Crimson Midnight (A New Adult Dark Urban Fantasy Series) (The Crimson Series Book 1) (22 page)

“That’s the symbol to look for.”
Maxwell pushed open the door with one arm and stepped back to make room for
Rose to enter.  “I’ll be outside,” he said as she stepped in. 

She turned to ask him what she had
to do, what she had to say but the door was already closed.  She grasped the
handle and twisted but it refused to budge.

“Maxwell? Maxwell!” She peered
through the window and could see him standing outside with his back to the
shop.  She raised her hand to bang on the glass to get his attention when
something moved in the periphery of her vision. She spun round to see a
spherical object flying toward her face.  She reacted before she had a chance
to think and then stared in awe at the golf ball in her hand only inches away
from her face. Her legs felt suddenly rubbery. The tiny hard ball could have
smashed her face!

“Nice catch.” A stooped old man was
standing behind the counter next to the ancient-looking till.  His face was a
weathered map of lines, his hair in contrast a thick white mop. He smiled
toothily at her.

“What the hell do you think you’re
playing at? That was bloody dangerous!” She subjected him to her most punishing
glare.  She would have been more colourful in her language but the man was old,
so in respect to his age, and obvious lack of co-ordination - he had probably
meant for her to catch the ball with her hand not her face - she restrained
herself.

“Nice catch,” he said again. 

Rose stared at him.  There was
something odd about the man but she couldn’t quite place it. “I’m Rose,” she
said.

“I’ve been expecting you.”

Rose stepped closer, her eyes
scanning his face.  Something was wrong. “So you own this shop?”

“That’s correct.” 

He was watching her, really
watching her. She could see his eyes moving in little dart-like motions over
her face. As if he was cataloguing her every feature.

There was something wrong. “So you
know why I’m here?”

“Oh yes, my dear. That I certainly
do.”

That didn’t sound quite right, even
though it should have.  Rose’s eyes widened slightly as she realised what was
bothering her about the little man.  It was his voice. His voice didn’t match
his age.  If she closed her eyes and just listened to his voice, the picture in
her mind of the speaker would be a man at least three decades younger than the
one before her. 

She closed her eyes. “Say
something.”

“I’m sorry, dear? I don’t
understand.”

And there it was.  In her mind’s
eye she saw a man about six feet tall, dark hair threaded with silver,
startling blue eyes slightly crinkled at the corners, deep laughter lines
framing his wide, generous mouth. The voice belonged to this man. She felt it with
a certainty she couldn’t explain. 

She opened her eyes.

The old man took a step back, his
eyes widening slightly. His age spotted hand clutched the counter top as if for
support.

Rose blinked. He looked so blurry
and out of focus. She rubbed her eyes, turning away. Her gaze fell on a display
of silver cutlery, sharp and defined against the plush red velvet background
they had been set on.  She frowned, turning back to the man. She blinked
rapidly trying to clear her vision. Then back to the cutlery, which she could
see just fine.

“What…what are you doing?” He
sounded suddenly uncertain, afraid.

Rose shook her head then stared
directly at him. “I just…I can’t see you properly.” Her voice sounded as if it
was coming from somewhere far away.  “Why can’t I see you?  I want to see you.”

And then it happened, as if someone
had lifted a gauzy curtain from between them. He came suddenly into complete
focus.  Rose slapped her hand over her mouth in shock.  Six feet tall, dark
hair threaded with silver, startling blue eyes slightly crinkled at the
corners, deep laughter lines framing his wide, generous mouth. It was the man
she had envisioned.

It was a small consolation that the
man looked just as shocked as she felt.  He stared down at the backs of his
hands as if looking for the age spots that had decorated them only a few
moments ago. A moment passed then he looked up at her, his eyes alight with a
mixture of emotions, awe and excitement, and…fear?  She couldn’t be certain.

“You can see me?” His voice was a
whisper. “My God, you can actually see me…the real me…how...”

“You’re just how I imagined,” she
said softly.

“What?”

“I closed my eyes and I saw you and
then you were here.” Man, she was confused.

He bounded toward the window and
banged on it hard. “Maxwell!” he shouted. “Get in here!”

A moment later, Maxwell entered the
shop and started in surprise at the man standing before him. “What the fuck,
Mick? You know it’s against the agreement for you to be looking like…like
yourself.” He finished lamely.

Mick shook his head. “It wasn’t me,
she did it.” He jerked his head in Rose’s direction.

Rose held up her hands defensively.
“Wait a minute, I didn’t
do
anything.”

