Night walker, p.1
Night Walker, page 1
Night Walker
Immortals of London, Volume 3
K J Baker
Published by K J Baker, 2022.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
NIGHT WALKER
First edition. December 26, 2022.
Copyright © 2022 K J Baker.
ISBN: 979-8215450390
Written by K J Baker.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogue
Chapter 1
The shrieking of the alarm clock cuts into my brain like a pneumatic drill. I crack my eyes open and see sunlight spilling through a gap in the curtains. Morning already? Seriously? It feels like I only went to bed two minutes ago.
With a groan, I roll over and fumble with the alarm until it shuts up, then flop back with a sigh. Okay. I’m up. I am. I just need to work up the energy to make my body believe that.
Throwing back the covers, I swing my legs around and sit up. The space beside me is empty, as it always is. One of these days I will manage to get up before him and won’t that just be the shock of the century?
Smiling to myself, I stretch my arms over my head and force myself to move. I’ve never liked getting out of bed, but as a rogue hunter I can hardly lie in bed until midday, can I?
“Ah! Good morning!” Ciaran Connor says brightly, as I walk into the kitchen.
How can he be so bright-eyed in the mornings? He’s a vampire, he should hate mornings. He gives me that dazzling smile of his.
“Morning? It feels like the middle of the night.”
He laughs, catches me up, and kisses me soundly. “Sleep well?”
I raise an eyebrow at the teasing tone of his voice. “I didn’t sleep much, as you well know. Neither of us did.”
His arms tighten around me and I place my palms flat against his chest. There is no heartbeat beneath my hands, but other than that, he is nothing like what I assumed a vampire would be. He is kind, funny, warm, devastatingly sexy.
And the man I’ve fallen in love with.
Sometimes I still find that hard to believe. I’m an immortal: he’s a vampire. My people and his are ancient enemies, and there’s only ever an uneasy truce between us.
Well, seems the rules don’t apply where Ciaran and I are concerned.
“Fancy a replay?” he says softly. There is heat in his gaze and it sends an answering spear of heat right through my body.
But I don’t give into it. If we’re late for work again, it will be both our hides. So I press my finger against his lips.
“Down, boy.”
He snorts, releases me, and goes back to making breakfast. I seat myself at the table, pour a coffee and sit back, gazing through the floor-to-ceiling windows of our apartment.
Outside, the Thames meanders lazily by, and the whole of the south bank stretches into the distance. I have to admit, it’s quite a view, although I can’t help using it as a lookout for trouble. After all, I’m a rogue hunter whose job it is to protect those people meandering through the streets of London, oblivious to the threats that stalk them.
“Hope you’re hungry,” Ciaran says as he stacks four pancakes on the plate in front of me.
“Wow. They smell delicious. Tell me you’ve got chocolate sauce to go on them and I’m yours forever.”
“My my, Marney Stone, I never knew you were such an easy catch.”
“What can I say? You know all my weaknesses.”
He passes over the chocolate sauce and takes a seat opposite me. There are pancakes on his plate too, although I know he does it mostly to keep me company while I eat. Although vampires can eat normal food, it’s not enough to sustain them. No doubt Ciaran has already had his morning blood ration before I got up so I didn’t have to see him do it. He’s considerate like that.
“What’s on the agenda for today, then?” I ask as I eat. Yep. The pancakes are delicious.
“Vienna and I are training more new recruits,” he replies with a grimace. “Although ‘babysitting’ would be a more accurate description. Call themselves rogue hunters? Some of them don’t even know which end to hold a knife!”
“I’m sure you’ll soon straighten them out,” I say with a smile. I meet his eyes. “You and Vienna still getting on okay, then?”
Ciaran cocks his head as if thinking this through. A curl of dark hair falls across his forehead. “Hmm. Let’s see. Well, she hasn’t tried to kill me in over a week, so that’s an improvement.”
Ciaran is Vienna’s sire. He turned her into a vampire six months ago whilst under the influence of his old clan leader, Marguerite. Since then, Ciaran and Vienna have had a...challenging relationship. Normally, a turned vampire adores their sire. But not this time. Vienna was turned against her will and although she claims to have forgiven Ciaran, relations between them remain tense.
“She’ll come around.”
“Yeah,” Ciaran says with a snort. “Perhaps in about two hundred years or so. Not that I blame her. I’d be furious with me too in her position. Why the Vampire Synod thought it a good idea to put us both in charge of training new recruits, I’ll never know. Give me a bunch of ravening rogues trying to tear my throat out any day.”
“You should be careful what you wish for.”
I finish my pancakes and push the plate away. Ciaran climbs to his feet and pulls me into an embrace. I wrap my arms around his neck, my face close to his. His eyes are the deepest blue I’ve ever seen, like the water in a tropical sea.
“What I wish for,” he says, his voice deep and husky. “Is you. For us to go back to bed and forget the rest of the world.”
