Vampires of London: Books 1-3

Chapter Eight

Chapter EightToday was the big day.

Cat had woken up a bundle of nerves, after a restless night that featured even more unwanted dreams and fantasies. The star actor in all of them: Alexander. It was as though the thought of him simply refused to leave her be. Even when she was awake, he was right there, in her mind's eye, every time she blinked.

How am I going to concentrate? Cat rubbed her eyes and got out of bed. She stumbled into the bathroom to have a shower.

When she got out, she felt slightly better, but still listless. Back in her bedroom, she put on the outfit she'd laid out the night before, and did her hair, then she made her way toward the kitchen for a much needed caffeine boost.

Shelly was still in bed, it seemed—her shift wouldn't start until ten o'clock—so their apartment was eerily quiet. Cat tiptoed around the kitchen to prepare her packed lunch, when inevitably, she spilled a big dollop of mayonnaise on the front of her blouse.

"Dammit!" Cat cursed under her breath as she tried to wipe it clean.

It was no use, the stain was still visible.

She dumped the sorry excuse of a sandwich she'd made into a Tupperware box, and rushed back into her room to change.

A knock on her door interrupted her.

"Hey..." Shelly stuck her head inside. "Shouldn't you be on your way by now?"

Cat checked the time on her phone. Shelly was right. "Crap. I spilled something. I can hardly turn up on my first day with a mayo stain on my left boob."

"Calm down. Take a breath," Shelly said as she stepped inside. "Let's see... Wear this one."

She held up a simple white blouse.

Cat sat down on the bed. "That's all wrinkled!"

"So what?" Shelly held it up into the light. "You're wearing a jacket on top. Nobody will be able to tell."

Cat sighed and held out her hand. "Fine."

She quickly changed into the new shirt and buttoned up her blazer to hide the offending wrinkles.

"Now go. You look fine," Shelly said. "And you'll do fine too. You have nothing to worry about!"

Cat smiled bleakly. "I hope so."

"I know so. Now go before you're late on your first day!"

That was all Cat needed to hear to gather all her stuff in a hurry and head for the door.

What a start to such an important day , she thought as she rushed toward the main road. As soon as she'd run down the steps to the tube platform, she saw the tail end of the train just as it was pulling away.

Bloody great.

At least she wasn't late.

Despite everything, Cat had arrived at her new place of employment with about a minute to spare. She'd wanted to be early, of course, but you couldn't have everything in life, as her mom liked to say.

Sotheby's, one of the world's most prestigious auction houses, and the place to be for an art history graduate such as herself. She knew she wouldn't be in charge of anything important, but it was a privilege to be in this building, surrounded by so much wealth and beauty.

"Catherine?" A stern looking woman in her forties carrying a clipboard approached.

Cat recognized her from the first round of interviews. She took a step forward and offered her hand for a greeting. "Yes, Mrs. Pryce."

"Miss!" the woman corrected her, glancing down at Cat's hand, then turning away without shaking it. "Follow me."

Cat swallowed hard. That wasn't a great start. She held on tightly to her handbag and followed Ms. Pryce, who marched past the reception, through the corridors, and down the stairs leading into the basement at a dazzling pace, which Cat had trouble matching in her shoes.

"I assume I don't need to explain to you what it is we do here?" Ms. Pryce asked as she paused in front of a non-descript door.

"No, that won't be necessary," Cat mumbled. How was she meant to address this woman, Ma'am? No, that seemed risky, considering her earlier misstep.

"You'll be working in here, under Desmond's guidance, cataloging lots and their performance at auction."

Cat nodded. "No problem. I'm good at—"

Ms. Pryce shot her a blank look.

"Cataloging," Cat completed her sentence in a low mumble.

Of all the bosses in the world, she seemed to have hit the jackpot.

Cat glanced over at the woman, who impatiently tapped her foot and folded her arms while looking her up and down. Damn. Had she noticed her blouse was wrinkled? Or did she generally disapprove of her outfit?

Cat reached out for the knob, when the door opened on its own, revealing a frazzled looking man about Cat's age.

"Whoa, I'm sorry," he said, as he took a step back.

"Hi. I'm Cat. It's my first day." Cat stretched out her arm at him.

"Desmond." The man reluctantly shook her hand, then glanced over to Cat's left. "Good morning, Ms. Pryce."

"I'll leave you to it," Ms. Pryce said, and turned on her heel. The click-clack of her heels against the concrete floor echoed against the walls as she left, making a deafening racket.

"Well... Nice to meet you, Desmond," Cat said.

Desmond avoided eye contact and adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses. Clearly he wasn't a people person. "Uhh, yeah. Come in."

"Is she always like this?" Cat whispered, mostly to herself.

Desmond smiled bleakly. "You have no idea."

Cat reciprocated and breathed a sigh of relief. At least she wasn't all alone in this place. And with a bit of luck, they'd be working on whatever it was they were supposed to be working on without too much interference from Ms. Pryce, who probably had more important things to do.

This is only the beginning, Cat told herself. Everyone starts at the lowest rung.

"Let me show you what we do here," Desmond said as he waved her over.

Cat scanned the room. It was plain, like any other basement in any other building. Nothing here suggested that they were underneath one of the most prestigious auction houses in the world.

