Idderton was the only town in
Alvenshire that had 2 bus stations: one being larger than the other. The coach
Leola was on arrived at the bigger of the two. The partitioned-off bus stands
all contained a concrete pontoon. On each of them, the next lot of passengers
were queuing to get on. The one the coach drove into had a pontoon free of
commuters. With no people to dodge, her departure from the bus station was a
quick one. Outside the automatic doors, she glanced at the address Lucy Hawfield
had given her.
Written on the piece of paper she
was holding was No. 3, Stenley Avenue. Leola asked four people for directions,
before learning the right route to it. She had the option of getting a taxi to
her destination, but decided to walk there. Leola used this stroll to think
hard about the recent chain of events. She only passed three people on her way
there. The whole of Stack Road and Melchester Lane was populated with
newsagents, mini-marts and independent cafes. She was forced to wait to cross
the road to get to Stenley Avenue. A seven-foot long HGV was backing into it.
The vehicle took over five minutes to complete this manoeuvre. When it was safe
to cross, she dashed over the road to make up for lost time.
The first couple of buildings she
walked by were a pair of betting shops, situated right next to each other. Both
their exteriors had a tacky, unsavoury look about them. Neither one was
inviting to members of the public who fancied a flutter. The two of them were
independent, not part of any countywide or national chain.
To the right of the second
betting shop was the place Lucy had told her to go to. It was an amusement
arcade, stretching the width of the two gambling establishments combined. The
name above the front door read Andre’s Amusements, using the surname of a past
identity in the title of his business. Immediately beyond the right-hand side
of the door frame was a booth constructed from metal and glass. Within it was a
chrome steel claw suspended over a sea of cuddly toys. Bobbing at various
points between the furry gifts were plastic see-through balls 30cm in diameter.
They individually housed bank notes. A sign stickered onto the left-hand side
glass panel said “50 pence a go”. She pondered whether to try her luck on this
contraption.
A female voice from inside a red
cubicle called out “I so wouldn’t bother – it never wins anybody anything!”
“Aren’t you supposed to be
encouraging the customers to have a bash?”
“They’ve more chance of winning
on the quiz machines. I don’t mean to be rude, but what do you want?”
“I want to...”
“You’re not one of those JW’s,
are you?”
“JWs”
“Jehovah’s Witnesses”
“Don’t they target where people
live?”
“Yeah, but they’ve started
hanging round arcades like this one!”
“I’m here to see George Louveille
– I believe he works here.”
“He sounds French”
“He is”
“I don’t know who this George
Level is”
“Louvelle” said Leola, trying to get
her to pronounce it correctly.
“Whatever! The only bloke I know
from that side of the Channel is Maurice Gol...Gall...nah, I can’t say it!”
“Gaultiere”
“Yeah, that’s it! He bought it
off the last owner – Andre Leinne. He must be related to Maurice because
Andre’s a dead-ringer for my boss!”
“Is he in?”
“He just popped out a few minutes
before you came in”
“Where did he go?”
“There’s a cafe six doors down
from here – that’s where you’ll find him”
“Thanks”
Seated at one of the circular
tables outside No.9, Stenley Avenue was George. He was investing his attention
in an article in The Guardian.
“I prefer The Times myself” she
said, touching the top middle part of the newspaper with her right thumb.
Without glancing up, he replied
in an Anglo-French accent “I don’t – The Guardian’s got better columnists. Plus
it isn’t owned by...”
George broke off from reading
this newspaper as he looked up and saw Leola. He was too surprised by her being
there to stand up.
“What are you calling yourself
now?” was the first thing he said to her.
“Skye Linton”
Since he hadn’t seen her since
1963, when she discovered he’d survived Trenchwell, he assumed this was a
recently-acquired identity.
“It’s very twenty-first century”
“That’s the whole point”
Leola didn’t reveal she was about
to ditch her current name.
“How did you find out I was
here?”
“Tina gave me the address”
George took a guess as to why she
was here.
“You’re here on behalf of ‘The
Guild’, aren’t you?”
“I’m here on my own behalf,
Maurice.”
“What’s the reason behind your
visit then? Is it because...”
Knowing what he was about to say,
Leola interrupted him.
“Please, Maurice, I’m not here to
go down that road again”
Her insistence arose from what
happened towards the end of their first reunion. Before he took off, things
between them got passionate and physical. Leola and George felt that memory
come galloping back. He was keener to act on the feelings it generated than she
was.
Getting the gist of her
interruption, he asked “What is your reason for being here?”
“I need to know where the last
two existing Henford daggers are – Tina said you have that info”
“Not here! We need privacy – the
ideal place for that is my apartment.”
“Where is it?”
“One floor above the amusement
arcade I run”
Minutes later, Leola walked into
the flat’s hallway. The position of the three rooms’ doors intrigued her. It
was similar to the pattern created by the prongs of an electric plug.
“What’s through the right-hand
wall’s door?”
“Somewhere you said you didn’t
want to be while you’re here”
“Indeed I don’t” she replied,
immediately getting what he meant.
