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“Lord Reginald Fallon’s office, this is his personal secretary Denise speaking. How may I help you?”
“I’d like to speak directly with Lord Fallon please,” I said, twirling a pen around my fingers to try and distract myself from the sick feeling in my stomach.
“I’m afraid Lord Fallon is in a meeting right now. May I take a message?”
I rolled my eyes. “Please inform him immediately that Lady Victoria Astley-Hawke is on the line and needs to speak to him urgently about... well, say I’d like to hand him my permanent resignation in person.”
“Oh yes, of course, my lady. Please hold.”
I drummed on the desk as I waited. My usually perfectly manicured nails were broken and dirty. How life had changed in just a few short weeks. A deep sadness began to well inside me, and I pushed it away, taking a breath. Right now, I was definitely appreciating the stiff upper lip I had been brought up to depend upon. If I gave into my feelings now...
“Lady Victoria, I believe you need to see me?” Lord Fallon’s rather high-pitched voice came over the phone. I hadn’t noticed it when we’d been talking about archaeology, but now I found it rather irritating—or maybe I was just more inclined to find fault now that I knew he was trying to have me killed.
“Lord Fallon. Yes, I would like to arrange a meeting. Today if possible. I have something to discuss with you that I believe will be to your benefit.”
“I see. And will your... bodyguards... be accompanying you?”
The laptop screen timed out, and I suddenly found myself staring at my dishevelled reflection in the dark screen. A monster stared back at me. My hair hung in limp, greasy strands around my face, my eyes were dark with heavy circles underneath, and my cheekbones seemed more prominent than usual. I guessed I’d lost weight. Funny how someone’s body could become so dependent on blood so quickly. The hunger rose in me just from thinking about it, and I swallowed
I reached out and shut the laptop. “No, Lord Fallon. I will be coming alone. If I give you an address, would you send a car? I’m afraid my means are rather limited at this time.”
“But of course.”
I gave him Hattie’s address and arranged to be picked up in an hour. I hung up the phone and noticed my hands were no longer shaking. I guessed since the deed was done and there was no way for me to back out, I didn’t have to worry about not going through with it. I swallowed, pushing the flutter of fear down into my belly, and got up from Hattie’s desk. My arm caught a silver photo frame, knocking it onto the cream carpet. I reached down and picked it up, running my thumb over the face of my cousin and best friend. It was of the two of us on results day, hugging each other in celebration. I had just won a place at Oxford studying archaeology, and Hattie was coming to study medicine. We were ecstatic. I reached out and gently set the frame back on her desk. Grabbing a pad of paper, I sat down and started to write.
An hour later, after showering and borrowing some clothes from Hattie’s wardrobe, I found myself climbing into the back of a black limousine. The chauffeur was dressed in a black suit and didn’t speak a word to me all the way to Fallon’s townhouse. I leaned back in the soft leather seat and watched the city go by. My fingers fiddled with the buttons on the soft tan wool coat I wore. For some reason, I thought I should dress up for my own murder. I wore high black ankle boots, wide-legged black trousers, and a black cashmere roll neck. My hair was up in a French twist, as clean and as straight as I could get it, seeing as Hattie didn’t possess hair straighteners. She embraced her curls.
The limousine pulled up outside a large Georgian townhouse. It looked much the same as others along the street with tall, elegant windows and a black iron balustrade that led up the white marble steps to the polished front door. I swallowed hard, pain squeezing my heart as I realised we were only a couple of streets from where my parents would be right now. I stood at the bottom of the steps, gripping the balustrade rail tightly, my knuckles white as I tried to get my breathing under control. Everything in me wanted to turn and run until I could burst through my own front door and fall into my father’s arms, but in the back of my mind, I realised I could still hear the thump of the chauffeur’s heart that pumped his blood around his body, and I knew there was no turning back now. I let go of the rail and moved up the steps to the front door.
They had obviously heard the car drive up and had been told to expect me, because the door opened just as I reached the top step. Fallon’s butler stood back from the door as I stepped through, a hall boy hurrying forward to slip my coat from my shoulders. I shivered. The house felt cold, and the black cashmere jumper wasn’t quite thick enough to make me comfortable. The butler led me into a drawing room. Lord Fallon clearly wasn’t into modern decor. Everything in the room was Georgian, beautiful but hardly comfortable. I loved the antique furniture in our house, but I loved our giant squashy leather sofas more. The room was decorated in a deep red that reminded me uncomfortably of blood, and there was gold everywhere. There were enough ancient Egyptian artefacts displayed on side tables, hung on walls, or displayed in glass cabinets that the room could have passed as a museum. I wandered over to one, looking at the death mask of some ancient person. Would I get a death mask? Would West come and find my body when he realised what had happened, and would they bury me? Or would I turn up somewhere down the Thames, weighted down by rocks tied to my ankles until my flesh dissolved enough to let the ropes slide off and my decaying corpse float to the surface?
“Lady Astley-Hawke, how wonderful to see you.” Polite as ever, Fallon’s voice was cold and his smile was slimy.
I turned, and he took my hand in greeting, brushing his lips over my skin. I wanted to snatch my hand back and wrap it around his throat. Maybe I should just set the bastard on fire like I had to Jabari. A memory of blackened, burning flesh flashed in my mind, and I could have sworn I smelled the roast meat scent that haunted my dreams. I swallowed, forcing my lioness back down inside as she stalked inside my mind, urging me to rip Fallon to pieces. This was why I was here.
“Lord Fallon,” I murmured, “thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me.”
“Of course, my dear. Please do have a seat.” He gestured towards the two carved wooden settees that stood opposite each other, a rosewood and glass coffee table between them. I took one and he took the other. He regarded me carefully, and I wasn’t sure how to begin. I could hear the thud of his heart. It was weaker than a younger male’s but running fast. He was nervous, I realised, or possibly excited, which was unnerving to say the least.
“I am rather surprised to find you unaccompanied, my dear.”
“I told you I would be,” I replied, wringing my fingers in my lap.
“You did, but I am still surprised. Do your attendants know you are here?” He leaned back and crossed one ankle over his knee.
“No, they don’t. I didn’t tell them I was coming.”
“That is... reassuring. Well, my dear. What can I do for you?”
I took a breath. “I want to give myself up to the Golden Dawn.”
To his credit, he didn’t try to pretend he had no connection to the society. “Give yourself up? I don’t follow. Why would you do that? You defeated the greatest hunter that has ever lived. You should be revelling in your victory.”
“I... I have come to realise that... that I do not deserve this life.” I looked across the table at him, meeting his eyes, and hoped I didn’t sound too over dramatic. “What he said before... he was right. I am dangerous to humans. I’m a monster, Lord Fallon. It’s only a matter of time before I slip, and I cannot bear the weight of that responsibility or the guilt should I end up harming someone. The Golden Dawn feels the same way, which is why I have sought you out. You are my only link to them, and I am hoping that they will have some way of helping me achieve what I want.”
Lord Fallon leaned forward, his eyes fixed on mine, and he smiled in a way that sent icy chills down my spine. “And what is it that you want, exactly, Lady Victoria? There is no cure for what you are and no way of controlling you, whatever your priests have told you.”
“I’m not looking for a cure, Lord Fallon, and I think it’s clear that my priests cannot keep me from hurting people. I want a resolution to my situation, a permanent resolution that will not result in me returning to existence.” I dug my nails into my palm, feeling my hands start to shake.
