Note and Disclaimer:
All the main characters of this story are my own, but it is based on the sheet role play Vampire: Masquerade that has spawned many novels following the different clans. For once I'm going to write about vampires that aren't Ann Rice's, although the Arcanum of V:M is very much like her Talamasca.
I would also like to thank Wyntre de Romanov who, for those of you who haven't noticed, gave me the inspiration for the title and has given me endless encouragement to continue creating fanfictions.
I don't usually write serious fiction so I would be grateful for your reviews, and I hope you find this entertaining and enjoy it enough to read the following chapters. Thank you.
Immortal Wyntre
Prologue:
January 1998
3:25 am
Terry Roget had been waiting for this opportunity since he joined the Organisation. He was a short man with a muscular figure of thirty-three. He possessed a shock of red hair gelled against his scalp and an immature teenage grin displayed with a small goatee.
Somewhere in the immense old house a clock chimed. He slowly made his way along the deserted corridor and down the grand staircase of the old Victorian structure that served as the headquarters with all its grandeur. No one was awake to stop him, thankfully, for he wasn't sure what he would do if some were to wake. He crossed the main hallway into one of the many side corridors through beautifully carved oak doors. The smell of polish was powerful, that day had been one of the days in the month the huge house was 'blitz cleaned'. He was closer now as he headed down a smaller stair well to the basement level. Oh how long he had desired this!
He believed he'd been born lucky, he'd completed school with three passes in computer studies, graphic design and business studies, fully equipping him for the market world.
But was this the world he wanted to enter?
No, it was not.
He didn't want a world where he had start at the bottom and struggle to fight his way up, it was slow and painful, even as a boy he had never had a job and was fortunate enough to be able to rely completely on his parents for income.
It was by accident that he stumbled upon the Organisation when he was only twenty. He'd finished school just two years ago and had been at work in the finance section of a large company, hoping this would be where he'd make the 'big' money. It had seemed everyday was a chore and he spent all his time wishing for the end of his shift so he could leave his office - which he shared with a horde of other people - and go home. It was in his second year that they moved the finance department to an older building that had been an armament manufacturing plant once during the Second World War. They had only been settled in the old place for a month or so when strange rumours and stories began to spread of a haunted room at the far end of the converted factory.
The room of the sightings happened to be board room, and the stories were taken with great seriousness as the board meetings began to be held in any other available space, anywhere but the most appropriate place. There was tell that during one meeting an angry man appeared in the corner and stood staring until he had the attention of all those present.
That was how it started.
He would appeared every now and then and fade in front of everyone; sometimes he would seem to disperse into small swirling particles disturbing the loose papers. Unfortunately things didn't stop with just a few sheets of paper being blown around, they intensified over time. The light bulbs in the room were constantly blowing with such force it was common that the fragile glass shatter and the company went through an unusual number of maintenance groups, of which none could find the cause of the problem. It was found that no computer would work within the room, or any other item of technology for that matter. Mobile phones died completely, radios were silenced and projectors stubbornly refused to co- operate.
A fortnight later things began to get dangerous as objects were hurled across the room with amazing force and chairs shook with the assembly still in them. The final line was drawn when the huge mahogany table was lifted into the air, spun, flipped and dropped over turned. The room was abandoned and the strange happenings were left along with it. By this time reporters were approaching many of the employees as word of the haunting was getting out, and these reporters were offering a good sum of money for an actual account of the supernatural goings on.
But it wasn't a reporter that approached Terry; his luck brought to him a field agent of the Arcanum.
"Good evening Mr Roget." The young man had called out to him one night when he was leaving work. This was his first encounter with the Organisation, and he hadn't even told this young man his name yet! Now ever since Terry could remember he'd been able to 'sense' people's emotions, just lift passing pieces off the wind, it wasn't deliberate and he didn't even realise other people couldn't do the same until he was in middle school. But now he caught a feeling of complete sincerity from this stranger who somehow knew his name. The young man left him disarmed and open with one of his broad smiles.
"Yes that's right." He had said to Terry, there was an accent to his voice, but having never travelled Terry couldn't place its origin.
