Serafina and the Silent Vampire (7 page)

It must have been the shock of life departing that had suddenly alerted her, but by the time she’d bolted downstairs, Mattie was dead, and all the tears, pleading, and hugging in the world couldn’t bring her back. They’d told her it had been sudden, that there was nothing Sera could have done to save her, even if she’d been in the same room. Sera didn’t believe them, because the dead Mattie wouldn’t talk to her. It felt like Mattie blamed her, and from that she began to understand her mother’s silence too.

From a very young age, as soon as she’d understood that the unseen people she’d always “talked” to were spirits of the dead, she’d tried to reach her mother, but her mother never spoke either. And now Sera suspected why. Somehow, she’d been responsible for her mother’s death too.

And for George’s, because even before Mattie’s funeral, social services had come and taken her away again. As a widower, George was no longer a suitable foster parent. Despite all their talk, they wouldn’t allow Mattie and George to have been her real family after all. Reasoning, appeals to their compassion on her own or on George’s behalf, tantrums, rages, pleas, all fell on deaf ears.

At least, they’d let her go to the funeral. Foolishly, she’d imagined that they’d see the pale light of pleasure in George’s grief-stricken eyes when she stood beside him, perceive the strength they gave each other, and finally understand. But they didn’t. They couldn’t get that the only way she and George could survive this tragedy was together. Her instinct had been to cling to George, but she didn’t think he could bear the scene of her being pried off him and dragged away, and so she’d gone quietly.

It wasn’t the end, of course. Escaping the new, apparently more suitable foster parents—a mean-spirited, ignorant couple who had their own kids and regarded fostering as a means of getting easy money—she’d gone to see George whenever she could. She’d tried running away to him, but they’d always found her. They’d always known where she’d be, and yet even that told them nothing. Maybe it was stupid, but she’d always had this idea in her head that if she’d been there, if George could have leaned on her, he wouldn’t have died.

But he did. And she didn’t even try to reach him. She couldn’t bear the guilt of his rejection too.

Gasping, she shook her hair, throwing off the past with the spray. She could change nothing there, but she
could
still keep her word and do her best for Ferdy. She was aware many people, including PC Alex McGowan, would find this rigid point of honor somewhat incongruous in a con artist of her magnitude, but that was tough. Sera had stopped apologizing for who and what she was a long time ago.

Lifting her face into the water, she wished, briefly, for a normal life. A real job. A husband, and maybe even children one day when she’d grown up herself. Illusions. These things weren’t for her, and most of the time, she didn’t really want them. Except when she was lonely, late at night, usually, or when she was wakeful in the early hours of the morning, wishing for a companion to cuddle, to talk sleepily with and laugh with. Someone to share her morning coffee and indulge her passions a little. She laughed at herself, letting the water run into her mouth. Sera and happy families? Not bloody likely.

A man. She just wanted a man to hold and caress her, make her feel special for a night. And give her orgasms, of course. Sera’s body heated under the shower, from the inside out. In the words of an Irish friend, what she needed was a damn good feck.

Unbidden, the image of Blair swam into her mind, his eyes intense as he touched her throat with his long, sensitive fingers. Blair in his kilt, biting Tam with sensual relish. Blair flying through the air in that car park, oddly graceful, even beautiful, as he leapt and hit and bit… The heated tingling of her body drove straight between her legs, making her gasp. Her nipples felt hard and wanton under the caress of the shower. Oh yes, Blair was one sexy bastard. For a blood-sucking monster.

She slammed off the shower and stepped out, seizing the towel with unnecessary force. Blair was another reason to ditch this investigation.

But already, she knew she wouldn’t. And knew too that Blair was her only asset. She’d go and see him again tonight, after the Seelies, discover if he could shed any light on her visions of Jason and the female vampire. And if vampirism could be reversed.

****

It was difficult to go straight from Moira Gordon’s ghostly child to putting on a show for the Seelies. For a moment, Sera was tempted to tell the brothers just to fuck off and get a life. But the money was good, so she channeled her anger into creativity.

