Yes, because I’m the problem here.
We fall back into furious silence as, over the horizon, a building lit up with amber flood lights from below comes into view. It’s raised on a hill above the surrounding city.
“There’s Lincoln cathedral,” Vex informs me, and I nod, looking down at my nails and then out of the window. The land is flat with fields stretching out into the dark on either side of us as the roads become narrower and more deeply embedded in the countryside.
When we reach the city, we pass a multitude of pubs, the names of which continue to make me laugh.
The Nosey Parker? I mean really?
Who would name their business that?
Vex grows visibly more relaxed as we drive toward the city centre and around another enormous roundabout. We pass a fast food restaurant, which lies opposite an architecturally abnormal site lit up with signs boasting ‘University of Lincoln’ as its name.
“Did you uh… go to school here?” I ask Vex as we stop at a set of traffic lights.
“What, here? Oh, fuck no! I mean… no. I went to Oxford,” he explains, and I shrug, not sure what the big deal is with the university, looks pretty massive to me as far as schools go. Then again, my school had been my father’s fishing boat, so I guess I have nothing to compare against.
The lights flash emerald and we jerk into motion as Vex drives over the bridge in front of us, turning left and making his way over a set of train tracks. A stretch of water expands out of my window, and I wonder why I’ve been through this hell if we could have just swum via the rivers to get here.
“Wait… they have a river that runs right through here? You mean I’ve been in this clown car for no reason?!” I exclaim and Vex sighs.
“Look, yes, we could have swum here. But I grew up in this town, and I’ve seen what students do in the Brayford Pool. You wanna climb out and find yourself covered in puke or worse? Plus, I didn’t really want to watch you get into a fist fight with a swan,” he explains, snappy now as both our tempers are getting frightfully short.
Well, I think, that’s ridiculous.
Swans don’t even have fists.
“Worse? What’s worse than puke?” I demand next, ignoring the fact that his answer actually makes logical sense, and he breathes out heavily.
“You don’t want to know…” he mumbles as we speed around the corner, turning away from the Brayford Pool and moving deeper into the city.
He pulls the car into a parking lot, or what is sign posted as a ‘car park’, and turns off the engine. I pocket the cash from the glove compartment, and he rises from the driver’s seat and into the night air, obviously glad to be free of the car’s confines and my proximity.
I’m glad. At least, I know he hates my company as much as I despise his.
“Where now, oh dirtiest of tour guides?” I ask, slamming my car door shut as he locks his. I’ve left the duffel bag on the back seat, but I can’t see myself needing the jacket, and even if I do want it, I guess I can always come back for it tomorrow after sunset.
“Come on, we don’t want to miss check-in.” Vex turns away from the car, and I follow him past a grubby looking hair salon and onto a pathway, which runs parallel beside the river as it ebbs along its course through the city. When I look to the right, I see a bridge with the words, where have you been? carved on the side, and I feel my brow furrow, wondering why anyone would write that.
“Hey, why does that bridge want to know where I’ve been?” I demand, curious, and he shrugs.
“I dunno, Love. It’s art,” he explains. I scowl, smelling the scent of alcohol laced through with the aroma of thick crust pastry, which hangs heavy in the air.
“On a bridge? That’s weird,.” I note, and he chuckles.
“You think that’s weird, this little tunnel we’re about to walk through is called The Glory Hole.” I scowl yet again, wondering how stupid he thinks I am.
“Oh, ha, ha. Make fun of the centuries old immortal who doesn’t know things about the modern world. Aren’t you a clever dick?” I bite out and he doesn’t speak, but simply gestures to a sign on the top of the oddly angled brick tunnel. It reads, The Glory Hole.
Well, shit.
“British people are weird,” I conclude, and Vex laughs, his voice echoing as we take a mere three steps before emerging on the other side of the tunnel.
“I have tentacles most of the time. I’d say British people aren’t that weird,” he counters. I shrug, speeding up my walking pace as we make our way up several crooked stairs and out onto what looks like a main high street.