"What is?" Terry had asked stupidly before it hit him. This stranger was reading his mind!
"That I am, but you don't have to worry its just the surface thoughts, nothing more." Another man who had an Asian look to him joined the stranger, but he got the same sense of sincerity. Terry could only stand there, rooted as if he were a sapling about to be ripped up by realisation, I mean what could he say to a mind reader?
"Well actually there's a fair bit I would like to hear from you, if you wouldn't mind."
This was incredible and excitement seemed to clutch his heart in an instant. He knew he would help regardless of his better judgement. The two strangers were enticingly dressed in formal wear and the dark haired mind reader introduced himself as Frances Harlyn and the Asian looking man as Dominic Steaply. They offered to take Terry out for an evening meal, and swept up by everything he gladly agreed. These two men apparently had an abundance of money as the three of them climbed into a chauffeur driven limousine with leather interior and bar and they ate in one of the most expensive restaurants.
It was here that Terry learnt of the Arcanum. The two men took turns in explaining, very pleasantly, that they were from an Organisation of 'psychic detectives' responsible for investigating the paranormal and collecting data to maintain records for the study of such strange phenomenon as the ghost in the old factory. It became clear that Frances was the experienced one in the field, despite his youthful appearance he was actually in his thirties. Dominic was in some ways an apprentice; new to this area and busy learning as much as he could from his companion and the things they experienced together. They told of how before coming here they had been in Germany confronted with a child ghost, lost and confused and how they help these lost souls, after all it was there job. They had been all over the world, and all the expenses of their travels, and their lives, had been covered by the Arcanum.
Terry felt a pinch of envy, but soon dismissed it as they continued to explain how they hold no beliefs in religion and remained open minded and clear seeing in their investigations to better conduct their observations. They apparently had open arms for those with paranormal powers such as Terry, mild as his power was. People possessing stronger abilities were sometimes offered membership and those lucky enough for this were looked after their whole lives in this career, in return for their full devotion, loyalty and complete obedience of the rules, which they assured him, were for the safety of its members. All initiates were trained in field investigations from one of the Headquarters and paired with an experienced detective until deemed ready to go out on their own. Once they were no longer novices they could remain at the Headquarters or branch out and set up their own 'business', receiving instructions from the top and taking occasional employment in paranormal cases, they were there to watch, record and help.
This all seemed just too much and Terry had laughed, rudely, but he just couldn't help himself. This did not surprise both men and Dominic performed what must have been a well-used parlour trick. Terry watched as his full wineglass levitated and danced back and forth of its own volition, before settling back down perfectly without a drop spilt. As if having his mind read, and his wineglass dance wasn't enough Frances added that they had been aware of his power since he was sixteen. They even knew what school he'd gone to, all his exam results, where he lived, all about his two brothers and family and they even knew whom his girlfriends had been. Seeing his shock Frances added not to worry and that all investigations proceeded with the utmost respect for the individual. He could even see his file if he wanted, and Dominic assured him that it was always the way to eventually make contact with those under observations, although he must confess this meeting wasn't planned and they were actually here for the boardroom ghost. Then Terry had questioned the two men relentlessly for at least an hour, they were completely open with him and he received no feeling that they were lying. This Organisation had an extensive history, but this didn't hold any interest for him, their immense knowledge and way of life did, how exciting and different and appealing. It lured him.
He offered his services, by taking them to the boardroom and source of the strange goings on. It was now late and he doubted very much anyone but the security guards would be there, who would probably be shocked at his turning out to work late. Terry was now confident that this was the path he wanted to take, he had never enjoyed himself as much as this. What an adventure, the adventure you only read about in books or saw on television was his now. He felt like he'd reached out to the screen and been sucked through. No computer game could have ever held his interest as these two men had. They had returned to Terry's office and proceeded on to the boardroom.
The place was fairly empty with only one or two late workers who paid little or no attention to them. He'd felt like a detective then as well, creeping along in the night, much as he was doing now. Yes, he fancied himself James Bond, smooth and attractive, a ladies man to the end and cunning trickster sneaking about after dark for a greater cause. Much to his relief the room was unlocked, he'd had a horrible worry they might have locked it.