Maxwell looked questioningly at the
tall man.

Mick sighed, rubbing his head in
exasperation. “She reversed my glamour spell.” He said tightly.

“What?!”

“You heard me! So please don’t make
me say it again.”  Two spots of colour had appeared high on his cheeks.

Rose resisted the urge to stamp her
foot. “Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”

Maxwell turned away quickly locking
the door. “This is…I don’t know. How could she?” He rubbed his hand over his
mouth, staring wide-eyed at Mick.

“I don’t know.  It’s never happened
before.  It shouldn’t be happening now.” Mick began pacing the floor.

“How long before you can re-cast?”

“A day or so. I’ll have to close
the shop, or get someone to cover it. Shit!” He tugged at his hair.

Rose, who had been watching the two
men with barely restrained patience, felt the final thread snap. “That’s it! If
someone doesn’t start giving me some answers right now I swear I’m going to
have to go all ninja on your arses!”

Both men stopped and stared at
her. 

She arched an eyebrow.

Mick just looked confused. “What
are you?”

They had retired to the back office,
which proved to be nothing more than a dusty walk-in closet, housing a small
desk, a couple of chairs and a filing cabinet.

“Nice.” Rose didn’t even try to
disguise the sarcasm in her tone. Maxwell shot her a look, which she took to
mean shut up.  She shrugged.  “If you two don’t start talking, I’m walking. 
This is getting really annoying, not to mention weird. And I think I’ve about
reached my quota on both those emotions for the day.” She turned to Mick. “And
what’s with the old man façade anyway?  If I could change the way I looked,
looking older wouldn’t even make my list.”

“It’s one of the conditions of
Mick’s retirement and the running of this place.” Maxwell perched his bottom on
the edge of the desk.

“Go on,” Rose said.

It was Mick that spoke next. “When
you’re as powerful as me you can unwittingly make enemies…”

“Someone loves himself,” Rose
drawled. 

Maxwell exhaled in exasperation.
“For God’s sake, Rose. Let the man finish!”

She shrugged.

“Anyway, as I was saying.” Mick
stared pointedly at Rose. “Sometimes the only thing to do is hide, and what
better place to hide than in plain sight?”

“Except when your glamour spell
goes tits up,” Rose added.

“Well it shouldn’t have, it
couldn’t have-”

“It did.”

“It wouldn’t have if you hadn’t
broken it.”

“Oh please, don’t try and pin this
on me. It’s obvious that you didn’t do it right in the first place.”  She knew
she was goading him but anything was better than accepting the possibility that
she had been responsible for breaking such a spell.

“What? How dare you…you …” Mick
took a step toward her, his hands clenched at his sides then stopped abruptly.
His gaze went to her hands then back up to meet her eyes.  Just as quickly as
he had advanced, he retreated. He looked…scared.

“Rose…your hands.” Maxwell was breathing
hard, his gaze too fixated on her hands.

She glanced down and froze.  Her
hands were glowing softly, pulsating as if in time with her heartbeat.  “Shit.”
She shook them.  “Stop it. Go away.” She commanded.  And just like that the
glow was gone.

“Do you still believe you didn’t
break my spell?” Mick asked.

Rose was staring at her now normal
hands. She quickly clasped them together as if this would prevent an action
replay, and composed herself.  She wasn’t going to let them see how shaken she
was. “What am I?” She met Mick’s gaze, trying for the cool, calm and collected
thing, but was unable to completely mask the desperation in her eyes.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.
But whatever you are, you’re powerful. You broke my glamour without an incantation
and believe me that should not have happened.  Did I mention I’m the most
powerful warlock in Europe?”

Maxwell stepped in. “Mick used to
be the head of the warlock community in Europe, the warlock representative on
the now defunct European Council.  He decided to step down and the Council was
completely reorganised.  Now there is a head of each community in every major
city in Europe – Paris, Berlin, Madrid, Rome etc. London is the head council,
like the base to all the other councils throughout the world, the highest,
biggest and most important of them all…” he paused before continuing. “Bob is
head warlock on the London Council, and originally on the old European Council.
Bob was originally residing in Amsterdam, but moved to England to take over as head warlock when it was all reorganised.”

Rose took this all in then
addressed Mick. “That’s all very well, but why did you step down.”

“My power increased, people
noticed, said people got scared. I guess there was some rivalry, some jealousy
and some concern that I was becoming a threat to order.”

“Were you?”

“No!  My power has always been
somewhat of a curse to me. If I could give it up and lead a normal life I would
do so in heart beat.”

