Vampyre Labyrinth by G.P. Taylor

Author:G.P. Taylor [G. P. Taylor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780571272037
Publisher: Faber & Faber
Published: 2010-05-14T16:00:00+00:00

[17]

Inspector Kaine

IT WAS THE THOUGHT of seeing Jago again that forced Hugh Morgan from his bed and down the stairs to the breakfast room. He sat in the cold grey light that streamed in through the leaded panes and looked out across the moor. As Hugh lifted the china cup from the saucer, he noticed that his hand trembled. Sharp pains jabbed through his fingers and into his chest.

Vibica de Zoete sat in the opposite chair and watched his movements with her cat-like glare. She could see his breath was laboured as she tried to listen to his thoughts. It was something that as a Vampyre she couldn’t stop herself from doing; it was part of her life and she enjoyed knowing what was really in his heart. There was something about Hugh Morgan that Vibica adored. He was so unlike his father and yet in some ways was exactly the same.

‘Are you enjoying watching me?’ Hugh asked her as he tried to pour another cup of tea from the chipped teapot.

‘I didn’t think you had noticed,’ she answered coyly as she dabbed the edges of her lips with the napkin. ‘You seemed to be so far away.’

‘And you read my mind?’ he asked.

‘I try not to read the thoughts of people that I like,’ Vibica said, knowing he was worrying about Jago and could not understand why the boy had disappeared. ‘He will come back. If he can, he will come back.’

‘He left without a word. I fear he was taken.’ Hugh sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.

‘If your father had him then we would know by now. He was a man who always liked to gloat over his victories,’ Vibica answered.

‘How well do you know him?’ Hugh asked, his voice weak.

‘There was a time when we were good friends. Long before he met your mother, in Paris at the time of Napoleon.’

‘Don’t you get sick of living for so long?’

‘A life without sickness, the mild discomfort of taking blood, these things you get used to.’ Vibica looked at his drawn face and lips tinged with purple. ‘I take it that the porphyria is no better?’

‘It is the worry over Jago. I can’t sleep, not knowing where he is. The pain grows with every day.’ Hugh slumped the cup back on to the saucer and gave a sigh that said more than a thousand words. He looked at Vibica, his eyes tired, unable to think of the words he wished to say.

‘Will this disease kill you?’ she asked, already knowing the answer.

‘Of course,’ he said as if he spoke of the price of bread. ‘I will be dead within the month. There is no cure.’

‘And you will let that happen? Jago will be alone and you shall sleep in the grave and he shall have no one to care for him.’ As she spoke she dug her knife into the side of a red apple and watched the juice trickle across the blade. ‘Is that something you are prepared to do?’

‘It is something that I cannot stop.

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