He took her into the dining room
and kitchen. A wall had once separated them. The dining table was in the centre
of the room. Leola seated herself in one of the chairs on its left-hand side,
whilst he took out a notepad and pen. George wrote down something, tore that
sheet off and handed it to her. She gawped at it before reading aloud what he’d
written.
“They’re buried in the grounds of
Sudfield Hall!”
“More specifically, they were
buried somewhere on the land the halfway house was built on.”
“Who put them there?”
“Julian”
“Why would he bury them at all?”
“To cover up what he did”
“What did he do?”
“I don’t want you to hate me”
“Why would I?”
“I saw Julian steal the only two
daggers that were never melted down. He killed two mortals in the process and
then he killed...”
He hesitated finishing his
sentence. She demanded he carry on with what he was about to tell her.
“And then he killed two vampires”
“Which two did he kill?”
George’s brief inability to
answer infuriated her.
“Tell me, for fuck’s sake!” she
yelled at the top of her voice.
The noise created by the slot
machines downstairs masked the shouting going on. George’s female employee
couldn’t hear it.
“Cassandra Abbot and Garalde” he
answered gradually.
“Why didn’t you fucking tell me
this when we last met?” she suddenly screamed at him.
“Shame and guilt: I witnessed their
executions by his hand. I did nothing. I saw you grieve for him the moment he
died, and I ran like a...”
Leola’s right hand, now clenched
into a fist, collided with his chin.
“...fucking coward!” she screamed
– twice as loud as before.
The woman working for George
still didn’t hear the raising of voices. The sound of customers chattering
added to the wall of noise around her.
The death of her maker was an
open wound. Hearing that Julian was responsible and George did worse than
nothing rubbed salt into it. Four more punches were delivered to his face
before reacting. Responding to her violence, he pinned her to one of the dining
room’s walls and kissed her hard. His aggression was in that embrace, but he
knew she could withstand it. He redirected her mouth onto her left shoulder
blade. As his lips roughly caressed the area so close to her neck, Leola
wrapped her legs around his waist. Her resolve to resist getting intimate with
him again had floundered. With Leola now attached to the front of her upper torso,
George waddled out of these conjoined rooms and went through the right-hand
wall’s solitary door.
A good quarter of an hour or so
later, they were in bed together. Littered around it on the carpet were dual
trails of discarded clothing. This scene mirrored the one that had occurred
during the climax of their original reunion.
George’s face was turned to
Leola’s. Hers was staring at the ceiling. She panted heavily a couple of times.
“What’s up?”
“It feels like an octopus is
uncurling its tentacles inside my stomach! Why do I always get that feeling
after sex?”
“It’s your Solar Plexis doing its
job”
“My Solar what”
Instead of explaining what it
was, he just said “Never mind”.
Leola turned her whole body to
the left. Now lying on her side, she was facing George.
“I shouldn’t be sticking around
here”
“Why the hurry to leave”
“Number one – I still don’t know
how I feel about you right now! Basically, I’m conflicted on that score!”
“And number two?”
“What we’re doing is so not legal
– you could get put on the sex offenders register for this.”
“That contradicts reason number
one – if you’re in two minds about how you feel about me at this moment, why
would I being labelled a pervert bother you either way?”
“In spite of that, I don’t want
to create a situation where you’re arrested for having sex with a minor. The
involvement of the police will only increase the risk of people finding out our
kind exist.”
“You’re not a teenager – you’re
over nine centuries old”
“Like someone recently said to
me, I’ve the face of a seventeen year-old – the authorities aren’t going to
look beyond that!”
She rolled over to the right, and
lifted the covers off her. Still naked, Leola picked up her clothes off the
bedroom carpet and began getting dressed in front of him.
“What are you going to do about
Julian?”
“I’m not going to kill him,
George, if that’s what you were thinking. I’ve got a better a strategy in
mind.”
“Which is?”
“Getting them onside”
“Onside for what”
“For a vote of no confidence in
his leadership”
“You’re Leola – not Senator
Padme”
“Have you a better idea, George?”
“Yes – resign from this council”
“Not an option – you’ve given me
the means to oust Julian from ‘The Guild’. I’m not going to waste that chance!”
She fished her coat off the back
of a chair and hurriedly put it on.
“Where are you going?”
“Canroth and then onto Alven”
Reverting to speaking French, he
asked her “Are you coming back?”
Whatever reply she gave, Leola
was certain he’d interpret as a promise to return. The more she thought about
his admission, the more she regretted this second sexual encounter with him. At
the core of her regret was anger at his cowardice. Being fluent in his
language, she translated his question. What it revealed was him not getting
that was between them was just physical passion. Acknowledging that helped her
realise she owed him nothing. She therefore chose not to respond at all as she
shut the bedroom door after her.
Pippa’s left hand was the nearest
thing to her face as she woke. Her thumbnail had been momentarily magnified. She
found this sight weird. When she realised her left arm was by her hip, it
dawned on her what she’d seen. Propelled by both her hands, she sat up and
assessed her surroundings.