I brush that stray strand of hair from his face. “Now that is a plan I could get on board with. Unfortunately, I don’t think the rest of the world will forget us.”
“No, probably not. Do you know how much I love you?”
My heart does a little flip. I will never, never, get tired of hearing those words. “I know. And I love you too.”
He takes something from his back pocket. Releasing his hold on me, he lowers himself to one knee and holds up a small box, which he flips open. Inside, nestled on a tiny cushion, sits a beautiful silver ring set with diamonds that sparkle in the sunlight.
“Then marry me, Marney.”
I could not have been more shocked if he’d slapped me across the face. This is the last thing I was expecting. My mouth works, but no words come out.
“I...um...I...”
His expression turns a little hurt. “Well, I have to admit, I was expecting more of a reaction than that.”
I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say. I know what I should say. Isn’t this supposed to be what every girl dreams of? Aren’t I supposed to become all teary and emotional? But all I feel is...fear.
“Um...can we talk about this later?”
Ciaran’s fist closes around the box and he rises to his feet. “What is there to talk about?” he says, his tone angry. “It’s clear what your answer is.”
Then, without another word, he grabs his jacket from the back of a chair and stalks out of the apartment. The door slams behind him.
I stare at the closed door. Did that really just happen? Did Ciaran really just propose to me? And did I really just let him leave without giving him an answer, or at least some kind of explanation?
Oh, heck. I scrub at my eyes with the heels of my hands. This morning has not turned out how I had expected it to. I love Ciaran, of course I do. But marriage? Seriously?
I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I’m not sure why the idea bothers me so much. After all, we’ve been together for a while now. We even live together for pity’s sake, so I suppose marriage would be the next logical step.
It’s just that... just that.... what? It’s just what, Marney? I don’t know. I haven’t really given much thought to the future. When Ciaran and I got together, it was right in the middle of the crusade against Hugh Montgomery and his Church of the Prime. There wasn’t time to think about the future because none of us were even sure if we’d have one. We lived in the moment, taking each day as it came.
But now?
My phone rings. The shrill noise is loud enough to make me jump. With a hiss of annoyance, I dig it from my pocket and press it to my ear.
“Yes?”
“Don’t take that tone with me, young lady,” comes the voice on the other end. “I wouldn’t have to call your personal phone if you bothered to respond to your pager once in a while.”
The voice belongs to Olivia, the head of Operations for the Council and technically my boss. “Sorry, Olivia,” I reply, trying to make my voice sound contrite. “I left it in the bedroom. What’s wrong?”
“Humph. Just had a report come in of an incident over at Blackfriars. A body has been found.”
“Right. And you’re telling me this because...?”
“I’m getting to that! I contacted our liaison at the Met to see if it had anything to do with the Council and they said it didn’t. But I don’t buy it. The Met were very close-mouthed but I managed to garner that there was something strange about the murder weapon. The word ‘stake’ was use
I raise an eyebrow. “So you’re going to send a rogue hunter to check it out anyway.”
“Got it in one. I’ll text you the address. Go and have a poke around. If it is nothing, fine. If it’s not? Well, you know what to do.”
I sigh. “Sure, Olivia. I know what to do.”
“Good. Report back to me when you’re done.” With that, she hangs up.
I go into the bedroom, open the wardrobe, and trip the hidden catch in the back. The wardrobe’s false back swings open, revealing a stand filled with weapons. There are several of the miniature crossbows that Ciaran favors, a whole host of knives and throwing weapons, and a small gray tube that houses the sword that is my weapon of choice. I take it out and then close the hidden compartment again.
Holding the gray tube in one hand, I press a button on the side and a couple of feet of shining steel comes whooshing out the end, slotting together to form a samurai sword. Good. It’s in perfect working order. I retract the blade and attach the tube to the holder on my hip, pull on my boots and my coat, throw the dishes in the sink for later, then leave the apartment.
I take the tube down to Blackfriars. As usual at this time of day, the train is packed. Humans are crammed cheek-by-jowl into the carriage, some listening to music, others reading the paper, all steadfastly ignoring those around them. I scan the carriage as I sit wedged between a student with a textbook perched on her lap, and some guy with a briefcase who is busy playing a game on his phone.
Everything seems normal. I detect no scent of vampire or notice anything else untoward. It’s been like this since we stopped Portia and Marguerite’s attempted assassination of the Council and Synod members over in Lyon. Quiet. Virtually no rogue activity at all.
Which is probably why Olivia is sending me to check out this incident in Blackfriars. She’s getting bored and jumpy. Twice already she’s sent me out on missions where she had a ‘hunch’ that something was wrong and both times it turned out to be nothing more than a straight forward human incident that I handed straight over to the Met. No doubt this will be the same.
At Blackfriars station, I exit the tube, climb the steps, and enter the busy streets of London. There are buses and cabs and people everywhere. I take in a deep breath, letting it all throb through me.
