Serafina and the Silent Vampire (8 page)

The brothers seemed slightly flummoxed by this. As if they’d been so sure of catching her out over their father that they hadn’t bothered thinking of things to ask Edward himself. Eventually, Derek plucked a few questions out of the air, asking things he imagined only his family could possibly know. Sera answered but made no other move to lead the conversation. If they’d done their homework on fake mediums—as she presumed they had—they’d know all about the leading questions asked for purposes of fishing. In this day and age, especially with a computer wiz like Jilly on the staff, there was no need to fish from your clients. At least, not when you had a bit of warning.

She could tell the brothers were baffled because none of this was going how they’d imagined. It wasn’t any fun after all. Sera made it worse by bringing up Frankie’s police record—an assault charge when he was sixteen that she’d guessed he and Derek had covered up from their parents, since neither of the older Seelies had been present in court when he was fined.

“He was only a kid,” Derek defended him.

“Has he confessed?” Sera asked.

“We’re not Catholic!”

She let a pause go by. Then, shooting in the dark for once, she said: “The spirit says confession should be made to the one who pays him.”

“My employer?” said Frankie. “Oh aye. That’s done. Declared it. It’s finished.”

Lying little bastard.
“The spirit is displeased.” Sera decided it was time to end it with a bit of genuine suffering. “The spirit is bored here and disappointed in the ones who would have been his brothers.” She let the silence grow, took some satisfaction in her clients’ obvious unease. “He is ashamed of your disrespect for his mother’s suffering. And his father’s. He bids you leave him in peace. He won’t come again.”

She folded herself up, squeezing the last of the smoke from the tiny machine as she exhaled, and again the white tendrils floated into the air and vanished. The brothers dropped her hands at last, as if they stung.

Sera laid her head on the table and breathed deeply.

“What’s happening now?” Frankie asked, his voice too high. “What’s she doing? Is it finished?”

“How the fuck should I know? I’ve had enough. Put the lights back on.”

Sera let herself stir with the light and straightened, shuddering slightly. Frankie already had the door unlocked, and, without troubling to see if she was all right, Derek followed him with alacrity.

Hiding a grin, Sera rose and walked after them into the outer office—and came face-to-face with Blair.

“Jesus Christ!”

The exclamation sprang to her lips before she could stop it. Worse, it spilled with an obvious start, and she grabbed at her throat in a betraying gesture of fright. Blair’s lips curved in almost predatory amusement.

Sera, after a wild glance to make sure Elspeth was still upright at her desk, recovered quickly, saying with a laugh, “What are you doing here? Never creep up on a girl after a séance!”

But the damage was done. She’d betrayed just enough weakness for bullies like the Seelies to flex their muscles once more. Besides, in the bright, mundane office, away from the darkness and the carefully manufactured atmosphere of the séance, they needed to recover their skepticism in self-defense.

“That was a total rip-off,” Derek said. “We want our money back.”

“But why?” Sera asked innocently. “Didn’t you like what you heard?”

“No! What’s more, no way was that the spirit of my dead baby brother.”

“That’s not for me to say. We signed a contract, gentlemen. You agreed to pay, and I agreed to act as a medium for you this hour of this day. I can’t and didn’t guarantee any spirit would speak to you, let alone the one you wanted. You were lucky. You spoke to the dead.”

“Lucky? It was pure shite!”

“Look, Mr. Seelie, you didn’t pay for an evening of fun and frolics. Nor was that what I offered you. I’m sorry it wasn’t an enjoyable experience for you, but that doesn’t invalidate our contract. Good evening.”

Throughout the exchange, Elspeth had watched anxiously from her desk. Blair, still lounging outside the inner office, one shoulder against the wall, looked on in silence. In the one glance she spared him, she could read nothing in his closed face or his dark, unnatural eyes.

Frankie stepped closer, crowding her between his body and Derek’s. “You repeat a word of what you said in there, and I’ll—”

“Frankie!” said Derek sharply.

It was his gaze she chose to meet. “Good evening, gentlemen,” she said firmly. For a moment, it hung in the balance. Sera knew she’d won and was quite capable of coping if she was wrong. But Blair chose to stroll past the huddle and perch on Elspeth’s desk, well within both Seelies’ line of vision. Their eyes flickered to him, widened, and then they backed off. They were out the front door in three seconds flat, although Frankie flung over his shoulder, “This is shite!”

Sera glared at Blair. “What did you do?”

Blair shrugged. “They’d forgotten I was there. I merely reminded them.”

“Thank you so much,” Elspeth twittered. “Such uncivil young men! And threatening too!”

“Elspeth, they’re just wankers,” Sera said irritably. “We were in no danger whatsoever!” She swung on Blair, snapping, “What do
you
want?”

Blair eased his denim-clad hip off Elspeth’s desk and gestured toward the door. “Walk with me,” he suggested.

