by Sophia North
"Yes," she replied. "Why?"
"It would appear I am incapable of making it home on my own tonight. Could I trouble you for a ride?"
Chapter Four
"NICE WHEELS," DANTE commented, patting the dashboard inside the Tesla Roadster with a big hand. "The therapy business must be good...or is this more of an environmental statement? I believe the practice is referred to as 'virtue-signaling'."
Simone glared back, not responding to his dig. She had no idea why she'd agreed to drive him home. It was highly irregular behaviour on her part, but she'd been unable to resist that sexy smile of his...or the prospect of spending more time in his company.
"Mind you, in a city as large as London, customers must be plentiful. If not, I could undoubtedly find legions to send your way," he added in jest.
"Are you trying to discredit my profession?" she asked defensively.
"Ah, so there are cracks in that mask you wear."
"What mask?"
Dante's rich laughter filled the car. What mask, indeed.
The woman wore her Prim & Proper one so tightly he wondered if it ever came off. Then a thought struck him. Perhaps this was the need he'd detected in her the other night?
Dr. P&P may like to think she came off all haughty and cool, but Dante knew better. No 'normal' human would have ever agreed to lead him in a trance or say yes to his request for a lift home. Not without being more than the Average Jane.
And Simone was far from being one of those, as her actions tonight proved.
Dante had seen the hurt in her eyes when he'd pulled away from her offer of comfort after his vision. And although tempted to give in to the moment, he knew they could never be. No matter how much he desired her, which he did...very much.
Dr. Radcliffe had served her purpose. He could not think about the way she made him feel. Especially not with the Bradbury Something Evil this Way Comes he suspected may be unfolding.
"Why don't you tell me about what you saw in your vision?" Simone asked, finally ready to face the answer. "Because whatever it was, you seemed quite distressed."
"We still on the clock?" Dante tried to jest, but after seeing her hands tighten on the steering wheel, decided it was best to drop the joker act. He'd not anticipated her continued interest and wondered if her perspective might help him gain further insight.
Dante never shared his visions with Zara, fearing the images they contained would terrify her. A gentle soul, she had been content with running a bookstore specialising in esoteric teachings.
Following the awakening of his predestined instinct to find a 'Mate', an act outlawed in the early seventeen hundreds, Dante found himself drawn time and again to her bookstore until he finally went in.
At first, he'd suppressed the desire to be with her, undertaking the necessary binding rituals in order to do so. But the impulse remained despite his best efforts. It was only after his father explained their family's ‘gift’ and the importance a Mate played in its power, did he allow himself to get closer to Zara.
But with Simone it was different. Not only was she a highly trained professional, the abilities she possessed were nothing like the ones he'd experienced with Zara. They were far more powerful, and in some ways, more complex. He would be a fool if he didn’t take advantage of what she may be able to offer.
"It's to do with a prophecy made five hundred years ago," he cautiously ventured.
"Of course, a prophecy. I should have guessed."
Dante took umbrage with her tone. "Simone, do you wish me to answer you truthfully or prefer I lie? You mock me, whilst knowing everything I have revealed tonight is the truth."
His challenge hung in the air, daring Simone to deny it. She couldn't and so instead took the easy way out. "Where in Bloomsbury do you want to be dropped?" she asked, in a crisp voice.
"Our destination is actually in Fitzrovia, but why be pedantic? Are you familiar with a bookstore called Treadwell's?"
Familiar with it? Until her recent move she'd lived in a flat above the shop for years. Her encounter with one Mr. Dante Polidori was getting stranger and stranger.
"I know it. Do you live nearby?" she asked, wondering if perhaps he recognised her from the area and if so, that it was somehow connected to him seeking her out. Simone was no stranger to creepy synchronicities in life.
"No, but I am feeling more myself and have business to attend to there. My driver can collect me later."
His driver? Unbelievable.
"Why did you ask me for a ride when you have other means of transportation?" she snapped.
"Would you believe I find your company enjoyable and wanted to extend being in it? Probably not the best impulse for me to concede to, non?"
Simone wanted to agree, except his confession over wanting to spend more time together matched her own feelings. Madman or not, their mutual attraction was undeniable.
Approaching their destination, Simone smoothly navigated her Tesla into a spot in front of the bookstore. The street, as usual, was empty at this time of night.
Shifting into park, she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, contemplating her next move. She could say 'cheerio' and end her strange encounter or...
"You best tell me about how your vision relates to this prophecy," she said. "If I can, I want to help you. I know you believe what you're telling me is the truth and that is fine. No more judgment, it was unprofessional of me to behave as I have."
Dante hesitated, unsure if he should continue. But his vision confused him, and he could do with having another perspective - even if given from an unbelieving psychiatrist with gifts she denied having.
"Very well," Dante agreed, returning to where he'd left off. "The prophecy was made by a powerful vampyre named Haan. Everything changed in the Vampyre world after his execution in 1517. He believed vampyres should rise up and rule over mankind. And he nearly succeeded in bringing it about during his reign as Grand Elder."
Simone's heart began to pound louder. She wanted to hear the lie in his story but it was not forthcoming.
