The House (4 page)

“Trix, you’re
home early,” James spoke from the kitchen doorway. He was
forty-five and a well-practiced fighter. He was also a wolf. The
only reason he was here was because he’d taken responsibility for
Hercules, aka Shaun, when their ‘father’ died. It was good to see
him there. If anyone could handle themselves, it was James. He also
ignored the blood splatters, for which I was grateful.

“We ran into
some trouble,” I replied. James was a hunter of hunters and would
no doubt be very interested in my story. Too bad I planned to get
Marie’s opinion before I breathed a word to anyone else. “When did
Marie go to bed?”

“About an hour
ago. Trix, is everything alright?”

“It’ll be fine,
I just need to speak to Marie, excuse me.” I admit I was short with
him, and I pushed past him just a little, but I couldn’t deal with
him in that moment. He disapproved of my trips to the clubs and
bars. He didn’t think I’d be discovered but he also didn’t think it
was an acceptable pastime for a young lady. He was brought up kind
of old-fashioned. I blurred up the stairs to Marie’s room.

Marie lived in
a kind of mini-apartment within the house. She had a bedroom,
living room, kitchenette and bathroom, all to herself. Marie’s
eighty-two, which sounds really old, but for a shifter it’s more
like middle-aged. She valued her privacy in a house that was often
full of strangers; didn’t we all. But there was only the four of us
staying there at the moment - five now Stripes was back - so her
door remained unlocked. I entered softly, trying not to startle
her.

“Marie, Marie,
wake up.” I shook my mentor gently. She was more like a grandmother
to me than anything else. She had helped to raise me after my
parents were killed. I’d been only seven then and my grandfather
hadn’t known enough to raise a shifter child on his own.

“Trixie …
Trixibell. What’s wrong child?” Marie was groggy with sleep,
probably why she’d called me Trixibell. Which I hadn’t been called
since I was twelve and old enough to make it known that I didn’t
like it.

“Marie, I need
to talk to you. Could you come down to the meeting room when you’re
ready? I’ll get everyone else there,” I sighed; it was going to be
a very long night.

Marie just
glanced at me, saw the blood and nodded. “I’ll be down in a
moment.”

The meeting
room was far too large for the five of us. The table seats about
twenty when we want it to, but only has twelve matching seats. The
dark wood didn’t hold fond memories for me. I doubted anyone looked
upon this room with fondness. It was where we met to discuss
whatever had most recently gone wrong, or occasionally where to
spend money on improvements. When we had spare money for
improvements that is.

The last person
through the door was Marie. She had put on her typical attire,
making her look like a 1950’s housewife. Although none of us had
ever seen that century. Her face was empty of make-up and I could
see the faint lines around her mouth and eyes. The lines hadn’t
been there when I first met her. She looked good for eighty-two
though, with her hair a perfect white and turned under at the nape
of her neck. I sometimes wondered if Marie’s hair was naturally
white or if she dyed it. I wasn’t brave enough to ask and risk
insulting her.

I looked around
the room; I’d have preferred to brief Marie with just Stripes and
us, but that just wasn’t going to happen. James and Hercules hadn’t
lived at the House that long, only about half a year, but they’d
integrated themselves thoroughly into our routines. I guess they
had integrated themselves into our lives as well. I couldn’t really
imagine my life without them there any more. Their expressions were
tight as they took their seats.

“Hello
everyone. Sorry to get you up so late.” Ok, so the only person who
hadn’t already been awake was Marie, but I had to say it, if
nothing else, to keep from having to tell them the real reason for
the meeting. I knew in my heart I was stalling and my death-grip on
the table did nothing to help my nerves. I felt like I should be
standing. I had called the meeting and it felt like I should lead
it. It would be too awkward to imagine standing and starting again.
I had to mentally remind myself that I was amongst family. This was
not a formal occasion of any kind and nothing was expected of me. I
wished I’d asked to talk in the living room.

