Serafina and the Silent Vampire

CHAPTER Three


Old Ferdy himself opened the door to Sera. Looking as dapper as ever in smart slacks with a shirt and tie, he beamed at her.

“Ah, Miss MacBride! Come in, come in,” he said with unexpected joviality. People dealt with grief in many ways.

“Any news?” she asked, following him into his study.

“Of our stalker?”

“Of your son’s body,” Sera said as gently as she could.

“Oh, goodness, haven’t you heard? I asked him to let you know. He came home.”

Sera felt her jaw drop. There was nothing she could do to prevent it. She sank onto the nearest chair—fortunately the one Ferdy was indicating.

“Home?” she said stupidly. “When?”

“Early this morning. About two o’clock.”

Off the hook, by Christ… So why didn’t she feel more relieved? Sera tried to pull her thoughts together. “Did he say where he’d been, who he was with?”

“No, but then we didn’t ask. I’m afraid we just fell on him and hugged him like the silly old fools we are. I think the vampire stalker attacked him but was scared off before he could finish the job, either by Jason himself or by one of my guests approaching. Jack Urquhart, maybe. But I don’t think he remembers any of it. He seemed happy as a lark when he came home.”

“That’s one interpretation,” Sera said cautiously. “Um, could I speak to Jason now?”

“He’s not here, I’m afraid. He’s gone to work.”

Sera blinked. “Work?”

“Well, yes!” Ferdy laughed. “He has a very strong work ethic, you know. Illness never slows him down. He promised me he’d see the doctor today, but he’d still left for work before I woke up.”

Sera frowned. “You know he’s at work?”

“Oh yes. I called earlier to make sure—I told you I was a foolish old man—and his PA told me he was in his office, too busy to answer the phone.”

This is bizarre. She looked carefully at Ferdy, a distinguished banker who’d well earned his prosperous retirement. She suspected he missed the bustle, the attention, the publicity of making loads of money. Sera didn’t put it past him to have engineered this whole situation to convince her beyond doubt of the so-called vampire’s existence. She sensed very little truth at all in him. And yet Jason had been dead; she could have sworn he was dead.

Or had she been so pissed and so switched off to her deeper senses that she’d missed little things like life? Had she been so sure of herself, so overconfident of her own opinion that she’d forgotten even to open herself to the paranormal?

Abruptly, she got to her feet. There was no point in repeating last night’s spiral of recriminations and speculations all over again this morning. It was time to do her job properly. “Could I please look around your garden again?”

****

Since it was impossible to feel anything except tense irritation with Ferdy leaning over her shoulder, Sera was highly relieved when Mrs. Bell waved him inside to take a phone call after half an hour.

Sera walked back into the maze and crouched down between the hedges in the same place she’d seen Jason lying, being given CPR by Jack. It was gray and cloudy today, after yesterday’s sunshine; rain wasn’t far away. She dug both hands into the grass, clawing into the earth, and closed her eyes.

After several moments, she thought she felt something, an echo, perhaps, of a presence that might have been Jason. The trouble was, she hadn’t paid him much attention, and it was difficult to recognize. Unsatisfied, she grabbed a bit of hedge to pull herself to her feet—and finally felt something definite. Not Jason. The echo of a chill, dark spirit that reminded her of—

“Blair?” she whispered, holding on to the leaves as if to her one lifeline. And yet surely Blair had been in the grove with Sera and Tam when Jason had died. Something swirled in her mind, an unclear picture of blackness dissolving into misty red and deepening like blood. A surge of hunger swept over her, nauseating her. She had to force herself to stay, to try to part the mists. But the picture had vanished.

Slowly, she rose to her feet. She walked around the maze, running her hand along the hedge as she went, waiting for further images to hit her. None did, but she kept going, leaving her mind free and open, letting her feet take her where they would.

They took her toward the grove of fruit trees. But then, she’d always intended to come here, so she couldn’t blame it on visions, spirits, or anything else. She had to come. Because the only vision she’d had last night had come from touching Blair there. A blur of swirling red-tinged darkness, far more intense that what she’d just experienced in the maze and yet curiously similar. The same redness. But with Blair came a veil, beneath which she’d sensed a huge blackness, a jumble of wild and terrible emotions, memories, hungers…

Had he really spoken only to her? Only in her mind? There was no other explanation, but she didn’t want it to be true. Because she hadn’t recognized a fellow psychic? Because her pride didn’t want to acknowledge psychic powers stronger than her own? Because she hadn’t sensed anything different about him at all until he’d touched her, and yet he might, just might, be the stuff of legend.

