Page 12 of The Rising Dark
Michelle couldn’t help grinning.She left Quintia in the gym to practice in earnest, and dragged herself back up into the inhabited part of the house, up the grand staircase and into her room for another shower.
The thoughts that she had so carefully avoided for the last hour or so came crowding back immediately as the shower’s hot water soothed the stiffness from her muscles.Vampires.They were all vampires—Quintia, Lavinia, Lucretia, Proserpina… Even Mrs.Frost?What about Zachary?She wondered where Lavinia was right now, what she was doing.Whether she was safe.Would she have to fight more demons or other, even worse monsters?
Come to think of it, were vampires immortal, like in the stories?How old was Lavinia?Michelle had thought she was in her late twenties, like herself.But maybe her youthful features were an illusion, and she was actually centuries old.She wondered what that would be like, to live for so long.Wondered whether she seemed terribly young to Lavinia.
Also, did they really drink blood?How did that work?She imagined a classic scene from a gothic romance, herself in a decadent gown stretched out on a fainting couch, Lavinia kneeling before her in a velvet suit, drinking from her wrist.Michelle shuddered.She wasn’t entirely sure whether it was in horror or something else.
Chapter Seven
It was a quiet drive back to London.Lavinia watched the cars pass on the motorway as Zachary expertly manoeuvred the vehicle through the busy lanes.A bright noon sun shone overhead.Its rays didn’t penetrate into the back of the car, the tinted windows protecting Lavinia’s skin from their sting.
She wondered how Michelle was doing.The Sisterhood hadn’t had a human stranger stay with them in decades, and she fretted over how her Sisters might behave.For some reason, Lavinia thought Michelle would not be the kind of person to sit still.She only hoped she wouldn’t run into Quintia.Out of all of her Sisters, Quintia was the least…civilised.“Quintia has the subtlety of a battering ram,” Pina had once said after Quintia had gotten them into hot water at some high society function, and Lavinia had to agree with her.She adored her Sister, appreciated her intense loyalty and relentless drive for their work, but she could only imagine what kind of first impression she would make on a human.
With surprising difficulty, she tore her thoughts away from Michelle.She forced herself to consider the matter at hand.She was meeting Octavia at the alleyway where the demon had appeared last night.Octavia had been off duty yesterday, and Lavinia would appreciate her Sister’s fresh eyes today.It was easy to miss things in the heat of the moment, and it was possible there would be clues to help them find out who had sent a demon after Michelle.Immediately, her thoughts drifted back to the human, her soft brown eyes, lined perfectly with dark eyelashes.The way she smiled, even in the face of what must be overwhelming circumstances.She had smelled so good this morning, coconut and that hint of cinnamon Lavinia had noticed yesterday.
“We’re here.”
It took Lavinia a moment to tear herself from her reverie.Zachary wore a questioning expression.The car idled in a quiet side street, away from the main thoroughfare.
“Right,” she said, ignoring the question on Zachary’s face, and got out of the car.Zachary drove off, seeking to park somewhere he could comfortably wait for a few hours.Lavinia felt a rush of appreciation for the familiar—he was dependable, but not overly deferential.He was always ready to help, acting as the Sisterhood’s driver, messenger, or whatever role was required of him in that moment.Additionally, he was discreet, never showing any interest in gossip.It was difficult to find the right familiar, but Zachary was the best.Just like his father had been.
Octavia was already here.Lavinia could smell her Sister’s scent of leather and rose on the cool breeze.The sun had hidden itself behind the cover of clouds again, cloaking the urban landscape in grey.The daylight caused a slight prickly sensation on the exposed skin of Lavinia’s face and hands, which she ignored as she followed her Sister’s scent-trail.She couldn’t see Octavia initially.She wasn’t in the alley where Lavinia had fought the demon and had first met Michelle, but instead had penetrated further into the warren of backstreets behind the row of shops.
“Look at this,” Octavia said.Her Sister was crouching behind a haphazard stack of garbage bags, only the top of her bright blue hair flaring above the pile.Octavia had embraced the modern invention of neon hair dyes, and changed her colour every season.The blue brought out the cooler tones of her dark skin.Lavinia walked up to her, considering the pile of garbage.The contents of the bags were several days old, judging by the smell of them.Rats had eaten through the corners of some, the trash spilling out onto the ground.
Lavinia looked closer to where Octavia pointed, and saw the dark stains splashed against the brick wall.Blood.Her nostrils flared, and there it was—the scent of the blood, hidden behind the rankness of the garbage.It smelled sour with fear, with notes of alcohol overlaid with some kind of cheap cologne.It could only be a day old, the metallic undertones still strong in the air.
“Your girl’s?”Octavia asked.Lavinia had updated Octavia on the phone this morning, explaining how she had taken Michelle to Thornblood.Octavia had listened without comment, but Lavinia was sure the eldest of the Sisters had some reservations about Lavinia’s impulsive decision.
“No.She didn’t come this way—she came from the other direction.”
“Any idea whose it might be?”
Lavinia studied the splatter pattern.Several of the shops had doors opening into this alley, and one of the kitchen staff could have cut themselves on a piece of glass in the trash.There was quite a lot of blood here though, certainly more than an accidental cut.Of course, not all blood was the sign of violence, but it looked like there was too much of it to be a coincidence.
She thought back to last night.She’d come from the other direction, had heard voices echoing down the streets.There had been people talking and laughing along the main road.She had passed a man leaning against a wall smoking a cigarette, the door to the kitchen propped open with a brick.The city at night was full of sounds and smells, the stench of gasoline and concrete mingling with the traces of millions of people, a cornucopia of sensations that even an adept tracker with vampiric senses would have a hard time distinguishing.
“No,” Lavinia said thoughtfully.
“Let’s see if we can find any more.”Octavia straightened, wiping her hands on her black jeans, and investigated further down the alley.Lavinia didn’t blame her—the stench here was truly despicable, rot and rancid oil, the cloying sweetness of decay.She couldn’t wait to be free from it herself.Rather than getting used to it, every breath was a fresh assault.
Bracing herself for a moment, lamenting the events that led up to this, Lavinia started removing the garbage bags one by one.The splatter pattern suggested that someone had leant against the wall here only yesterday.The ripeness of the bags would have been just as apparent then—it was hardly a place anyone would choose to rest.Unless, of course, the bags hadn’t been in this spot yesterday.She heaved up one after another, disturbing a rat that skittered away carrying its lunch between its jaws.Then, she found what she hoped she wouldn’t.An arm lay cradled between the grey plastic of two bags, the skin a white pallor that could only mean death.
“Found him,” she called over to Octavia.
She removed two further bags, and his torso was revealed.Another unveiled his face.He was in his forties, his black hair thinning along his crown.His brown eyes stared into space, bloodshot.A gash had been torn along the side of his neck, blood clotted on the ragged flesh.A streak of blood had soaked through his jumper in a large vertical stripe, suggesting that he’d been upright when he was wounded.But if he had been killed here…
“There’s not enough blood.”
“No,” Octavia agreed.“Not by a long shot.”
Very little blood had pooled underneath the body.The body had been drained.
“Do you think it’s the same guy?”Octavia asked.
Lavinia assessed the way the body was positioned.He’d abandoned the man close to where he’d killed him, had only made a token attempt at hiding it.Hadn’t cared who found him.Lavinia leaned closer to the body and sniffed, but the scents didn’t provide any additional information.She only smelled death and decay, with the sharpness of cologne that still wafted from the man’s skin.
“Yeah,” she finally said.“Unless we find any evidence to the contrary, I think we should assume it’s him.”