He could never forget what was to follow, how the three of them had entered the seemingly normal room. The large centre table had been set back on its legs and the chairs returned to their usual position about the mahogany. The carpets were the usual 'office' green you tended to see all around the building, and the walls were pale making the old table - which had been brought over from the previous building until a replacement was found - look out of place.
For once there were working bulbs in the light sockets that chased the shadows from the corners when he hit the switch. He checked his mobile to see if it was true that no machines worked here. It was dead. He showed and explained this to Frances, and then he told about how they were lucky the bulbs were working and not exploding. He explained to them all about the items thrown about the room and the table being turned over, he aimed to please, after all he wanted these men to take him away with them when all was done. He told of how it had all started with the sightings of this strange angry looking man, and with this he was washed over with a feeling of hate.
"What is it?" Dominic had asked. He could see Frances scanning him, for his thoughts or feelings no doubt.
"I got the strongest sense of hatred I've ever felt." Terry had replied. "Not from either of you, but . I don't know." He felt there was a fourth presence.
Frances merely nodded. This ghost, if that's what it was, really loathed human presence being anywhere near it. When he told the others they said this wasn't an uncommon cause for a haunting of poltergeist nature.
"Mr Roget, I believe you are in the best position to help this being." His jaw had nearly hit the floor when Frances told him that. He wanted to say, 'No, are you mad!' But instead he'd turned to the room and addressed to the angry presence.
The words he spoke were now beyond his ability to remember exactly but he knew they were written down somewhere in a file, hidden away in the deep vaults where he was now heading.
He'd come to the bottom of the second staircase and down another, then across a spacious hall to the large doors. The first level basement contained mostly objects and relics and had a laboratory on the side of it. This lower level was where most the files were kept, and these were what he wanted so badly to see.
After his first confrontation with a ghost, he'd pleaded with Frances to speak with his superiors for Terry's membership. When this was politely denied him, he took to hanging around the main Centre in England, which was in Yorkshire. Just when he thought all was lost to him, his job, his house and even his sanity. He'd sat practically on the doorstep for nearly a month when they finally opened the doors to him for good and accepted him on merits of his stubborn determination and how well he had dealt with the ghost, despite never having had any encounter with the supernatural before. He was flexible and brave, showing complete loyalty and devotion to the Organisation; he even obeyed all rules although on occasion he did bend them slightly.
He was happy and had so far spent eleven years with this new family. They had helped him further develop his power, which had always been erratic and yes they had let him read his file, discovering that an old school friend with the talent to read minds had pointed him out when he was indeed sixteen. She had recorded in the file that:
'Due to his ability to sense the feelings of those around him he cannot be lied to and must appear to his friends a majority of the time to be insecure.'
She had even recorded the period where he had felt his parents wanted him gone and his girlfriend simultaneously tired of him; such a bitter memory of feeling genuinely unwanted. All of this was amplified by his power and it described him as 'in a constant depressive state.' Thankfully one of the first things the Organisation had taught him was to control this ability and enabling him to switch it on and off at his will. Since then he had confronted many more confused spirits and risen through the loose hierarchy and had travelled the field with Dominic after Frances was established in later years as chief of the British Headquarters.
His 'big break' had come finally last year when Frances had believed him confident and capable for higher risk investigations.
This was the excitement he always craved, the life less ordinary that he watched on the X-Files and other supernatural investigator series. His life had worth, it had meaning and the far-gone days of boredom and routine were now a distant memory. He was moved from haunting and ghost activity to the more dangerous, given a chance to show how courageous he could be, how bright he could shine. He figured that if all went well maybe one day he would hold Frances' position, maybe higher.
He'd been given access to the vampire files and other artefacts that were held in the vaults, he'd even had a small team working under him. But that was gone now, that was all lost to him because he'd failed to detect the vampire in their midst, the creature who had visited with frequency and mistook - by him - for an ordinary girl.
