someone said.
I looked up to see a stranger behind the bar. The man was huge with a mop of unruly curls for hair. His complexion was ruddy and he wore a red checked shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off his powerful looking forearms. He stood and cleaned some wine glasses with a white cloth.
“Where’s Phebe and Uri?” I asked, heading for the stairs that would lead up to the landing and my room.
“They’ve had to go away tonight,” he said. “They asked me to stand in for them. My name is Jeremey.”
“Hey, Jeremey,” I smiled, wondering if he too was someone from the Agency I had yet to meet. Was he just a temp or something more?
“If there’s anything you need, just holler,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said, turning my back and heading up the stairs.
I stopped outside my room, and balancing my shopping bags on one arm, I fished around in my coat pocket for the key to my room. It was then I realised I needn’t have bothered. My door was already open. With the tip of my boot, I eased it open and stepped cautiously inside.
“Hello?” I called out. I could see at once that my room was empty. Placing my bags down, I closed the door and went to the bathroom. It was empty. Who had been in my room? Someone who had a key – as the lock wasn’t busted and I could see that it hadn’t been forced at all. But why would anyone want to come into my room? I had nothing of value. The sheets hadn’t been changed by either Uri or Phebe as they still lay in a tangled mess at the foot of my bed where I had left them that morning.
It was as I picked up the bags of shopping and carried them toward my bed that I noticed something had been placed on my desk – something that hadn’t been there when I’d left my room that morning. Placing the bags on the bed, I turned back to the desk and picked up the bottle of Lot 13 that had been left for me.
Chapter Ten
I picked up the glass bottle. A cork had been wedged into the neck. Holding the bottle up, I watched the thick, red liquid slosh against the sides of the bottle. It was a lighter colour than blood, but thicker. I pulled out the cork and held the bottle up to my nose. I sniffed the contents. It smelt sickly sweet just as I remembered it to be. But there was a difference. To smell it didn’t make my stomach lurch with hunger. And as I replaced the cork, I realised for the first time since being pushed again, that I no longer craved blood like I had once before. But my past lust for blood had been because of the cracks breaking out all over my flesh. That flesh had been dead and it had needed blood or Lot 13 to keep it supple – to give it some kind of life.
But what about my friends? I thought, placing the bottle back onto the desk where it had been left for me. Did they still need to drink Lot 13 in this where and when ? Did they still have the hunger? I knew that all of them used to go half-crazy if they didn’t drink Lot 13 regularly. Doctor Ravenwood and Lord Hunt had invented it for the Vampyrus to drink. Not only so the Vampyrus could stay above ground for longer periods of time, but to quench their thirst for human blood. But neither Potter nor Murphy seemed to desire human blood like they had once before, and they couldn’t return to The Hollows, even if they wanted to, as Murphy at least was totally unaware that the place even existed. Perhaps it didn’t in this world. But why then had someone left me a bottle of Lot 13? I certainly hadn’t felt the thirst for it, or for blood, since being pushed again.
My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out.
Wot time are you coming over? Nev xx the message read.
“Shit!” I gasped, looking at the time. It had gone 6.30 p.m. already. I had spent longer shopping than I had first thought.
Soon. KH xx I hurriedly text back.
Forgetting the bottle of Lot 13 for now, I ran toward the bathroom, pulling my clothes off as I went. Scooping my hair up into a loose-fitting bun
I looked up to see a stranger behind the bar. The man was huge with a mop of unruly curls for hair. His complexion was ruddy and he wore a red checked shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off his powerful looking forearms. He stood and cleaned some wine glasses with a white cloth.
“Where’s Phebe and Uri?” I asked, heading for the stairs that would lead up to the landing and my room.
“They’ve had to go away tonight,” he said. “They asked me to stand in for them. My name is Jeremey.”
“Hey, Jeremey,” I smiled, wondering if he too was someone from the Agency I had yet to meet. Was he just a temp or something more?
“If there’s anything you need, just holler,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said, turning my back and heading up the stairs.
I stopped outside my room, and balancing my shopping bags on one arm, I fished around in my coat pocket for the key to my room. It was then I realised I needn’t have bothered. My door was already open. With the tip of my boot, I eased it open and stepped cautiously inside.
“Hello?” I called out. I could see at once that my room was empty. Placing my bags down, I closed the door and went to the bathroom. It was empty. Who had been in my room? Someone who had a key – as the lock wasn’t busted and I could see that it hadn’t been forced at all. But why would anyone want to come into my room? I had nothing of value. The sheets hadn’t been changed by either Uri or Phebe as they still lay in a tangled mess at the foot of my bed where I had left them that morning.
It was as I picked up the bags of shopping and carried them toward my bed that I noticed something had been placed on my desk – something that hadn’t been there when I’d left my room that morning. Placing the bags on the bed, I turned back to the desk and picked up the bottle of Lot 13 that had been left for me.
Chapter Ten
I picked up the glass bottle. A cork had been wedged into the neck. Holding the bottle up, I watched the thick, red liquid slosh against the sides of the bottle. It was a lighter colour than blood, but thicker. I pulled out the cork and held the bottle up to my nose. I sniffed the contents. It smelt sickly sweet just as I remembered it to be. But there was a difference. To smell it didn’t make my stomach lurch with hunger. And as I replaced the cork, I realised for the first time since being pushed again, that I no longer craved blood like I had once before. But my past lust for blood had been because of the cracks breaking out all over my flesh. That flesh had been dead and it had needed blood or Lot 13 to keep it supple – to give it some kind of life.
But what about my friends? I thought, placing the bottle back onto the desk where it had been left for me. Did they still need to drink Lot 13 in this where and when ? Did they still have the hunger? I knew that all of them used to go half-crazy if they didn’t drink Lot 13 regularly. Doctor Ravenwood and Lord Hunt had invented it for the Vampyrus to drink. Not only so the Vampyrus could stay above ground for longer periods of time, but to quench their thirst for human blood. But neither Potter nor Murphy seemed to desire human blood like they had once before, and they couldn’t return to The Hollows, even if they wanted to, as Murphy at least was totally unaware that the place even existed. Perhaps it didn’t in this world. But why then had someone left me a bottle of Lot 13? I certainly hadn’t felt the thirst for it, or for blood, since being pushed again.
My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out.
Wot time are you coming over? Nev xx the message read.
“Shit!” I gasped, looking at the time. It had gone 6.30 p.m. already. I had spent longer shopping than I had first thought.
Soon. KH xx I hurriedly text back.
Forgetting the bottle of Lot 13 for now, I ran toward the bathroom, pulling my clothes off as I went. Scooping my hair up into a loose-fitting bun
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