Page 34 of Kept
And with that first whiff, I knew I had not imagined my feelings of distrust – Lucy knows what I am, or knew, since I killed her tonight.
I’m pissed off, actually, that I had to do it now. I really wanted my fucking garden finished. But humans, especially this kind, simply can’t be trusted to fulfil their obligations, it seems.
And now she lies on her family’s estate, crushed, or so it would appear, by a falling tree – a tragic accident for one so young, and yet, not wholly unexpected given the high winds and her penchant for spending so much time in the garden.
Whether or not her family know the true cause of her death, and I fear, yes they might, they will not reveal it, for no one will believe them – our little vendetta has been going on for so many centuries the rules are quite set. We both, vampires and hunters, deal with things as they arrive in a quiet and civilised manner – well almost civilised, I mean I did break every bone in her body before she finally left this world. But she made me; it was her own stubborn refusal to give me the information I required, her own ridiculous loyalty to her team, her kind.
And what of that? I must place a call to Gerald as soon as I finish this entry. I had assured him I had extinguished them all this side of the pond, as he had done on his end. But apparently neither of us had completed our task – for if what she told me is correct, her team still operates in the States just as it still does here – her bloodline is still in existence. And that means my line, vampires, are threatened.
And we can’t have that.
But I know her plan now, and I will act accordingly. For she has stolen something from me, apart from my new garden, she has taken papers that point to my immortality, and of more importance, she has stolen my journal – my first journal, my private thoughts, my private musings of love and hope and fear. None of this can be made public, I must act quickly.
But while there is urgency now, I had taken my time gaining this information from her, because it felt good to do so, and she deserved it. And to give her credit, she did not beg for mercy, she knew, as all her kin know, that none would be given.
“Your time predating this earth is over, Lord Montague,” she sighed, her voice breathless and a little liquidy from her broken ribs, no doubt a few puncturing her lungs.
“I think not, Lucy,” I said quietly, snapping another finger, “you see, my kind has outsmarted your kind for thousands of years. You are simply not shrewd enough to outwit or outlast us. You may have stolen some papers, but whatever is in them will be of no consequence.”
“I stole more than that,” she half-laughed, half-choked, “you are so sure of your power, your position – that very over-confidence will be your downfall.”
“And do you want to know what your downfall was, Lucy?” I asked quietly as I pressed her collarbone and heard a loud ‘snap.’
“I’ll tell you,” I added, seeing she was in too much pain to answer, “you feared. If you had kept your cool, trained better to control your emotions around my kind, you might, just might have lived a little longer. But you panicked, I could hear your heartbeat through your expensive little twin-set – I could smell the milk on your breath. Had you not taken that last precaution, one that signals your knowledge, rather than protects it – then you might have lived to finish my garden.”
“I drank the milk so you would not enjoy a drop of my blood,” she spat, dark blood bubbling from her mouth and running down her chin.
“An unnecessary precaution,” I smiled gently as I leant down and snapped her thigh bone. “I don’t consume Hunter blood. I would not contaminate my body with such filth.”
“You fear us,” she whispered as she began to sink into unconsciousness, “and if you don’t, you are a fool.”
“Tell me, little Lucy,” I mused, holding her face in my hands and squeezing ever so gently, “tell me what else you stole from me.”
“I took your journal,” she moaned, her eyes rolling, “your first journal. You are lost now, Lord Montague.”
“Where?” I asked, my anger causing my fingers to press a little too tightly and crack her cheekbones, one finger pushing inside her facial muscles.
She shook her head, but I was not finished with her yet, I wouldn’t let her die until I knew the answer. The little bitch has stolen something very close to my heart – no one reads my journals, apart from myself, and is allowed to live – no one.
“Where, dear sweet Lucy,” I smiled into her eyes as I held the lids open, forcing her to look into mine. “If you tell me now, I will not kill your parents and all your siblings. If you don’t, I’m afraid I will keep you alive for several more days, torturing you to my satisfaction, and you will hear their screams and recriminations as you go to your grave.”
“You are evil,” she whispered, her eyes intent on mine.
“Oh well, I try,” I smiled, “I really do. But I’m sure I could put in a little more effort, a little more time and energy in, when it comes to showing your dear sweet Mummy and Daddy how evil I can truly be.”
“Gone,” she breathed, “I sent your journal away; you will never find it.”
“To whom? Lucy, to whom?”
But she was dead, the useless bitch.
So tomorrow I fly to the US and begin my search. For I know that if a woman of this age is hunting me, then she will have a team. They usually number between six and eight, and they usually take a few years to find and kill their mark, depending on the vampires they are targeting and draining each generation. I had been lucky so far, or more skilled, whichever way you want to look at it, but others I know had not.
I will call Gerald now. I should be angry with him that a team of Hunters is alive and well under his nose – but then, I had obviously been remiss in snuffing them all out over here as well, so laying blame on him is hardly going to do either of us any good.
New Entry
Gerald was not as accommodating or understanding as I had expected; in fact, he pointed out that I have made a grave error.