Walk with me, die with me… Oh no.
Sera had opened her mouth to reply in blistering terms before it came to her that Elspeth would think she was talking to herself. It must already seem a rather one-sided conversation, but since Elspeth hadn’t clocked her visitor as the murderous vampire from the C & H car park, Sera had no intention of freaking her out by introducing him.

“All right,” she muttered. She threw her flat key to Elspeth. “Lock up after Jilly and Jack, will you? Jack’ll drive you home. Thanks for staying late.”

“Glad I did,” said Elspeth with a shudder. “
Awful
young men.”

Not half as awful as the one you’re so happy to leave me with now,
Sera thought wryly, snatching her jacket off the coat hook.

“Where are we going?” she asked as soon as the door of Serafina’s closed behind them.

“You tell me.”

She glanced at him with amusement. “You think I’m going to lead you straight across the city to the vampires’ lair, don’t you?”

“You’ve had all day to touch and feel and track.”

“All day? This isn’t my only case, you know.”

He smiled, apparently at the memory of the case he’d interrupted. “I like your style. Simple and effective.”

“Self-absorbed, self-satisfied pricks,” Sera said with some relish.

“You like to punish people for messing with the dead, don’t you?”

Her gaze flew to his. The light from a car’s headlights flashed into his face and vanished, leaving it dark and shadowed. He walked on at her side, lithe, predatory, and silent.

“Sometimes I play God,” she confessed. “And the Lord bites me in the ass.”

“Like Jason?”

She said nothing, and he seemed content to walk in silence. Sera, one hand on the cufflink and the piece of black silk in her pocket, let her feet lead the way.

Abruptly, she said, “Can he change back?”

“Jason? Of course not. He’s dead.”

She closed her eyes for an instant, but if anything, she walked faster. “And if I stab him with my sharp little stick, will he turn to instant dust like those—creatures in the car park?”

Blair nodded.

“And his spirit?”

“Goes wherever it is spirits go.”

“Is he…?” She broke off, suddenly unable to speak the words aloud to whatever this being was. But it seemed he read her mind anyhow—or at least understood.

“Damned?” he suggested. “Why should he be? He isn’t Jason anymore, not really. He didn’t ask for this.”

“You mean being undead is a curse he’d welcome being released from?”

“Of course, he would,” Blair said bracingly, and in spite of the grim, bizarre nature of the conversation, she found herself smiling.

“You’re a liar.
You
wouldn’t, would you?”

Blair only shook his head.

“Then why would he?”

“Because I probably
am
damned. I’ve been a vampire for a very long time.”

“How long?” she asked curiously.

“Since 1751. Are you tracking or just enjoying the fresh air?”

“I don’t know,” Sera admitted with some relish. “I’ve had a tiring day.” She glanced at him. “I did try again with that piece of silk you gave me.”

“Did you find anything?”

“Not until I held Jason’s cufflink at the same time. The owner of the dress and Jason know each other; they’ve been together very recently at C & H. Heads on desk, asleep. And in a house with a bunch of other—creatures like them.”

“You seem to have difficulty with the word ‘vampire,’” Blair observed.

“Trust me, it’s not the word.”

“We might be quite lovable when you get to know us. For someone so at home with the dead, you’re very squeamish.”

“Spirits are natural,” she retorted.

Blair spread his arms wide, mocking her—and yet he wasn’t quite laughing. “And what am I? How do you suppose I came to be?”

“How should I know?”

“Well, it wasn’t in a factory or a mad geneticist’s laboratory. I’m as much a part of the natural world as you and the Siberian tiger and the dead people’s spirits that haunt you.”

“Hey, calm down,” Sera said, regarding him with some curiosity. He appeared to be genuinely offended, which hadn’t been her intention at all. You’d have to be pretty stupid to go around pissing off vampires without a damned good reason. Or a damned good defense. She went so far as to give him a friendly nudge. “I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

His lip curled. “Then what did you mean to do? Explain your own irrationality?”

“No. I meant to tell you about these vampires all together in the house, waiting for instruction.”

She had the satisfaction of finally halting him in his tracks. The half-challenging, half-annoyed glint vanished from his eyes, leaving them surprised and intensely curious. “Instruction?” he repeated.

She kept walking. “Instruction. Or something like that. I had the feeling they were in the middle of some plan or other.”

Blair caught up with her. “That’s bizarre. Vampires don’t make plans. Not with each other, at any rate. They weren’t fighting?”

“Nope. They seemed to be in accord.”

“That’s even weirder.”

“Is it? I don’t like to doubt you, you being the first undead I’ve conversed with, but how well do you actually know your own species?”

“As well as you know yours, I suppose,” he said with a trace of hauteur.

“Yes? Well, I have to go by the evidence.” Clearly, she was pissing him off again, but as they turned into Rose Street, she could only hope the number of people there, milling around and spilling out of the bars for a smoke, would protect her. In any case, it was something that had to be discussed.

