Page 23 of The Rising Dark
“Didn’t seem like my conversation to have,” Quintia said briskly.“If the human wants to gamble with her life just because she can’t bear to be parted from you, who am I to stop her?”Upon hearing those words, Michelle frowned at Quintia, but the short-haired vampire didn’t take any notice.
Lavinia only grunted in response.Michelle tried to read her mood.What was going through her mind right now?She wished they could talk more, in private.It felt like there was something left unsaid between them, causing them to stay in a holding pattern until it could be resolved.But with Quintia here, that would have to wait.
* * *
The animal rescue’s main building sat on a small fenced-in grassy plot in North London.It was a pretty cheerless place—all twentieth-century concrete, function over form.An apologetically small sign on the fence read “Finchley Animal Rescue” over the silhouette of a leaping dog, the same logo Michelle had seen on the victim’s sweatshirt.
It had been difficult to suppress the horror within her when she saw what the demons could do.They’d torn the man apart, rended his flesh.She’d seen plenty of bad injuries, some of them fatal, in the emergency department.Like many nurses, she’d learned to keep her mind on the task, rather than getting caught up in the display of suffering.Still, the photos had been the stuff of nightmares.Lavinia hadn’t been wrong to want to protect her from that.
Hopefully, the visit to the rescue wouldn’t be eventful.Quintia had told Michelle on the way there with a certain amount of glee that demons only roamed after nightfall, so the tenebris wouldn’t be able to make an appearance.But then again, who knew what else a warlock could conjure up?As it stood, Michelle was very glad she had two vampires flanking her.
Quintia’s levity had dissipated as they’d reached their destination.Both vampire women effortlessly slid into what Michelle thought of as their warrior mindset.It was easy to forget within the comforts of their own home that they were predators, but out here… Gone was Quintia’s smirk, replaced with a coiled watchfulness.Gone was the softness in Lavinia.She looked more like she’d done on the night they’d first met: imposing, intractable.They wore no visible weapons, but Michelle was sure they carried some.Not that they even needed them, particularly.They were stronger and faster than any human she’d ever met.
And here she was, at her own insistence, to play detective trying to find her would-be murderer.This was all a terrible idea, but there was no going back now.Michelle squared her shoulders and pushed open the door into the rescue.
A lone receptionist sat behind a wood-panelled desk.The bright fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as Michelle approached her.From the corner of her eyes, she saw Quintia wandering towards the couple of shelving units filled with dog toys and rabbit food.Trying to steady her nerves, Michelle greeted the receptionist, an elderly woman in a dark green jumper, her peppered grey hair pulled back into a full ponytail.
“I’m here to have a look at your dogs,” Michelle said, putting her sweaty hands into the pockets of her coat to hide their shaking.Mrs.Frost had done an excellent job at washing out Lavinia’s blood.She pushed that thought from her mind, feeling like the blood would somehow still stand out against the fabric for the receptionist to see.“We’re hoping to adopt one.”
Lavinia and Quintia had given her a quick rundown of how to approach their visit.Don’t come out of the gate asking questions.Pretend to be a customer, draw the target into conversation.Most people would spill whatever information they had with minimal encouragement—but seem too eager, and you’ll arouse suspicion and they’ll clam up.It had all sounded very easy while they were in the car, but now Michelle suddenly felt as if she’d never spoken to another human being in her entire life.They must look ridiculously suspicious: three women, co-adopting a single dog?Michelle stood out like a sore thumb between Lavinia and Quintia—they were tall, muscular, and had an effortless grace.They looked like they should star in movies or rule an ancient kingdom, not walk around modern-day London.Meanwhile, she bumbled beside them, just as plain and ordinary as she’d ever been.
“Of course,” the old woman said, squinting over the computer screen.“I can take you over to the kennel in a moment.Are you ladies a couple?”
“No, just housemates,” Michelle said, a blush creeping in.It was the excuse they’d devised en route.It was true, in a way, which Quintia insisted was the best kind of lie.
“Hmmm,” the lady hummed, laboriously moving the mouse for a minute while she completed some arcane forms on the computer.“Have you adopted with us before?”
“Not yet,” Lavinia said.Superficially she looked relaxed, but Michelle could tell from the way she held herself that she was ready to jump into action at the drop of a hat.Behind them, a lock quietly clicked back into place.The woman didn’t look up.Quintia had used the distraction of their conversation to slide through a door bearing a no-access sign.Michelle would be terrified of running into any of the rescue staff members, but vampires probably had their ways of going about undetected.They probably heard people coming from a mile away with their superior senses.
Meanwhile, Lavinia coaxed the receptionist, Nasim, into talking about her own pet.She leaned across the counter, swiping through dozens of nearly identical photos of a brown poodle.
“This is Bitsy,” she said, showing another picture of said Bitsy lying on the sofa, head resting on her paws.“She’s such a dear.Here she is chasing her ball.She does so love her ball.”More Bitsy followed, and Lavinia and Michelle oohed and aahed wherever seemed appropriate.
After another three rounds or so of anecdotes about the minutiae of Bitsy’s likes (sleeping, watching the birds) and dislikes (vacuum cleaner, the postman), Nasim finally remembered herself.“But let’s get you two your own sweetheart.We are quite full at the moment, so there is a lot of choice.”
Michelle and Lavinia followed Nasim as she came around the counter and led them outside and into the single-storey back building that housed the dogs.
“My father actually used to work here,” Michelle said, trying to sound casual.
“Did he, dear?What was his name?Perhaps I know him.”
“It was a long time ago.Twenty-eight years.His name was Paul Warbrick.”
Nasim stood still for a moment, collecting her thoughts.Then she narrowed her eyes, studying Michelle.“I remember Paul.You look a little bit like him.Such a shame what happened to him.I always told him, ‘Paul, that motorcycle will be the death of you.’And then, well.”She pursed her lips.“You must have been awfully young.”
“I wasn’t born yet when he passed away.”
“You poor sweetheart.Such a shame.He was a lovely man.Wonderful with the dogs, just wonderful.There wasn’t a dog he couldn’t calm down.Seemed like magic, sometimes, the way he spoke to them.It was like the dogslistened.But that’s silly, isn’t it.”Nasim chuckled to herself.“I didn’t know he had a special someone in his life.Seemed more like the carefree type.He was kind, though.Always helpful.Not too good to get his hands dirty.It can be hard work at the rescue—it’s a charity you see, and there is never quite enough money for everything.But we make it work.Here we are.”
They’d come to a stop at the top of a long corridor, partitioned into individual gated rooms for the dogs.Several of them had started barking once they had come into earshot—another howled a plaintive note.It was a horrible cacophony, worsened by the relentless concrete of the building.Nasim led them around, showing off several dogs.Michelle petted a gentle Labrador, tried to coax a shivering bulldog from the corner of its kennel, and was scratched accidentally by an over-eager mutt with a shaggy black coat.
“We’re just here today to have a look,” Lavinia said while Michelle kneeled at the fence of an older dog, a one-eyed German Shepherd.The sign beside the fence said “Dora”.“Can we come back sometime next week, when we’ve had some time to think?”
“Of course,” Nasim said.“Always best to be sure.You may want to ring ahead though—you’re lucky I was in today.We’re currently understaffed.”
“Oh?”Lavinia said.Michelle envied the ease with which she said it.
“Horrible business, really.John, who used to work here.He was…murdered.”The last word was a whisper.“It’s been a horrible shock to all of us.”