“What’s wrong
Trixibell, child … what’s got you so rattled? It’s not like you.”
Marie was right. I didn’t normally get rattled so easily. This had
just brought up old memories that I worked very hard to keep
buried. I released the table very slowly before I started to speak.
I took a moment to gather the thoughts that had been scattered to
the winds in the past hour, and collected myself. I felt like I was
sitting a little straighter in my chair by the time I cleared my
throat to start.

“Please, please
let me finish before you all interrupt and start ranting. You need
to hear the whole story,” I said, as calmly and clearly as I could.
If we weren’t careful everyone would go crazy within two seconds of
starting and we’d never finish. I was amazingly tired. I wanted to
go to bed before dawn and the adrenaline had worn off.

I glanced at
Stripes and she nodded; she trusted me to tell the story. “Well,
when we came out of Jen’s we were ambushed,” I sighed. Maybe the
story would be much simpler than I thought. “By vampyre. Five of
them.” I looked around the semi-circle of people at the end of the
table but they were letting me continue without interruption. I
could feel their eyes watching me though, waiting. It was kind of
unnerving and, despite my knowing full well that shifters are
completely human in their thinking, I thought I felt a predatory
edge to them. Maybe it was just my mind flashing back to the
vampyre. They had been plenty predatory for me.

“They didn’t
seem to have a clue about shifters. They didn’t even blink until I
Called and Stripes shifted. I don’t think they’d have taken any
notice anyway, but we were rescued. By Deacan Mackensie.” I heard
two gasps and a growl. The growl came from James, and the predatory
edge had turned into a haze around us. I sometimes forgot how scary
James could be. “I told him my name was Juliet and managed to
convince him to leave without walking me back, just about.” I
rushed through the last words, forgetting my own attempt to talk
slowly and carefully. The feel of the room was worrying. It made
the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

“What’s Deacan
doing around here?” Hercules asked. I could feel the tension
radiating off James in waves. If he didn’t tone it down I’d be in
danger of drowning in it.

“Cool it off
James. I can’t handle the tension level in here.” I’m particularly
sensitive to certain emotions and rage was one of them. It was
mostly either just annoying or disorientating, but with strong
emotions I couldn’t always shield completely from them. Maybe it
was because the power was from my witch heritage and I was a
shifter through and through.

“I think, as I
am sure Trix has already thought, that the bigger problem here lies
with the vampyre,” Marie said, in her quiet, unassuming voice. I
just nodded in agreement. The statement had brought me out of
thinking about my own magic. We had decidedly bigger problems just
then.

“What!” James
slammed his fist on the table. If it had been a modern cheap table
the wood would probably have been dented or split. As it was, more
powerful people than James had tried and failed to beat up the
furniture. I was ashamed to say that I had been one of them. I
always added ‘in the past’ onto the end of that thought. I figured
if I told myself I was calm, confident and in control, eventually
my brain would catch on and act like it.

“If the vampyre
have gone rogue they present a much greater threat than one single
hunter, no matter how awful he may be.” The words came out of my
mouth but I lacked the conviction that James had. Mostly I think
his outrage that we thought the vampyre were the greater threat was
because he didn’t understand them. James is a hunter of hunters. I
haven’t asked how many people he’s killed but it’s more than I want
to know about. He knew nothing about vampyre except that they are
hard to kill.

“I agree. The
vampyre were much scarier than the hunter,” Stripes put in and
Hercules nodded. James just huffed and slumped back in his
chair.

“Trix, have you
called your grandfather yet?” Marie asked.

“I thought I’d
talk to you guys first.” In other words, I’d been avoiding it as
long as possible.

“Go talk to him
now, we need to know what has happened.” Marie held a measure of
calm over the meeting. I sighed again, I so did not want to talk to
my grandfather, but it didn’t seem that I had a choice. I got up
slowly and slouched out, trying to put it off as long as possible.
I had a lot of practice with that when it came to my
grandfather.

The rest of the
house seemed eerily quiet and empty with everyone still in the
meeting room. Although I was glad that the place wasn’t full of
people. Announcing that Mackensie was in the area would be enough
to start a full-scale hunt. Even Marie wouldn’t be able to keep
them all from going crazy.

