34. Winnie

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

WINNIE

Faye: Winnie, I’m so happy you messaged me your new number. You won’t believe what’s happened!

You know that lunch I had with Jennifer the iTV producer?

She wants to make a Clutter Queens TV show!

We’ll have our own reality show where we go into people’s homes. You clean them up and then I teach them how to make them fabulous. The Winnie Wins System will more popular than KonMari!

I’ve got a contract for squillions of dollars, but she needs to meet you ASAP before we can sign, make sure you’re as amazing in person as I told them you are. How soon can you finish up the dusty castle and get back to London? We need to jump on this before they take the offer off the table.

“ W innie?” Isis throws open the door to Nevermore Bookshop. “You’re early. Mina and Dora and I were just having a cup of tea?—”

“You were right,” I burst out. “Alaric’s a vampire.”

Instead of doing what I expect her to do, which is to dance around the room yelling ‘I told you so,’ Isis gathers me under her arm and ushers me inside. She calls into the gloom, “Mina, Winnie’s here. We need emergency tea, stat!”

“I’m on it.”

Isis drags me through to the events room and settles me into my ‘usual’ beanbag. Mina makes me a cup of tea using her liquid level indicator. Dora takes my teacup and an open package of Wagon Wheels and arranges both over to the coffee table beside me.

“It’s not as good as that amazing hot chocolate you brought last week, but it’ll calm your nerves,” Dora says. “And please eat the last of the Wagon Wheels. We have to hide them before Celeste comes over and berates us for not waiting for her snacks.”

“It’s not that Celeste doesn’t make the most incredible baking,” Mina pipes up, holding out her arm towards the door so the raven can hop off and perch on the bust of some Roman dude that’s sat on a shelf above it. “But sometimes, a girl just wants cheap chocolate and chemically-flavoured marshmallow.”

I sip the tea. It’s herbal, some kind of rich, earthy flavour that I can’t place. I find myself sighing as I take another sip. You can relax now. You’re amongst friends.

“Dora makes that blend herself,” says Isis. “She’s a real tea witch. You can buy it in our shop.”

“I’m not a witch. Don’t say that I’m a witch,” Dora sounds panicked. “I just…know a bit about plants, is all. What’s wrong, Winnie? You’ve gone all white.”

I grip the cup so hard my knuckles turn white. “What’s wrong is that Alaric’s a vampire.”

I expect them all to laugh, or gasp, or something other than what they do, which is to nod sagely.

“Oh, honey, we know,” Isis coos. “He’s a walking vampire cliche.”

“No, I mean he’s a real vampire. I cut my finger today and Alaric flew at me. He had these horrible fangs, and he told me to run. And the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. Alaric doesn’t feel the cold. He’s always cool to the touch?—”

“—you’ve been touching him.” Mina grins. “Interesting.”

I decide to breeze on past the whole touching him thing. “He keeps his nocturnal schedule. He went out in the sunlight once to save me and it almost killed him. He seems to move with super speed and he can hear things all the way across the castle. I’ve never seen him eat. I wandered into what I thought was his bedroom but it contained a coffin and…oh, gods,” I cover my mouth. “The red wine Reginald pours for him every night is really blood. I’ve been sitting across from him thinking we were having wine and nice conversation and all this time he’s been quaffing pints of O negative and thinking about sucking my neck.”

“Almost certainly.” Isis licks her lips.

“Isis!”

“What? That’s a sensible deduction to make.”

“You’re scaring her,” Dora scolds.

“I’d like to go back to the ‘touching him’,” Mina adds. “Where exactly did you touch him, and how many times did he make you?—”

“Mina!” Dora yells.

“Why aren’t you guys more freaked out by this?” My heart hammers against my chest. “I tell you that I’ve been living with a literal horror movie character and you’re cracking jokes.”

“We already knew,” Mina says.

“What?”

The three of them nod again.

“You knew? You should have told me.”

“We did tell you!” Isis cries.

“Against our strict book club rules,” Dora mumbles.

“You didn’t believe us,” Isis says with a hint of a smile. “That’s hardly our fault. It would save you lots of stress and heartache if you just agreed with everything we say.”

“But, how did you know?”

“We told you. We’ve had encounters with the supernatural before. If you finish my book series, you’ll learn that Nevermore Bookshop is no ordinary brick-and-mortar building, and that I’ve done battle with a vampire,” Mina says.

“Although he was a different type of vampire,” Isis points out quickly. “Less hot, more bitey.”

“Exactly.” Mina pours some freeze-dried berries and nuts into a bowl and places it beside the raven’s bust. The bird pecks greedily at his treats, making cute nyuh-nyuh-nyuh noises as he crunches the nuts. “That was a famous fictional vampire made entirely of cliches and evil who will never bother us again, whereas Alaric is a real vampire, one of many who live alongside us and are just trying to do their best in a world not built for them. Usually, the supernatural world won’t bother us if we don’t bother them, although in recent years, we’ve seen more unruly paranormal activity in Argleton. Not just vampires, but other things that storybooks tell us we should be afraid of. I have a friend over in Grimdale, Bree, who sees and talks to ghosts. And now we’ve got Danny’s murder?—”

“I think Winnie needs proof.” Dora pats my arm.

“I suppose she does.” Mina turns towards the raven, who taps the bust with his beak and glares at Mina.

“Croak.”

“I’m sorry, Quoth. Just this once.” Mina places the latest Emily Henry novel on the sofa beside her.

The raven makes a sound that might be a sigh and swoops down to land next to the book.

“Croak!”

And then he changes.

