Red Angel

by Helen Harper

‘You know recruitment doesn’t work like that.’

  ‘Please, Michael.’ My voice is strained. ‘What would you have done?’

  ‘I like it when you say my name too.’ He sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. ‘If I’d known, I’d have wanted to rip out his throat. But that’s not what I’d have done. He’s a human so I’d have called the human police.’

  ‘Honestly?’

  He nods. ‘Bo, I don’t know what’s going with you. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s alright. Things have been hard for you. You didn’t want to be a vampire. The PTSD, the blood aversion…’

  ‘I’m past all that,’ I interrupt.

  ‘I’m glad. But know that I will wait. I will wait until you’re ready for me.’ He gestures. ‘Ready for this. You keep searching for reasons to stay away from me, whether it’s because of your recruitment and how I turned you, or because you saw some old photo of me and jumped to the wrong conclusions, or because of a conflict with New Order. They’re just excuses and that’s OK because I will wait until you change your mind. I know it will be worth it. If you want to stop the public dates, that’s fine. But, Bo,’ he says, placing a faint emphasis on my name, ‘I’m not going anywhere. No matter what you do or what you say.’

  I know in that instant what I need to do. It’s been there all along and I’ve shied away from it. I take a breath and shake my head. ‘No. Don’t wait.’

  ‘Bo…’

  ‘Shh. I don’t want you to wait. I don’t want to wait. I’m afraid, Michael. But I don’t have any more excuses and I don’t want to waste any more time.’

  He doesn’t move a muscle. His body is frozen like a statue and eyes are fixed on mine. ‘Are you sure about this?’

  I don’t answer him. Instead I step forward, stand on my tiptoes and press my lips against his. For a moment he doesn’t react, then he groans and grabs my waist. He deepens the kiss. I coil my arms round his neck and sink against him. His fingers dance up my body, his movements light and wary, as if he’s afraid I’ll suddenly change my mind.

  I pull back, breathing hard. Michael stares at me. I smile and reach out to his pristine white shirt, undoing first one button then another. I run my fingers across his bare chest and he sucks in his breath. He shrugs out of his jacket while I unbuckle his belt.

  ‘I want you to be mine,’ I whisper.

  His eyes glitter. ‘Always.’

  *

  We lie together entwined in damp sheets. His leg is hooked over mine and he’s playing with my hair. I gaze up at the ceiling and, for the first time in a long time, feel genuinely at peace. Kimchi whines faintly from the other room.

  Michael grins. It’s a fully satisfied expression. ‘We should let him in.’

  ‘He’ll only attack you,’ I murmur.

  ‘Why would he do that?’

  ‘Because you look like the cat that got the cream.’

  His thumb traces a lazy circle round my nipple. ‘You were the one who was purring.’

  I reach down, my fingers trailing from his flat stomach to his groin. A deep grumble sounds from his chest and I laugh. ‘Who’s purring now then?’

  ‘Minx.’ He leans over and kisses me, snatching away my breath yet again. ‘Tell me,’ he murmurs. ‘What changed your mind? You were so desperate to stay away from me before.’

  I consider. ‘O’Shea and Connor, I suppose.’

  His face takes on an incredulous expression. ‘Devlin O’Shea?’

  I giggle. ‘More Connor, really. He made me see the light.’

  ‘Well,’ Michael growls, ‘from now on, I only want you to see me.’

  ‘I already know you’re the jealous type,’ I tease.

  ‘Moi? I should think that you’re the jealous one around here, Bo Blackman.’

  I splutter. ‘I am not!’

  He smiles wickedly. ‘Why were you so annoyed that I took you to La Maison then?’

  The phone rings. I stick my tongue out at him. ‘Saved by the bell.’

  He punches me lightly on the arm. ‘I’ll get it.’ He reaches across me and picks it up. ‘Hello,’ he drawls, his eyes on me. ‘You’ve reached Bo Blackman.’

  He’s staking his claim and, oddly, I don’t mind. When his face shutters, however, I realise with a sinking sensation who is on the line.

  ‘D’Argneau.’ Michael’s jaw tenses. ‘Do you want to talk to him?’

  I know what the lawyer is going to tell me but I want to hear it from his own lips. I nod and take the phone, trying to avoid the furious expression in Michael’s eyes.

  ‘This is Bo.’