The crackling of leaves and twigs under her boots seemed to grow louder. She trailed her hand across tree trunks, leaves, nettles, brambles, oblivious to the pain of stings and jags, absorbing everything into the memory, the feel of Blair.

Prepared this time, she didn’t throw it off immediately. Dark didn’t necessarily mean evil; red didn’t necessarily mean blood. She clutched the intertwined trunks of the apple trees, resting her cheek against the rough bark, her eyes closed. The swirling mist began to resolve into shadows.

She could see the intertwining trees, and two figures coming together. One was Tam, staring at the other man who wore a kilt and suddenly swept across her vision in a blur. Tam was held in his arms, just as she’d seen them last night. Only this time, she glimpsed long canine teeth, like something from a Dracula movie, before he bent and sank them into Tam’s throat. Tam moved at last, clutching his attacker, but it didn’t look like violence. It looked like an embrace. The air was thick with hunger, with some profound pleasure that felt a lot like sex.

Vision or imagination?

With the interfering thought, her mind picture vanished into blackness. She hung on grimly, keeping her eyes closed and pressing her whole body into the tree trunk. Physical desire washed through her, powerful, sweet, and distracting. Whether it was her own or someone else’s, she accepted it, forced her mind to keep thinking of Blair, and again the mists began to recede.

The blackness became dark cloth only slightly illuminated by pale sunshine beyond.

Curtains!

Black curtains across high, old-fashioned windows—three of them along one wall; not bays. Large, antique furniture, a faded carpet, bare, male knees, a flash of tartan. Despite the excitement, she hung on, looking for more. The room was large, with a big, high ceiling and intricate cornice. New Town, she guessed. She tried to concentrate again on the window to learn more, but the vision wouldn’t go that way. Already it was fading.

She came to herself, slumped against the tree, gazing upward at the gap in the gray clouds, through which a small patch of pale sunlight shone down on her cold, damp face.

“Got you,” she whispered.

****

Of course, she hadn’t got him. But it was a start. After calling in to give Jilly and Jack the hint to concentrate their efforts in the New Town area, she walked around the Bells’ house and street looking for any further visions or “feelings.” She got a couple of shivers in the street that might have been more memory than anything else; then, abandoning the older Bells’ property, she drove back into town and called into Jason Bell’s office around lunchtime. The doorman enquired if she had an appointment, and since he began to check his computer screen, she swallowed the lie and admitted she didn’t. Obligingly, he picked up the phone and, after a quick conversation, told her Jason was in a meeting. There was nothing to do but leave a message for him to call her when he had a moment.

Dissatisfied, she drove back to the office, where she spent a frustrating afternoon failing to find a trace of Blair or any connection between the Bells and prank or criminal behavior. Their reputations were apparently spotless. They even went to church. On the other hand, ten years ago, Mrs. Bell had publicly defended a disgraced medium whom she claimed had contacted her late mother; and Ferdy was a long-standing member of an online paranormal study group.

“I suppose it’s been brewing for a long time,” Jilly observed. “He probably does believe this stuff. Though how you make the leap from there to having a vampire stalking you…”

Elspeth, who was fussing about her drawers and bags while buttoning up her coat, said suddenly, “What in the world made him think it was a vampire?”

Jilly and Jack blinked at the unexpected interruption. Sera, who was always glad to see the older woman take an interest in anything other than her next drink, was happy to answer.

“He was sure they were only followed or watched after dark,” she explained. “Then there was apparently some incident of a dead cat found in the garden that Ferdy said had lost all its blood through a wound in its throat. No vet ever saw it, and no one but Mrs. B could back the story up.” She shut her laptop lid with a snap. “Oh, and Jason was apparently jostled outside a pub by a man with long canine teeth. Jason himself played down the teeth, but he claims he did feel threatened. The bloke did a runner when Jason’s friends came back to see if he was okay.”

“Tenuous,” Elspeth commented.

“Very,” Sera agreed.

“And you’re sure old Ferdy was lying about all this?” Elspeth said curiously.

In between trying to contact Jason, Sera had spent a lot of time analyzing and reanalyzing her feelings about this. Now, she dragged her hand through her short hair and groaned. “I don’t know! I thought I was sure. I sensed basic dishonesty in him, although he was quite the clean potato workwise—not the tiniest question mark beside him professionally. Beyond that, I’m sure he wasn’t being truthful with me. Which is why I thought we could have a bit of a laugh last night. And yet now, looking back, I won’t say he disbelieved what he told me. Does that make any sense?”

“Not much,” Jilly said.