Rose could relate to that. “So you
quit.”

“I petitioned the London Council to
allow me to resign into a semblance of anonymity.  They agreed on the condition
that I remain under a permanent glamour spell. No one is to gauge my true
identity, and in return I get to run the London Registration Office.”

Rose absorbed all this. “Okay, I
get all that. But why the old man disguise? You could have made yourself
younger, handsomer, a woman…why ancient?”

Mick chuckled. “It is only the
truly old that have complete anonymity.  The world seems to pass them by
without a second thought, their faces a blur.”

Rose nodded, conceding his point. 
It was true, how many elderly people had she passed today and not given a
second glance?  Could she even recall one face?  The answer was none and no. 

There was silence as they all
pondered this thought.  Maxwell was the first to break it.  “Well, I guess I’ll
need to contact Bob to arrange someone to look after the shop.  Can you take
Rose’s details and blood sample while I do that? And while you’re off, you can
do a little research, find out just what our friend over here is.”

Mick’s face broke into a wide
smile, his eyes twinkling. “With pleasure, it’s been a while since I’ve had a
challenge.”

28.

 A LOVE LIKE THEIRS’ (PART ONE)

It was early Friday afternoon, the
second Friday of October, and Thistle awoke from her daily slumber with a start
as a loud crash from the flat above shook the ceiling, causing the dangly
crystals on her bedroom light to clang together.  Someone must have dropped a
safe or something to cause such an unwelcome ruckus.

“Argh!” Thistle threw off her pink
silk sheets. “This is a vampire colony, and it’s the middle of the day!” She
cursed as she hastily covered her naked body with a purple silk dressing gown.

She made her way along the corridor
outside her flat and headed for the stairway leading to the floor above, intent
on giving the perpetrator a piece of her mind. All of the black-out blinds were
drawn across the hallway windows, a very dim light illuminated her surroundings
allowing her to see what she needed to, her vampire vision doing the rest.

Her next door neighbour’s door
opened. A bleary-eyed male vampire stepped out, clad in a pair of black silk
pyjama bottoms with his chest bare and his long ash-blonde hair in
sleep-induced disarray. “What was that noise?”

“I’m going to investigate,” Thistle
said grimly. “Don’t you worry, Anthony, I’ll make sure the noise is kept low.
Go back to sleep, return to Jared. You have a big night ahead of you.” She
moved closer to him and kissed him on the cheek, holding her annoyance with the
noisy tenant in check long enough to soothe her friend.

“Thank you, darling Thistle.”
Anthony kissed her cheek in return. “Until tonight.”

“Until tonight.” Thistle bowed her
head.

Anthony closed his door and Thistle
continued on her mission, resisting the urge to thump up the stairs.  Lack of
sleep always put her in a foul mood.

In the fifth floor hallway, two
more vampires were out of their flats– confused and tired, wondering what on
Earth had disturbed their daily rest. Thistle reassured them, just as she had
done with Anthony, and they returned to their rooms.

Flat 58 was the one she wanted and
she knocked gently on the door, only out of respect for the neighbours. If she
knew it wouldn’t wake everyone up, Thistle would’ve banged the hell out of the
door and possibly kicked it off its hinges.

The door opened almost immediately,
artificial light spilling out into the hallway.

The male vampire regarded her with
surprise, his expression quickly turning contrite after noting her obvious
annoyance. “I woke you didn’t I?” he said in a strong New York accent.

It was Gabriel. She had seen him
once since the incident on the roof and she’d had to avoid him.  His perfect
little smug smile made her hand itch to slap it.  Avoidance seemed the best
option.  She knew he was soon to be head of the colony and was owed some
respect, but she was unable to mask the irritation in her voice. “It’s the
middle of the day. What did you expect, a welcome party?”

Gabriel winced. “I’m sorry.”

“Just keep it down okay?” Thistle
turned to leave

“While you’re here, I want to talk
to you about something.”

Sighing, she turned slowly to face
him and enunciated carefully. “It’s the middle of the day.”

Gabriel shuffled uncomfortably
before he spoke. “I want us to be friends.”

“Huh?”

“We can be friends. Management is
much easier if a level of comradeship is nurtured among the little people.”

Thistle kept her features
deliberately blank. “Little people?”

“The vampires not of a senior level
like Jeremiah and myself, those not integral to the running of the community.”
He explained. 

Thistle didn’t much like his
patronising tone.  She took a step toward the door.  “You want to build a sense
of comradeship among the vampires in this colony?”

