Vampires of London: Books 1-3

Chapter Two

Chapter TwoShe was sore when she woke up. Her muscles seemed tight to the point of being cramped, as though she had gone to the gym the day before. Not that she recalled ever going to a gym. Her thoughts were fuzzy, like she'd woken up in the middle of an intense dream, the details of which eluded her.

She opened her eyes and blinked a few times while waiting for her eyes to adjust. The room was dark, but she could still see her surroundings clearly.

The four-poster bed didn't look familiar, and neither did the decorative rosette in the center of the ceiling.

Where am I?

She winced as she lifted her upper body and rested on her elbows. Every inch of her felt like she was covered in bruises. Worst of all was her head. The shooting pain behind her eyes caused her vision to blur slightly with each heartbeat. Still, she was overwhelmed by all that she saw.

Beautiful period furniture, luxurious paintings, heavy embroidered drapes. Despite the lack of direct light, she could see the carved frame of the painting across the room in exquisite detail. She wasn't wearing glasses, was she? Surely, she should have felt the weight of them on the bridge of her nose. There was nothing there, though she felt compelled to confirm the same by touch.

She was certain that this wasn't her room.

She gently lowered herself down against the fluffy pillows again and closed her eyes. What did her room actually look like? Those details were much fuzzier than the sharp reality that surrounded her.

If this isn't my room, then how did I get here?

She heard a couple of muffled voices, perhaps originating from next door. Two men, having what sounded like an agitated conversation, though she could not make out the exact words. She didn't recognize either of their voices.

The more she thought about it, the more uneasy she grew. How had she ended up here?

Her heart started to beat faster, so fast that she should have been out of breath and perhaps faint. Instead, she somehow felt… stronger. Could that even be?

Everything still hurt, of course, like she'd been hit by a bus. Could she have been in an accident before someone brought her here?

She pressed her lips together and fought through the intense pain as she lifted herself again and slipped out of bed. As she set herself down onto the lacquered wooden floor, it was like an electric jolt passed through the soles of her feet and all the way up through her legs and torso. It wasn't cold as such, nor was it unpleasant, but it was somehow different than any floor she'd ever walked barefoot on.

The voices next door had calmed down a bit, like their debate had turned into a more restrained, controlled conversation. As she listened for more, she could hear the other sounds that filled the strange house she was in. Ticking, of a clock perhaps. Rustling leaves. Creaks and scratches which she could not place nor identify.

And the scents that surrounded her were different from anything she'd ever experienced too. She could pick up everything, from the lacquer of the floor, to the fabric softener used on the sheets and the rubber soles on the pair of shoes in the corner. She could even smell the plaster and wallpaper on the walls, which was strange. She'd never paid attention to the scent of wallpaper before.

She shook her head. What a strange place this was, where everything smelled somehow more intense than normal. What did her own home smell like? She couldn't recall. She felt like Alice in Wonderland, exploring a place where the strange was normal, and she seemed to be the odd one out.

Who am I?

She wandered across the room to an elegant rosewood dresser and looked at herself in the mirror. Her reflection was the first thing that looked somewhat familiar in here.

Who am I?

She leaned forward and studied her features. Smooth skin, silky hair—this wasn't how she usually woke up, was it? No sign of puffiness around the eyes, not a single tangle in her shoulder-length locks. And what was she wearing? A long cotton nightgown, rather old fashioned. That couldn't be hers, could it?

It was like she had been groomed to perfection before being put to rest in here. Creepy.

Anna, nice to meet you! She herself had said those words not too long ago, smiled, and stretched out her hand at someone. But at whom? Whom had she introduced herself to?

Anna rubbed her eyes and then studied herself again. No, that was all she had. The only memory she could conjure was of her first name.

If she couldn't remember who she was or where she was from, the least she ought to do was find out where she was now. Anna took a deep breath and straightened her back. Surely and steadily, her muscles seemed to relax a bit. Every step loosened her up a bit more.

Anna approached the door and paused to listen for those voices again before turning the handle. It seemed safe enough. The two men seemed occupied with each other. She would be careful, and they probably wouldn't even hear her.

As she pressed her hand down, she flinched at the horrible creak of the handle. Then, to her relief, she found that the door was unlocked; she was able to push it open and create even more of a racket. These people, whoever they were, should really do something about their noisy doors!

As soon as she pushed it open a bit more, she found herself blinded by the bright chandelier hanging in the center of the hallway ahead. What the hell? Who puts bulbs this bright into a chandelier?

She squinted as her eyes adjusted. It took a few painful moments before she could focus properly on what lay ahead.

The hallway was more of the same luxury she'd found in the bedroom. Paintings and expensive looking wallpaper adorned the walls, and there was a cornice edging the ceiling and a rosette just above the chandelier. Whoever lived here had made the place look less like a house and more like a palace. Anna couldn't decide if it was tasteful or kitsch.

She carefully moved forward, tiptoeing so that she wouldn't tip off the men she'd heard talking earlier. Come to think of it, they had now stopped talking. Had they heard her?