The only thing he had in his favour was that for the job he was taught how to conceal his thoughts, for these creatures were powerful mind readers, and now this was helping him pass undetected by the likes of Frances into the vaults now forbidden to him.
It was her file he wanted.
He needed to understand his descent, and now he descended in sweet irony the three steps down to the rows and rows of folders neatly displayed like the library within the forbidden chamber of information. Subject persons presently under observations were arranged in alphabetical order, amongst files of those who were watched centuries ago, so great was the extent of recording that he feared he'd have to find a ladder to reach what he needed.
There was a section on witches, a small aisle on werewolf sightings, a majority of cases for spirit and ghost activities, which was followed by past life accounts and near death experiences. The whole place smelt of old paper and he could see the dust motes sailing past the light of many small spot lamps. The air was dry down here, obviously needed to prevent the ancient documents from rotting and deteriorating. It didn't take him long to locate the area where all the other vampire documents were stored, he'd been assuming that this new file would be with the others.
It was.
He was tingling with anticipation and fear of getting caught. Quickly mopping the sweat from his brow on the only thing he had to hand - his sleeve - he slipped the string bound card holder inside his shirt and proceeded with a stealthy speed that impressed himself. He spent some time closing the huge doors quietly, but he took the stairs two or three at a time. His room, like most seasoned members was in the main building on the third floor as the library and guestrooms occupied the second floor. New additions to the Arcanum started out - as Terry had done - in the many extension buildings around the huge grounds they owned.
He latched the door behind him and only when he'd pulled his drape curtains and finished a sweep of the room did he set the folder down on his bed. His private chambers consisted of an en suit bathroom, spacious cupboard where he stored nearly everything, and a large main room.
The main room was large enough for a four poster bed running along the wall in one corner, a grand desk place looking into the room, a single book case which Terry had never filled and comfortable chairs for when he received guests. Meals were served in one of the outhouses or on occasions brought up to his room meaning all his needs were catered for. He kept a crate of beer under his bed, where he went now for a can of Fosters, it was room temperature but then there was little he could do about that. Settling down and propping himself against the misshapen pillows he set about to read the file.
To Be Continued..........
All the main characters of this story are my own, but it is based on the sheet role play Vampire: Masquerade that has spawned many novels following the different clans. For once I'm going to write about vampires that aren't Ann Rice's, although the Arcanum of V:M is very much like her Talamasca.
I would also like to thank Wyntre de Romanov who, for those of you who haven't noticed, gave me the inspiration for the title and has given me endless encouragement to continue creating fanfictions.
I don't usually write serious fiction so I would be grateful for your reviews, and I hope you find this entertaining and enjoy it enough to read the following chapters. Thank you.
Immortal Wyntre
Prologue:
January 1998
3:25 am
Terry Roget had been waiting for this opportunity since he joined the Organisation. He was a short man with a muscular figure of thirty-three. He possessed a shock of red hair gelled against his scalp and an immature teenage grin displayed with a small goatee.
Somewhere in the immense old house a clock chimed. He slowly made his way along the deserted corridor and down the grand staircase of the old Victorian structure that served as the headquarters with all its grandeur. No one was awake to stop him, thankfully, for he wasn't sure what he would do if some were to wake. He crossed the main hallway into one of the many side corridors through beautifully carved oak doors. The smell of polish was powerful, that day had been one of the days in the month the huge house was 'blitz cleaned'. He was closer now as he headed down a smaller stair well to the basement level. Oh how long he had desired this!
He believed he'd been born lucky, he'd completed school with three passes in computer studies, graphic design and business studies, fully equipping him for the market world.
But was this the world he wanted to enter?
No, it was not.
He didn't want a world where he had start at the bottom and struggle to fight his way up, it was slow and painful, even as a boy he had never had a job and was fortunate enough to be able to rely completely on his parents for income.
It was by accident that he stumbled upon the Organisation when he was only twenty. He'd finished school just two years ago and had been at work in the finance section of a large company, hoping this would be where he'd make the 'big' money. It had seemed everyday was a chore and he spent all his time wishing for the end of his shift so he could leave his office - which he shared with a horde of other people - and go home. It was in his second year that they moved the finance department to an older building that had been an armament manufacturing plant once during the Second World War. They had only been settled in the old place for a month or so when strange rumours and stories began to spread of a haunted room at the far end of the converted factory.
