Page 19 of The Rising Dark
“Found anything you like?”Lavinia asked.She put the cup and saucer onto the dark wood coffee table beside Michelle.Its polished surface gleamed in the lamplight.Doubtless another priceless antique.It was nothing like the glorified plywood stool Michelle had set beside her narrow and saggy sofa at home.
“I did.It’s calledHarrogate Homicides.I love this show.”
“Sounds very cheerful for a sleepless night, some nice, light murder,” Lavinia said with amusement.
“It’s a cosy mystery.”Lavinia frowned, clearly unfamiliar, so Michelle elaborated.“Sure, there is a murder, but it’s really fun.They always get killed in a ridiculous way, like being hit by a wheel of cheese during some summer fair or something.There are always silly village politics, and of course, the murderer is caught at the end of the episode.”Lavinia didn’t look convinced.“You should try it.”
Before she could second-guess herself, or even really consider what she was asking exactly, she added, “Would you like to watch it with me?”Lavinia hovered between the door and the sofa; she hadn’t brought a drink or biscuit for herself.All signs pointed to her not wanting to stay.But a sudden yearning overtook Michelle.She wanted to get to know Lavinia—to find the woman underneath the benign protective kindness she had shown her so far.She had been like a knight in shining armour, popping into her life at a moment of danger.Lavinia was a steadying presence—someone Michelle thought she could depend on, even if she’d only met her so recently.But beyond that, who was she?What were her hopes and dreams, her fears?Admittedly, part of Michelle was attracted by the novelty of her being a vampire, but it was more than that.She wanted to peek behind the calm exterior.Lavinia had seen her be so vulnerable, had already seen her cry.She wondered what Lavinia was like whenshebecame undone.
She watched expectantly, therefore, for Lavinia to answer.Would she maintain her respectable distance, or would she soften, ever so slightly?
“You would like me to join?”Lavinia asked.She immediately cut to the quick, not hiding behind a sham polite refusal.
If Lavinia could be straightforward, so could Michelle.“Yes,” she answered simply.“I would like your company.”Her heartbeat rose as Lavinia moved closer, the sofa cushion dipping as she sat down next to her.Lavinia leaned back, one leg crossed over the other at the ankle.Michelle started the episode ofHarrogate Homicides, relaxing into the familiar intro sequence.From the corner of her eyes, she could see the rising and falling of Lavinia’s breath despite her stillness.She found herself almost painfully aware of her presence, making it impossible to concentrate fully on the show.
As the intrepid detective traced the events leading up to the victim’s discovery at a children’s Easter egg hunt, Michelle peeked at Lavinia under the cover of taking a sip from her tea.Lavinia had relaxed further into the cushions.It was impossible to lounge on a big squishy sofa gracefully, but she almost managed.Her left hand had crept up into her right sleeve, where she was massaging a scar on her wrist absentmindedly.Michelle wondered whether it still pained her—wondered whether she had more scars beyond the ones visible.Wondered who had tended to her wounds, or whether she’d had to face the recovery alone.Not wanting to stare or draw attention to herself, she turned back to the detective’s interrogation of the elderly greengrocer whose answers weren’t quite lining up.
“He’s clearly lying,” Lavinia commented as the detective and her right-hand man made their way back to the police station.“Did he commit the murder?”
“I don’t know.I haven’t seen this one before.”
“Aren’t you the expert?”Lavinia said slyly, and Michelle laughed.
“Fine.My theory is that it’s the grieving widow.She didn’t look all that heartbroken.”
“Perhaps it was the detective herself.”
“It was definitelynotthe detective—that’s a completely different kind of show.”
Lavinia shrugged, unperturbed.“It could happen.”
“Absolutely not,” Michelle said.“You’re excellent with a sword, but clearly you know nothing about TV.”
Lavinia smiled.“True.I never watch any.I guess you will have to teach me.”
