Many thanks for the great reviews. I have taken some liberties and made some suppositions for this chapter, but any errors are all my own. Love to hear your thoughts.
Chapter Two:
They have temporary lodgings in the centre of town. The actual property owners are associates of Herrick, and their town house comes in very handy on occasions such as this. It's a well sized house with enough room for them all to move around in and not get on top of each other. Mitchell likes his space; he gets bad-tempered when he has to share.
They have several such properties dotted all around the area and which they move around from time to time. Sometimes they move around as a family group and other times they separate into smaller ones. It's a nomadic existence but one that he accepts and embraces.
He closes the door to his room behind him and shrugs off his jacket and pulls his shirt out from the waistband of his trousers and unbuttons it. The tie is unfastened and discarded somewhere; he doesn't know nor care where.
He pours some water into a bowl and sluices his face. There's a towel nearby and he blots his face and neck and looks down at the pinkish deposit of blood mixed in with the water. He discards the towel and walks to his bed. He should be tired but feeding always leaves him a little bit fidgety, a little bit restless He sits down on the side of the brass bed. He hears it creak beneath his weight. He turns his head towards the door. He can hear footsteps on the stairs.
Herrick hands Lily the balloon glass of brandy and watches her inhale and then take a sip. Her eyes gleam appreciatively. He looks down at his own glass and swirls it, watching the golden brown liquid spin within the glass. He turns and places it on the cabinet. Slowly he turns back around and regards her. She lifts blue eyes to his.
"What's on your mind William?" she enquires. For a moment he doesn't answer. She's the only one who calls him that, nobody else would dare.
"How did you know Mitchell would be in that park tonight?" he enquires smoothly. Lily looks at him. She stands up and places the now empty glass onto the mantelpiece. She smiles as she turns to face him.
"Would you believe me if I said it was pure luck?"
"Knowing you as I do? Quite frankly my dear, no" Lily shrugs again and she slowly walks towards him.
"He's something else William, I mean, truly special" her eyes glow and he recognises that expression.
"Leave him alone Lily, find someone more…experienced for your type of games" he warns her in a soft voice.
"What if he wants to play too?"
"He can't handle you and he's the type of vampire who likes to be in control. He's young but he's stubborn, he's strong willed and he'll frustrate you" he turns and reaches for his glass and takes a sip of brandy.
"You like your own way all of the time my darling, so does John and it's a battle of wills that could get very nasty very quickly. To be honest, I'm not willing to sacrifice him to you and your whims" He watches how her expression darkens, how the storm clouds gather in those lovely blue eyes of hers.
"Honestly William, if I want him, you can't stop me from taking him"
"Stamp your feet and be done with it Lily, I'm not going to fight with you over him. Do your worst. John Mitchell possesses a dark heart, he has a very promising future but if he gets embroiled with you then that will change" He smiles as anger overwhelms her and her eyes flash shiny black. He doesn't move as she pushes her face into his, still arresting even like that.
"You sound almost…jealous" she taunts. He slowly almost lazily, smiles.
"Whatever helps you sleep at night my dear, whatever helps you sleep at night" he sighs with boredom.
"I will take him from you William" she snarls. Herrick goes still.
"For God's sake he's not a possession Lily. He isn't anybody's plaything. There'll be no taking from anyone. If you want to find out for yourself then by all means, try. He may surprise you, he may surprise us all" he takes another mouthful of his drink. He feigns nonchalance, knowing it will irritate her all the more and he sees the flare of anger in her eyes. He watches her turn and flounce out of the room and he allows himself the smallest of smiles.
She storms up the stairs in a bit of a temper. She has age and experience above all of them. If she wants Mitchell then she'll take him, they can't stop her. She's not stupid. She can see already that he's curious, that he's interested and that kiss they shared in the park and the feel of the weight of his body on top of hers more than proves her point. He will be hers if she wants him to be.
She gets to the top of the staircase and she pauses and looks at the white painted doors. She wonders which is Mitchell's room and whether he would appreciate a late night visit.