The room of the sightings happened to be board room, and the stories were taken with great seriousness as the board meetings began to be held in any other available space, anywhere but the most appropriate place. There was tell that during one meeting an angry man appeared in the corner and stood staring until he had the attention of all those present.
That was how it started.
He would appeared every now and then and fade in front of everyone; sometimes he would seem to disperse into small swirling particles disturbing the loose papers. Unfortunately things didn't stop with just a few sheets of paper being blown around, they intensified over time. The light bulbs in the room were constantly blowing with such force it was common that the fragile glass shatter and the company went through an unusual number of maintenance groups, of which none could find the cause of the problem. It was found that no computer would work within the room, or any other item of technology for that matter. Mobile phones died completely, radios were silenced and projectors stubbornly refused to co- operate.
A fortnight later things began to get dangerous as objects were hurled across the room with amazing force and chairs shook with the assembly still in them. The final line was drawn when the huge mahogany table was lifted into the air, spun, flipped and dropped over turned. The room was abandoned and the strange happenings were left along with it. By this time reporters were approaching many of the employees as word of the haunting was getting out, and these reporters were offering a good sum of money for an actual account of the supernatural goings on.
But it wasn't a reporter that approached Terry; his luck brought to him a field agent of the Arcanum.
"Good evening Mr Roget." The young man had called out to him one night when he was leaving work. This was his first encounter with the Organisation, and he hadn't even told this young man his name yet! Now ever since Terry could remember he'd been able to 'sense' people's emotions, just lift passing pieces off the wind, it wasn't deliberate and he didn't even realise other people couldn't do the same until he was in middle school. But now he caught a feeling of complete sincerity from this stranger who somehow knew his name. The young man left him disarmed and open with one of his broad smiles.
"Yes that's right." He had said to Terry, there was an accent to his voice, but having never travelled Terry couldn't place its origin.
"What is?" Terry had asked stupidly before it hit him. This stranger was reading his mind!
"That I am, but you don't have to worry its just the surface thoughts, nothing more." Another man who had an Asian look to him joined the stranger, but he got the same sense of sincerity. Terry could only stand there, rooted as if he were a sapling about to be ripped up by realisation, I mean what could he say to a mind reader?
"Well actually there's a fair bit I would like to hear from you, if you wouldn't mind."
This was incredible and excitement seemed to clutch his heart in an instant. He knew he would help regardless of his better judgement. The two strangers were enticingly dressed in formal wear and the dark haired mind reader introduced himself as Frances Harlyn and the Asian looking man as Dominic Steaply. They offered to take Terry out for an evening meal, and swept up by everything he gladly agreed. These two men apparently had an abundance of money as the three of them climbed into a chauffeur driven limousine with leather interior and bar and they ate in one of the most expensive restaurants.
It was here that Terry learnt of the Arcanum. The two men took turns in explaining, very pleasantly, that they were from an Organisation of 'psychic detectives' responsible for investigating the paranormal and collecting data to maintain records for the study of such strange phenomenon as the ghost in the old factory. It became clear that Frances was the experienced one in the field, despite his youthful appearance he was actually in his thirties. Dominic was in some ways an apprentice; new to this area and busy learning as much as he could from his companion and the things they experienced together. They told of how before coming here they had been in Germany confronted with a child ghost, lost and confused and how they help these lost souls, after all it was there job. They had been all over the world, and all the expenses of their travels, and their lives, had been covered by the Arcanum.
Terry felt a pinch of envy, but soon dismissed it as they continued to explain how they hold no beliefs in religion and remained open minded and clear seeing in their investigations to better conduct their observations. They apparently had open arms for those with paranormal powers such as Terry, mild as his power was. People possessing stronger abilities were sometimes offered membership and those lucky enough for this were looked after their whole lives in this career, in return for their full devotion, loyalty and complete obedience of the rules, which they assured him, were for the safety of its members. All initiates were trained in field investigations from one of the Headquarters and paired with an experienced detective until deemed ready to go out on their own. Once they were no longer novices they could remain at the Headquarters or branch out and set up their own 'business', receiving instructions from the top and taking occasional employment in paranormal cases, they were there to watch, record and help.