“Come on, we’ve got to get to Steep Hill. The Wig and Mitre is at the top,” Vex orders me, grabbing my hand, which I yet again promptly snatch back and give him a querying look.
“Steep Hill? What is that, ironic? Like it’s flat or something? Because you know there was nothing glorious about that tunnel.” I voice my disappointment; I mean, with a name like that I had been expecting more than a grubby hovel.
“No. It’s absolutely not ironic. That thing is like… bloody steep,” Vex informs me, and I snort, unimpressed by his stamina.
“Oh, come on, it can’t be that steep. You’re just a wimp. We’re immortal!” I continue to condemn him as we slip past clubs overflowing with drunks and then into a quieter street surrounded by boutiques and yet more pubs on either side. As we reach the end of the road, which is paved with more troublesome and thick cobblestone, I see Steep Hill.
Okay, so maybe it is a little steep. I muse internally, staring at the way the hill curves upward at a seventy-five-degree angle to the ground. It’s bizarre because shops and tiny cottages line either side, tracing the curve, too. I wonder how anyone can live on such an incline.
“Come on then, Miss Immortal. Get a bloody move on then.” Vex pushes me forward so I don’t hesitate in tackling the hill, regretting my condemnation of the name before. I grab onto the railing provided as I feel my legs start to burn halfway up. My breath comes in short wisps, and I wonder if this is how mortals feel when they’re swimming.
Is it really this difficult for them? I can scarcely remember.
I fight gravity all the way up, but eventually, I find myself at the top, completely out of breath and red in the face. Vex looks smug as he reaches the height of the hill just after me.
“Not so bad huh?” he asks me, not even slightly out of breath.
How? He’s a smoker! I wonder, pissed.
He stops beside me a moment, turning to stare at the Cathedral, which towers over and above everything else in the old fashioned looking courtyard. A castle is at our backs, and everything here seems to be from a different time. In front of the enormous stone arch leading through to the medieval construct, I see it. The Wig and Mitre.
“Finally!” I exclaim, ready to get away from Vex and settle in with my own company as I stride forward toward the Tudor front pub, which is whitewashed on the outside and held together by rustic looking dark wooden beams. Reaching the front door, I push down on the hard wood to let myself in.
It doesn’t budge.
“Hey, wait, what’s the time?!” I demand, panicking. In answer to my question and as Vex’s gaze turns glazed with irritation, the bells from the Cathedral begin to ring out. After twelve heavy and deep tolls, I realise we’re far too late.
So, what now?
“This is all your fault!” I yell, turning and shoving him, with both hands, in the chest.
“What? How is this my bloody fault?!” he exclaims, face turning ugly and incredulous.
“You should have asked for directions!” I yell, probably waking up the surrounding residents but refusing to care.
The street lamps flicker, leaving orange flashes illuminating sharp cheekbones as I stare at Vex, fuming. He growls, grabbing my wrist and pulling me behind him.
“Stop! Where are we going?” I hiss, trying to prevent him from moving me but unable to as I realise his fist is balled in the fabric of my sleeve. He’s clearly had enough of my
attitude for today, of which I’m proud, as he doesn’t even reply but simply continues to march me through back alleys and tiny streets, all atop the hill that looks out over the city.
Finally, he slows, composing himself and letting me go.
“Shut up, and follow my lead, alright?” he growls, and I frown, confused by his sudden anxiety. We near where the hill descends again on the opposite side from where we’ve just come, and as we do, Vex stills in front of a tiny house, of which even the miniature wrought iron gate is slanted along with the hill itself.
He lets himself inside and moves two paces down the delicate, quaint garden path. The smell of spearmint and honeysuckle crawls over my skin, making my stomach roll as I sight the plants growing along the sides of the house beside the front door.
“Vex!” I hiss, not content with the idea of breaking and entering. It’s bad enough I’m on this trip with him; I’m so not up for sharing a jail cell with him too.
“Shhhh!” He turns back, violet eyes flashing dangerously as his thick finger comes up to my lips. I glare at him, pissed, but do as he insists, buttoning my lip as he approaches a red front door with a slanted frame.
