Page 61 of Bitten Vampire
“It’s all right, buddy,” I call softly. “You will be fine. Be a good boy, I will come for you as soon as I can.” My voice cracks.
The officer steers me to the waiting car, hand hovering near my elbow as though I might bolt.
The mage watches each step, eyes sharp. “You’re clever,” he murmurs so only I hear. “But you can’t lie your way out of this forever. The Grand Master himself issued your warrant.”
My stomach knots, yet I keep my tone bland. “If the Grand Master is so eager to speak to me, he can do it himself.”
The mage smiles. “Oh, he will. Sooner than you think.”
The car door slams behind me, severing my last glimpse of the empty plot and the van holding Baylor.
I decide I loathe Lander-bloody-Kane, but I must admit the mage is right—I can pretend to be human only until nightfall.
Crap.
Chapter Twenty-Four
They don’t cuff me,and in a small mercy, Lander isn’t allowed inside. After they search my bag—Beryl, thank heaven, nowhere in sight—I’m led through processing.
“That’s a lot of cash,” the custody sergeant remarks.
“Yes, well, idiots from the Magic Sector came and blew up my house. I grabbed what I could.”
The bag and contents are sealed in a plastic evidence pouch, and I’m escorted to an interview room. It’s much like the ones in the Vampire Sector: grey on grey, four plastic chairs, one grubby table, a single camera blinking red in the corner. No dramatic mirrored glass, alas.
“Would you like a drink?”
“No, thank you.” Warm tea would be lovely, but with sunset approaching I’d rather not vomit mid-transformation.
The questioning begins. We circle my identity, my history, my supposed humanity and ‘alleged association with derivatives.’ I stick to my human story: paperwork, licences, nothing to hide. The human officers grow ever more perplexed as I stick stubbornly to my pre-vampire story. Their brows knit deeper. I can almost hear:Why is everybody interested in her if she’s just a delivery driver?
At last they leave me alone.
Exhaustion presses down. I worry the police are stalling, dragging matters out so they can hand me over to the Grand Master’s people. Even Lander threatened as much.
Soon my heart will stop, my lungs will still, my fangs will nudge forward and if I’m not careful they will know exactly what I am. If I keep breathing, blinking, doing all the human things, perhaps I can fool them?
Yeah, until the vampires come.
I worry about Baylor, another mum lost, another home gone. Tears sting, but I blink them away. Everything will be fine once I collect him.
It has to be.
A scrape at the door captures my attention. The handle shifts; the door creaks open. No one stands there. Beryl hovers out of the camera’s view in the corridor.
“What are you doing?” I murmur, lips barely moving. Microphones are unforgiving.
Come on. I’m breaking you out.
“You are what? What if someone sees you?” I promised House to keep her out of sight. Nevertheless, I glide into the corridor. I have no real choice: either sit here and wait for the baddies to drag me to my final death, or trust Beryl and escape.
My bag,still sealed, sits conveniently nearby.
“How did you manage that?” I scoop it up.
Magic, obviously. Not as if I have thumbs. This way.
She zips ahead, corridors deserted. It’s nearly nightfall—even the police support staff don’t like to be out at night. Left, right, up one flight, right again. We slip into an untidy office. Papers litter every surface; filing cabinets gape. Two mugs of congealed coffee sit abandoned.
