Page 35 of Kept 2
I was a fool.
Richard Lanesborough, whom now rots in hell, as will all his kith and kin when I have finished this year out, betrayed me.
It was not the countess whom he staked last night, but me, and all my plans are dust.
She laughed at my stupidity, and indeed, how could she not, as my would-be assassin kissed her on the cheek and stood to attention by her side?
“Nicky, Nicky, Nicky, do you honestly believe anything happens in the vampire world that I do not know about? Please, your lack of faith in my abilities is positively insulting.”
“You know this man?”
“Know him? I made him,” she giggles.
Too shocked to respond, I stood for a moment, considering what this meant. Was he her new Kept? No, this was something else. A private army, perhaps, of some kind?
“Why do you align yourself with vampire hunters?”
“Are you so naive, Nicky?” she asks softly, walking to me and stroking my face, “do you believe that others like me, those of us who are immortal, powerful, who control the mouths of monarchs with our bits and lead them where we would, desire to share that power?”
“So, you kill other vampires?”
She shrugs.
“Then kill me, Elsbeth. Free me from this wickedness.”
“Come back to me, Nicky. I will show you how wonderful this life can be – love me as you once did.”
“I never loved you,” I spat, knocking her hand from my face.
I would have struck her down, had Lanesborough not stepped between us.
“Kill him then, Lanesborough,” she snarled, her face paler than it had been. “I grow weary of knowing he walks this earth, the ungrateful wretch.”
I moved quickly then, but not to shield myself from his blow, that I welcomed. No, I moved to try once more to kill the woman whom I owe all my troubles to – but she was ever and always too fast for me, and easily evaded my grasp.
I saw tears in her eyes though, as she turned and left at the same time as I cried out in pain, Lanesborough’s stake sliding into my back and coming out my chest.
But then, just as I began to believe my salvation was at hand, just as I leaned back into him, willing him to twist the stake, to pierce my heart fully and destroy me, his head hit the wall in front of me, leaving a bloody circle on the whitewashed rock, and I fell to the floor, still very much alive.
“Hello,” my saviour said, standing on my back and using his full weight to pull the stake from my body.
“Who are you?” I moaned, “what are you doing in my manor? Why did you not let me die? Why, why?”
“Gerald,” he laughed, pulling me up from the ground and shaking my hand vigorously, despite my almost mortal wound. “I’m afraid your assailant quite lost his head.”
He laughed then, at his own joke – as he appears to do quite frequently, and asked where I kept my whisky.
And now, he drinks my liquor and reads my books, having installed himself in the State Bedroom – and I sit here, still alive, my revenge still incomplete, and write in this foolish journal.
But tomorrow night I shall begin my hunt anew, for at the very least I have a new purpose – and a partner, apparently.
Gerald has suggested I join him, and together we will kill each and every vampire hunter that Elsbeth has made.
And then, and only then, I will once more bend my will to killing her.
I put the phone down and stare, unseeing, at the ocean before me, the sound of the waves usually so soothing, now jarring on my nerves.
‘I knew Lucy and James were bad news. Jesus, fuck, what is she doing here if she works for Elsbeth?’