She rested her hand against the wall and listened. The opening of a bottle, followed by the rush of liquid as it poured out. The sound was unmistakable; she'd heard it so many times before in her line of work.

That was it . She had worked as a waitress. Anna clearly saw a glimpse of her own hands, opening bottles and pouring glasses of champagne. She opened her eyes and still found herself alone in an empty hallway, though. Like she’d just imagined that sound.

She rubbed her temples, attempting to dull the ache. Clearly, whatever had happened to her had made her lose her mind. Hallucinations, fragmented memories. Would it all come back to her soon, like it did in the movies?

Those same men started talking again and Anna breathed a sigh of relief. As long as they carried on chatting, they would hopefully be oblivious to whatever she was up to. No way was she going to let herself get caught sneaking around a strange house without first figuring out where she was and what she was up against. She had to make sure she was safe first, before confronting any of these people.

Who knew, perhaps they were the ones responsible for her fragile condition in the first place! Perhaps they'd attacked her before bringing her here?

Anna bit her lip and a rush of warm liquid burst through her skin and into her mouth. Blood.

Strangely, the wound she had just created was the only spot on her body that didn't currently hurt. She tiptoed forward toward a mirror further up the hallway.

Her bottom lip was stained bright red. She leaned forward to get a better look. There wasn't any sign of a cut or split. She licked the blood away and found that her lips were full and flawless, much more so than normal. Then she opened her mouth and inspected her teeth. White, straight, perfect.

But the canines…

She held her breath and touched her teeth with the tip of her finger. Razor sharp and longer than what seemed possible. Was this some kind of joke?

Had these freaks kidnapped her and done some kind of cosmetic dentistry on her? She shook her head. This must be yet another thing she was only imagining. Her mind was playing tricks on her, but she wouldn't let it get her down. She had to stay focused on the one thing that was important: figuring where she was and why she was here. And perhaps she could even find a way out.

The voices grew louder the further she tiptoed up the hallway. Finally, she found herself at the top of an impressive wooden staircase leading to the lower level of the house. They were down there somewhere. Just as Anna was about to take the first step down, a whiff of something irresistible caught her attention. Perfume? Food?

She turned around and scanned the other hallway, leading in the opposite direction of the landing. That was where it had come from. Anna took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Better than the bakery she'd walk past on her way home from work. Cobbled streets, dark facades, except for a modern looking building with large windows that would produce the most amazing scents. Vanilla, chocolate, cinnamon…

Anna opened her eyes again. Another clue. Whatever her life looked like, she lived somewhere near a bakery. Perhaps all of her memories would come back soon enough.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been reminiscing for. The scent had dissipated, leaving her once again alone atop the stairs. Down below, she heard the distinct click and deafening creak of a door. As nice as everything looked, simple maintenance clearly wasn't a priority in this house.

Footsteps echoed against the walls downstairs. Anna hid behind the balustrade and covered her ears to drown out the noise. It might have been smarter to retreat back to her room, but she simply had to catch a glimpse of whoever's house this was. She squinted to see through the bright light overhead. That was when she saw him.

A dark-haired man in an elegant black suit cut straight across the hall downstairs.

"You take care of it, you hear me, Michael?" he said.

"Of course, Alexander," another man responded, just out of view.

Anna pressed her lips together. Was that about her? Was this Michael fellow meant to take care of her?

The man left, and the double doors shut behind him with an almighty racket. Anna breathed a sigh of relief once it was over. Her poor ears. Were all of these people hard of hearing? Did they not notice how incredibly loud everything was in here?

She got up and rubbed her back. Still a bit sore, but her body felt a lot better than it had when she’d just woken up.

Anna was about to take the first step down to explore more of the house, perhaps even make a run for the door, when a figure appeared in the corner of her eye down at the end of the staircase.

"I'd been wondering when you'd wake up," the man said.

Anna flinched, only to find that she'd backed into a wall and couldn't go further. Within the blink of an eye, he had joined her on the upstairs landing.

Two pale blue eyes looked down at her briefly before glancing in the direction of the hallway she'd just come from.

He was tall and flawlessly handsome. His pale skin seemed to glisten slightly in the bright light that surrounded the two of them. If she hadn't just woken up with a wiped mind and a full-on body ache in a strange house, she might have found him attractive. Maybe.

There was something familiar about him, but she could not place him.

"Who are you? Where am I? Why am I here?" Anna asked.

The man's eyes darted back and forth between the hallway and her face. "How about we talk somewhere more comfortable. I'm Michael Odell, by the way. What's your name?"

Anna took a deep breath and studied his face. He couldn't even look her in the eye while he spoke. He was hiding something. Maybe he'd let his guard down if she played along just a little bit.

"Okay, Michael. I'm Anna." Her hand itched to shake his, just to see what he'd feel like in this strange heightened state she was experiencing, but she resisted the urge.

This wasn't the time to give in to temptation. First, she needed an explanation.