Chosen (The Chosen Few Trilogy #1) (9 page)

“Very funny, Dean. Har har.”

“Holly,” Lucy said from the back seat. “You really need to listen.”

I paused in surprise. To hear Lucy speak that way was music to my ears.

I turned to grin at my daughter and saw a light in her eyes that I’d lately doubted would ever be rekindled.

Holly’s voice held a note of surprise. “Lucy? Is that you?”

“Yeah, Hol.”

I spoke quickly. “Listen, Hol, there‘s something important that I have to do,” I paused. “That
we both
have to do.
Lucy
and me
. It may take a few days. I want you to stay safe, Hol. Be safe. Okay?”

“What? Has…oh, God. Has
she-”

“No,” I rushed in immediately, realising that Holly meant Raychel. “Nothing like that.”

“But what about the business? What about school?”

Belinda turned into a dark, tree-lined driveway and slowed down.

“I have to go, Hol. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

I snapped the phone shut, forestalling any protest. After a second I muted it as well.

Belinda smirked. “Sounded more like your mother to me, muffin.”

“She cares, that’s all.”

“Well, you sure handled it well. I guess we can rule out your special power as being the art of persuasion.”

“Shut up, smart arse,” I
said
. “And what’s with all the bloody
cake
references?”

Belinda affected a dumb blonde expression as she climbed out of the still-ticking car. “Don‘t know what you‘re talking about.”

I cracked open my own door. My rebuke had washed over her like warm summer rain. “C’mon, Luce,” I said. “The girl
’
s nutty.”

Belinda s
tood near the front of the car.

“This is
his
house,” Belinda said. “Don’t expect too much. It’s not a castle. He’s not Dr
acula. In fact, he’s just a tall
white guy with cool eyes and pointy fangs. Apart from that he’s pretty normal. Gets his stakes from Asda-” she smiled at her own little joke. “Oh, and believe me, he’s
definitely
straight
.”

I frowned, then thought:
don’t even ask
.

“What’s his name?” Lucy asked as we crunched our way forward towards an impressive looking portico.

“I am
Ceriden,” a voice said in
silky tones and both Lucy and I jump
ed as a dark presence materializ
ed next to us. 

“He’s a vampire,” Belinda
shrugged. “You have to let him do that.”

Ceriden approached us so fast I barely saw him move. I took a s
tep back, making sure I was
beside my daughter.

“I am
so
pleased to meet you,” Ce
riden stuck out a
pasty
hand. The
fingers were adorned with jewel
lery, mostly gold rings, and the wrist hung limply.

I stared, transfixed, at my first vampire. My stomach churned with an acidic mix of stress, fright and nausea. I didn’t like how my
beliefs
had
changed in
the last few hours, and how readily I had come to accept it.

Ceriden
’s
gaze fell on Lucy. “Oh, what-a-
darling,
” he gushed, taking me completely by surprise. He bent towards her. “Oh
, dear,” his eyes
found her shoes. “Fashion victim.
So
rip-
off,
my dear. And
so
not the way to go.”

Ceriden squinted sideways at me. “Do you make her wear these
outside?
In the
open?
Bad man!”

I gulped, bewildered, unable to form words. Belinda, judging by her ear to ear grin, was enjoying herself immensely.

“And those jeans,” Ceriden tutted. “What
are they?”

“Top Man,” I blurted, actually feeling shame.

“
Oh my God!”
Ceriden turned to Belinda in absolute horror.

I just stared. Of all way
s
I could have pigeonholed a vampire, this was definitely not one of them.

Now Ceriden sniff
ed haughtily
. “A little birdie tells me you are seeking proof that certain, ah,
supernatural
races exist. Am I right?”

I believed already, but I managed a nod. The vampire moved closer until he towered over me. The only flesh on view was bone white, making me think he’d lived his entire life in shadow. His eyes were deep, something
almost hypnotic sparkled
in their depths. I saw his nostrils flare, and wondered if my fear had a scent.

“Like an old Gautier cologne,” Ceriden murmured, barely moving his lips.

Had he just read my mind?

Ceriden rolled up the sleeves of his expensive sweater. “Throw me your knife, Belinda darling.”

“No,” I blurted out, getting a lurid image of Lucy’s self-inflicted wounds in my head. “No knives.”

“Very well,” Ceriden huffed. “
Mr.
Top Man
.” His gaze conveyed power, wealth, and absolute confidence. “Come, Belinda, dear, I don’t have all night. Important people are awaiting my return. Important
wealthy
people,” he made eyes at me. “I know
all
the most powerful people, you know.
Including Posh and David
,"
to my horror he giggled.

Again, I stayed quiet.

The vampire sent a frown towards Belinda. “Your crucifix, Bee.”

She hesitated. I saw it in her face. A half second of doubt, and then it was gone. She stepped forward and dropped a little crucifix into Ceriden’s outstretched hands.

A hissing sound
and a cloying, burning stench
filled the air.
I watched in rising horror
as
a thin curl of smoke twisted up from the vampire’s hands.
Ceriden bore it for a few seconds then tossed the crucifix away. Belinda made no effort to retrieve it.