  ‘Well, well, well! This is a turn up for the books,’ D’Argneau says, enjoying himself. ‘No wonder you didn’t want to take up with me where we left off.’

  ‘Get to the point, Harry.’

  ‘There’s no need to be snippy. I’m doing you a favour. I didn’t have to call you.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘I’m only doing this because you were so annoyed last time…’

  Michael stands up, extricating himself from the bedsheet and pulling on his boxers.

  I hiss in annoyance. ‘D’Argneau, spit it out.’

  ‘I have three new clients.’

  I close my eyes. I was right. ‘Let me guess. They’ve got Venezuelan stamps in their passports.’

  I watch as Michael walks out of the bedroom to a delighted Kimchi. Harry D’Argneau sounds pretty delighted too. ‘You already know! Yes, I now represent all three of them. Between the two of us, I think I can get them off by pleading self-defence,’ he says in a conspiratorial tone.

  ‘Really.’ My voice is flat.

  ‘Really! A mysterious puppet master pulling their strings and forcing them to do his bidding … it’s perfect.’

  ‘You’ve got no evidence of this person, even if he exists.’

  ‘Yes I do, Bo. I’ve got three gold bars and a handwritten note.’

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. Goddamnit.

  I pull on some clothes. Michael, having retrieved his discarded – and now rather rumpled – suit from the floor, has also dressed. Unfortunately for him the suit jacket has been the object of Kimchi’s attentions and half of it appears to be in shreds. Despite my anger at D’Argneau, I find it hard not to smirk.

  ‘Laugh it up,’ he grimaces, adjusting the ragged cuffs. ‘What did he want?’ His tone is casual but there’s no denying the importance he’s placing on the question.

  ‘He was calling to tell me that he has three new clients.’ I take a deep breath. ‘Recently returned from Venezuela.’

  Michael’s eyes fly to mine. ‘You mean…’

  ‘Yes. The same ones who tried to kill Rogu3 and who attacked the Agathos Court.’

  ‘Why on earth did they come back? They were safe in Venezuela. It doesn’t make any sense.’

  Unable to tell him about X and his intervention for fear of reprisal, I hedge. ‘It does seem like a silly thing to do.’

  Michael isn’t easily fooled. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’

  ‘Nothing. There’s nothing else.’

  A muscle twitches in his cheek. ‘You forget that I know you.’ He smiles slightly. ‘Inside and out.’

  I swallow. ‘D’Argneau thinks he can get them off by pleading self-defence.’

  He shakes his head. ‘That’s not it, although that’s bad enough on its own. There’s something else, Bo.’

  ‘No,’ I lie, ‘there’s not.’

  A snarl crosses his features. ‘After all this. After everything that’s happened, you still don’t trust me.’

  My eyes widen in alarm. ‘I do!’

  ‘Then what else is going on here?’ he enquires.

  ‘I…’ Damn it. X will kill Michael if I reveal the Kakos daemon’s existence, let alone his interference. I falter.

  Michael scowls. ‘I have to go,’ he says shortly. ‘I’ve got work to do.’

  I ball up my fists. Bloody hell, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. ‘Can I call you later?’


  His expression softens. ‘Do.’ He walks out, his wrecked suit flapping behind him.

  Both Kimchi and I watch him go, equally mournful. I sigh loudly. ‘Brilliant. Just sodding brilliant.’ I look at the dog. ‘Come on,’ I say. ‘We’ve got to get to Forest Avenue. I’m about to find out what’s been going on.’

  Kimchi barks in response.

  We run down the stairs, passing by the door to New Order. I glance in and spot Arzo and Dahlia sitting together in the corner. Lars and the other new Family reps are in a huddle and my grandfather’s door is open. With no sign of Connor or Matt, I decide not to waste any time and head out.

  Chance would be a fine thing. ‘Bo!’ There’s no mistaking my grandfather’s gruff tone. How he spotted me from behind the wall, I have no idea. The man must have X-ray vision.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ I call back. ‘I’ve got things to do.’

  ‘Can you come here, please?’

  I mutter a curse under my breath and walk through the office, nodding brief acknowledgments to everyone there. ‘I said,’ I repeat, stepping into my grandfather’s room, ‘that I’ve got things to do. They’re important and I really don’t want to waste any time.’