He looks suddenly nervous, taking a deep breath in and then exhaling as he straightens, squaring his round beefy shoulders inside his jacket.
Raising a fist, he knocks three times.
Several moments and audible rummaging later, the hall light illuminates the glass pane of the downstairs window. The door swings open with a creak several seconds after, revealing a tiny woman of no more than four foot eight in a robe, slippers, and flannel pyjamas.
“Chase?” she expels the single word out into the dark as I stand in Vex’s shadow.
I do a double take.
Chase? Who the hell is Chase? Am I missing something? I wonder, stunned.
Vex steps over the threshold, taking the woman into his arms.
“Hi, Mum,” he breathes.
Chapter Four
Mummy’s Boy
I stand, awkward, beyond the threshold where the mother and son embrace, stunned. Vex… Chase… whoever the freaking hell he actually is, had mentioned he grew up here, but I hadn’t expected us to make a house call and drop in on his family. I mean, how is he expecting to explain his absence? His drastic change in appearance and sudden aversion to natural sunlight?
The tungsten glow of the hall light floods the garden path, and I cast a shadow upon it as Vex steps aside, revealing me stood in the dark behind him.
“This is Azure.” He introduces me, and I step forward. Placing my hands in my pockets, I attempt to avoid any and all human contact with the woman who birthed the person who is arguably my arch nemesis.
“Hi.” I’m curt with my response, caught off guard and entirely unready to make small talk, let alone pleasantries. The tiny woman looks me up and down, pulling her robe closed as I tower over her, and visibly swallows. I smile, trying to ease the atmosphere, but it’s sometimes easy to forget how intimidating I can seem to mortals.
“Why don’t you come in for a cup of tea? I’m sure you’d like to get in out of the cold,” she suggests, stepping aside as I make my way through the door and closing it behind me. The smell of spiced apple envelops me, and I feel my feet sink into the rich beige of the carpet, the homeliness of the place immediately invasive. There’s a narrow staircase in dark wood pressed against the left wall of the hall, but I can’t see upstairs as the landing space is obscured where the light does not reach.
“Builders tea? Earl grey, Chase?” his mother calls over her flannel covered shoulder as she pads down the warm space and into what is presumably the kitchen at the end of the hall.
Vex looks to me, his gaze not the least apologetic but instead slightly vulnerable as he replies, “Earl grey please…” with a small cough. He looks to me next, but I shake my head.
“Nothing for me… thank you,” I call after her. I have no desire to drink anything at this point, let alone tea. I mean, I knew he was British, but I guess I wasn’t expecting his origins to lie rooted so deeply in the unapologetically traditional English stereotype.
“Go through to the living room, Love.” He jerks his head, gesturing to a door on my right.
Stepping through without hesitation, I’m tired of the too bright, too warm light from the hallway and seek relief in less imposing surroundings. I mean, where’s a cave when you need one?
Inside, I find a sitting room which is entirely spotless. Turning on a lamp, stood next to a cream leather armchair, the space is illuminated, revealing a further spectrum of beiges, making the homeliness of the place seem inescapable. A wooden hearth surrounds a tiny crooked fireplace, and beside it a fat, uncouth Christmas tree stands, draped in gold tinsel, strung lights, and baubles.
I take a seat as Vex follows me, dropping to the couch on my left opposite the fireplace and propping the heavy weight of his steel toed boot upon his knee. He’s silent as I stare around, possibly more uncomfortable than I have ever seen him, only increasing my anxiety from the banality of it all.
The atmosphere becomes excruciating as his mother joins us, carrying a tray with a tea pot and china cups upon saucers, which clatter with the nervousness of her motion. She sits in an identical armchair, facing me, placing the tray on the coffee table between us. She’s laid out three cups for some reason I can’t discern.
“So, are you going to tell me why you’re here at such a late hour, Chase? Is everything alright? You didn’t mention you’d be home for Christmas.” She looks concerned, and I feel my own brow furrow. She’s awfully relaxed about this for someone whose son has been dead to the world for almost half a year.