I walked
through the kitchen and grabbed the phone off the hook on my way
past, taking it into one of the unused bedrooms. The duvet was a
dark blue with pale blue sheets and pillows peeking out. Other than
the bed, the only furniture was a small dresser, a sink and a
straight-backed chair. The room didn’t feel homely or safe in any
way, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak to my grandfather from my
own room. It wasn’t like he’d ever know where I was, but sitting
surrounded by all of my things would make it worse somehow. I
didn’t want to invite him back into my life and that’s what calling
him from my bedroom would feel like to me.

The phone rang
all of four times before it was picked up. Nobody said anything at
the end of the line. It was typical of my grandfather. He wouldn’t
be asleep yet; he would be working and he was frequently distracted
just after picking up the phone by said work. I was used to it and
it certainly wasn’t his worst quality.

“Hello,
grandfather?” I was quiet and tentative, not two of my normal
qualities. Then again I was speaking to one of the most powerful
witches in the Devon Covenant. Perhaps one of the most powerful
living witches in the whole of Britain. It should be enough to
humble anyone.

“Beatrice.”
There was surprise in his voice, not necessarily in a bad way, but
it was there. I hadn’t expected it. I don’t know what I’d expected;
anger or regret maybe. We hadn’t parted on very good terms. I
hadn’t spoken to him at all for four years. I guess I wanted more
emotion from him than just vague surprise. Maybe I just wanted him
to care that I was calling, but that was the little girl in me
talking and I quickly quashed the thought. I did just fine on my
own.

“Yes
grandfather, it’s me.” If Marie was the only person who got to call
me Trixibell then my grandfather, Richard SinClara, was the only
person who actually referred to me as Beatrice. I think I was named
after his mother, or aunt, or something. I realised suddenly that
he was silent on the other end of the phone. I had called him so I
had to start the conversation. “I need to ask you something.”

“Yes.”

I sighed again;
it seemed to be a night for sighing. “Have the vampyre succeeded
from the witches?”

“I do not
understand what you mean.” Fine, he was going to be stubborn. I
could do stubborn. In fact, it is one of my strongest qualities. We
were adept at out- stubborning each other and I knew how he worked.
I’d spent my teenage years being far too sullen around him to know
otherwise. If I wanted to do something I sat there until he said
yes. He sat there saying no until I gave up; we were generally
about 50/50 for winning.

It was only
after I realised that I was doing more and more for him and his
work than I had ever wanted to that I decided to leave permanently.
I don’t think he ever truly understood why it bothered me. I
shivered at the thought and had to drag my head back into the
conversation. This wasn’t about the past; it was about the here and
now. The here and now in which we had rogue vampyre running
about.

“You know
exactly what I mean grandfather. I did not think you played games
with me.” Even though I knew he did. He liked to pretend that he
treated me honestly.

“The vampyre
are ours, they have always been and will always be ours.” Simple,
sure and steady. I let it go that ‘always’ was a damn long time
just because they’d kept them so far. I couldn’t see them letting
go unless something drastic had happened. I had to check though. I
wondered for a moment if he was just being defensive and they had
lost control. I shook my head to clear it but I filed the thought
away for later. I could never tell with my grandfather.

“Then have some
of your witches gone rogue because I can’t think of any other
reason for five vampyre - five vampyre who have no knowledge of
shifters - to attack me and my friend.” I fought hard not to raise
my voice and I succeeded, but I sounded tired, I sounded old. I’m
not old; twenty-two is not old. Especially not where I come from.
It was the weariness from the attack soaking into me. It felt like
it had gone down to the very soul of my being. Not cold that could
be relieved by warm blankets. A warm body maybe, but nothing
blankets or heating could fix.

“Beatrice, you
were attacked?” There was genuine worry in his voice; it made me
smile, even though part of the reason I hadn’t wanted to call him
was that I didn’t want to be happy with him. If I could stay mad at
him then my life could continue uninterrupted. If I reconciled with
him then my life might have to change. I liked my life just the way
it was. I should have known better. I did have a moment of madness
in which I thought it might all be a plan to get me back into the
Covenant and under my grandfather’s wing. The thought only lasted a
second. Even my grandfather wasn’t that malicious, to me at
least.