On The Run With A Vampire

7. Raven

CHAPTER 7

RAVEN

Lucien takes my proposal surprisingly well. Insofar as not immediately bursting into laughter and then sprinting away, I mean.

“Is this more sarcasm?” he asks, staring at me warily as if I’ve just sprouted another head.

“I’m deadly serious.”

“You want to solve the murders?”

I nod. “I want to clear my name. And yours. If solving the murders is what it takes, then that’s what we need to do.”

He stares at me for a few long moments, his thin blond brows knitting together in the middle. “And what happens if we find out it was another, incredibly sloppy vampire? You can’t go to the police with that.”

“Then we’ll take the evidence to the S.B.E.F.”

Lucien wrinkles his nose. “No.”

Alright then.

“Fine. It’s a moot point anyway, since you don’t think it was another vampire, do you?”

Lucien’s eyes widen like he’s surprised I picked up on that.

I can’t help but grin. “I’m right, aren’t I? You don’t think another vampire is responsible for this mess.”

“I think it’s unlikely,” he says slowly. “But we can’t rule it out.”

“Then we’ll deal with what to do with the evidence if a vampire is responsible when we get there. For now, the most important thing is to find out who’s behind this. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Lucien mutters grumpily after a few seconds. “But I don’t like this.”

“Noted,” I say primly.

It hits me suddenly that we’re still out in the open. The drunk man from a few minutes ago has thankfully shuffled on down the street without attracting any attention our way, but who knows how long this will last. Anyone could recognize us standing out here.

“My place is off-limits, and so is Daphne’s,” I say. “Do you have anywhere we can go?”

Lucien suddenly looks uncomfortable. “I do have an abode, but it’s not really fit for human habitation.”

“Is it a cave in a mountain filled with coffins and bats?”

Lucien scoffs, like the very idea offends him. “No, of course not.”

“Then it’ll do just fine.”

He still looks slightly wary at the thought of me entering his home, which, if you think about it, is pretty damn ironic considering he broke into my home just a few hours ago. “We’ll need some wheels. Public transport right now is simply too risky.” He juts his head towards the car dealership across the street. “Come along, Ms. Hartley.”

“It’s nearly 10 p.m.,” I say, stumbling to catch up with him as he strides across the road. “Nobody’s working right now. We won’t be able to?—”

Lucien puts a fist through the door, and the glass shatters to the floor. Without so much as a flinch, he reaches through the newly made hole, unlocks the door from the inside, and then yanks it open. “After you.”

I raise a brow. “We’re adding breaking and entering to our list of crimes now?”

Lucien grins, showing off the tips of his fangs. “Don’t forget grand theft auto.”

“Hilarious,” I deadpan as I step over the shattered glass and follow him into the building. An alarm screeches overhead. “Should we be worried about that?”

“Oh yes,” Lucien says, sounding not at all worried. “But we’ll be out of here before anyone arrives.”

“You’ve done this before.” It’s not a question. He sounds so confident; there’s no doubt in my mind that this isn’t the first time Lucien’s been in this situation. He prowls through the dealership’s corridors like he knows exactly where he’s going. “Hang on. Have you robbed this dealership before?”

He throws me another fang-heavy grin over his shoulder. “Just once. The alarm’s a new touch. I suppose I only have to thank myself for that, and—Ahah! Here we go.”

He shoulders open another door, and we enter an office with a large brown desk cutting across the middle. Lucien strides towards it and begins rummaging through the drawers. It doesn’t take long for him to find what he’s looking for.

“Got it!” He holds up a set of keys, his grin not wavering for a second. He actually looks giddy with excitement, like a teenage boy being gifted his first car.

I can’t believe this is the man I was terrified of just a few hours ago.

“Let’s see what this belongs to, shall we?”

I follow Lucien out into the lot, where rows of cars gleam under the artificial lights. He presses a button on the key fob, and somewhere in the darkness, lights flash and a car beeps in response. Moments later, we’re standing in front of a sleek, red convertible.

Lucien gestures grandly at it. “Voila.”

I eye the car sceptically. “It’s not exactly subtle, is it?”