“Of course, it is one of my main
objectives.” He smiled smugly.

“Well here’s a tip, stop calling us
little people, it’s patronising and derogatory. And it’s the ‘little people’
that are essential to the running of this community.  We’re the ones who bring
home the bacon that pays for all this.” She waved her arm in an arc to indicate
their surroundings.

Gabriel looked momentarily thrown,
his smug smile falling completely off his face. But he was quick to regain his
composure.  “Of course, I will bear that in mind. I meant no offence. I merely
wish to get to know my people better, to be a better leader, to keep them
safe…”

Thistle rolled her eyes. “You’d get
further in this community if you just relaxed a little and spoke to us as equals
rather than your minions or something.”

“But-”

“And don’t think I’ve forgotten you
tried to have me staked, that’s not exactly a great way to make friends.” She
added. 

He frowned, looking confused. “It
is my duty to mete out punishment by the ancient laws that govern us as a
race.”

Thistle yawned. “Gabriel, this is
the 21
^st
century. If you want to be useful you could revise some of
those ancient laws to bring them up to date. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going
back to bed.” She turned and walked away, leaving him gaping like a fish.

The last thing she heard as she
descended the stairs back to her floor was a door being slammed hard.

So he wasn’t as cool and collected
as he wanted her to believe.

The sun was setting on what had
been a sunny, if not chilly, October day. The sky had been clear and cloudless,
nothing but stretches of untainted blue. Not that the vampires of London had seen it. Clear blue skies and sunny days were not their thing. They preferred
blue skies of a different kind, the kind that were inky blue, black and blue.
And they enjoyed a full moon rather than the sun, finding enrichment bathing in
the silver rays the moon goddess, Diana, blessed them with. For the moon gave
them their strength, gave them the night in which they could venture out of the
compound and into the world. And in the moonlight they were strong, strong like
Diana.

Once the sunset had finished
casting the pinks and oranges across the sky and daytime hung up its boots and
passed the mantle to the night, the vampires would see a full glorious moon.

The moon being at its fullest was
cause for celebration. The moon that was coming tonight was cause for an even
greater celebration. Tonight was the night of the Harvest Moon.

Thistle was awake again, but this
time it was a natural awakening rather than a sudden one. She felt good,
refreshed and ready. Soon the announcements would come for the blinds to be
lifted. But before the ceremony she would need blood, they all would.

She got out of bed and decided to
take a hot bath. Thistle picked out some of her favourite bath oils and poured
them in to the running water, inhaling the heady scent of perfume.

She sang under her breath as she
selected and poured in further oils, “Pink and purple and gold and red and blue
and pearl and green.” When her mixture was complete, and the water was right,
she turned off the taps and slipped in.

An hour passed, in which she
dressed in a stunning pink dress that showed an inviting amount of cleavage and
leg.  She styled and spiked her hair and lined her eyes in dark kohl, licking
her rosy lips to make them shine. Finally, happy with her appearance, she
listened for the announcement to lift the blinds.  It followed shortly and she
welcomed the rays of the moon into her flat.

“What a beautiful night,” she
crooned dreamily, opening the window in her living room to let in a cool
breeze. She leaned out of it. “Look at you.” She pointed up to the stars
decorating the night sky, all vibrant and twinkling with no clouds to blot them
out. “So lovely, so lovely,” she sang. “And oh. Oh, oh, oh. Look at you!” She
raised her hands to the sky. “Look at your beauty. Oh, Diana, you truly are a
wonder to behold.” She retreated from the window and danced, twirled and sang
as the moon shone down on the world, a bright beacon in the flawless night sky.

Excitement bubbled within her,
anticipation of the night and week ahead. But there was also sadness– Sienna
would be singing her song tonight for Anthony and Jared. It still hurt that she
couldn’t give the gift of song to her beautiful friends on their special night.
Yet at the same time, she wouldn’t allow herself to wallow in self-pity.  The
song would be sung, her gift delivered, even if not from her own vocal cords,
and the night was beautiful, a night for love.

There was a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” she called.

“It’s Anthony.”

Thistle opened the door and greeted
him with a kiss. “Have you looked outside?”

“Isn’t it amazing?” Anthony said. 
He was tall and dressed elegantly in a gorgeous silver suit. His blonde hair
sat in perfect waves on his shoulders. His eyes were a vibrant and luscious
shade of blue– a symbol of the night and blood bringing him renewed energy.
Thistle’s purple irises were also deep, full, and rich.

A voice called from the hallway.
“Praise Diana!”

