Red Angel (18 page)

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.’

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 concerned. 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.’

‘You can’t tell anyone, Rogu3. You really can’t.’

‘I’ve kept my mouth shut so far, haven’t I? I can keep a bloody secret.’ He curses, stands up and walks to the window. He stares out at the dark street. ‘Thank you.’ He turns to look at me and repeats, ‘Thank you, Bo.’

Biting my lip in a facsimile of his mother, I mumble, ‘You’re welcome. Your parents think you’re struggling to,’ I pause, ‘cope with the aftermath and everything.’

‘Huh. It’s only because I’m not sleeping. What do they expect? I’ve been awake during the night for the last three years because it’s the best time to get my work done. They didn’t used to care until I was on the evening news.’ He shrugs. ‘It’s going to take some time to adjust.’

‘Are you sure that’s all it is?’

He meets my eyes. ‘That and the burning rage I feel towards the pricks who tried to kill me.’ His voice is calm but there’s a look in his eyes I’ve never seen before. Rogu3 senses my worry and changes the subject. ‘You turned me back to human. Why don’t you change yourself back again too?’

I tug at the lapels of my leather jacket. ‘It was a one-time deal.’

‘It was for you,’ he says, realisation dawning. ‘Whatever you gave me was for you.’

‘And I’d use it to save your life a million times over. I wasn’t even sure any more if I wanted to use it on myself.’ I shrug, trying to look complacent. ‘It’s not so bad being a bloodguzzler.’

He smiles faintly. ‘At least you get to kick some bad guys’ butts.’

I take a deep breath. ‘I’m going to get whoever did this to you,’ I tell him quietly. ‘I’m going after the person behind all this and I’ll make sure they pay.’ I lay out everything I’ve done so far, leaving no detail uncovered.

Rogu3 blinks. ‘I have one.’

I frown at him. ‘One what?’

‘A time bubble orb. It’s upstairs in my room.’

My mouth drops open. ‘You’re kidding me. Why would you have one of those?’

‘I thought I could use it,’ he mumbles. ‘After I heard about them in the news. I managed to get hold of it before
they
shut me down.’ He jerks his head in the direction of the kitchen.

‘I don’t understand. Use it for what?’ Rogu3 shrugs awkwardly. I suddenly realise. ‘Oh. Alice.’ His eight-year-old neighbour who vanished. The reason we met in the first place.

‘Yeah,’ he mumbles. ‘It didn’t do any good. It wouldn’t work because of all the people. Every time I picked a date and went back, I got bounced out.’

‘I’m sorry.’ I’d like to tell him that one day she’ll be found – at least what’s left of her. Neither of us is that dumb, though.

‘If you can use it then it’ll be worth it.’

‘How did you manage to avoid giving it up when they were all recalled?’

He rolls his eyes. ‘Please. This is me we’re talking about.’

He jumps up and runs out of the room. I hear him thumping loudly upstairs then, a beat later, thumping back down again. He comes back in and hands me a box. I flip open the lid and stare down. The blue swirls of the orb dance. I swallow. ‘Are you sure about this?’

Rogu3 nods as his father walks in. I put the orb to one side, hoping he doesn’t ask about it but he’s focused on his son. ‘How are you?’

‘Fine.’

I clear my throat. ‘You’re lucky your parents care about you so much.’ I throw Rogu3 a meaningful look. He almost manages to avoid rolling his eyes. Almost.

I stand up, hugging the box to my side and sticking out my free hand. Jonathan Jones stares at it as if it might bite him. I’m about to withdraw it when he takes it and shakes. His grip is dry and firm.

‘Your mother needs some help in the kitchen.’

‘Dad…’

‘Now.’

Rogu3’s glance at me is filled with teenage exasperation. I smile. ‘Look after yourself. Call my any time if you need anything.’ He nods. I narrow my eyes. ‘I mean it.’

‘I will. Thanks, Bo.’ He grins and lopes out.

His father watches me carefully. ‘What did he give you?’

Bugger. ‘This box?’ I tell the truth. ‘It’s a time bubble orb. He thought I could use it.’

He sniffs. ‘I see.’ He continues to look at me. I wait, sensing he has something else he wishes to say. ‘I don’t like you,’ he says finally. ‘I don’t like vampires. It’s unnatural to be what you are. Alistair trusts you though and I respect that.’

I open my mouth to speak but he forestalls me. ‘Those three that are in custody. Are they the ones responsible for what happened to him?’

I meet his steady gaze. ‘They were acting under orders.’

‘From whom?’

‘I don’t know,’ I say softly. ‘But I’m going to find out.’

He puts his hands in his pockets and nods. ‘When you do, kill them.’ His voice is quiet. ‘Kill them and keep my boy safe.’

I stare at him mutely. ‘I’m not an executioner, Mr Jones.’

‘No. But you are a vampire.’

I search his face. He really does want me to do this. I put my hand in my pocket and find my pebble. Its smooth hardness is comforting. Jones is incapable of killing himself but he honestly believes that I can do it. Right now, I’m not sure either way.

‘I’ll find them,’ I tell him finally, unable to go any further than that.

*

It’s almost midnight by the time I rock up to Forest Avenue. Rogu3’s present is safely tucked away under the seat of the motorbike. I turn off the engine and gaze up at the house. It’s pretty modest in appearance. Large bay windows jut out from the front and the garden has been neatly tended. From behind heavy curtains I can just make out a chink of light; someone is still awake.

I march up to the front door and ring the bell then I knock loudly as well. It’s not long before a man appears, holding the door open a crack to peer out at me. His face is lined and weathered and his hair – what little is left of it – is grey. A muscle jerks in his jaw then he nods and opens the door wide.

‘Please, Ms Blackman. Come in.’

I almost fall off the step in shock, not because he knows who I am (bloody X) but that he has no qualms about inviting a vampire into his home. I could be here for any number of reasons but he doesn’t even seem curious. My insides tighten. It can only be because he already knows.

I straighten my jacket and step in. A small part of me expects him to rush me, to take me down. Not that he’d manage it, of course; he’s old and he’s human. He doesn’t try anything, however; he simply directs me into a well-appointed room.

‘I’ve been expecting you,’ he says.

I stare at him.

‘Well,’ he amends, ‘expecting someone anyway. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Why not now, with the Red Angel herself?’ He laughs. ‘So be it.’ His voice subsides to a mutter. ‘So be it.’