Vexed: A Tidal Kiss Novella (The Tidal Kiss Trilogy Book 5) Read online

  “I know it’s in Lincoln. I don’t know exactly where…” he admits, tearing his gaze away from my stomach too slowly as I slap him on the arm.

  “You asshole! Why did you even come here with me? I could’ve found Lincoln on a map!” I exclaim, and he shrugs.

  “I was worried about you, Azure,” he admits, calling me by my name, not ‘Love’ or ‘Pet’ or anything else from his ridiculous dictionary of slang which he thinks makes him sound cool. I look at him as we linger in this moment of gradual peace, tired of the constant battle between us.

  “What’s Google?” I ask, distracting him as my gaze shifts to the image behind him, and I take in the screen he’s browsing. He laughs at my lack of know-how.

  “It’s like a search engine,” he explains, and I frown. I don’t get it.

  “Whatever…did you find her?” I ask.

  “If I knew her last name that would help.” He stares at me, eyes wide, as though he’s pitying me and the pain of my past. I debate slapping him but quell the twitch before it reaches my palm and reply instead.

  “Dragos, her last name is Dragos. She was born in 1591,” I inform him, and he looks surprised.

  “Damn. You’re looking good for a FILF,” he smirks, turning back to the screen and typing in a few words before slamming down on the oblong key at the bottom of his keyboard.

  “FILF?” I demand, wondering why he suddenly seems to be speaking a foreign language.

  “Uh… Fossil I’d like to…” I cut him off.

  “Oh, fuck you!” I cross my arms, scowling at him and sighing. Why the hell did I have to get stuck with his sorry ass for this trip? He’s so goddamn filthy.

  “You bloody asked!” he protests, and I snort. I don’t reply, but after a few minutes, Vex begins to curse. “Damnit! Bloody arseholes!”

  I breathe deep, running tentative fingers through my silken hair.

  “What now?”

  “Well, they’re locked to the public. The bishop’s records aren’t available,” he explains, and I shrug.

  “So?” I ask him, and he sighs.

  “So, it means we have to go and find the bloody bishop and get him to take us to the original copies of the records. I wouldn’t even know where to start looking. They could be anywhere,” he explains, and I feel my heart become heavy with the fear that this trip will have been for nothing. Sitting back down on his bed, I feel my frustration mounting, so I grab the plush shark from beside me and throw it at Vex’s head.

  “Hey, watch it! No throwing Mr. Teeth!” he scolds me, and I cock an eyebrow, amused.

  “Mr. Teeth?”

  “You try naming a bloody shark at three years old. It’s hard okay?!” He’s defensive, snapping, so I raise my hands in surrender.

  “Alright, Jesus! Sorry, Mr. Teeth is a very respectable name for a shark.” I say this, unsure of the reaction he wants from me. He nods, smiling, clearly satisfied.

  “Why, thank you, Love.” His mouth twists into a crooked and dangerous smile as his eyes glint. I, once again, try to stay on topic.

  “How exactly are we going to find this bishop?” I vocalise the absurdity of this as a plan. We only have one night.

  “Well, I think the bishop actually lives next to the Cathedral. What say you and I go and pay him a little house call?” he suggests, and I nod, not willing to waste any more time. Vex places Mr. Teeth down gently on the bed beside me as we both get to our feet. He slams his laptop shut, the last light of day fading fast outside the window.

  “Let’s go.”

  After a rushed and teary-eyed departure from Vex’s childhood home, filled with what I’m sure are entirely empty promises that he will call real soon and be home before you know it, we take to the streets of Lincoln once again.

  The air is fresh and cold as we walk through the high, rounded, medieval arch and into the courtyard of the Cathedral. The night is sharp with frost, and everywhere is busy with people walking briskly through the spice infused air leaking from local pubs from one wreath clad doorway to another.

  I look up at the intimidating height of the Cathedral, wondering why they build them so tall. Could it be the more massive the building, the greater the fear of god instilled into the hearts of mortals desperate for his love, or are the priests just incredibly insecure? The enormous spires penetrate the clear dark of the night sky, surrounded by stars, and I sigh out, feeling the magnitude of the task ahead. One grave of hundreds, perhaps thousands, and I have one night to find it.