“Only blessed religious items affect me,” Ceriden said. His palms were raw, the wound edged with a black crust. Lucy’s hand slipped into my own and I squeezed it. Ceriden took out a black velvet handkerchief embossed with the gold Versace symbol and dabbed at the burned flesh.

He went on. “Holy water. Sunlight. A well-placed
wooden stake. But we are a
cautious
race. Most of us take no blood that is not freely given.” Ceriden showed me his fangs. “For three hundred years I have followed this tradition.”

Three hundred…

Ceriden’s gaze lingered on the handkerchief. “I knew Gianni, you know. And later, Donatella- but that girl was so wild. No time for me.”

Lucy
goggled at
our new
friend. “Do you know Burberry?”

Ceriden laughed and ruffled her hair so fast I didn’t see him move. “Puh
lease!
Stick with the
eternal
Italians, my dear. Gianni, Ge
orgio, and Guccio
.
And maybe Enzo.
How old are you?”

“F
ifteen,” I said
.

“Nearly sixteen,” she shrilled in my ear, and added, “Soon.”

“We need to get you an
outfit,
” Ceriden eyed me
. “Assuming the Grumpmeister here will let you have one.”

“Look,” I said. “I don’t mean to be rude, and especially to a vampire, but-
“

At a sudden loss for words, I
gestured at Belinda.

Help? Please get me out of here.

She grinned. “Background info- Vampires, the good ones like Ceriden here- take what are called ‘shades.’
Will
ing men and women who stay with the vampire for life, almost like a soul-mate, if you like, allowing their master to feed off them and slake his blood lust. If he is careful a vampire like Ceriden may need only a dozen shades in his entire life, never feeding off an innocent.”

“I thought vampires lived forever?” Lucy asked, recovering her voice before I did. 

“No, dear, Hollywood overestimated us there I’m afraid. Vampires are not immortal,” Ceriden flashed his fangs at her like a benevolent blood-sucking grandfather. “We reach our peak around three-to-four hundred before beginning the dreadful slide into obscurity and senility,” he glanced pointedly at me. “Death occurs after about five hundred years. A vampire that old literally falls apart.”

“Gross,"
Lucy said.

I wondered at her mounting confidence. Was it because
she had been
given new purpose? Or was it because her old dad was floundering?

“These human shades,” I picked up on one of the many things bothering me. “Are they your slaves?”

“Not at all,” Ceriden flapped a wrist. “A shade may walk away at any time. After a few years
they will
recover and be able to lead a full life. No after effects. But the
rewards
of being a vampire’s shade far outweigh the downsides.”

“Why?” Lucy was quick to ask.

“Too many to count, little one,” he said
.
“And not for the ears
of one so young.
Maybe another time.
”

I gripped Lucy’s hand, thinking
don’t count on it, fang-face.

Belinda gave Ceriden a big hug. “You know about the big pow-wow tomorrow night. All the little chiefs should be there. Fate of the world and all that.”

The vampire nodded. “
Fear not.
My well-tailored buttocks will be seated beside your own sweet cheeks, my dear.
And I will pass the word.”

“That’s it then,” Belinda waved her hand to and fro in front of my face. “Still wavering, Logan, or did the fence just collapse beneath you?”

What could I say? I thought of our Victory Wall back home, of all those professional photographs taken by yours truly. If it didn’t sell, it didn’t get framed. Maybe I could make one exception.

“So tell me,” I said to Ceriden. “Do you photograph well?”

By the time we arri
ved back at Aegis’ safe house
I was feeling beyond bone weary. It was well after midnight. Lucy had been quiet the whole way back, and didn’t protest when I agreed with Belinda’s suggestion that we stay the night. At the time I put it down to her exhaustion. How naïve of me.

Lucy’s room was spacious, dominated by a large double bed. I tapped on her PDA for a minute, leaving a note reminding her to change her bandages in the morning. I kissed her on the forehead,
and then
left the room.

My daughter. It would be a mistake to believe she wasn’t really dying inside, still blaming herself for her
mother’s
absence. The dark watches of the night bring into sharper focus those things that torment us the most.

I headed
into the kitchen
and threw a weary glance at Belinda. She returned my look with eyes that held too much wisdom for someone her age. I wondered what she’d gone through in her short life.

“Q
uick drink?” She asked
.

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “A
c
amomile
tea if you’ve got any. I don’t know what’s harder- meeting a vampire or trying to talk to my daughter.”

“Sure you don’t
want anything stronger
?
We could share
vodka
.
”
She spoke the last word in a terrible Russian accent.

“No alcohol.”

She fixed the tea, explaining that Aegis had bought up this
entire six-house row,
and then
knocked each house through until it became an extensive warren of plush carpeted corridors and high vaulted ceilings. I couldn’t imagine how many rooms there were in the whole three-storey high building, or how much the place was worth.

As Belinda delved into the floor standing freezer and came out with a half-empty bottle of Grey Goose, I plonked my weary frame down at the kitchen table and thought seriously about Raychel for the first time in weeks. Mostly now my absent wife was a fleeting distraction. I had dwelled on her far too much during that first year. But Holly had taken every foul word and petty incident I had thrown at her with almost inhuman patience and forgiveness. I owed her more than I could ever repay.

I had learned to compartmentaliz
e. My method was in keeping busy. By design, there was rarely a moment these days when I got chance to sit down and dwell.