"You been here long?" It was all Cat could think of to make conversation.

"Three years," Desmond said.

His answer made her heart sank. Working your way up through the ranks clearly took a long time here. Still, this was the only job she'd been offered after applying pretty much everywhere. She was determined to make it work.

"So these racks here contain binders of old catalogs, from before we started digitizing them. The newer ones can be seen from this computer." Desmond pointed at a workstation that looked to be at least ten years old.

"We need to prepare materials for upcoming auctions. The format is always the same: a high-res image and a detailed description. Check the previous catalogs for ideas on what to include. Once you're done with each lot, move it out of the inbox and into 'processing.'"

"Understood."

Cat took a seat in front of the desk with the computer and started poking around in the upcoming lots while Desmond explained the editing and publishing process. She was only half listening to him as pictures of exquisite artwork and antiques popped up on her screen, distracting her.

Would she get to actually see any of these items? She hoped that she would.

Within minutes, the reservations she'd had about Ms. Pryce and her prospects in this job faded, and she became absorbed in her work.

"Hey," Cat greeted Shelly as she came into the living room.

"Hey! How did it go? Did you manage to get there on time? Tell me everything!" Shelly demanded as she plopped down on the sofa without even taking her coat off.

Cat sat back and pinched the bridge of her nose. It had been a long day. Annoyingly, as soon as she closed her eyes, random glimpses of Alexander appeared before her again. Today had gone so well! She hadn't thought of him at all until she got home.

"Yes, I was on time, but oh my God, my boss is horrible!" She turned to face Shelly, who looked concerned. "Well, one of them is. The guy I'm working with directly, Desmond, he's okay. But the woman who was there at the interview... Wow."

"Okay... Well, no one ever said it was going to be easy." Shelly rubbed the side of her neck, just underneath the collar of her coat.

"True, that."

"And what's the job all about?" Shelly asked.

Cat pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them. That was how she stayed as she told Shelly about her work in so much detail that her eyes glazed over.

"Well, that sounds interesting." Shelly sounded unconvinced after Cat had finished her account.

"It is, actually. Not something I want to do forever, but for now it's all right."

Again, Shelly reached for her neck, scratching at it more vigorously this time.

"Are you all right?" Cat asked.

"Huh?"

"Your neck."

Shelly stopped scratching and fidgeted with her collar. "It's nothing. Just a little itchy."

Cat leaned across and pushed Shelly's collar down to take a closer look.

Her neck was red with scratch marks, but underneath, she could just about make out two brighter dots against Shelly's otherwise fair skin.

"It's a bit late in the season for mosquito bites," Cat mumbled.

Shelly shrugged. "With global warming and all, who knows? Anyway, what are you sitting around here for? You've got a job, and survived the first day. This calls for some celebration!"

Cat blinked a few times. "What do you mean?"

"Oh come on! You didn't think I'd just let this pass, did you? Get up, we're going out!"

Cat inhaled sharply, then held her breath. It had been a tiring day. She rubbed her eyes and was instantly confronted with those same visions of Alexander she'd been battling since the party. Every time she saw him in her mind, the visions were accompanied by larger and larger doses of melancholy. She had really messed up that night.

Ugh . Perhaps the distraction would do her good. She stretched her legs, then slipped her feet into the shoes she'd discarded underneath the coffee table.

"Fine. Where are we going?" Cat got up and looked to Shelly for instructions.

The latter shrugged. "Pub on the corner? We won't make it too late. Wouldn't want you to turn up on your second day nursing a hangover."

"Fair enough." Cat put on her coat and off they went.

The walk from their apartment complex to the pub was short and through a relatively well-lit and safe part of the neighborhood. Still, Cat turned around at least three times to look behind them.

"What's up with you?" Shelly asked finally.

Cat stopped and scanned the street behind them much more carefully now. Nobody. There was absolutely nobody around.

"I thought I heard something," Cat lied. She hadn't heard a damn thing. And neither had she seen anything. Still, she couldn't fight the feeling that there was someone out there, watching her.

She must be more stressed out than she thought.

"Maybe it was a cat or something," Cat mumbled and pressed on toward their destination: the brightly lit building at the end of the road. It took hardly a minute longer for them to arrive and Shelly to push the door open.

As soon as Cat entered, she started to relax. It was warm in here, cozy. Being a weekday, and that too Monday, the pub was quiet, with just a handful of regulars playing darts in the far corner. She breathed a sigh of relief and started unbuttoning her coat to get more comfortable.

They headed straight for the bar and ordered two pints as well as some dinner to share.

"Hey, why don't you tell me more about this Desmond guy?" Shelly suggested as she plopped down in one of the tatty looking armchairs surrounding one of the empty tables.

Cat let out a chuckle. "Really. That's what you want to know?"

"Look, I don't know anything about art, but I do know about men. So yeah, that's what I want to know. Cheers." Shelly grinned and raised her glass.

"Fine. Whatever makes you happy. Cheers." Cat raised her glass too, then took a sip and told Shelly everything.

No matter how hard she tried, though, Cat couldn't fully banish Alexander from her thoughts, nor the regret she felt. If only she could turn back time.