Page 2 of Kept 4
“No. At least not that I know of. I mean, he made me cum once with his voice, and I smacked him; told him to never, ever do that shit again.”
“You are cray-cray,” she laughed, “Chiquita if Gerald wanted to say that to me 500 times a day, I’d be as happy as a clam.”
I snort. I don’t think the clams I’ve just dropped into the hot sauce are that happy.
“But yeah,” I shake my head, getting back to my train of thought, “I mean, no. I don’t think Nicholas can do any other tricks. I mean if he could, surely he would have commanded me not to try and escape – and I’ve tried, what, three times now?”
“Maybe he likes the chase.”
“I don’t think so. If you could have seen his face the last time. I’m pretty sure ‘murderous’ is the right description.”
“You should ask him.”
“Mmmmm,” I murmur, tasting the sauce and adding some more salt, “maybe I will.”
“Has he taken you flying?” she asks, turning to jump and sit on the bench; topping up her wine from the second bottle we have opened this evening.
‘Typical Margarita,’I think as I pause in my stirring and shake my head at her new perch. She knows I don’t like having her ass on my cooking bench, but she enjoys shitting me by doing it;‘some things obviously haven’t changed.’
“I haven’t left Ereston since I arrived,” I shake my head in defeat and turn back to the pot, “prisoner, remember? He did take me on his train on the way here, only I was unconscious, so I don’t think that counts as a romantic journey.”
“No,” she laughs, “I mean flying,” and she flaps her arms.
“Fuck off!” I breathe, “Gerald can fly?”
“Sure can.”
I frown as I stir the clams and chicken and think back to my previous conversations with Nicholas. I’m sure he was being honest when he said he had no more ‘special vampire powers’ so how I wonder, does Gerald? Maybe a vampire really was looking in my windows all those nights when I used the bathtub?
I concentrate back on what Margarita is saying and grimace as she begins, once more, saying how wonderful her vampire is. I can’t help wonder if he has ‘commanded’ her to say these things because, to me, they sound totally out of character.
“Did he tell you he kills baby bears?” I snort, as I hear her repeat how caring and generous he is.
“Huh?”
“In the armoury, here in Ereston, there are hundreds of stuffed animals. I asked Nicholas about them, and he said they were all Gerald’s. During every trip they took, he went hunting and had his ‘trophies’ taxidermied. Nicholas allows him to display them here.”
“Well, hunting was something they just did in those days,” she says, looking at me, as though I’m an idiot.
“Yeah,” I shrug, “butbabybears?”
“Maybe they attacked?”
She knows this is ridiculous.
“Maybe he wanted their porridge,” she giggles.
I can’t help but laugh too.
“Anyhow I don’t see why he would have them here. His castle is massive,” she adds.
“Castle?”
“Well, yeah, it’s actually Gerald’s friend’s place. I’ve only ever met the owner once; apparently, he spends most of his time travelling. He’s almost never home, which is lucky, cos he was as scary as hell.”
Before I can ask more about this friend of Gerald’s, she goes on.
“Anyway, the castle isn’t far from here, only an hour or so by car – ten minutes by helicopter. It's where we have been living for the past few months.”