She was on her bed, rather than
in it. Councillor Trennell was still dressed. The only things she didn’t have
on were her coat or her shoes. Someone had removed it and draped it over the
chair close to the foot of the bed. Pippa took it off there and checked the
pockets. What was meant to be inside each one was still there. Feeling a little
stiffness in her ankles, she rubbed them slightly. Whilst putting on her coat
again, Rosie entered. Councillor Trennell was still a little disorientated and
she nearly missed the coat hanger. Her youngest then drew back the curtains and
the daylight outside buffeted her. She almost lost her balance. Rosie steadied
her, even though her mum could’ve managed that herself. Pippa was left
speechless by finding out it was morning. She thought she’d only been asleep
for a few hours. Pippa didn’t say anything to her daughter until she put her
shoes on.
“What time is it?”
“Eleven to eight, mum” her
daughter said, looking at her phone display menu.
Looking over at Rosie, Councillor
Trennell saw that she’d already gotten dressed for school. Even her uniform’s
tie had been put on neatly. Pippa was impressed, but kept her praise internal.
“Did Jennifer put me to bed?”
“No, it was Martin. Jennifer
brought you home. She said you’d gone out for a walk to clear your head and
you’d passed out.”
“Did I?”
“You don’t remember?”
“Not that, no – there was someone
knocking at the...”
Councillor Trennell suddenly
recalled the white box deposited on the doorstep.
“Where is it?” she asked briskly.
“Where’s what?”
“The box with the hen inside”
Rosie glanced at her mum blankly.
She’d no idea what her mum was talking about.
“Were you having a nightmare?”
“I didn’t dream about anything,
Rosie”
“Nothing at all”
“What time did you say it was?”
“Eleven to eight – it’s nine
minutes to now”
“I’d better get to work”
“They so won’t be expecting you
to come in today!”
“County council business doesn’t
care whether I’ve been widowed or not” said Pippa as she walked through her
bedroom door.
Tim echoed Rosie’s sentiment as
Pippa walked towards her office.
“I didn’t expect you back here so
soon.”
She said the exact same thing
she’d said to Rosie, regarding her premature return to work.
“I don’t mind taking on your
responsibilities for another couple of days” replied Councillor Leonard.
“Thanks,” said Pippa stonily,
“but I’m not going to sit around wallowing in my living room!”
It was immediately obvious to Tim
what Pippa’s present frame of mind was. She clearly had no intention of
remaining at home, being bombarded with memories of what she’d lost. Pippa
didn’t like the prospect of having misery for company. Going back to work was
her escape from that situation. Several steps away from her office door,
Councillor Trennell stood still for a moment. She began patting various parts
of her upper body.
“My chest feels strange.”
“Are you coming down with
something?”
“No, Tim. I don’t feel sick or
that I’m getting a cold.”
“So what’s wrong, then?”
“I can’t really put the sensation
into words.”
Unable to describe the feeling,
Pippa turned her attention to the two folders under Tim’s left arm.
“Is that to do with the Hicks’
family?”
“Yep, more incidents are being
reported – not that it’ll change Councillor Gilbert’s mind on this occasion.
He’s probably that family’s hero right now.”
Joining Tim and Pippa in this
part of the building was Councillor Alan Bexley.
“Should she be here?” he asked
Tim.
“Pippa doesn’t want free time on
her hands.”
“That’s right – I don’t!” she
said to her male colleagues.
Two back-to-back council meetings
kept Pippa busy for the rest of the morning and the first half of the afternoon.
During the second one, Councillor Trennell was visited by the first indication
she wasn’t mortal anymore. She and Councillor Gilbert were heatedly discussing
the trouble the Hicks’ family were continuing to make for their neighbours.
She’d reached the end of her tether in getting him to see that they needed to
be evicted.
With more frustration than she’d
ever exhibited, Pippa yelled “An eviction order is the only way to solve this
toxic situation!” He bizarrely mimicked what she’d shouted at him, word
perfectly.
“The Hicks family are definitely
the flies in this ointment” added Councillor Gilbert, as if he’d been
responsible for this unexpected U-turn.
What Leola had previously
admitted to Pippa rapidly came back into her mind. She took out a small make-up
mirror and looked at her eyes. A reddish tinge was still visible. It was
fading, but she glimpsed it, nonetheless. Without explaining why to her fellow
councillors, Pippa made a quick exit from the conference room.
Thinking her current actions were
grief-based, Tim said to everyone seated at the table “I knew it was too soon
for her to resume her council duties.”
Finding the ladies’, Councillor
Trennell stared hard into the mirror. Her mind transported itself into going
back into Narcino’s and spotting Leola. She brought herself out of that memory
by realising what now lay ahead for her. Pippa was suddenly in the same boat as
Jennifer, Leola and any other woman who’d been transformed in this way. In her
head, she mapped out the three stages she’d gone through since walking into
this diner: not believing in vampires, having to, and joining their ranks. Her
reflection momentarily frightened her. What she knew about them, prior to the
second stage, told her she was fixed in the age she’d reached. She only had one
age line, and now she wasn’t going to get any more.
It was this eventuality that
dislodged the memory of being stabbed. Also wrenched free were the words
Jennifer said to her, moments before she was turned. DCI Stoneham’s regret was
genuine, but all Pippa knew was that there was no undoing what had been done to
her.
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