Dire Straits (22 page)

‘What in hell was that?’

I scan the sky, squinting. ‘A crow, I think.’

‘There’s a sodding reason why it’s called a murder of crows,’ Beth grumbles.

I watch her sullen expression, wondering what’s making her so pissed off. It’s possible she’s annoyed that we’re venturing into the outside world because it implies a lack of control over us on her part. Or is she worried that she’ll slip up and give the game away? I can only hope.

We push forward, eventually reaching the wall. It’s high and made of sturdy red brick. Someone, probably the gardener, clearly pays it almost as much attention as the plants, as it’s moss free and well kept. This is unfortunate; a few crumbling spots would make it easier to find footholds. Beggars can’t be choosers, though.

We edge along until we find a suitable tree to help us gain height. I reach up, pulling myself onto the nearest branch, then shimmy upwards, using the strongest part of the branches where they meet the trunk as safe places to hold my weight. Nell, irritatingly, just scampers up the wall in a flash and sits astride the top, grinning down at us all.

‘You see? You lot should quit with all your posturing and take some blood. You’re going to do it sooner or later. And once you do, climbing up something like this is a piece of cake.’ She flexes her muscles while I mutter under my breath and push myself higher up the tree.

Once I’m as high as I can go, I look over at the wall. It’s still three feet away. I sidestep towards it while the branch creaks menacingly under my weight. I’m not convinced it’ll hold me. Nell casually extends an arm. ‘Just jump, Bo,’ she tells me. ‘I’ll catch you.’

I’m doubtful about this. I know from our training sessions that she’s by far the strongest of us and I like to think that I keep myself in shape but still, it’s a long way down. The others are catching up on me, however, and if I show signs of nervousness then neither Nicky nor Peter will jump. I need to get out of here and it’ll look better for me if I’m not alone when I do it. I couldn’t give a shit about Beth. A tiny part of me hopes that she falls. That’s mean, but I can’t help it.

I edge a little bit closer.

‘Do it,’ Nell urges.

I draw a deep breath, holding the air in my lungs, and then I leap. Initially, everything seems fine and I’m gaining height. It’s barely a fraction of a second, however, before my body starts to fall. Nell’s hand seems too far away and I‘m certain I’m not going to make it. Panic sets in and I shut my eyes tightly, waiting for the inevitable pain. I misjudged Nell’s reach though and, before it’s too late, her cool hand grips my sweaty one and pulls me upwards.

She heaves me up until I’m lying on my stomach, my legs dangling down one side and my arms down the other. I force myself up, twist round to a sitting position and try not to gasp too obviously for air.

Nicky is now in position on the tree’s branch. She looks pale. I bet when she first entered the Montserrat house, she never thought she’d soon be climbing trees. How strange it must be for her to have control over her legs after being in a wheelchair for so long. I shuffle along so that she has enough room and give her an encouraging smile.

‘It’s okay,’ I whisper. ‘Nell’s got vampire strength.’

She shakes her head. ‘I can’t do this.’

‘Of course you can. You’re taller than I am and I did it,’ I urge.

She bites her lip and pushes her hair away from her face. Then she jumps. This time, I watch Nell. She stretches herself out a few inches and grabs hold of Nicky, as if she were merely catching a frisbee. Even the muscles of her forearms don’t appear tense as she yanks up Nicky’s slight frame. Considering Nell has been fully vampired for less than five days, I’m terrified. How much stronger will the other vampires be that I’m up against? If I get caught in a fight with them, I’ve got no chance. Maybe I should just go ahead and drink some damned blood.

I scoot further along the wall with Nicky alongside me. Beth makes the jump irritatingly quickly. She has a lithe athleticism that’s hidden by her façade of bottle-blonde hair and sharp red fingernails. I try not to scowl. Peter also leaps without seeming to worry about it. He seems almost disappointed when he makes it, as if he’d hoped to fall and break his neck.

‘So, clever clogs,’ Beth says, once we’re all safely perched on the wall, ‘how in smeg do we get down?’

She has a point. The Montserrat garden may be full of trees to aid the climbing process but the other side is a gaping chasm leading down to the grey cement of pavement.