  “This way,” Vex instructs, his leather jacket flaring out behind him as the wind picks up, moving my hair back from my face.

  We begin to pace around the semi-circular lawn, outside the large double doors of the gargantuan piece of architecture, and rush toward a small house made entirely of cobblestone standing behind a high, thick-set wall. Vex pushes open a tall wrought iron gate, and I feel my steps becoming more and more defined against the cobbles underfoot as I move beneath his arm and through, wondering. What are we going to do? Sit down and have tea with the guy? I mean, I guess that seems like a very British way to handle this.

  “Follow my lead,” Vex instructs, and I scowl. I’m not used to taking a backseat, and yet today I wonder if I can be bothered fighting him for the position of leader.

  “Why? What exactly are you intending to do?” I enquire, getting an instinctual sense he’s about to try something very stupid. He shrugs.

  “What I have to. I haven’t come all this bloody way for nothing. We’re finding the grave.” He sounds determined, and suddenly I realise that he really cares about all this.

  But why?

  I open my mouth to ask him, but before I can, we’re awkwardly stood outside a wooden front door as I wonder what will happen next. I expect him to raise a hand, to knock, but instead he puts a hand across my chest and pushes me behind him. Bending his leg at the knee, he kicks the door in, and I jump at the sudden action.

  What the fuck is he doing? This so isn’t tea! I cuss, watching as he bursts into the living room, which lies just behind the empty doorway, letting the cold from the outside tumble, unwanted, into the room along with his clumsy gait.

  “Excuse me? What is the meaning of this?” I hear a shocked voice and then take a few steps inside the building as Vex storms across the vile mouldy green of the bishop’s living room carpet. I twist, slamming the door shut behind me, not wanting to be disturbed as Vex grabs the unsuspecting man, burying his fists in his red knit sweater before lifting him from his armchair.

  A bible drops to the floor, though as the cover opens, I see this one has actual verse in, not tequila and smokes.

  “We have questions, mate!” Vex gets right up in his face, and I feel nothing. It’s not the same; it hasn’t been the same since the night of the blood moon all those weeks ago. This doesn’t stimulate me; it doesn’t arouse me. It merely bores me, as if the person I had been is completely unattainable due to my own imperative restraint. I lean against the wall, cocking my hip and watching Vex as he turns to me.

  “Don’t you want to rough him up a bit, Love?” he asks, surprise raising the pitch of his usually deep voice. I shake my head, feeling my long dark hair brush against my ears.

  “I’m good,” I respond, looking down at my nails as I swallow hard.

  “Bloody great… and I thought watching you walk away from that Psiren brawl before was depressing.” He drops his victim down into the depths of the chair again, a small cloud of dust expelling on impact, and keeps his hand firmly on the man’s shoulder as he turns to me.

  “I’ve been doing this longer than you… beating the crap out of holy men has long since lost its appeal.” I make the excuse, knowing it’s not true but unable to find the energy to care enough to explain.

  “Bollocks! I saw you in that battle. You were… like some kind of machine the way you handled Solustus. What the hell is up with you?” he demands, his face incredulous, angry almost, as the fireplace at the back of the room casts deep shadows upon his face, m
aking him even more intimidating. I shrug again.

  “If I punch him, will you shut up?” I sigh, wondering what must be going through the head of the bishop, who sits beneath Vex’s heavy palm, terrified yet confused as he looks between us bickering.

  “No. Because you’ll just be doing it for me. Don’t you just… crave it anymore?” he asks me, his eyes flickering with a passion I’ve seen lost.

  “Nope.”

  It’s a lie. A blatant lie. But one I must tell regardless because the person I truly am isn’t a ruler, isn’t respectable, isn’t even half decent. She’s a monster who loves being a monster, and that is no longer permissible for both the sake of my survival and the satiation of Poseidon’s desire. I’ve long since curbed the urge, even if it has turned me empty and numb in the process.