She said, “You told me vampires can’t speak except telepathically. But Jason does, and I’m pretty sure that girl at the party must have done too. You say vampires don’t congregate or plan, and yet they’re all in that house together—”

“They came for Jason too,” Blair interrupted, frowning. He didn’t seem annoyed at all. “At the car park. They didn’t come to fight over human scraps. They came to meet Jason, however swiftly they deserted the sinking ship. That really isn’t natural. What do you suppose their plan is?”

“If I overhear them discussing it, I’ll let you know,” she said dryly.

A bunch of young men all but fell out the door of the pub just ahead, pushing and shoving. Some of it might have been good-natured horseplay, but a couple of them were clearly spoiling, in a drink-induced sort of a way, for a fight.

“Was there a human in this house with the vampires?” Blair asked, ignoring the commotion if he even noticed it.

Sera veered to the right. “Not that I could tell,” she said. “Why?” One man, violently shoved, hurtled toward her with enough speed to knock her over. She sidestepped that one easily enough, only his friend followed, hurtling into him and knocking him, inevitably, into Sera.

She saw it coming, with that flash of recognition that she could do nothing to avoid it. And yet, without warning, the men were not only pulled up short but suddenly staggered in the opposite direction.

Baffled, they turned with one bewildered gaze to watch Sera and Blair walk past.

She hadn’t seen Blair move. He hadn’t even seemed aware, and yet… “Did you do that?” she asked, low voiced.

Blair twitched his lips in response.

“Oy!” yelled one of the drunks. Inevitably, there was a scrape of hurried footsteps against the cobbled street. A few people scurried past or into another pub out of the way. Blair turned to face the two in front. Their pals were muscling up in support only a few feet behind. Sera tensed. Although she could take care of herself, this was quite a crowd. Besides, what the hell would Blair do to them?

“What’d you…?” the first man began aggressively and then broke off. He was little more than a boy with too much alcohol in his veins, but he was still ripe for causing damage to someone.

“Look,” Sera interrupted placatingly, catching hold of Blair’s arm. “We…” She stopped, for both men were staring at Blair.

“Fuck. Forget it,” the lad muttered to Sera’s amazement. He and his friend turned as one and walked back the way they’d come, dragging their mates with them.

Sera let her breath out. “Some time,” she said, “I’ve got to see how you do that.” Did he show his fangs, mesmerize them?

“I don’t care to brawl in public places,” Blair said, carrying on up Rose Street.

“Good for you,” Sera approved, following. “I’m sure, in many ways, you’re a great role model for today’s youth.”

But Blair didn’t appear to hear her. He had his nose in the air, as if he were sniffing. Coming alongside him, Sera felt a twinge of awareness; a hint of red mist flashed across her eyes.

“Vampire,” Blair said with satisfaction and strode around the corner. Sera, clutching the silk and the cufflink once more, tried to retrieve and hang on to the red mist. She bumped into Blair’s solid back.

He’d come to an abrupt halt. “It’s gone,” he said in clear frustration.

“No, it hasn’t,” Sera said triumphantly. “Come on.”

At first it wasn’t as clear as tracking Blair. The feeling was vague and sometimes vanished altogether, but she always found it again, and as they meandered into the west end, it grew stronger. Not one but several vampires had walked these streets recently, and one of them was the woman belonging to the black silk dress. A little later, she picked up Jason too. Excitement mounted. She could sense the same feeling in Blair, who might even have been picking up the trail with her, for after a while, he seemed to know which way to go without her lead.

“Here,” she said, coming to a halt. They’d walked as far as Roseburn. With Blair silently at her side, she gazed at the building in front of her. A Victorian house at the end of a terrace. It had a couple of empty chains swinging over the front door, as if they had once borne the sign for a hotel or something similar. It was in darkness and gave the impression of being unoccupied. Or perhaps just neglected.

“I can’t smell fresh vampire,” Blair observed.

“They may not be here. But they have been.” From habit, she fumbled for her phone to call Jilly and Jack for backup before it struck her that Blair, surely, was all the backup she needed.

If she could trust him.

She shrugged. “Nothing ventured,” she murmured, walking through the gate and up to the front door. She rang the bell, which inspired no helpful visions, and waited.

Blair, very still at her side, said, “I can smell only one human. And I think he’s asleep.”

“Damn.” Wondering if they could break in, Sera began to scan the building for signs of alarms.

Blair stepped back and lifted his foot as if intending to kick the door in.

“Blair!” she hissed in warning. “Other people live in this street!”

He placed his foot back on the ground, but she couldn’t flatter herself she’d had anything to do with it.

“Someone’s coming,” he said.

“Vampire?” She couldn’t sense anything among her sudden panic.

“No,” said Blair, just as a light came on and the door opened.

A middle-aged man stood there. He was tall and fit looking, a shock of mingling gray and black hair framing a still-firm and handsome face.

Sera rushed into speech. “Ah. Sorry to bother you so late. We’re looking for a friend and were given this address.”

“Really? Who are you looking for?” The man’s voice was deep and pleasant, his accent English, which meant nothing—there were a lot of English accents in Edinburgh.