Nell pushes herself off, landing squarely on her feet. ‘I’ll catch you.’

I look nervously at Nicky. This time our order is reversed, with Peter going first. He’s the heaviest of all of us, and Nell staggers slightly. There’s no problem though and, one by one, we make the jump down. When my feet are on solid ground, I take a deep breath. I’m strongly tempted to bend down and kiss the pavement in gratitude. I look back at the wall.

‘It’s going to be a lot harder to get back inside than it was to escape,’ Beth says, echoing my thoughts.

‘Let’s worry about that when the time comes,’ I say. I’m not sure I’m coming back. I don’t have any doubts that Montserrat will find me in a heartbeat but hanging around until he decides to execute me isn’t really much of an option.

‘There’s a cab!’ Nicky calls suddenly. She leaps into the road and hails it.

The driver is unenthusiastic about having five passengers but Nell grins at him, displaying her growing fangs, and he hastily changes his mind. It’s so late that the streets are quiet and we make it to the club quickly. Perhaps I can get used to this night-time living after all.

The bouncer at the door is the same one as last time. I have no idea whether he remembers me or not but fortunately he seems more taken by our matching midnight blue jumpsuits and Beth’s killer heels than our faces. We trip inside and, while Peter and I wince automatically at the loud music, the others perk up.

I scan around, hoping that D’Argneau is here. Unfortunately the stools by the bar are empty and he doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who’s down for a boogie on the spangled dance floor. I’m disappointed My main purpose in coming here is to quiz him again; without his presence this is a wasted trip.

Nell, it seems, has an entirely different idea of wasted on her mind. She beckons the bartender, ordering a bottle of vodka and a range of mixers. Ever the one for detail, she even makes sure there’s a bucket of ice. Nicky appears blasé about handing over her credit card to pay for our drinks. I’m not sure I’d allow Nell free reign – not at London prices – but once we’re settled at a table and sipping at our glasses, I start to chill out. No, I shouldn’t rely on alcohol to settle my nerves but damn, this is a drink I’ve been waiting for.

Unsurprisingly, Beth’s lip curls. ‘It’s not the kind of establishment I normally frequent.’

The buzz of alcohol almost makes me throw caution to the wind and tell her exactly what I think, but Nicky interrupts before I do.

‘I think it’s cool. It’s been a long time since I had a girls’ night out.’

Nell’s eyes gleam. ‘This is what being a vampire is really about. Having fun and damning the consequences.’ She takes a long swig of her drink. ‘I wonder if vampires get hangovers.’

Nicky clinks her glass against Nell’s. ‘Only one way to find out.’

‘We’ve only got about two hours until we head back,’ Beth cautions. ‘We can’t risk getting caught when dawn breaks.’

I’m surprised that she sounds so schoolmarmish. ‘I’d never have thought you were a stickler for the rules.’

‘Those rules exist for a reason,’ she snipes back.

‘Yeah? And so are the rules about there being only five Families.’ The words are out of my mouth before I’ve had time to think and they hang there while Beth frowns at me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was confused.

‘Rules shmules!’ trills Nicky. ‘Let’s dance!’ She pulls Nell up by one arm and a reluctant Beth by the other. Eyeing me with a mischief I’ve not seen in her before, she jerks her head towards the small dance floor. ‘Come on, Bo.’

I glance at Peter. He’s muttering to himself. ‘I’ll stay with the party animal here and keep him company.’

A flash of something I can’t determine crosses Nicky’s face, then she shrugs amiably and guides the other two off, immediately flinging herself into the beat of the song. This is a side of her I’ve not seen before. I guess she didn’t have much opportunity to go out and dance when she was in a wheelchair. Bless her. Nell seems keen to match her energy although Beth, surprisingly, looks awkward. Her expression makes me think that she’d rather have her blood red fingernails pulled out one by one than dance.

The colour of Beth’s nails brings me back to the topic that never seems to be far from my mind. I look at Peter, whose fingers are drumming fretfully on his collarbone.

‘How are you doing with the whole blood avoidance thing?’

‘Huh?’