“It might have been his reasons for employing us that he was lying about,” Sera said. “Or even why he wanted the stalker discovered.”

“If he wanted the stalker discovered?” Elspeth said shrewdly. “I mean, Mr. Bell is an older man—my generation, not yours. If his fit and healthy son is scared of this attacker, why would he pick a slip of a girl like you to go after him?”

Jilly and Jack cast amused glances at her. They knew Sera could take care of herself—she’d been the mouthy outsider in too many rough schools not to have learned the basics of self-defense. And later, for a time, she’d got free judo lessons from an expert because she’d provided a link to the man’s dead mother. She’d learned early never to show fear, and with the growth of her own physical confidence, she didn’t feel it much either.

However, pleased by her receptionist’s perception, Sera only nodded. “It crossed my mind. He liked being stalked. The police would have put his mind at rest too quickly. He misses the attention he got when he was working as the money-making wiz, and he needs something in its place. Maybe.”

Jack grinned. “And he didn’t know you’ve cracked a few skulls in your time.”

“I have never cracked anyone’s skull,” Sera disputed.

“You put a mugger in hospital,” Jilly reminded her.

“Only because he cut himself with his own knife, stupid bastard.” Sera pushed her chair back and stood up. “Okay, I’m going back to Jason’s office, catch him when—if—he leaves.”

“You think he’s got a double in there?” Jack asked. “Or somehow told his secretary in advance to lie for him?”

“I don’t know,” Sera said ruefully, reaching for her jacket and bag. “But there were some weird people and some weirder happenings at the Bells’ house last night. I’d say Jason and Blair are the keys.”

She swung the jacket on and added hopefully, “If you’ve nothing better to do this evening, you could follow up that actors’ bar in the old town. See if Blair shows.”

“I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t know Blair if he waved at us,” Jilly argued.

“Take Tam with you.”

“Tam,” said Jilly, “isn’t talking to you.”

“He doesn’t need to talk to me, does he?” Sera retorted, making for the door. She knew she’d blown it with Tam, but she was damned if she’d let anyone see that it bothered her. It wasn’t the first friendship she’d ruined through mistrust, and she doubted it would be the last.

“Are you going alone to meet this Jason?” Elspeth called after her.

Sera hesitated. She couldn’t imagine any danger occurring in the prosaic surroundings of the C & H car park, and it would do Elspeth good not to be home alone every night. “Want to be my driver?” she asked lightly while Jilly and Jack regarded her with amusement. “Just in case we need to leave in a hurry, you wait outside the car park while I go in and wait for Jason. Start the car if you see me running!”

****

Blair was pissed off. As soon as he opened the door of the Hard Knox pub, he could smell blood and death. Worse, he knew immediately that the vampire whose trail he’d picked up was no longer in there.

Glancing through the noisy throng, he saw the dead woman at once. Young, blonde, and presumably tasty, she sat more or less upright on one of the grubby, high-backed benches against the wall, her head lolling into the corner. She might have been asleep, except that if you looked closely through the lock of loose hair falling across her cheek, her eyes were wide open.

A couple sat near her, deep in animated conversation, totally ignoring her. However, it wouldn’t be long before someone spotted that she was dead, and then all hell would break loose. The ensuing panic all over the city would not be conducive to enticing solitary young women outside for a bite. Or even persuading them into a dark corner inside. He’d be reduced to whores and thugs in back alleys, and most of them tasted pretty disgusting.

Blair strolled on toward the central bar and ordered a malt whisky by the simple expedient of nodding casually at the bottle beside the barman. As he looked around, a rather pretty young lady in red caught his eye and smiled. Blair smiled back from habit, accepted his whisky, and reluctantly broke eye contact in order to stare out the barman instead. It usually worked. Believing he’d been paid, the barman turned to his next customer, and Blair sipped his whisky.

Right now, he had a choice. He could grab a quick bite of the interested girl across the bar before all hell broke loose over the corpse in the corner. Or he could remove the corpse before it was discovered, as if it was his pissed girlfriend, and thus hide the evidence and avoid the ensuing panic that would so f*ck up his comfortable feeding habits. The latter might be more sensible, but it went against the grain to clean up some other bastard’s mess, and doing so wouldn’t prevent the next mess.

He glanced at the girl in red, who managed to watch him from under her lashes while talking to her friend. Yes, definitely interested. And God knew he was hungry. On the other hand, he couldn’t let this shit carry on. This was his city, and he was damned if he’d tolerate interlopers. It was dusk. Just the time a new vampire might risk the open.

