Fratricide, Werewolf Wars, and the Many Lies of Andrea Paddington

  Chapter Seven: Sweet Seduction

  Joel’s first instinct after seeing that vampires were real was to find some glue and attach himself to the Team, but when he heard that they planned to camp out the front of the castle he thought he might be safer away from them. He therefore spent the day on the paperwork he’d been putting off and did so in the busy, open-plan police station where multiple witnesses could see him at all times.

  The sun had set before his work day ended. Would the vampires be waiting for him? Did they plan retribution? Was there a room in the castle full of torture equipment waiting for him? Or would they just bite him, as they had those girls who were now in the hospital? Turn him into one of them?

  Joel reminded himself that he was perfectly safe: the Team had assured him they would call him if there was movement. No news was good news.

  That didn’t stop Joel driving straight to the supermarket to pick up a few supplies before going home to the second-storey apartment where no one was waiting for him. For the first time in memory, he was glad for that: no girlfriend to endanger.

  Not that he was in danger. No, perfectly safe. But on the off-chance that the vampires did come for revenge, he strung cloves of garlic along the inside of his door, around his window, and around his bed. That should keep him safe until the Team’s expert arrived.

  That done, he sat on the bed with the biggest knife he had and whittled the end of his broom’s handle to a point, which was as close to a stake as he could manage. Weapon beside him, he started researching vampires on his tablet computer. This was interrupted minutes later when the apartment went dark and his internet disconnected. The only light now came from the tablet’s screen, which he tried holding in front of him like a lamp while struggling with the stake in his other hand.

  There were shapes at the window, beckoning, long robes draping shadows on his plain curtains. Joel approached slowly, careful of any tricks. Was his garlic working? Was that what was stopping them on the balcony?

  “Who’s there?” he asked. He wasn’t sure why. Was there really a good answer to that question, when asked in a dark room at night?

  “Let us in,” said a silky feminine voice.

  Of course. They needed him to invite them in. He wasn’t going to fall for that. And he wasn’t taking down the garlic, either.

  “Uh, no,” Joel said. “You can stay out there. I bet it’s cold out there. Do you feel the cold?” He couldn’t help asking; how often did you talk to a vampire?

  “Of course we do.” She sounded hurt.

  The door handle began to turn. Joel had locked it – he was sure he had – but now it swung free and the bay doors opened. Three vampires dressed in flowing pastel gowns stood on the small landing. Each looked between sixteen and twenty, but they could be hundreds of years old. Thousands.

  They spotted the garlic. “Is this for us?” asked the middle woman. She had pearly skin and blonde, almost white, hair. All three had rounded faces, large eyes that seemed to draw him in, and bosoms that defied their dresses’ attempts to constrain them.

  They ducked under the cloves of garlic and entered his house.

  So much for garlic. Or needing to be invited in.

  “It stinks,” said the vampire with hair so dark the storm clouds seemed bright behind her. She tore the garlic from around the window and threw it off the second-storey balcony. How had they got up there? Had they flown? Scrambled up the side of the building? Probably flown; it wouldn’t be very dignified to scamper in an evening gown.

  Raven-hair sniffed. “Ugh. There’s still more.”

  “On the bed,” said blondie.

  “Did you worry we would steal your innocence?” asked the one who hadn’t yet spoken. She glided toward him, and Joel felt it was terribly important to attack while he still had the willpower to try. Hopefully he could take out one vampire before the others tore him to shreds and fed on his blood.

  Yet strangely, when Joel thrust the stake forward, he discovered he was no longer holding it. The fair-haired vampire held up the broom for him to see before tossing it into the corner of the room. She’d disarmed him during the attack; he hadn’t even noticed.

  How quick were they?

  A cluster of garlic flew past Joel’s head and out the window. “How much did you buy?” asked the dark-haired vampire over by the bed.

  Right. Think. They’d penetrated his defences, taken his only weapon, but he still had… his wits? His tablet? He could use that to… to bludgeon one of them. Not that that would kill the undead.

  “Do your worst, then,” he said. It was the best he could come up with. Bravado in the face of death. Had to stop being a coward sometime. No time like the present. No time in his future, probably, so it was now or never.

  “To what end?” asked the blonde.

  What? Weren’t they supposed to be draining his blood for interfering with their diabolical designs? Or to preserve their eternal youth?

  “We came to offer you a gift,” whispered the blonde. Her breath was hot. So was her body; Joel could feel it brushing against him. Where was the icy, corpsish pallor? Their skin was white, yes, but smooth and pure. She ran a hand along his jaw; it was dry and warm.

  “I sense strings attached,” Joel said. “What do you want in return?”

  “Your help.” The words were spoken softly, drawn out to draw attention to her lips.

  Talking seemed to be delaying his death, so Joel kept the questions coming. “Help with what?”

  “Finished!” said the dark-haired vampire as the last clove of garlic disappeared out the window. She reclined on the bed. “We can start now.”

  Start? What did she mean ‘start’? Start on him? On the bed? Were they going to drain him right here? Now?

  The brunette had joined the raven-haired vampire on the bed and was watching with interest.

  “Start what?” Joel asked.

  “Start helping you be more than you are,” said the blonde. As she made her way to the bed, Joel found his eyes following her backside. He didn’t mean to; he just couldn’t stop himself. It was a good backside. When she spun to sit, he looked up in surprise and she held his gaze with invitation, not outrage.

  “What do you want exactly?” Joel asked.

  “Just information. Those soldiers will bring someone here soon. We want to know what he does.”

  “And what do I get, for betraying the people I brought here to kill you?”

  “You get us,” said the young raven-haired vampire.

  “All of us,” said the brunette.

  “Forever,” said the blonde.