“Do you want to go back in there and look for another set of keys?” His smile is absolutely dripping with faux innocence. “Perhaps see if you can find the set that belongs to that homely-looking hatchback over there?”

I can hear a siren wailing in the distance and resign myself to the ridiculously flashy car we’re in front of. “Not particularly.”

He smirks. “Let’s get going then.”

As I settle into the passenger seat, Lucien crouches down and, in one fell swoop, tears the licence plate off the front of the car. He does the same to the back plate and then slides into the driver’s seat with practised ease.

He starts the engine, and I glance at him.

I’m about to go on the run with a vampire.

That’s my life now.

Insane.

Lucien meets my gaze, his dark green eyes pinning me in place. “Ready, Ms. Hartley?”

I take a deep breath, my fingers digging into the expensive leather seat around my thighs. No turning back now, I guess. “Ready.”

Lucien drives like a maniac.

I have to assume he’s colour blind because red lights apparently mean absolutely nothing to him. And speed limits? I suppose vampires don’t care much about human road safety concerns because I don’t think we go below 70 once during our thirty-minute drive.

By the time he skids to a halt inside an underground car park beneath a tall, sleek building, my hair is practically frozen behind me in a tangled bird’s nest mess of curls. And my heart, slow as it is, feels like it’s trying to escape my chest.

Lucien, on the other hand, seems perfectly fine. His hair is still carefully tousled, and he’s got a smug grin on his face as he executes a perfectly smooth reverse parking manoeuvre into an empty space.

“It’s a miracle we’re not dead,” I grumble, trying to subtly pat down my hair. “Or that I’m not dead. No idea what happens to you if we end up in a fiery wreck and go flying through the windshield.”

“Usually just a broken bone or two,” Lucien says with a lighthearted shrug. “Takes a couple of hours to heal.”

“Usually.”

Lucien flashes me a grin. “You have no need to worry, Ms. Hartley. It’s been close to a decade since I last crashed a vehicle. And even that time it was entirely Blaine’s fault.”

“I’m sure it was,” I say dryly. “But remember, Lucien, I’m not invincible. I’d like to clear my name and have a life to get back to by the end of this mess.”

He tips his head, a flash of contriteness in his eyes. “Noted. I’ll adhere to human speed limits from now on.”

I’m not sure why, but I’d been expecting him to put up more of a fight. Isn’t that how vampires are supposed to be? Stubborn and unrelenting?

Lucien clears his throat suddenly, and his expression turns almost sheepish. “Now, I should warn you, I wasn’t expecting guests. Especially not a human one.”

A sense of wariness creeps up on me. “You don’t have dead bodies and jars of blood in your fridge or anything like that, right?”

He laughs. “Dead bodies? Of course not. That would be a logistical nightmare attempting to bring them back here. As I said, Ms. Hartley, I’m quite meticulous with my feeds.”

I heave a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank Go?—”

“Jars of blood? No. Blood packets? Yes. I have a few.”

I can’t help it. I blanch—just a little.

Lucien looks at me with concern. “Are you alright, Ms. Hartley? You’ve gone a little pale.”

No shit.

“I’m fine,” I say, gripping the door handle to steel myself. “Just trying not to think about how you got the blood.”

“Ah.” Lucien falls silent.

“I’m not judging you,” I say quickly. “I get it. It’s—It’s your nature. I just—” I turn in my seat and force myself to look at him. He’s already staring at me, his expression twisted into something so sad, it makes my heart clench. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be judging. It’s not like I’m a vegetarian or anything. If a chicken flew into my home, it’d probably be horrified by the contents of my fridge.”

I’m trying to lighten the mood, but Lucien just lifts one corner of his mouth into a sad, forced smile.

“I don’t think that’s an equivalent comparison, but I appreciate the attempt all the same. Now—” He injects some faux enthusiasm into his voice and nods towards the exit. “Shall we?”

I follow Lucien through the dimly lit, underground car park. He weaves confidently through the maze of parked cars until we reach a discreet elevator tucked away in a corner. He pulls out a thin, silver card, presses it against a scanner, and then the elevator doors open with a soft ding.