  Vex’s slashed eyebrow cocks, and I wonder what he’s thinking. Giving me a final worried glance, he turns his attention back to the bishop.

  “Right, mate. You’re going to help us, got that?” he barks, and the bishop looks like he might say something. He begins to stand up out of the chair, but Vex takes his palm off the man’s shoulder and uses it to shove him back into its hold so the entire thing rocks, unsteady on its hind legs. As I watch, his eyes dilate to black, and the bishop’s face turns from determined to horrified.

  “Oh father…” The bishop begins to pray, and I laugh under my breath. Vex puts his boot up between the legs of the man, causing the chair to slam back down onto the floor as the fire in the hearth behind him extinguishes.

  “Now, now. None of that mate. He won’t help you. Only you can do that. We need to get into the death records for this place… you know the bishop’s transcripts, ones for way back when, like the sixteen-hundreds?” He gets up close to him, his face ghostly in only moonlight as his lips pull back and he smiles, eyes still abyssal, now sparking through with lilac lightning.

  “Death records?” The holy man stutters, his face drained of colour, and Vex nods. The bishop pushes his glasses up his crooked nose with a shaking hand.

  “Yes, mate, very good. Where do I find em?” he demands, voice expectant, and the priest swallows hard. I shift from foot to foot as Vex cocks his head with impatience, wishing he’d hurry up and get to the point.

  “They’ve, uh, recently been moved for reapplying of preserving agents to the paper…” He can barely get his words out, and I take this moment to step in, sick of all this playing around. Striding around the small coffee table beside his armchair, upon which is a cup and saucer, steaming in pitiful lukewarmth. I let my own pupils fully dilate, pulling my lips back over my teeth just as Vex had done but maintaining as much control as I can manage.

  “Where?!” I demand, and he tears his gaze away from Vex, eyes landing on me and widening. He raises a hand, moving it to his neck, but I grab it from the air.

  “No crucifixes. Where are the transcripts?” I exert pressure on his wrist, threatening to crush tendons and stop the blood flow to the limb. My heart rate picks up a little, and I take a few deep breaths, curbing my excitement, knowing it’s wrong. Vex looks to me, examining me closely, his gaze only moving from me as the bishop’s voice hits the air between us.

  “The Wren library,” he speaks, clearly this time, and I continue to grill him.

  “Right, where is that?” I persist in exerting pressure, and Vex looks to me as they both answer in unison.

  “The Cathedral.”

  “You… you…” The bishop stutters.

  “What? Spit it out mate!” Vex exclaims, and the man sighs, as if he can’t believe he’s speaking with us at all.

  “You need a key,” he explains, and Vex inhales deeply before a smirk twists his pointed features.

  “I guess you’re coming with us then…mate.”

  “My name is Christopher Lowson.”

  Vex’s expression turns surprised.

  “And I care because?” he asks, leaning back and letting the man up out of the chair.

  “Don’t you want to know the name of the man you’re threatening?” Christopher’s voice is steadier as he gets to his feet, picking up the bible from where it has fallen on the floor. Vex takes it from him quickly, flicking through the pages before throwing it behind him. I watch as the book falls into the fireplace where it smoulders among the sooty remains of tonight’s dead fire.

  “You won’t be needing that; I assure you,” Vex snarls, and the bishop straightens.

  “There is no mortal soul which cannot be saved young man. No matter how far you may appear to have fallen.” He speaks with ignorant certainty and Vex chuckles to himself, looking to me and placing his hand around the back of the bishop’s neck.

  “Who said we were mortal, mate?” he asks, and I smile as he winks at me, having the fun I’m stopping myself from indulging.

  He’s right though. There is no salvation here, only the power of self-restraint, the power of my will and his.

  The walk across the courtyard toward the Cathedral is brisk and strained as Vex and I entrap the bishop on either side. We approach the enormity of the building’s doors, lush grass on either side of us bristling noticeably in the December chill. I let the cold wrap around me like an old friend, giving me that same edge to my senses as it had when we’d first arrived.

