‘Looking fine with a capital F.’
She wore a figure hugging, knee length white and red Ted Baker cocktail dress with a pair of red Christian Louboutin stilettos and a simple silver necklace with a red garnet tear drop crystal pendant. The ensemble was finished off with a small red Vivienne Westwood clutch bag in a textured glitter finish.
Emily giggled ‘Thank you, Bastian.’
Nathan stood up. ‘You look…’ he hesitated. ‘Stunning.’
Emily turned to thank Nathan but before she could he had already left the room and headed to his bedroom, once again slamming the door behind him.
Bastian shrugged and shook his head. ‘Just ignore him,’ he advised Emily.
Before Emily could answer there was a buzz from the lobby intercom. She went over to the screen and took a look. Standing next to the concierge was an old man with a chauffeur’s cap on. The concierge spoke into the intercom. ‘Ma’am, your ride is here.’
‘I’ll be down now,’ confirmed Emily. ‘Man,’ she said as she left. ‘What is it with this country, does everybody have a chauffeur?’
Bastian laughed. ‘Hardly,’ he answered. ‘Have fun. Don’t do anything that I would.’
‘As if,’ countered Emily as she stepped into the private elevator.
She and the chauffer went down and then she followed the ancient driver out of the building to the waiting car. William stood outside and waved to her as she approached.
He kissed her briefly on each cheek in the French fashion and then opened the door, holding her elbow as she slid onto the back seat. Then he walked around the back of the car and climbed in next to her. Meanwhile the chauffer had gotten behind the wheel and they pulled out into the traffic.
The car was a Bentley Continental R, a massive beast of an automobile, almost eighteen feet long and twelve feet wide. The interior was as plush as a gentleman’s club and so silent that the only sound was the tick of the carriage clock that was sunken into the walnut paneling above the small bar.
William pushed a button and the strains of Miles Davis filled the cab, the sultry tones offsetting the nervous flutter that his brief kisses had set off in Emily’s chest.
‘Nice,’ she said. ‘Miles Davis, Porgy and Bess. Released March the 9th, 1959. This was one of his first modal compositions. Instead of soloing in the straight, conventional, melodic way, his new style of improvisation featured rapid mode and scale changes played against sparse chord changes. A real break from the norm.’
William raised an eyebrow. ‘So, I take it that you are a huge jazz fan.’
‘No, not really,’ admitted Emily. ‘It’s just that I know stuff. Well, I remember stuff. All sorts of stuff. Everything, actually.’
Emily realized that she was babbling but for the life of her she couldn’t stop. It was like the words were tumbling out of her mouth in an attempt to sabotage her date by convincing the tall, good looking man next to her, that she was a complete airhead.
‘Sorry,’ she apologized. ‘I’m prattling on. Must be nervous or something.’
William laughed. ‘Do you get nervous on all of your dates?’
Emily shrugged. ‘No. I mean, maybe. Not sure.
Actually, I’ve never been on a date before.’
Inwardly she cursed herself. Great, she thought. Now he knows that you’re a complete nerd and you’ve lived the life of a recluse. Darn it.
‘Well there’s no reason to be nervous,’ assured William. ‘We’re just two people going to get a bite to eat. You look really nice, by the way,’ he continued. ‘Smashing. So how come you’ve never gone on a date before?’
‘It’s a long story. Short version is, I lost my parents when I was quite young so I had to move in with two family friends. They were great but they lived in the middle of nowhere. No people, therefore, no dates.’
‘I see, sorry about your parents. I too have lost mine.’
‘Sucks, doesn’t it. I mean, Bart and Ryoko are great. Really lovely, but they aren’t my mum and dad. I miss my parents. Do you still miss yours?’
William shrugged. ‘I lost them so very long ago. Decades.’
‘Couldn’t have been that long,’ pointed out Emily. ‘Hell, you can’t be more than twenty three, twenty four.’
William scowled. ‘Of course. I mean, it seems like decades. Years and years.’
‘Yeah,’ agreed Emily. ‘Sometimes it does.’
The driver pulled over in front of a large, solid looking building on the banks of the river Thames. On the top of the edifice Emily could make out a sign that read OXO.