  ‘There’s something else you need to do first.’ He gestures at a woman in front of him. Even though I’ve never met her before, I know instantly who she is. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

  ‘Hello, Ms Blackman,’ she says nervously, wiping her hand on her skirt and holding it out. ‘I’m Trudy Jones. Alistair’s mum.’ She bites her lip. ‘Rogu3.’

  ‘I know who you are,’ I say softly. I take her hand and shake it. Her grip is limp. ‘Is something wrong? Is Rogu3, I mean Alistair, OK?’

  She looks to my grandfather for reassurance. ‘Don’t worry, Mrs. Jones. She won’t bite.’

  I shoot him a look but he frowns at me. ‘I’m a new vampire but I’m in control,’ I tell her. ‘I only drink from willing…’ I almost say victims ‘…people,’ I finish.

  She nods, although the fear in her eyes doesn’t entirely vanish. ‘Alistair speaks very highly of you. And of course I’ve seen you on television and in the papers. You’re very brave.’

  ‘I’m not,’ I answer honestly. ‘What can we do for you?’ She blinks several times and I realise that she’s holding back tears. I reach out and squeeze her shoulder. ‘What is it?’

  ‘He’s not doing very well,’ she bursts out. ‘He doesn’t sleep at night. We took his computers away and tried to stop him from continuing with the … stuff he was doing before.’ She seems unable to say ‘hacking’. ‘He’s been to counsellors. He won’t come round though. He won’t talk to us and he won’t talk to his friends. His grades are dropping and I know he’s playing truant.’

  My heart goes out to her. Dealing with teenagers isn’t easy; dealing with extraordinarily intelligent teenagers who’ve been through traumatic experiences must be even worse. ‘Is there something I can do?’

  She takes a moment to compose herself. ‘Yes. Yes, you can come and talk to him.’

  I’m startled. ‘Me? I’m not sure I’m the best person.’

  ‘You are. You saved his life even though you are a…’

  ‘Bloodguzzler?’ She nods. ‘I’d been instructed to stay away,’ I remind her gently. Her husband had called New Order not long after Rogu3 left hospital. He made his feelings pretty clear.

  ‘I know. I’m sorry. But now you’re the Red Angel. You’re a hero, you saved those people at the television studio. My husband’s come around. And,’ she bites her lip again, ‘Alistair needs you.’

  I’m desperate to get to Forest Avenue but this is Rogu3. I’d do just about anything for that kid. I nod. ‘I’ll head over straight away.’

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Going Rogue

  There’s something not quite right about entering Rogu3’s house via the shiny front door with his mother leading the way. Despite his age, I’ve always felt like we were equals. Coming in like this and sitting down on the spotless sofa with a cup of tea and a biscuit sets me apart from him. It screams that I’m an adult and he’s a child, instead of me being an inept private detective and him an elite computer hacker.

  ‘You gave her tea?’ Rogu3’s father enquires.

  Trudy’s hand flies to her mouth. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. You probably don’t drink tea.’ She flushes, fumbling with her own cup and setting it down on the table. A mixture of emotions flit across her face, then she pulls up her sleeve and awkwardly holds out her arm. ‘Here. Drink me.’

  I wince. ‘That’s alright. Tea is fine.’ I take a sip. ‘Mmm. It’s delicious. Thank you.’

  We falter into an awkward silence, no one quite meeting anyone else’s eyes. How strange my life has become: from criminal activity, to a job offer from a Kakos daemon, to sitting here in suburbia and failing to make small talk.

  Trudy stands up again and smooths down her dress. ‘I’ll go and get Alistair.’

  I force a smile and nod. Both her husband and I watch her leave. The instant the door closes behind her, he turns to me. There’s a hard, angry slant to his mouth. ‘Just so you know, this wasn’t my idea.’

  ‘OK,’ I say quietly.

  ‘I don’t want him to get hurt. He’s a good kid who got mixed up with the wrong crowd.’ There’s no mistaking which ‘crowd’ he’s referring to.

  ‘OK.’

  ‘I mean,’ he balls up his fists, ‘what’s a grown woman doing hanging around with a teenager anyway?’

  I want to tell him that I wasn’t hanging around Rogu3, that he’s the best damn hacker in the city and not the naïve little boy his father seems to think. Instead I bite my tongue and dip my head, acknowledging his words without answering.