Needing to test him further, she dug deeper. "I see. And this prophecy of his was what exactly?"
"He vowed that if in five hundred years vampyres had not subjugated humans, he would return and lead a rebellion to make it so."
"Nice. And I thought today's geopolitical landscape was tough," Simone quipped. Dante’s sideways glance made her stop the with inane comparisons. "My apologies. Do go on with your tale...er, I mean explanation."
Annoyed by her continual veiled slights, Dante nevertheless resumed. "The five hundred year anniversary occurred on May Day 2017. In the year leading up to it, a small team was set up by the Council to investigate any possibilities of the prophecy being true. Within a month of the anniversary, the team had disappeared without a trace."
Running a hand through his hair, Dante felt his anger stir. His temper had a way of flaring up at inopportune times. And he didn't want to alarm her with anymore sudden outbursts - he had his word to keep.
Swallowing it down, he continued. "After the disappearance there were a few signs all was not well in our world but most were happy to ignore the growing evidence. They even went so far as to declare the lost team as being 'fear-mongers' and on some lips 'traitors'. Until earlier this year, when some very bad things started happening."
"Very bad things? That sounds rather ominous," Simone replied.
Dante stared at her intently. "Ominous? Yes, I suppose humans being regularly murdered by a Ripper vamp could be called that."
Simone swallowed nervously at the otherworldly glow in his eyes. "The media hasn't reported anything about these killings," she said, growing suspicious. "Quite the feat in today's 24/7 news cycle, especially given his title. London loves a good Ripper titillation and it's been over a century since Jack roamed the streets."
Dante did not rise to the bait. London had been the hunting ground for many a Ripper over the centuries. But why alarm her any further by going into those details?
<
br /> "If the killings continue for much longer they will be plastered all over the tabloids. The bodies are piling up and it is only a matter of time before word gets out, which is what seems to worry the Council most."
"I see," she replied. What else could she say?
Clearing her throat, she returned back to the main topic of their discussion. "In your vision, did you see the person, I mean the vampyre, responsible?"
"I don't know. I saw Anton."
Simone glanced across at him. "Anton is a friend?" she asked, sensing his familiarity.
Dante nodded. "He, as well as myself and a few others were seen as the next generation to run for Council. It was always our goal to eventually sit on it. We took all the classes and worked for various committees."
"Vampyre committees...seriously?" She only just managed to stifle a laugh.
"Yes, when the Council decides on something it normally sets up a committee to enact it," Dante casually replied, as if she was the crazy one for questioning him. "Anyway, a year ago Anton became Fifth Elder. It changed him. He went on a power-trip. After Elder Abelard died under mysterious circumstances Anton was promoted up the ranks. But a couple of months ago he had a huge argument with the entire Council and no one has seen or heard from him since."
"Is this why you fell out with him? Because of politics?"
"No. He developed a problem with Zara. And I didn't like it, so our friendship grew distant."
Dante closed his eyes and for a moment thought of the mysterious blue smoke with its strange cackling voice. What the hell did it mean?
"No, the Council are not going to appreciate hearing it. Especially coming from me," he muttered more to himself than Simone.
"Why?" she couldn’t help asking. The level of detail he’d invented for this vampyre world of his was fascinating.
"Once news of my vision gets out, the potential disturbance it will cause will make them most unhappy. You see, until his disappearance, my father was First Elder and lead investigator into the Haan prophecy."
"Your father's gone missing?" Simone gasped.
"Yes, and the following night Zara was murdered by a Rogue vampyre."
So much pain so close together, no wonder the man had issues.
Slowly, Simone started to weave together the reasons for Dante's need to invent this world of fantasy he lived in. It was probably down to the shock of losing two of the closest people in his life in such a short space of time. This belief he was a vampyre was, in a way, protecting him from dealing with reality.
"Dante, I have to tell you, I really can't believe in vampyres. I think you are creating this world to hide from your real problems." Like the loss of Zara, she thought but refrained from saying so. "However, if people really are being hurt, I'm legally bound to report it to the authorities."
The man's reaction? He began to laugh deeply.
"What's so funny?" she asked a little indignantly.
"I'd pay money to see you report what I've just said to the authorities. They'd have a field day."
"Well, regardless of their reaction, I'm worried about you and highly recommend you seek further therapy," Simone stated sternly.
Dante stared blankly out of the window, ignoring her. He couldn't worry about Simone contacting the 'authorities' – he had bigger problems.
"You really should make another appointment," she insisted.
Turning towards her, Dante gave her a slight smile. "I'm afraid our time together is at an end, Dr. Radcliffe," he replied in a low voice. Taking her chin in his hand, he rubbed his thumb across her full lower lip. "Although I had wondered if...well that is no longer important."
The feel of his touch sent shivers of delight down her spine.
"What did you wonder?"
Dante sighed. For a brief moment he’d wondered if their time together might lead her to becoming his confidant...someone he could count on to help with his visions.
Sadly, her obvious refusal to believe what he’d said meant that was impossible. He did not have enough time to bring her properly onboard - which made her dangerous.
The moment had arrived for him to deal with the problem. He would take the memory of their time together from her mind...and never see the good doctor again.