The chauffer opened the door for her and she followed William into the building.
When the exited the elevator on the top floor they were greeted by a young man in chefs’ whites.
He bowed to William and then led them through the restaurant and into the kitchen. Then he showed them to a small table situated next to a plate glass window that overlooked the river, the lights of London diffused into smears of color from the light rain.
Another man came bustling up. He was also dressed in chefs’ whites and he greeted William with a hug. William introduced him as Jeremy and the chef kissed the back of Emily’s hand.
‘Sit, sit, sit,’ he urged. ‘I bring food and wine. You relax.’
Within minutes a bottle of wine arrived and was presented to William. He glanced at the bottle and nodded his approval.
The sommelier opened it, tasted it using a tastevin that hung around his neck, poured a glass for each of them and left. Soon after, food began to arrive.
It was obvious that Jeremy was sending them whatever he thought worthy of their special attention. Scallops in a white wine reduction on a bed of pok choi, Slices of lobster in a truffle sauce, rare Kobe beef fillet with brandy cream, asparagus and wild mushroom risotto. Multiple small portions of exquisite culinary genius.
As the evening wore on, Emily found herself more and more at ease. William was the consummate host, charming and attentive as well as being a great raconteur.
It was only when the dessert of handmade chocolates arrived that Emily realized that she still knew very little about the handsome man sitting opposite her. Every question that she had asked had either been only superficially answered or gently deflected. He had told many entertaining stories but none of them were about himself.
Over coffee and liqueurs she made a last concerted effort to pry some personal information out of William. But, once again, he replied in non sequiturs, or simply reversed the question so that she ended up talking about herself again.
In the end she gave up trying and, instead, simply reveled in his company as she enjoyed herself more than she had since she could ever remember.
Later that evening, when he dropped her back at the apartment, he had kissed her goodnight.
And when she climbed into bed she could still feel the touch of his lips against hers. Soft yet firm at the same time. As hot as fever and as cold as ice.
She smiled to herself as she slipped into slumber.
Chapter 14
When Emily woke the next morning she found that she was alone in the apartment. Both Nathan and Bastian had gone out without leaving her a message. At a bit of a loose end, she spent the day training and then walking around the local area, doing her tourist thing once again.
As the sun was dropping below the skyline she headed back, looking forward to a coffee and something to eat.
When
she got into the kitchen Nathan was already there, sitting at the table, hands clasped around a mug of steaming tea.
He glanced up at Emily as she walked in.
And for the briefest moment she was sure that she saw a look of pure hatred flash in his eyes.
But then he stood up and greeted her warmly, enquiring as to how her date had gone and she figured that she must have imagined it.
‘Went great,’ she smiled. ‘William was a real gentleman. Good food, good company. Nothing wrong.’
‘I’m glad,’ returned Nathan. ‘Look, I’ve come across a bit of info regarding the vamp break-in at the Emporium. I need to go and meet with an informant of mine, down at the docks near the Isle of Dogs. I don’t know where Bastian has got to and I’d really appreciate some back up. Do you think that you could come along?’
Emily nodded. ‘Sure, Happy to.’
‘Excellent. Get a coffee, get something to eat and then we’ll tool up and be on our way.’
Emily bolted down a huge bowl of fruit and nut muesli and a mug of coffee while Nathan went to the arms safe and took out a pile of weapons. He laid them on the table and pushed a selection across to Emily.
A Katana Japanese sword, two throwing knives, one strapped to each arm, and a heavy dagger to go on her belt. The Katana slipped into a specially designed shoulder rig so that it hung under her left arm, concealed by her leather jacket.
As usual, all of the bladed weapons were impregnated with silver.
‘We won’t take any firearms,’ said Nathan. ‘I don’t really expect anything to go down and, anyway; we wouldn’t want to start a firefight in the city.’
The two Shadowhunters took the elevator to the underground car park and Nathan showed Emily to a black Range Rover, pressing the key fob to unlock the doors as they walked towards it.
It took almost an hour to crawl through the city traffic and down to the Isle of Dogs. Nathan found a parking space in a tatty side street and then Emily followed him through a veritable maze of alleyways.
Emily Shadowhunter - Book 1: VAMPIRE HUNTER Page 6