Michelle smiled back, settling deeper underneath the throw blanket.Despite the strand of tension running through her—a pleasant thrum, feeding on her attraction to Lavinia—there was also comfort in talking to her, being with her.It was so easy to sit here with her and watch TV.It was almost like they were just two women, spending time together.No supernatural creatures.Just them and the simple pleasure of sharing their company.
The weight of the day settled within her.The tiredness that suffused her limbs dragged at her, pulling her towards sleep.Before the murderer was apprehended, before law and order were restored to Harrogate, Michelle’s eyes closed, and sleep claimed her.
Chapter Eleven
Lavinia scrolled through the evidence Arran had sent, willing herself to focus on the list of names, locations, and brief background descriptions the witches had compiled.Over and over, her thoughts drifted back to last night.To how beautiful Michelle had looked, the soft glow drifting across her cheek as she slept.How her heartbeat had slowed, and how Lavinia’s had matched hers in response, beating in tandem.Lavinia had sat there motionless for three hours, drinking in every dreamy twitch, realising that if Michelle woke up to find Lavinia staring at her, she might have found this alarming, while simultaneously finding herself incapable of moving and risking waking her.
Michelle had needed, no,deservedthe rest.And Lavinia’s obvious interest in the human, well, that was a problem for the future.There was no harm in spending time with her.Lavinia couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat down and watched a television show.It had been years, probably.She was usually too busy, only taking the briefest of moments away from Sisterhood business on the holy days or when her Sisters forced her.She had never been drawn to flashy storytelling and melodramatic characters.But watching TV with Michelle, well, she found she actually enjoyed it.
The diffuse afternoon light filtering into the study had already shifted significantly since she had sat down.Time was slipping through her fingers like water.Lavinia had been comparing the locations where the warlock’s victims were found with those of the rogue vampire’s.A pattern was emerging.It wasn’t a perfect match, but three victims of the warlock had been killed close to where the rogue had drained a human.The demon’s attack on Michelle made a fourth connection.Too many to be a coincidence.
For some reason, the rogue and the warlock killed together—perhaps not always, but often.Try as she might, she had found no obvious links between the warlock’s victims and those of the rogue, except for their locations.Four times already, they had hunted as a pair.But why?Why did they kill one each?What was the point?Rogues usually didn’t need a motive, as they were consumed with an uncontrollable bloodlust and surrounded by humans who could slake their thirst.A rogue working together with a warlock…
She leaned back.Her fangs itched, an ache that only one thing could resolve.She had to feed, and soon.It had been too long, again.Some vampires revelled in their blood hunger, chasing the high of slaking their thirst.Lavinia had always found it a chore.Blood was sustenance, just like food was.It was unfortunate that pre-packaged blood didn’t really work.Not only did the preservatives ruin the taste, it only gave the barest of boosts, never fully sating the hunger.A donor was necessary.She’d have to let Mrs.Frost know to arrange one for her.
Unbidden, Michelle rose in her mind’s eye.The way her blood flowed through her veins; the little throb at the base of her neck.How satisfying it would be to sink her fangs into her soft skin, to taste her.To feel her sweet blood spurting into her mouth.
She swallowed, returning to Arran’s information.The warlock had killed five people—two of whom Lavinia hadn’t been able to conclusively match with the rogue’s prey.All of the warlock’s victims had been attacked by demons—all had their souls removed.This little bit of information was added in a footnote.
Lavinia didn’t know what she found more disturbing: that demons could remove souls, or that witches were somehow able to tell when they had.
The five victims spanned various demographics and didn’t have any obvious commonalities, besides the fact that they were all adults.For whatever reason, the warlock drew the line at killing minors.The youngest victim was nineteen, a student who was found inside his room in a shared house.None of the victims seemed to know each other; at least, there was no overlap in place of work or friend networks on social media.If the witches had an idea of how the warlock was choosing his victims, they hadn’t deigned to share.She’d have to ask the witches for more information.Was there a distance limit on a demon summoning?Would the warlock need to be within a couple of blocks away to target someone, or would they be able to send a demon across London?