We ride up to the fifteenth floor in silence. I keep sneaking glances at Lucien, hoping the melancholic look on his face will vanish, but it never does.

When the door opens, we step out into a dark, carpeted hall. I can’t help but shiver as the elevator doors close behind us. It feels eerily like I’ve just willingly walked into the lion’s den.

Lucien leads the way down the dimly lit hall, his footsteps unnervingly silent against the plush carpeting. He stops in front of a nondescript door near the end of the corridor and pulls out the same thin, silver card as before.

I hold my breath, my entire body stiffening in anticipation and fear as Lucien swipes the card against the scanner and the door clicks open.

I’m not sure what I’m expecting. Bodies—even though Lucien promised there’d be none? Bats swooping from the rafters? Blood-streaked walls?

There’s none of that.

Lucien’s apartment is modern, almost industrial, but immaculately clean. Soft, ambient lighting flickers to life as soon as we step over the threshold, casting gentle shadows across the room.

And there is only one room.

Lucien’s apartment is one giant open-plan studio.

There’s no bed or dining table in sight—which I suppose makes sense. Instead, the only piece of furniture that can accommodate someone is a long, black sofa cutting across the middle of the room.

Against all four walls, floor-to-ceiling shelves dominate the space. I peer at them as I shuffle past. They’re packed to the seams with books across every single genre imaginable. I spy ancient-looking tomes with weathered spines nestled between glossy, brightly coloured romcoms and literary classics.

Lucien Valcouron is apparently very well-read.

The windows are covered with thick, floor-to-ceiling velvet curtains, there’s a well-polished grand piano in one corner, a tall black fridge in another—I gloss over that particular fixture quickly—and an oversized television screen hanging on the wall opposite the sofa.

“Vampires don’t sleep?” I ask, spinning around to face him once I’ve finished my impromptu tour.

Lucien is hovering anxiously a few metres away. “We do on occasion. I just don’t think it’s enough to warrant a bed taking up space. Other vampires may disagree.”

“You’d rather make space for…” My lips curl into a grin as I glance at the nearest bookshelf. “Vampiring for Dummies: A Beginner’s Guide.”

If there was any blood in his veins, I’m pretty sure Lucien would be turning red right now. He strides over to me, plucks the thick, yellow book from the shelf, and then slots it back in so its spine is no longer facing the front.

“Ignore that. It was just a childish gift from Blaine for my 43rd Sire Day. I don’t even know why I’ve kept it all these years.”

“Sire Day?”

“It’s not unlike a birthday for you humans. It was the day I was turned into a vampire.”

“You celebrate that?” I can’t keep the disgust out of my tone, and Lucien frowns at me.

“I do. It’s a reminder of the day I was reborn, in a sense. A marker of my new life and the many changes and responsibilities that have come with it.”

I nod slowly, trying to digest the idea of celebrating the day you died and were brought back again as a bloodthirsty monster. “I guess that makes sense? It’s kind of like...reclaiming your identity, right?”

“Exactly. Though not everyone sees it that way,” Lucien says softly, his gaze turning distant for a moment before he shakes himself out of it. “But enough about that. As I warned you, my home isn’t fit for human habitation. I worry you might be uncomfortable.”

“It’s not that bad.” And it’s really not. Lack of bed and ominous fridge filled with blood aside, Lucien’s home isn’t all that out of the ordinary. “I’m sure I can survive one night curled up on the sofa.”

Lucien chuckles softly, a hint of relief evident in his expression. “Thank you for understanding, Ms. Hartley. I appreciate your adaptability.”

“It’s not like I’m exactly in a position to be picky right now anyway.”

“Ah, yes. Our little problem.”

That’s one way to put it.

“Tomorrow, we’ll start figuring out our next steps.”

“No need to wait until tomorrow to figure it out,” I say brightly. “I’ve already got a plan.”

Lucien quirks a questioning brow.

I grin at him as I walk over to his sofa and plop down onto it, letting my legs hang over the armrest. “Tomorrow, we’re going to inspect a corpse.”