Drawing her face closer, he brushed back a strand of pale blonde hair from her eyes to better stare deeply into them as he began his enchantment. "Simone. When I leave, you will remember nothing of tonight. The name Dante Polidori will be stricken from your mind and never thought of again," he commanded, in a deep, melodic voice. "You will not question why you are here...alone, but simply start the engine and drive home."
To complete his spell, Dante leaned in to gently kiss her, despite it not being necessary. But he'd be an idiot if he walked away without tasting her sweetness at least once.
The feel of his lips on hers made Simone's body go zing! And even though she knew it was wrong...and highly unethical, he tasted too good to pull away.
Taking the initiative to deepen their kiss, she traced her tongue along his lips, seeking entry. Dante wasted no time inviting her to delve further. His mouth opened and the two of them were soon devouring each other.
As their tongues dueled, Simone felt her mask of decorum slip away. She desperately wanted to lose herself in the intense heat of the moment. But in the end, it was Dante who put an end to their growing passion.
Pulling away, he rested his forehead against hers. "Good bye, Simone," he rasped, before pressing a final kiss to her brow and climbing out of the car.
Inside the Tesla, Simone sat with her eyes closed, her lips swollen from their kissing.
Shutting the door, Dante slipped into the darkness of the night.
Moments later, the Tesla’s quiet electrical engine started. And from the shadows, Dante watched longingly as his beautiful therapist drove away and out of his life...forever.
Chapter Five
THE SOUND OF incessant ringing drew Simone from a deep sleep. Fumbling for her phone in a half-dazed state, she eventually found it underneath her pillow.
"Hello," she groggily answered.
"Simone! By the goddess, I've been ringing for hours."
Jarred by the unexpected loudness of her best friend's voice, Simone bolted upright in bed. "Pen, why are you shouting?" she complained, before noticing she'd inadvertently put her friend on speaker. "Oh wait, I see why," she conceded, settling back under the duvet with her phone perched on the pillow beside her.
"You're not awake yet? I knew something was wrong," Penny expressed in her usual dramatic way. "What the hell happened last night? We have a deal, Radcliffe. And you broke it."
'The deal' to which her friend referred was their promise to always let the other one know when they returned home from a late night 'assignation'.
"I wasn't on a date, Pen," Simone clarified.
"No, you were only meeting one of your freakish 'evening only' clients for the first time. You know what I think about people who conduct business at night - something's off about them."
"But isn't most of your business done at night?" Simone joked.
"Precisely!" her friend retorted. "And I am damn near certifiable, so I know exactly what I’m talking about."
"It's your artistic temperament, not insanity, that accounts for your unique ways."
"Save your psycho-babble for the paying customers and stay on point," Penny warned. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm ecstatic you’re not at the bottom of the Thames, but I've been awake since eleven - yes, that's right eleven ante meridiem - and I am never awake before noon. Wanna guess why?"
Unfortunately, Simone had a strong suspicion what it might be - which meant she was in for one of her friend's more unusual conversations.
"Could I make a coffee first?"
"Coffee!?! It's nigh on tea time."
Simone quickly turned over to verify it for herself. The digital alarm clock beside her bed read: 16:57.
Impossible. She rarely slept more than six hours, so sl
eeping the best part of sixteen was a rather alarming discovery.
"Pen, this never happens," Simone whispered.
"I know," her friend replied softly, before launching back into her tirade. "And if it wasn't for Daryl taking pity on me...or perhaps it was for his own self-preservation...hard to say," Penny mused, her voice trailing away. "Anyway, he was kind enough to check the building's security cameras and confirmed, albeit under very strict instructions I was never to ask again, that you had indeed returned home last night. Otherwise, I would have rung Scotland Yard by now or worse...forced myself to go to that architectural abomination you call 'home' to make sure you were alright."
Penny's ream of words were a force to be reckoned with when she was on a roll. Simone, of course, knew exactly how to deal with the avalanche. She’d had years of practice.
"Oh dear, poor Daryl," she teased. "He's ex-MI5, you know? You wearing him down is quite the accomplishment. I doubt many have."
"Bloody ex-MI5," Penny muttered. "See? This is why we have our 'deal', you attract the strangest of people."
"Uhm, Pen you do realise Daryl is employed as the Head of Security here and thus completely unrelated to my ability to 'attract' strange sorts," Simone reasonably proposed, but Penny was having none of it.
"And you do realise most people who live in your glass prison wouldn't even know who Daryl is - hence, the fact you do proves my point all the same."
Penny's logic really shouldn't be attempted without caffeine in one's system, Simone silently groaned.
Unwilling to deny her body's craving any longer, she rolled out of bed. "I'll ring you back in a few minutes," she bargained. "If I don't have a coffee soon, I might not make it."
Penny laughed, her friend's caffeine addiction was as bad as hers. "Alright, but be quick about it - and remember, Mr. ex-MI5 is only a swipe away if you go AWOL again."
"I'll keep that in mind. Chat soon." Simone rang off and quickly slipped from her cocoon of warmth.
Stretching her arms towards the ceiling, she suddenly realised how well-rested she felt. It had been weeks since she'd last slept properly.