Herrick listens to her stamp up the stairs like the petulant child that she is. Oh she may outrank him in age but emotionally there's no competition. Lily Vale is used to being adored, used to her every whim being indulged, her every wish being carried out. She's a devious little baggage, there's a sharp mind behind those doll like eyes and she manipulates with the best of them. John is a soldier, his first and last thought is to the cause and he can't afford for him to be distracted. He's looked after him for the last eight years; he doesn't want someone like Lily coming in between them. His head has already been turned by her. He doesn't know what to make of her, his vampiric side is doing battle with his inherently male side and Herrick has a funny feeling he knows which side is currently winning and it's not the side that he wants. Eight years of vampirism and John still thinks with his other brain when a beautiful woman is nearby. Even if the beautiful woman is a two hundred year old predator. He smiles coldly to himself.
Maybe John will surprise them all.
The car pulls up outside of the large country pile and Mitchell looks up at it through the window. His arse feels like its welded to the seat and has long since gone numb. He wants to get out and stretch. He glances at Herrick who turns off the engine and for a moment just sits there.
"Is this it?" Mitchell asks him and Herrick looks at him and he smiles.
"This is it" he confirms and he watches his protégé open the door and climb out. He bites back a half smile as he turns to look at the grand building and surreptitiously stretches cramped and numb muscles. These charabancs are built neither for comfort nor for speed but they get them from one place to the next. He turns more fully and sees Lily in the back seat. She's surrounded by her luggage and judging by the sulky expression on her face, she's not happy to be here. Well, to be truthful she isn't happy that she's been forced to sit in the back seat, ignored by all and sundry. Herrick extended the invitation to her as a courtesy, hoping that the prospect of a weekend in the middle of nowhere would deter her but she smiled her brilliant smile at the soldier and coyly accepted. Maybe she expects him to pay court and wait on her hand and foot. Right now she's waiting for him to open the door and help her out. He hasn't looked at her, has hardly looked at her and this has flummoxed her.
He could have told her that he'd do this. Mitchell likes to blow hot and cold when the mood suits him and right now he's a little bit on the chilly side.
Herrick gets out of the car and stands beside Mitchell and together they continue to stare up at the multitude of windows. Mitchell's eyes are wide. Herrick can understand his awe, he has come from extreme poverty, all of this will be a revelation to him.
"So who lives here?" Mitchell asks. Herrick smiles slowly and slyly.
"Just the youngest son of some Lord, no idea of the actual title but this pile belongs to him His name is Hugh Blythe-Pearson His eldest brother got the title and most of the wealth and whatnot that goes with it, there are two other brothers and this one got what was left. More money than sense, you know what these types are like" he taps the side of his forehead and plasters a smile on his face at the front door opens.
"And here's the Lord of this Manor as I live and…well… breathe I suppose…" Mitchell watches him walk towards him, his hand outstretched in welcome. He turns his attention to the car and to Lily seated in the back.
Her presence on this trip disturbs him on a level that he's not comfortable with and the only way he can deal with it is to ignore her. He realises that she doesn't like being ignored, by him or by Herrick. Her silence has become more petulant, more uncomfortable the longer she's remained seated there. He sighs quietly and he opens the door.
She remains where she is, staring ahead. She doesn't acknowledge his presence, or even his existence and he supposes he deserves that.
"Are you going to sit there all day ignoring me or are you getting out?" he asks in a low, annoyed voice. That gets her attention. Her head snaps around and her eyes narrow as she glares at him. He holds out a hand and he waits. After a moment she places her gloved hand in his and allows him to help her out. He lets go of her hand as she straightens and he watches her take in her surroundings. Herrick turns and sees that she's standing there and smoothly introduces her to their host. In an instant she's all smiles and charm and Mitchell surreptitiously rolls his eyes.
He sees large rooms filled with history. Mitchell follows Lily and Herrick and he looks around with a mixture of curiosity and strange… distaste. There are centuries of family history here; portraits grace the walls; there are framed photographs on the mantelpiece and on top of a piano. One makes him pause and he stares at it. A young man, stiffly proud in uniform. He looks nervous and he can relate to that. Once upon a time that had been him; he'd joined up looking for a vocation, a career, to escape. Dublin had nothing to offer him but starvation, unemployment, degradation and an early death from consumption or worse. He stares at the face. He wonders who he is, whether he made it back home alive in one piece. He turns his head and looks at Herrick, who seems to hold their host in his thrall. He returns his attention back to the photograph.