“Well, uh, I got sick. In the states. It’s been a bit shit actually.” He coughs, hiding the fact he’s lying with an extreme lack of subtlety. Reaching forward and pouring himself some boiling hot water into the fine china tea cup, he proceeds to dip a teabag into the contents with expert precision.
“Language, Chase!” she scolds him, and I smirk. That’s the least of her worries where he’s concerned.
“Sorry, mum. Uh anyway, we caught this rare kind of sensitivity to the sun. That’s why we’re here. We need a place to crash. Please.” He implores her with wide and momentarily childlike eyes, and I feel my gaze travel to the walls and mantelpiece. Pictures of him as a baby, naked on a faux fur rug with a cheeky grin, and then as a small child riding his bike, line the walls in a kind of morbidly fascinating chronology that leaves me staring. My eyes finally fall on a picture of him in a graduate’s cap and gown which sits, tilted to face me, on the mantel. Examining the photograph, which stands next to his framed BA in English Literature, I realise that he really hasn’t changed that much at all.
“Do you have this sickness too?” She gazes at me, curiosity laced through the warm depths of her brown irises, and I nod, not speaking the lie. Drumming my long fingernails against the armrests of the chair, my breathing becomes stilted, forced even, under the scrutinous anxiety of his mother’s gaze.
“Well, I had better get on the phone to that University in the States first thing in the morning! How could they not tell me? You could have died!” she exclaims, her voice becoming high pitched and grating. Vex leans forward, taking a sip of his tea and frantically swallowing, probably burning his tongue in the process, as he rushes to speak.
“Ma! It’s fine. It’s not the university’s fault. I am twenty-two; it’s my fault. I know I should have called you sooner, but it’s been a big adjustment. It’s something in the water, and it only affects a few people per million. You shouldn’t worry so much. Really. It’s fine. We’re fine,” he protests, frantic in trying to hide the unimaginable truth, and she cocks an eyebrow. I continue to watch the spectacle between them with outside interest.
She looks furious as she moves to make her own tea, as though in practicing this very British art, her problems and worries will magically disappear. Vex leans back as she eyes him wearily, and I finally feel the need to speak.
�
�I think they’re running an investigation actually. I’m sure it’s being taken care of. That’ll teach Chase here to go swimming in unknown water though, won’t it?” I smile at him, my eyes glinting wicked, as he narrows his gaze at me. Raising his cup to his lips once more, he fails to make an adequate comeback.
“Well, it is late. Of course, you can stay. Is there anything you need?” his mother enquires. I shift in the seat, wondering if I can ask her to teach her son not to be an asshole at this late stage.
“Blackout curtains. Do we have those old ones from grandma’s place?” he asks her, and she nods.
“Of course, I’ll go and fish them out now.” She looks calm again, in her element, as she exits the room with swift grace and abandons her tea. It continues to steam visibly as the scent of bergamot fills the room with an unrelenting ferocity, becoming even more overwhelming as it proceeds to mix with the seasonal spiced apple. My gaze falls on Vex, trying to ignore it.
“She seems… nice,” I observe, trying not to be an asshole. I know that family can be a touchy subject, and I guess it’s this or the yellow mini for sleeping arrangements.
“She’s the bloody best. Really. Best Mum in the world.” He looks after her fondly and something within me shifts, grating against my better judgement. It’s like my heart has inflated temporarily, though I couldn’t tell you why.
“You should head up to my room. I need to speak with her alone for a few minutes. It’s a lot to take in I guess,” he explains. Getting to my feet, I don’t care where I go as long as I don’t have to drink any of the vile smelling tea, which is penetrating my nostrils full force. I swear, you could bottle it as a weapon.
“You’re a good liar, at least to the mortal eye,” I comment, pushing my hair behind my ear, wondering if he lies so smoothly to me and how often. He smirks, eyes hiding cocky amusement.
“It was a long… quiet drive. I had time to think of an alibi, just in case…” he insists. I frown, shifting atop the thick padding of the carpet, somewhat uncomfortable as I hear his mother bumbling around in the hall.
Vexed: A Tidal Kiss Novella (The Tidal Kiss Trilogy Book 5) Page 6