They were waiting for her when she arrived at the office—two large young men with decent jobs who’d just inherited and sold their late father’s plumbing business for a sizable fortune—seated in the waiting area, laughing at their private joke, although they sobered immediately they saw her.

Elspeth was scowling, her fingers walloping the computer keys with such force that they were likely to break if she didn’t calm down.

“Evening,” Sera said pleasantly. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“You’re all right,” Derek Seelie, the elder brother, said. “We were early.”

Sera cast Elspeth a quick glance of apology. “Go through to the office,” she invited her clients. “I’ll just wash my hands and be with you.”

The brothers exchanged surreptitious glances at that. Clearly, they hadn’t expected to be allowed to poke about the séance room in advance. Nevertheless, a whisper, a snort, and a quickly muffled laugh accompanied them into the inner room.

Sera wiggled her eyebrows ruefully at Elspeth. “Sorry. Everything okay?”

Tight-lipped, Elspeth said, “They think because I’m old, I’m deaf, and they can discuss anything they like in front of me—however unsuitable.”

Sera mouthed the word
arseholes
. She was aware they’d be recording everything that went on but had no idea of the range of whatever device they were using.

An exchange of looks told her that Jilly and Jack were already in place, so Sera merely winked, went to the bathroom, where she completed her preparations for the séance, and walked through to the inner office.

The Seelies had left the door ajar, presumably to hear any conversation between Sera and her confederates, but it was far enough over to conceal their own activity in the room. Although they were lounging at the round table when Sera entered, she was sure they’d already examined the walls and the floor, tested the locked door that led into her flat, felt under the table, and looked behind the curtains and the picture on the wall. She didn’t mind. There was nothing for them to find.

They smiled at her as she crossed the room, their eyes as blatantly mocking as they could be without being openly rude. Now it was to begin, she saw that their gloves were off. With relish, Sera rolled up her metaphorical sleeves for the fight.

She sat between the brothers, who’d thoughtfully left that chair vacant. She had no objection to being directed there. After all, each place was visible through the keyhole of the flat door.

“Okay,” Sera began briskly. “Before we start, it’s important that you’re comfortable with arrangements here. Do you prefer the door to the main office to be locked or unlocked?”

“What difference does it make?” Derek Seelie asked, and his brother sniggered.

“To me, none,” Sera replied calmly. “But some of my first-time clients prefer to be sure there’s no interference from beyond this room. My receptionist will remain in the outer office until we’re finished here. If you’re uncomfortable with that, we can lock her out.”

“Sure,” said Derek. “Lock her out.”

“The key’s in the lock,” Sera pointed out. “Turn it yourself until you’re satisfied.”

As Frankie, the younger brother, rose to do the honors, Derek said, “Aren’t you bothered about locking yourself in here with two strange men?”

“Should I be?” Sera let amusement fill her voice. “When I have all their details and their cleared credit card payment?”

Derek’s gaze slid free. He nodded at the other door to her flat. “What’s through there?”

“Private property. It’s locked. Feel free to check again. No? All right, let’s begin. Before we put out the lights, I’d like you each to begin to make the connection by naming the spirit you want us to contact tonight.”

Both brothers looked at her intently. Derek smiled. “Edward Seelie.”

She’d been right. Just in case, she and Jilly had done their research on the entire family, but Sera had known when the brothers first approached her with the story of their father passing away that they were lying. Their father’s name was James. Edward had been their stillborn brother, dead a year before either of them was born. While it probably didn’t seem right even to them to get a cheap laugh at the expense of their recently dead father, they could have little real grief for a brother they’d never known. They were just smart-arsed wankers with too much money in their pockets who thought it would be a laugh to debunk the ridiculous female psychic.

Sera was way ahead of them. Or at least, she hoped she was.

She made no comment, merely inclined her head. “Do you have something of Edward’s that I can touch to boost the connection?”

Derek gave a deliberate, taunting smile. “No.”

Sera merely nodded. “Okay. It makes it easier sometimes, but it isn’t necessary. Do you wish to tell me more about Edward?”

“Nah. You tell us,” said Frankie, lounging back into his chair. “It’s what we’re paying you for.”