He drained his glass, gave the girl a rueful wink, and strode out of the pub. He hadn’t gone far when he heard the cry go up. Someone had found the stiff.

Since there were a lot of people about and it wasn’t quite dark, Blair didn’t take the crow’s route over the rooftops. But walking fast through the streets and running down the steps and through Waverley Station, he made good time to the C & H building where Jason Bell worked. If the little shit wasn’t there, he’d try the father’s house again, risking the garlic and crosses plastered so liberally about the premises.

In spite of himself, Blair grinned at that. He liked the girl’s style, although he didn’t care for the idea of such a strong psychic poking around the hitherto hidden vampire world, whatever her connection with the strange vampire-cohabiting man in Roseburn.

The safety of the vampire community depended on secrecy, and in the centuries of his existence, Blair had encountered very few human intrusions, even less threatening ones. The most recent had been forty or so years ago, when a group of curious young men had set themselves up as vampire hunters. Having made a few kills in Vienna, Toulouse, and London, more from luck than skill, they’d discovered Blair in Edinburgh, at his lowest ebb. They’d had no idea what they were dealing with, but Blair, sensing a lazy way out of his own insufferable boredom, had let them follow him from the stone folly of Calton Hill to his home. He’d even left the door open for them.

Despite their ineptitude, they’d have killed him eventually. Only Ailis, his maker, had appeared from nowhere, and Blair had had to fight after all to protect her. Ailis had been pleased by that, so pleased that when three of the four men lay dead, she’d hit him with her demand. That he look after the vampires here while she traveled in the Pacific.

Like most things Ailis did, it had been part selfish and part caring. She’d forced a purpose on him while leaving herself free to do as she liked. And in time, sorting out the odd territorial dispute and instilling occasional discipline in vampires who threatened the community through indiscretion, he’d got back a modicum of peace and comfort.

Until this fiasco.

Ignoring the front of the big glass office building, Blair went around the back to the underground car park. He noticed a rather beaten-up old Citroën parked close to the barrier, facing the main road, as if the driver, a respectable middle-aged lady who looked plain wrong in such a vehicle, had just driven out of the car park and was waiting for someone.

Blatantly, Blair hopped over the barrier and strode inside. He smelled human. Despite the lateness of the hour there were still several people in the building. But, ignoring his rumbling stomach for now, he leapt high onto the steel rafters in the ceiling and made his way from there closer to the door that led to the office interior.

He spotted her right away. The psychic, Serafina. In dark jeans and the same leather jacket she’d worn last night, she was leaning her delectable rear on the bonnet of Jason’s white sports car and gazing toward the internal door. She’d obviously had the same idea as Blair.

Blair took one more silent leap across the rafters until he was as close above her as he could get while still being able to watch her and crouched down.

****

PC Alex McGowan was the first policeman on the scene at the Hard Knox pub. He knew the place, and it was generally crowded. Clearly, a large proportion of the clientele had done a runner when the body was found. While his partner spoke to the bar manager, McGowan approached the body.

There could be no doubt that the girl was dead. Her eyes were open and staring, and he’d rarely seen a fresh corpse that looked more the part. But he went through the motions, lifting her wrist to feel for a pulse.

“Did anyone see what happened?” he asked, dropping her dead hand. “Was anyone with her?”

After a moment, someone said reluctantly, “There was a man with her when she first came in. Her boyfriend. They were all over each other. I thought she was drunk. When she zonked, her boyfriend just buggered off as if he’d given up hope of getting his leg over this night and left her to find her own way home. Unless—”

Unless he’d killed her. Without any hope, McGowan searched for the pulse at the base of her neck. There wasn’t one, but as he gazed at his fingers, something else caught his eye. He shifted her head a fraction and saw two tiny holes in her neck. Just like those he’d seen on Jason Bell.

His breath caught. “Pat,” he called to his partner. “This body has to be watched the whole time until CID gets here.”

****

To Blair, Serafina MacBride looked bored and pissed off. But still sexy as hell. Leather had never looked so good on a woman. Her piquant, almost elfin beauty contrasted alluringly with her stark, ugly surroundings. The toughness of her expression and her short, no-nonsense haircut were belied by the enticing vulnerability of her soft, expressive lips. Her eyes, far too deep a blue for that dark hair coloring, looked watchful, intelligent, and secretive.

Blair stared at her long, enticing neck, listened to the steady beat of her heart, and imagined the pumping of her sweet, heady blood into his mouth. He gazed at her breasts, the outlines of which were only half hidden by the black leather of her jacket, as they rose and fell to the rhythm of her breathing.

