The Witch Hunter (15 page)

"I'm only new at this, Aya. I don't know what good I can do," Gabby tried to hide the panic in her voice, but it wavered, giving her away.

"I'm sure you'll find something," Aya smiled for the first time. "We'll have a lot to keep us entertained in the meantime."

"Like what?" Zac was still annoyed.

"Staking vampires, thwarting assassination attempts. You know, all the
fun
stuff." Aya groaned inwardly at the awkward silence that followed. What a boring bunch of vampires. Even she had a taste for a little persuasive violence now and then. But, perhaps not quite as persuasive as ripping apart werewolves had been.

"Well," Liz proclaimed to cover up the awkward silence. "It's rather late, so we better be going home. Could you give me a ride Gabby?"

"Sure," Gabby looked relieved as she gathered her things, her mind seeming preoccupied with the task Aya had entrusted her with.

"Speak to you tomorrow," Liz gave Sam a quick kiss on the lips as they left the parlor, the front door closing a moment later.

Zac glared at Aya and disappeared from the room without a word. Sam shrugged apologetically, "Do you need to go get anything?"

"No," Aya shook her head.

"Nothing? No clothes or anything?" He was a little taken aback. Most people had some stuff, a change of clothes would be normal, even for a vampire.

"I'm not attached to possessions," she said.

"Well, let me show you upstairs. We have a spare room you can use," he cocked his head towards the door. Aya sure had a different approach to things, it would take some getting used to. 

Sam led her up the stairs and opened the first door next to the landing, "You can use this room. The bathroom is through there. It joins to my room on the other side. If you need anything, let one of us know. If you want to buy anything I can give you some cash, we don't make a habit of compelling people if we don't have to," he turned and walked back to the bedroom door. "And we don't eat them, either."

Aya nodded her understanding and he closed the door behind him. How the hell had she wormed her way into the Degaud manor? She didn't intend to harm any of them, but it was way too easy. She made a mental note to have a word with Sam about security.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

W
hen Aya opened her eyes it was light outside. She sat up, taking in her surroundings in the stark light of day. The room they had given her was modest, but the bed was comfortable. Better than she had slept on in the last one hundred and fifty years, but anything would be better than a lump of rock.

There was no sound coming from the bathroom or the room beyond. Sam had already left for work, it seemed. She showered and dressed in the same clothes as she wore yesterday, making a note to get some more later on. 

Venturing out into the hallway, she caught the faint hum of Zac's blood somewhere on the manor grounds. Keeping a note of his general location she began to explore the house. The brothers had done a lot of work to it since moving in. The entire place had been wired with electricity with soft tasteful lighting in every room. She wondered how many workmen they had to compel to have this done. Then again, their parents had been rich plantation owners and with at least a hundred years of interest in their bank accounts would have made them even more well off.

She passed the door to the master bedroom she knew to be Zac's and kept walking. She shuddered to think what was in there, that one could remain a mystery. The two remaining rooms, the one that had been given to her and the other belonging to Sam, had an adjoining bathroom that also opened out on the main hallway. Tiptoeing down the stairs she wandered to the back of the house, where the kitchen was. It was attached to a formal dining room with a long mahogany table with twelve chairs and what looked like the original chandelier hanging from the centre of the room. Landscape paintings were on each wall, but otherwise the room was bare. It looked unused. 

She wandered back down the hallway, coming to another closed doorway. Running her hand along the frame to the door handle she listened for a moment and turned it quietly, the door creaking inwards. She found herself in a room that served as a study. A large mahogany desk stood to one side, covered in old papers and books. Behind it the entire wall was lined with bookshelves filled with more books and trinkets. Opposite were floor to ceiling French doors that opened up onto the verandah. Outside she saw the wisteria that had once grew in such a manicured fashion had over taken most of the railings and had ventured up to the second floor and onto the roof.

Approaching the bookshelves, she ran her fingers across the spines, reading the titles as she went. There was a layer of dust, which gave away the fact that no one had read anything in a very long time. They all seemed to be ledgers from the old plantation. Expenditure, profit... Until she placed her finger on a copy of Shakespeare’s
Julius Cesar.
Her heart clenched for a moment, she had known a few very dangerous Romans once upon a time. Pulling it from the shelf she flicked through the pages, finally looking on the inside cover. In a perfect script was written,
For Louis, Many happy returns on the day of your birth, Arthur Risom.

Arthur Risom. The name sounded familiar. 

"What are you doing?" Aya turned to find Zac at the door. He was looking at her in a threatening manner as usual, arms crossed over his chest. 

She hadn't heard him appear and she should have by the sound of his blood alone. Placing the book back she said nothing, scolding herself internally. 

"Do you always sneak around like that?" he scowled at her.

"Pfft. I don't sneak," Aya rolled her eyes.

"Then what were you doing?"

She grinned wickedly, biting her lower lip, "Sneaking."

"I don't know what your looking for, but I don't appreciate you poking about my father's study." 

"Whatever," she threw her hands up in mock defense. "Touchy this morning, aren't we?"

"Only because you're here," he sneered, looking her up and down.