This all seemed just too much and Terry had laughed, rudely, but he just couldn't help himself. This did not surprise both men and Dominic performed what must have been a well-used parlour trick. Terry watched as his full wineglass levitated and danced back and forth of its own volition, before settling back down perfectly without a drop spilt. As if having his mind read, and his wineglass dance wasn't enough Frances added that they had been aware of his power since he was sixteen. They even knew what school he'd gone to, all his exam results, where he lived, all about his two brothers and family and they even knew whom his girlfriends had been. Seeing his shock Frances added not to worry and that all investigations proceeded with the utmost respect for the individual. He could even see his file if he wanted, and Dominic assured him that it was always the way to eventually make contact with those under observations, although he must confess this meeting wasn't planned and they were actually here for the boardroom ghost. Then Terry had questioned the two men relentlessly for at least an hour, they were completely open with him and he received no feeling that they were lying. This Organisation had an extensive history, but this didn't hold any interest for him, their immense knowledge and way of life did, how exciting and different and appealing. It lured him.
He offered his services, by taking them to the boardroom and source of the strange goings on. It was now late and he doubted very much anyone but the security guards would be there, who would probably be shocked at his turning out to work late. Terry was now confident that this was the path he wanted to take, he had never enjoyed himself as much as this. What an adventure, the adventure you only read about in books or saw on television was his now. He felt like he'd reached out to the screen and been sucked through. No computer game could have ever held his interest as these two men had. They had returned to Terry's office and proceeded on to the boardroom.
The place was fairly empty with only one or two late workers who paid little or no attention to them. He'd felt like a detective then as well, creeping along in the night, much as he was doing now. Yes, he fancied himself James Bond, smooth and attractive, a ladies man to the end and cunning trickster sneaking about after dark for a greater cause. Much to his relief the room was unlocked, he'd had a horrible worry they might have locked it.
He could never forget what was to follow, how the three of them had entered the seemingly normal room. The large centre table had been set back on its legs and the chairs returned to their usual position about the mahogany. The carpets were the usual 'office' green you tended to see all around the building, and the walls were pale making the old table - which had been brought over from the previous building until a replacement was found - look out of place.
For once there were working bulbs in the light sockets that chased the shadows from the corners when he hit the switch. He checked his mobile to see if it was true that no machines worked here. It was dead. He showed and explained this to Frances, and then he told about how they were lucky the bulbs were working and not exploding. He explained to them all about the items thrown about the room and the table being turned over, he aimed to please, after all he wanted these men to take him away with them when all was done. He told of how it had all started with the sightings of this strange angry looking man, and with this he was washed over with a feeling of hate.
"What is it?" Dominic had asked. He could see Frances scanning him, for his thoughts or feelings no doubt.
"I got the strongest sense of hatred I've ever felt." Terry had replied. "Not from either of you, but . I don't know." He felt there was a fourth presence.
Frances merely nodded. This ghost, if that's what it was, really loathed human presence being anywhere near it. When he told the others they said this wasn't an uncommon cause for a haunting of poltergeist nature.
"Mr Roget, I believe you are in the best position to help this being." His jaw had nearly hit the floor when Frances told him that. He wanted to say, 'No, are you mad!' But instead he'd turned to the room and addressed to the angry presence.
The words he spoke were now beyond his ability to remember exactly but he knew they were written down somewhere in a file, hidden away in the deep vaults where he was now heading.
He'd come to the bottom of the second staircase and down another, then across a spacious hall to the large doors. The first level basement contained mostly objects and relics and had a laboratory on the side of it. This lower level was where most the files were kept, and these were what he wanted so badly to see.