His own stolen blood quickened, pounding through his body to the parts that, dead or undead, led a man astray. He inhaled her distant scent, like long-forgotten summer flowers, which made everything worse as he envisioned screwing her in a sun-soaked field of wild blooms…

Aye, right. So he’d settle for darkness and a bed. Or a hard floor. Or a wall…

Hastily, Blair reined in his wayward imagination once more, but he was torn. He meant to go inside and scour the mostly empty building for Jason Bell. But his more immediate urge was to jump down and seize Serafina’s strong, lithe, and adorably feminine person in his arms, press her close into him, and drink from her warm, alluring veins. He wanted to feel the fighting tension in her die away and be replaced with pliable submission, and then stir to excitement and passion…

Truth be told, he’d been aware last night that a quick drink and a grope with this woman wouldn’t be enough—although he’d have settled for that to begin with. Something about her reminded him how long it had been since he’d spent a whole night drinking and f*cking. Couldn’t beat it.

On the other hand, he couldn’t actually imagine her buying that right now. Or ever. She glared at her watch, then slid her hips off the car as if she’d made a decision. Blair poised himself to jump. And Jason Bell walked through the door.

Serafina froze, presumably with surprise that her quarry had finally emerged just when she’d just given up on him. Blair paused and waited.

“Jason,” she called. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Jason Bell, in conventional suit and tie, raincoat over one arm and briefcase in hand, stared at her in what looked like bewilderment. As if he didn’t remember her—which he probably didn’t, just yet. On the other hand, he knew blood when he smelled it, and presumably he’d been smelling it without drinking any all day. Unexpectedly, Blair felt the stirrings of excitement. It had been years since he’d had to fight for his supper, but Serafina was well worth the wait and the effort. Not that it would be much of either now. A fledgling was not a tough opponent. Jason was toast.

However, before he could jump, every sense he had shrieked and held him still. Because he smelled other vampires—three more, one gliding through the internal door, the others striding through the car park. And because Jason spoke. Aloud. Using his lips.

“That’s funny,” he said. “I’ve been looking for you too.” He moved fast, probably too fast for most humans, and certainly too fast for Serafina to mistake it as anything other than a threat. She sprang into action and kicked out, much as she’d done at Blair last night, only this time, she made more of an impression. Jason fell on his arse, still looking bewildered.

Blair grinned. That’s my girl. Her head twisted round, her dark blue eyes wide and startled as they darted, searching, as if she’d heard him. She didn’t need the distraction, for in truth she was hardly out of the woods yet. The other vampires were closing in fast, and Jason was rising from his rear end for another shot. Serafina backed around the car, glancing toward the exit and clocking the vampires blocking it off. For the first time, Blair caught a flash of fear in her eyes. Tough she might be, but she knew she couldn’t take on four men and win. What she probably didn’t know was that she didn’t have a prayer against four vampires. Or even against one of these newcomers, who’d been around the block a few more times than Jason.

Blair relished the tougher fight for his supper. He jumped.

Grabbing Jason, he threw him at the vampire behind him, then leapt on the nearest approaching from the exit, slammed his chin upward, and bit straight into the jugular to get some nourishment before breaking the bastard’s neck with a satisfying snap. The vampire fizzed into dust, and Blair spun to face his friend, who was already running for the exit as if all the fiends of hell were after him. They would be, just as soon as Blair had dealt with the others.

Serafina was sidestepping and swiping at the attacking vampire, the one who was not Jason. Jason himself had flung himself into his white sports car, presumably to drive off. As Blair advanced, the vampire spun, growling, to face him instead. The blows were quick and furious—too fast, probably, for Serafina to see. Although Blair felt them, his own were more effective. He crashed his opponent into the nearest car and broke his neck for speed while the screeching of tires told him Jason was fleeing the scene. When he whirled in the dead vampire’s falling dust, he saw Serafina staring about her in shock, as if still looking for her attackers.

Then her gaze landed on him.

“Blair,” she whispered.

So she’d discovered his name. He smiled. “The very same.” But he’d no time to chat. Or, after fighting for it, to enjoy his supper. The scent from the fleeing vampire was vanishing fast, and if he was to have any hope of discovering their lair, he had to leave her. Again.

More tires screeched. A Citroën was backing erratically into the car park at high speed as the sports car drove out of it. At least the barrier had gone up. Blair understood. The middle-aged lady driver was Serafina’s not very effective minder.

“Your chariot has arrived,” he observed and winked. “Later.” And since the cat was well out of the bag, he leapt for the rafters and ran.