"Then perhaps I should go watch the show from the sidelines," she sauntered over to him and looked into his eyes. "When they come for you, you'll beg me to
poke
around." She glared at him as she pushed past into the hallway. Walking into the parlor, she heard him following her for round two.

"Aya," he said, not trying to hide his exasperation. "Just leave that stuff alone. It belonged to my father. I just don't want anyone to touch it, okay?"

She turned, raising an eyebrow at him. "Whatever. If it means that much to you then I won't go in there again. Satisfied?"

He didn't look convinced, but he nodded anyway. He sat on the couch in a huff.

"You know, this place could really use a duster. It's not as nice as I remember it," she jabbed. "I pity those with allergies."

"You've been here before?" he sounded surprised.

Nodding, she said, "I never left."

"What do you mean?" he asked, confused.

"I was asleep since 1860ish."

Zac didn't mask his surprise. "You've been asleep in Ashburton for the last one hundred and fifty years?" 

Aya shrugged, running a finger across the dusty mantelpiece. "If you hadn't summoned me, I probably still would be." Truthfully, the fact that she had slept so long worried her. Who knows when she would have woken if not for Zac and his impulsiveness. It could only mean she was becoming weaker and she hoped that wasn't true.

"Where?" he asked, not fathoming the mechanics of it.

"The cave. By the lake," she said matter-of-factly.

He shook his head, pushing that one aside for later. "Then you would have been here when Sam and I..."

"Louis Degaud was quite the gentleman," she said absently.

"My father..."

"Yes. I believe so." 

"Did I... did Sam..."

"I think you would have remembered if you met me," she laughed. "I had quite a dramatic presence back then. I believe Louis' eldest son was away fighting in the war, which was quite the scandal. His youngest... Well, I don't really remember. Mrs. Degaud, what was her name again... Marie. She was as polite as they came in those days, which meant she'd stab you in the back if you were to come between her husband and her money."

"When did you leave?" he whispered, his expression somewhat shocked.

Aya frowned at his tone, "About the time your parents received word of their sons heroic death."

"I see..."

Aya sensed there was something he thought she knew, but was uncertain of asking her. "The last I knew of this town and the world was in the 1860s. Whatever came to pass after that is unknown to me, along with the so called massacre." 

Zac was silent for a moment, trying to decide what to tell her. "I died in the civil war," he said finally. "I was shot and left for dead. But, before I died a vampire came. I suppose because of all the blood. I was the only one still alive in the pile of corpses. She saw I was a captain and took me for her own gain. When I finally understood that she was using me, I left her only to find that she had reached my family before I could." 

He stood and walked to the window opposite with his back to her. She could feel that he was troubled by it, trying to hide his expression from her. Who was his maker? Obviously a callous bitch by the sounds of it. This was the vampire that had massacred every last human at the plantation after all.

Aya found herself feeling sorry for him, but stopped herself from saying it out loud. She felt sorry now, but back then would she really have done anything to stop it? Instead she asked, "Did you kill her?"

"Yes," he declared, still looking out the window, carefully hiding the emotion in his voice.

"Good," she clapped her hands together, standing up. "Then that problem is solved. The wicked vampire is dead. What was her name?"

Zac turned and frowned at her, "Victoria."

"Oh! Victoria! Long, curly auburn hair? In America by the way of France? Up-herself English bitch?"

"How did you..." he was surprised.

"Bitch got what she deserved. I hope you made it slow and
extremely
painful."

Zac looked at her slightly horrified. He'd met his match in her, that was glaringly obvious.

"Well, thanks for the little chit chat," Aya smiled brightly. "Paces to go, people to eat. You know how it goes." And she was gone before he could open his mouth.

Liz was relieved when Gabby came into the coffee house; the previous night was weighing heavily on her. It was all she could do to remain focused on work. Making herself a coffee, she went and sat with her friend in a booth by the window.

Gabby, seeing she was wound up, produced a flask from her bag and handed it to her under the table. Mrs. Greene wouldn't take too kindly to her drinking on the clock and at midday, too. She hadn't tested how much it took to make her drunk these days, but she assumed it was a lot.

"To the Irish," Gabby grinned as Liz dumped the contents of the flask into her coffee.

"Thanks, Gab. I really need this today," she sighed, relaxing back into the booth, conscious of the customers around them.

"What kind of friend would I be if I didn't pick up on these things?" she winked, grinning. "Besides, with the weird shit we have to deal with, a little whiskey never goes astray."

"Mental, is what it is," Liz groaned. "But, we're in it now, I guess."

"Up to the eyeballs."

"What do you make of her?" Liz frowned.

"Who, Aya?" 

"Yeah."

Gabby thought for a moment, "Well, she's over two thousand years old. That's gotta screw with your head after a while."

Liz groaned, "I don't want to think about age."

"Sorry," she said, knowing her friend was still touchy about the whole being a vampire thing. Herself, well, she couldn't imagine what immortality would be like.

"It's okay. I guess thinking about where I'll be in two thousand years is a bit of overkill," Liz laughed at the idea.