  The bishop pushes in on the doors, which creak loudly. As the echoes of the wood scraping against the cold stone of the floor fade, I hear Vex whisper.

  “No funny business, or I rip you apart like a sodding Christmas cracker. Got it?” I ignore him, trying not to let myself feel either the excitement at the fact I’m once again involved in threatening someone, or the nerves about the fact my daughter’s grave, after everything, may remain lost to me.

  I’m distracted momentarily as the hallway we’re striding through widens, and the main part of the Cathedral is revealed to us in all it’s over pompous glory. The ceilings must be at least one hundred feet tall, if not more. The room is constructed of stone with enormous archways supporting the ceiling, which are bridged with golden looking beams from both the left and right.

  Every step I take echoes out, and the temperature drops even further as I stare out into the length of the place which is lit by only a few dim orange lights embedded into the concrete floor. The shadows of the ceiling, of the archways, and that are cast over us by the back of the pipe organ, standing with its back to the front doors, make the medieval architecture seem cruel and unforgiving. Totally fitting when you think about it.

  “Which way?” Vex barks, his voice echoing out carelessly as we realise that nobody is here. I have no idea what the time is, but it’s only early evening, so I wonder why there aren’t more people, or at least some choir boys at practice.

  The priest begins to tread, the leather of his too comfortable looking loafers making barely a sound as we scurry down the length of hall. We continue forward as a threesome, both holding the man’s arms now as if the closer we get to our destination, the more we fear we may have to subdue him. He visibly relaxes the further into the building we venture, as if he thinks God will protect him or something similarly naïve and human. If only he knew the gods; if only he knew how they love to watch us squirm underneath their invisible magnifying glasses as they burn us with their hot and unpredictable scorn. Would he love them so much then? Would he worship just the same?

  I doubt it.

  Making a left, we move into a wing which is an offshoot of the main building. It has a low ceiling and glassless window arches which show a small grassy courtyard outside, surrounded on all sides by identical looking corridors. Reaching the end point of the hall, we turn right as the bishop slides his hand into his pocket and withdraws a key, slipping it into the lock and twisting the handle. The door gives a recognisable yet squeaky click, signalling it as open.

  “He couldn’t have just given us the key…” I sigh, wondering why we walked him all the way here if he had the key in his pocket all along.

  “I wouldn’t have left him anyway; don’t need him
getting the police do we, Love?” Vex reminds me, posing the question, and I ponder it as we step through the door together, becoming blanketed by the darkness inside.

  I guess when I’d done things like this before, I’d never worried about the police. That was mainly because no man lived long enough once I had gotten what I needed to inform them of my intentions, however wicked. It was an easier method to be sure, and I feel myself frustrated at how doing things like this, without bloodshed, can be so much more time consuming. I miss the simple life, the one of no guilt and no regret, of death and of easy, definitive conclusions to complicated problems.

  Shutting the door behind us, Vex releases the man who quickly turns on the light, illuminating our surroundings.

  The bishop leads us forward, crossing the length of the room as we close in at his back. We ascend a beautiful looking spiral staircase that could have been carved from a single piece of wood in its grainy uniqueness and then turn as we reach the final step. The bishop unlocks yet another door with the same key he had used on the first.

  Pushing them inward, we step through and yet another light switch is flicked, revealing a library with a dark wooden floor and a single wall stacked floor to ceiling with leather bound books, which may well be older than I am. The opposing side of the library houses only windows and a few chairs, and a long mahogany table stands central to the space, stacked high with boxes. Looking to Christopher, I fold my arms, impatient even still.

  “Well? Where are these record things?” I bark, and he takes a few steps over to the table.

  “They’re in these boxes. They’re here to keep the paper preserved… we coat the pages in a…” He’s getting off topic, so I interrupt him.

  “Yeah, I don’t really care. I just want to find someone.” I brush past him, moving to take a seat at the table. Vex moves to do the same, and Christopher backs himself into the corner.

  “Hey, you’re not going anywhere, mate. Sit.” Vex orders his compliance, pointing to the chair beside him. The bishop looks back at the door, and I cock an eyebrow.