“Very well,” Sera said evenly. “I’m going to put the lights out now—not, as some people believe, in order to encourage the spirits, but rather to aid my concentration and yours. At the moment, you are my only connection to the spirit we seek. And I am your only conduit. We all need to focus on the late Edward Seelie.”

She rose as she spoke, switched the pale light off, and resumed her seat between the brothers in total darkness. “Close your eyes if you want, but keep your thoughts on Edward.”

“Aren’t we meant to hold hands?” Frankie sneered.

Your funeral.
“If you wish.”

They’d been reading up. If they each held her hand, she had less opportunity for manipulating events. And since her hands were so much smaller than theirs, she couldn’t even fool them by getting them to hold each other’s hands instead. Fortunately, she didn’t need to.

She didn’t care for touching them. Physically, they gave her the creeps. On the other hand, she’d pick up their emotions—and their lies—so much more easily. She gave a hand to each and, after a few moments of silence, uttered, “Edward. Edward Seelie, we seek your spirit. Derek and Frankie need to reach you. Come to us; speak with us. I am willing to receive your spirit.”

In the ensuing silence, Sera felt a sweaty finger stroking her palm. She made allowances for possible nervousness, but when it happened again, she said clearly, “If you do that again, Frankie, I’ll break your arm.”

Derek sniggered. Of course, they doubted her ability to break his arm—wrongly, as it happened—but having paid up already, they certainly weren’t willing for her to end the séance at this point. Especially since it would be on tape.

“Was that our Edward talking?” Derek sneered.

“Oh no. That was me. Trust me, you’d know the difference. Shall we continue?”

Since no one said anything to that but sat perfectly still, she repeated her invitation to Edward to join them. After a few moments, she increased the speed of her breathing, let a little more excitement and pleading into her voice as she begged for Edward’s presence.

So quietly that no one could have been sure they were hearing anything at all, a faint tinkle of music passed through the room. The brothers’ fingers tensed. They knew something was happening and were preparing to expose it.

“Speak,” Sera breathed.

The music got a little louder as Jack, with Sera’s stereo speaker facedown in her living room above, kindly turned up the volume a notch. It was recognizable now as children’s toy music, the kind you got on cot mobiles or musical spinning tops.

“Fuck,” Frankie breathed. They were taken by surprise. They’d assumed she’d make the obvious mistake and pretend to summon the spirit of their father.

“Where’s it coming from?” Derek demanded.

“Sh-sh,” Sera whispered. “I don’t know. Listen…”

As the music continued, Sera could hear her own deliberately increased breath along with the brothers’ uneasy inhalations and exhalations. And then there seemed to be another breath, louder, echoing, almost filling the room. That would be Jilly, breathing through a child’s voice changer into the keyhole from Sera’s flat. She even made the kind of tiny sound that generally only comes from sleeping babies.

Nice touch.

“Edward. Edward, are you there? Will you speak to your family?”

The breathing stopped. The music got louder. Beside Sera, the men were tense as coiled springs, staring into the darkness. Frankie jumped.

“What?” Derek demanded. “What is it?”

“Something brushed against my face!”

“He’s coming,” Sera breathed. “He’s coming. Edward…”

She jerked forward over the table as if she’d been shot, thus activating the little smoke machine Tam had acquired for the Bells’ party, now taped inside Sera’s jeans. The effect, even in the darkness was fantastic. Although the white smoke belched outward as she threw herself back in her chair, when she breathed in as if she were absorbing it, it appeared that the smoke was entering her body rather than leaving it.

Sera breathed deeply several times. She smiled so that it would be heard in her voice. “The spirit that was once Edward Seelie will speak through me. What do you wish to ask him?”

With more than a hint of nervousness in his clowning, Frankie said, “How’s it going, son?”

Sera left a pause, then: “He says he’s not content.”

“Why not?” Derek asked, leaning forward as if he expected the spirit to ask for more money for Sera.

“He doesn’t wish to be summoned for frivolous reasons.”

“Frivolous?” Derek sneered. “That’s a big word for a baby.”

After another pause, Sera said, “Any word is big for a newborn in your world. To a spirit, words are merely an interface.”