  ‘I don’t care if you’re a vampire,’ he continues. ‘If you harm a hair on his head ever again, I will kill you.’

  He obviously cares a great deal for Rogu3. Rogu3 himself was somewhat reticent on the subject of his parents but I’m sure the feeling is reciprocated. I think of my own father. There’s something about parent–child relationships that can never be replicated, no matter how hard you try. It’s the mutual need to protect each other from the harsh realities of the world, I suppose. A distant ache appears in my chest at the knowledge that I’ll never have any children of my own now I’m a bloodguzzler.

  I sigh. ‘I won’t hurt him,’ I say as clearly as I can manage. ‘I care for him a great deal.’ Then before Mr Jones can get the wrong idea, I hold up my hand. ‘Like he’s my own son. What happened before, at the school, that was all my fault. I should never have got him mixed up in my business.’

  ‘You’re damned right you shouldn’t have,’ he growls, although he does appear slightly mollified.

  The living room door opens again and Rogu3’s pale face appears. He looks thinner though that might be because he’s starting to lose his puppy fat. I hope that’s what it is, and not a result of any lingering trauma from being half killed, transformed into a vampire and abruptly brought back to being human again. I want to hug him but I sense that might throw his father over the edge. Instead, I give him a broad grin and try to convey how pleased I am to see him. I also sit on my hands.

  ‘Hi, Bo.’

  ‘Hi.’

  He runs a hand through his hair and glances at his dad who coughs loudly. ‘Whatever you have to say, I want to be present.’

  Rogu3 looks pissed off. ‘I’m not a child.’

  ‘Yes, you are,’ his father says simply.

  ‘Dad…’

  Trudy appears behind Rogu3. I realise with a slight jolt that he’s taller than she is. ‘Jonathan,’ she says to her husband.

  ‘She’s a bloodguzzler.’

  ‘She’s the Red Angel.’

  ‘It doesn’t change what she is.’

  Of all the reactions I’ve had from members of the public since X’s stupid stunt, I think Jonathan Jones’s is the most honest. He may have softened enough to permit this meeting but he’s not swayed by celebrity, not where his son is conce
rned. I respect that. ‘It’s fine,’ I interrupt. ‘You can all stay.’

  He glares. It’s as if I’ve not even spoken. Rogu3 stares back at him. ‘Please, Dad. You can trust her. I promise.’

  Jones’s mouth tightens but eventually he hisses breath out through his teeth. ‘Fine. But,’ he adds, with another hard look in my direction, ‘we’ll only be in the next room.’

  He strides out with his wife behind him. When the door shuts and Rogu3 and I are alone, both of us relax a little. ‘Your parents seem nice,’ I offer.

  He snorts. ‘They’re a pain in my fucking arse. They’re probably putting glasses up to the kitchen wall to eavesdrop as we speak.’

  ‘Alistair! Don’t swear!’

  He puts his hands on hips, an almost comical expression of dismay on his face. ‘Bo, you did not just call me that.’

  ‘I’d have thought your hacking days were behind you.’

  He sits down opposite me. ‘They confiscated all my gear. Or so they think. I’ve got backup. A mate of mine has an old garage where I stored a few things. Rogu3 isn’t dead and buried. Not yet.’

  A glimmer of a smile touches my lips. ‘Maybe it’s time to stop. It is illegal after all.’

  ‘I help people who help others.’ He folds his arms and gives me a challenging stare. ‘Like you.’

  ‘I’m not sure if that’s what I do,’ I say to myself. In a bid to change the subject, I raise my chin and grin. ‘What’s the word of the week?’

  ‘Redress.’

  I raise my eyebrows. ‘Alright.’

  ‘Last week it was reprisal. The week before it was retribution.’

  I look away. ‘I’m sensing a theme.’

  ‘That lawyer friend of yours is going to get them off, isn’t he?’

  I don’t need to ask who he’s referring to. ‘He’s not my friend,’ I say. ‘But yes, he might. He’s very good at what he does.’

  Rogu3 is silent for a moment as he mulls this over. ‘Did you bring them here?’

  I shake my head. Sensing it’s not an answer I’m prepared to elaborate on, he switches tack. ‘You turned me into a vampire. Like you.’

  I twist my fingers in my lap. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And then you turned me back again.’