Another male vampire came into the
room. His hair was chocolate brown and he also wore a silver suit– a slightly
different design to Anthony’s. His eyes were glowing like two pearls in his
handsome, chiselled face.

Anthony turned to him, kissing him
passionately on the lips. The kiss ended. “Jared, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jared said.

Anthony and Jared walked to the
window hand in hand to look at the sky. “Look at Diana’s splendour.” Anthony’s
tone was reverent.’

“She has blessed us this evening.”
Jared stepped closer to Anthony.

Anthony pulled him close. “And we
will celebrate our love under her loving light.”

Jared looked at him with wide and
adoring eyes. “Tonight we will wed under the full moon. Tonight Diana will
bless our love and I will be yours forever.”

They kissed again and Thistle
busied herself by rummaging in her wardrobe for her wrap.  Their love was
blinding to behold, and although she was deeply happy for them, she couldn’t
help but feel a twinge of envy at what they had found.  Would she ever feel the
way they did about anyone?  It was a thought that had plagued her often, but
one she usually buried in the deep recesses of her mind. Tonight would be
harder. She would have to be stronger and believe that one day her time would
come.  She returned to her friends who smiled warmly at her.

“Thank you for writing us a song.”
Jared’s eyes were full of gratitude.

She started in surprise. “You
know?” She had thought that Sienna may have claimed the credit.

“Yes.” Jared nodded. “We know
everything that happened.”

Anthony placed a hand on her
shoulder. “And it doesn’t matter that Sienna is singing it. They are your words
and we love you for giving them to us.”

Thistle embraced them, burying her
face in Anthony’s shoulder to hide the tears that had sprung to her eyes.

“I love you both,” she said in a
choked whisper.

“We love you.” Jared squeezed her
tight.

“Very much,” said Anthony. “Now we
must have some more blood before we all set out for Richmond.”

“Are you nervous?” Thistle asked
breaking away to regard them with open curiosity.  It wasn’t often that
vampires married. Many simply lived as lovers.  A marriage was a sacred thing.

“A little.” Anthony admitted. “But
happy, and it’s an honour to have the ceremony on a Harvest Moon.”

“An honour and a blessing,” Jared
said, taking his fiancé’s hand. “Come, let’s get some blood.”

As they walked away Anthony called
out, “See you soon, Thistle.”

Emily, a flaxen-haired beauty
stepped into the flat. “They’re such a lovely couple.”

Thistle nodded.  “One day I’d like
to find a love like theirs’.”

“What about the werewolf?”

Thistle sighed. “I love Roman, but
it can never be a love like Anthony and Jared’s, or even Phillip and
Cassandra’s.”

“I have never seen them.” Emily
frowned

“Really?”

Thistle explained that Phillip and
Cassandra were an old vampire couple who lived on the top floor of the
building. “They are both so close to fade out now. But their love is so strong
that they will fade together. Neither one of them would leave one behind. They have
been married for 500 years in blissful happiness. You will see them at the
ceremony and they will be talking at the wedding too, to add their well wishes
to Diana’s blessings. Their love is a symbol of hope to lovers like Anthony and
Jared.”

Emily smiled at the sentiment. “And
that’s not going to be with the werewolf?”

“I love Roman as a friend. Our
relationship is more of sexual gratification and companionship.” Seeing the
look of scepticism on Emily’s face she decided to elaborate. “We care about one
another and we love each other. But I’m not in love with him and he’s not in
love with me.”  She smiled wickedly. “And we both have other partners too– it’s
a very open arrangement.”

“You lucky thing, I’m so jealous.
Now if only I could get some of that action.  The vampire males around here are
either all taken, gay or way too old. Maybe I need to trawl interspecies. Has
Roman got any friends?”

Thistle chuckled. “None that are
available. You should try Mystique, though– very hot in there, plus loads of foreign
fang.”

“Thanks, I might just do that.”

Jeremiah interrupted them. “Good
evening, Thistle.” The head of the vampires entered her flat and embraced her,
planting a fatherly kiss on her cheek.  He turned to Emily. “Good evening,
Emily.” He kissed her cheek too. “What a moon!”

“It’s certainly beautiful.”

Emily excused herself, leaving
Jeremiah and Thistle alone.

“And not long now before the
Samhain,” Thistle said.

“Ah yes, the Midnight Sunset. What
a celebration we will have that night!” He smoothed down his royal blue robes
and regarded her from under his brow for a moment before speaking further.
“Gabriel is a little old fashioned for one so young, but he means well. Try
and, how do you say it? Cut him some slack.”