After his first confrontation with a ghost, he'd pleaded with Frances to speak with his superiors for Terry's membership. When this was politely denied him, he took to hanging around the main Centre in England, which was in Yorkshire. Just when he thought all was lost to him, his job, his house and even his sanity. He'd sat practically on the doorstep for nearly a month when they finally opened the doors to him for good and accepted him on merits of his stubborn determination and how well he had dealt with the ghost, despite never having had any encounter with the supernatural before. He was flexible and brave, showing complete loyalty and devotion to the Organisation; he even obeyed all rules although on occasion he did bend them slightly.
He was happy and had so far spent eleven years with this new family. They had helped him further develop his power, which had always been erratic and yes they had let him read his file, discovering that an old school friend with the talent to read minds had pointed him out when he was indeed sixteen. She had recorded in the file that:
'Due to his ability to sense the feelings of those around him he cannot be lied to and must appear to his friends a majority of the time to be insecure.'
She had even recorded the period where he had felt his parents wanted him gone and his girlfriend simultaneously tired of him; such a bitter memory of feeling genuinely unwanted. All of this was amplified by his power and it described him as 'in a constant depressive state.' Thankfully one of the first things the Organisation had taught him was to control this ability and enabling him to switch it on and off at his will. Since then he had confronted many more confused spirits and risen through the loose hierarchy and had travelled the field with Dominic after Frances was established in later years as chief of the British Headquarters.
His 'big break' had come finally last year when Frances had believed him confident and capable for higher risk investigations.
This was the excitement he always craved, the life less ordinary that he watched on the X-Files and other supernatural investigator series. His life had worth, it had meaning and the far-gone days of boredom and routine were now a distant memory. He was moved from haunting and ghost activity to the more dangerous, given a chance to show how courageous he could be, how bright he could shine. He figured that if all went well maybe one day he would hold Frances' position, maybe higher.
He'd been given access to the vampire files and other artefacts that were held in the vaults, he'd even had a small team working under him. But that was gone now, that was all lost to him because he'd failed to detect the vampire in their midst, the creature who had visited with frequency and mistook - by him - for an ordinary girl.
The only thing he had in his favour was that for the job he was taught how to conceal his thoughts, for these creatures were powerful mind readers, and now this was helping him pass undetected by the likes of Frances into the vaults now forbidden to him.
It was her file he wanted.
He needed to understand his descent, and now he descended in sweet irony the three steps down to the rows and rows of folders neatly displayed like the library within the forbidden chamber of information. Subject persons presently under observations were arranged in alphabetical order, amongst files of those who were watched centuries ago, so great was the extent of recording that he feared he'd have to find a ladder to reach what he needed.
There was a section on witches, a small aisle on werewolf sightings, a majority of cases for spirit and ghost activities, which was followed by past life accounts and near death experiences. The whole place smelt of old paper and he could see the dust motes sailing past the light of many small spot lamps. The air was dry down here, obviously needed to prevent the ancient documents from rotting and deteriorating. It didn't take him long to locate the area where all the other vampire documents were stored, he'd been assuming that this new file would be with the others.
It was.
He was tingling with anticipation and fear of getting caught. Quickly mopping the sweat from his brow on the only thing he had to hand - his sleeve - he slipped the string bound card holder inside his shirt and proceeded with a stealthy speed that impressed himself. He spent some time closing the huge doors quietly, but he took the stairs two or three at a time. His room, like most seasoned members was in the main building on the third floor as the library and guestrooms occupied the second floor. New additions to the Arcanum started out - as Terry had done - in the many extension buildings around the huge grounds they owned.
He latched the door behind him and only when he'd pulled his drape curtains and finished a sweep of the room did he set the folder down on his bed. His private chambers consisted of an en suit bathroom, spacious cupboard where he stored nearly everything, and a large main room.
The main room was large enough for a four poster bed running along the wall in one corner, a grand desk place looking into the room, a single book case which Terry had never filled and comfortable chairs for when he received guests. Meals were served in one of the outhouses or on occasions brought up to his room meaning all his needs were catered for. He kept a crate of beer under his bed, where he went now for a can of Fosters, it was room temperature but then there was little he could do about that. Settling down and propping himself against the misshapen pillows he set about to read the file.
To Be Continued..........