"Ah. That's Bertie" his attention is distracted by the woman who has materialised beside him. She's a tiny, dainty little thing who looks like she'd be blown away by a good gust of wind. She's pretty too and Mitchell takes her in. Her pale blonde hair is cut short in the new bobbed style, she's almost as pale as he is but he can hear her heart thumping in her flat chest.
"Pardon me?" He watches her indicate the photograph of the soldier he'd been examining earlier
"My brother, Bertie. He fell in France" Mitchell's attention returns to the picture and he regards it with suitable sombreness
"I'm sorry to hear that. Where?"
"The Somme. He's still over there somewhere, they never found him. Did you serve?" she keeps her voice low, confidential and he looks at her again. She's watching him. She has big china blue eyes that he supposes are attractive in their own way.
"Yes" he confirms and leaves it at that.
"We weren't introduced earlier; I'm Charlotte Blythe-Pearson. I'm Hugh's wife." she languidly holds out a pale hand and automatically Mitchell takes it.
"John Mitchell" he replies. In comparison he looks positively swarthy. He lets go of her hand and shoves his own into his pockets.
"Are you a friend of Mr Herrick's?" she enquires and Mitchell turns his head and regards his sire. He looks back at Charlotte and he smiles very slightly.
"I am, yes" he confirms. He watches her smile.
"He's such a charming fellow don't you think? We met him in Bristol, at a cousin's soiree and he's so amusing, we simply had to invite him to stay with us" Mitchell tries to imagine Herrick as charming and amusing and he supposes he can see that, they all can be like that if they want something or someone badly enough.
"He has his moments" he agrees.
"Have you known him for long?" he picks up on the curiosity in her voice and he rocks back on his heels for a moment wondering how to answer and be vague at the same time
"A little while" he answers and feels those doll like eyes assessing him. A shiver of something crawls up the length of his spine and sits uncomfortably between his shoulder blades.
He's shown to his room and he stands in the centre of it and looks around. He thinks of his mam, of what she would think of a place like this. She told him tales of working as a maid in a place like this one before he was born and it feels strange that he's here. He's stayed in similar places, where luxury is seen as a right rather than a privilege but this place, there's something about this place that he can't quite put his finger on it.
His clothes have been put away and his tuxedo is hung up and ready for dinner. He frowns at it. He hates dressing up like a penguin but Herrick assures him that it is the done thing in a place such as this one. He sighs and goes to the bed. He sits on the side and kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket and loosens his tie. He stretches out on top of the bed and he closes his eyes.
There's a tap on his door a while later. He answers it and pauses when he sees Lily standing there. Her dress is the colour of fresh blood and looks devastating against her pale skin and chocolate brown hair. Her lips are painted to match the dress and her complexion is vampire pale. There's a shimmering jewelled red band around her head and her shoes are that same colour.
"Ready to go down yet?" she enquires. His gaze travels the length of her body and a sly smile tips the corner of his mouth.
"Of course. I'm starving" he admits after a pause and she smiles at him.
"Not for food I think" she walks towards him and she straightens his bow tie and smooths her hands down the lapels of his jacket. She assesses him and then gives a tiny nod of satisfaction.
"You'll do. You look devastating by the way" she looks up into his eyes again and there's a twinkle of appreciation in his eyes at her compliment.
"Thank you. As do you" he holds out an arm and with a giggle, she slips hers through as he steps out of the room, closing the door behind them both.
There are a few more people present, people Mitchell doesn't recognise. He sees Herrick, clad in a similar tuxedo standing beside the mantelpiece, nursing what looks like a tiny glass of sherry. He sees Mitchell's enquiring glance, looks down at the small glass and he shrugs surreptitiously. Mitchell pauses briefly and his eyes scan the guests present. He can hear a cacophony of heartbeats, an orchestra of pulses and blood flow. It's almost overwhelming and he takes a strengthening breath. It wouldn't do to let the other side of his nature run free just yet. There'll be time for that later, he hopes.
"John" he turns his head when he hears Charlotte's almost breathy exclamation and he watches her approach him. She's wearing a gown of pale, almost ethereal pink, the only splash of colour in a pallid façade. She barely glances at Lily and he feels her bristle beside him. Her hand tightens territorially on his arm.
"Allow me to introduce you to some perfectly marvellous people" Charlotte murmurs to him and he has no option but to follow her to a small group of people. He glances down at Lily and he recognises the gleam in her eyes.
"Behave" he murmurs in a low voice.