Ah, London. My patch. My home.
Then I frown. That breath I’ve just taken brings something to my nostrils, a scent I hadn’t been expecting to detect.
Vampire.
I turn towards it instinctively, following the scent down several streets and then into a series of interconnecting alleys behind tall buildings. As I walk, the scent of vampire grows stronger and up ahead I see that the road has been cordoned off with the blue and white tape of a crime scene. Two police cars block the road and several police officers are milling around. I glance at the street sign and my heart sinks.
This is the address Olivia asked me to check out. So it isn’t one of Olivia’s mistaken hunches at all. A rogue vampire is loose in the city.
I walk up to the cordon and the two police officers come alert immediately.
“You can’t go in there, miss.”
I take my ID from my inside pocket and flash it at them. The Council and the Met have a working relationship and we often help each other out on cases that fall within both our jurisdictions. As such, I have a right to see a crime scene within my patch.
The police officers squint at my ID. “Sorry, Ma’am,” one of them says. “Go right on through.”
Ma’am is it? I try not to smile. Ciaran would laugh his head off to hear me addressed like that. I duck under the police cordon and approach the white tent that’s been set up to hide the body.
The scent of vampire is so strong it almost becomes overpowering and it’s mixed with the scent of human. Oh, shit. I wonder who the poor soul is that a vampire has killed this time. Probably someone who didn’t even see them coming. Despite all the progress we’ve made, despite the alliances and the agreements and the Treaty that binds us all, vampires still test the boundaries, still revert to type when they think they can get away with it.
Anger tightens my stomach. Well, not this time. Whoever this rogue vampire is, I will hunt them down and make them face justice for what they’ve done.
A woman in a forensic suit steps out of the tent and looks at me quizzically. I flash her my ID.
“Fine,” she says, sounding irritated. “But you’ll need to suit up if you’re going in there.”
I grit my teeth but nod. I put on a forensic suit, then unzip the tent and step into the brightly lit interior.
I start in shock when I see the body lying on the ground.
The murder victim isn’t a human, after all.
It’s a vampire.
Chapter 2
I blink in surprise. The vampire is male, with pale skin and white-blond hair cropped short. His eyes are open and staring, his face twisted into a mask of pain and rage. There is a hole in his chest over his heart, but the stake used to kill him has been pulled out—which is the only reason his body hasn’t disintegrated into dust as dead vampires normally would.
The stake itself is lying across the vampire’s throat and has clearly been placed there. Like it’s a message. Like whoever did this wanted this body to be found.
Next to it, scrawled in the dirt, are some words. Vengeance is mine.
I crouch by the body. I don’t recognize the vampire but that doesn’t mean anything. Immortals and vampires don’t normally mix. Ciaran and I are an aberration. He looks young, but I know where vampires are concerned that is deceptive. This man could be hundreds of years old and he would still look no older than me.
What is going on here? Who would kill a vampire like this? Certainly not a rogue hunter—we would know about it. Was this some feud between warring vampire factions? But if so, why would they remove the stake and lay it out like that? And what about those words? Vengeance is mine. Something is wrong here, but I can’t quite place what it is.
I climb to my feet, looking around. And that’s when realization hits me. If this was a vampire feud, there would be two different vampire scents. There are two scents, but only one of them is a vampire.
The other is human.
So that must mean—?
I don’t finish the thought. There’s a soft footfall behind me, then something crashes into the back of my head and the world goes dark.
I NOTICE TWO THINGS when I come around. Firstly, my hands are tied behind my back, and secondly, there’s a bag over my head. My heart sinks. Great. Just perfect. I’ve been kidnapped by vampires. So much for this being one of Olivia’s incorrect hunches, huh?
I test my bonds but find that they’ve been secured well. Whoever tied me up knows what they’re doing. I can’t see anything through the bag, so I use my other senses instead. There’s not much to go on. Wherever I am, it’s utterly silent and the only scents I can pick up are human.
Then, from somewhere behind me, a door opens. The bag is whipped off my head and I look around, blinking in the sudden light. The person who removed the bag is a human male. He places it on a small table in front of me, then moves to stand by the door. There are three other human males in the room too, each one dressed in a sharp suit, each one standing by the wall, none of them looking in my direction.
They look like bouncers at some nightclub but I know they’re not. I’ve worked with the human authorities long enough to recognize secret service agents when I see them.
“So,” I say. “Which are you? MI5 or MI6?”
They don’t answer.
I’m in a square, featureless room. I’m tied to a chair and the only other furniture is the small desk with two other chairs on the far side. This is an interrogation room if ever I saw one. Great. My day just keeps getting better.
The door behind me opens again. Footsteps approach, and two people lower themselves into the chairs on the other side of the table.
“Hello, Marney.”
My jaw drops open as I recognize both of them. Marcus Finch and Isabella MacIntosh, the human members of the Council.