‘Not drinking. You, Beth, Nicky and I are the only ones who’ve yet to drink blood. The thought makes me feel queasy but I’m finding it harder and harder to not have some.’

‘So why don’t you?’ Peter’s voice is mild and lacking in curiosity but I still feel compelled to answer.

‘I want to be a powerful vampire.’ I force a hollow laugh.

He looks at me over the rim of his glass. ‘Bullshit.’

I’m shocked. ‘Peter, I’ve never heard you swear before.’

‘Well, I’ve never been a vampire before.’ He pours another a shot. ‘I’ve been watching you, Bo. You don’t want to be a vampire. There’s a part of you that’s disgusted by anyone who is.’

‘That’s not true!’ I protest.

‘Yes, it is,’ he replies quietly. ‘You told me your reason for being here. I can’t help thinking it’s bullshit. Are you sure you’re not really here for revenge?’

I am, just not in the way that he thinks. I wonder how to talk myself out of this. He continues before I can think of anything smart to say. ‘It’s a powerful motivator, you know, but it won’t make you feel any better. It’s not a dish best served cold. If you’re planning revenge, you’re better off digging two graves, not one, because it’ll kill you in the end.’

‘I’m not doing this for revenge,’ I tell him, trying to sound sincere. ‘I suppose I don’t really want to be a vampire after all.’ I hope that the half truth is enough to appease him.

He sighs heavily. ‘I feel the same. I can’t help wondering if I’ve made one of the worst mistakes in my life.’ He looks at me frankly. ‘You’re not telling me everything but, for whatever reason, you’re trying to become Sanguine.’

I’m surprised that he’s even heard of the term, let alone linked it to me. He laughs softly at my expression. ‘I did my research before I signed up.’

‘Then you know how hard it is to resist the urge.’

‘I do.’

‘Are you doing the same? Are you trying to become Sanguine?’

He laughs again but there’s a cold, hard edge to it. ‘No. Much as I wish I’d chosen a different path, I’m already damned, Bo. I deserve all this.’

I’m about to ask him what he means when I notice a new customer stroll in. My back stiffens immediately. Lo and behold, it’s Harry D’Argneau.

‘So he’s why we’re really here,’ Peter comments.

I shoot him a look. ‘Peter, I’m sorry…’ Guilt blazes through me. Whatever Peter is going through, it’s obviously hell. If things were different then I’d do whatever I could to draw him out. But I need to talk to D’Argneau and get my pound of flesh. My clock is ticking.

Peter pats my shoulder. ‘It’s okay. I understand.’

I don’t think he really does. ‘Look, I won’t be long. I just need to talk to that guy for five minutes. It’s really important.’

He doesn’t appear hurt and gives me a gentle push. ‘Go on. Do what you have to do.’

‘You’re not even curious, are you?’

All I receive in return is a half-hearted shrug. ‘I’ll be back,’ I promise. ‘This won’t take long.’

I grab an empty glass and fill it with ice and vodka. A peace offering might help my cause. Then I walk up to D’Argneau and tap him on the shoulder. He turns and, as soon as he registers my face, his eyes widen and he steps away. I hold out the drink.

‘Please, Harry.’ I keep my voice soft. I’m pretty sure he’s trying to decide whether to run away or not so I try to appear as small and unthreatening as possible. It must work because his muscles relax and he peers at me. ‘You look different.’

‘I’ve been recruited,’ I tell him.

He freezes. ‘Which Family?’

‘Does it matter?’

He grabs my shoulders and grips them tightly. ‘Which Family?’ he repeats.

My eyes scan his face. ‘Montserrat.’

His shoulders slump.

‘What? What’s the problem?’

He takes the drink and throws it back in one swift gulp. ‘You’re an idiot, Bo Blackman. That’s the problem.’

Chapter Twenty-one: Red Sky in the Morning

D’Argneau guides me to a small table at the back where we’re hidden from view. I’m glad; the last thing I want is bloody Beth interrupting. We’re also further away from the speakers here so there’s less need to bellow into each other’s ear. There’s always the possibility that when you do that you’ll be caught out during the abrupt breaks between songs.