At first, the bird starts growing at an alarming rate, his talons digging into the sofa as it sags beneath his growing weight. His body contorts. His face twists and flattens, his cheeks rounding as his beak splits into a nose and lips. Bones snap and twist and organs rearrange themselves as black feathers rain down on the floor. The raven bellows as his wings fold away into his spine and his feathers retract into his skin.

The raven no longer perches on the sofa.

Instead, a beautiful, black-haired, completely naked man grabs the book from beside him and holds it over his crotch, where it does little to hide his majestic and very un-ravenlike goods.

“It’s times like this I wish Emily Henry wrote epic fantasy.” The naked man flips a curtain of black hair over his shoulder and frowns at the inadequate book.

“Winnie, this is Quoth, one of my three husbands.” Mina rubs the man’s shoulder. “Quoth is the raven from Edgar Allen Poe’s poem, brought to life by Nevermore Bookshop, which is a wee bit magical.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Quoth murmurs. “I’d shake your hand, but…”

He indicates the book.

“Ah…” I try to say something, anything , but I can’t find words.

Mina’s husband is a shapeshifter. I’ve just witnessed real, honest-to-goddess magic .

Everything they’ve told me is true. Which means…

I wrap my arms around myself. “If this is all true, and Alaric is a vampire, then he must be the one who murdered Danny. Even the police think so. I’ve been living with a monster this whole time!”

“Who murdered Danny?” Komal asks as she wanders in, stopping to kiss everyone on the cheeks. She’s wearing a t-shirt advertising Argleton and Grimdale Helicopter Tours. “I thought we were investigating the Sanctus Estate?”

“Winnie just found out that Alaric’s a vampire.”

Komal pops the cork on the bottle of wine she brought. “About time. We did tell you. Wine?”

I hold up my teacup. “I’m good.”

“You don’t look good. You look white. I mean, you’re always white, but now you’re even whiter. You look like an ad for Moleskine notebooks.”

“Are Moleskine notebooks a white people thing?” Mina asks.

Komal flips her hair. “If you have to ask, white girl…”

Isis quietly slides her own notebook under her bag.

“We don’t believe Alaric is the murderer,” Dora says. “Otherwise we never would have let you go back to the castle.”

“Why not? He was angry at Danny because he was harassing me. And when Danny didn’t leave me alone, Alaric pretended to be my boyfriend and kissed me.” My cheeks flush with heat as Komal wolf-whistles. “Reginald says that Alaric isn’t used to being around humans, and that he’s been struggling ever since I showed up. What if he lost control that night?”

“It’s certainly plausible,” Mina says. “But we’ve already ruled out Alaric.”

“How?”

“You know that we were all at the pub that night,” Komal says. “Isis went to the bar to buy a round and Danny tried it on with her. He grabbed her arm.”

“Big mistake, because I’m psychic,” Isis says proudly. “All I have to do is touch someone and I’ll see a vision of their future. Danny grabbed my arm and I was inside his head, lying on my back in the alley, with the killer looming over me. They were in shadow, so I couldn’t see them, but as they sank their fangs into my neck, I distinctly saw your vamp and his Thrall driving off in that ridiculous car.”

I sink down into the beanbag, a weight lifted from me. Alaric’s not the killer .

But I still had so many questions, so many fears. “If you saw his death, why didn’t you stop it?”

Dora and Isis exchange a look.

“Because psychic visions don’t come with a German train timetable,” Dora says quietly. “Isis can’t tell when the vision will come to pass. For all we knew, Danny could be murdered ten years from now.”

“Besides, no one is crying over his death, are they?” Isis adds.

“You didn’t leave Black Crag after the police showed up to question Alaric. Look into your heart and I think you know the answer,” Mina says. “The vampire I fought was an evil vampire, the most evil vampire of them all. But he was evil because people believed vampires were evil. Alaric isn’t evil, is he?”

“No.” I think of Alaric diving into the cistern to rescue me, buying me dinner at the pub, and pretending to be my fiancé to get back at Patrick and Claire. “But I don’t know about his mother. Or his betrothed .”

“Backtrack a little.” Mina leans forward in her seat. “His betrothed ?”

Celeste and Maisie arrive then. Celeste’s arms are loaded with platters and ice cream containers filled with delicious-smelling treats. “We had a slow day in the shop, and I’m doing lots of baking in advance of going to visit Mum, so I have cheese scones, lemon meringue tarts, chocolate fondants, and cherry flan. There’s nothing with peanut butter, Winnie. Better eat up before Beth arrives—oh, hi Quoth.”

“Hello.” Quoth waves with one hand, his other gripping the Emily Henry so hard that his knuckles have gone white.

“So, I take it Winnie knows, then?” Maisie grins at me.

“I know.”

“Can I leave now?” Quoth asks. “Or at least go and put some trousers on?”

“Oh, sorry! I got distracted by the vampires and murders.” Mina kisses his cheek. “Of course, you can go. I think Winnie accepts the supernatural now.”

“I’m pleased. Goodnight, Winnie. I hope that next time I see you, I’ll be wearing clothes.” Quoth flashes me a bright, beautiful smile, then turns back into a bird and returns to his bust.

Mina picks Emily Henry off the floor and Celeste piles treats on a plate for me while I explain everything that’s been happening at the castle, from Alaric pretending to be my fiancé and our night together, to his mother arriving with Perdita, and how he’s roped me into being his fake fiancée, to the text message I got from Faye about the incredible opportunity of making a Clutter Queens TV show.

“So…what do you think?” I ask when I’m finished. “Do I go home to London and take the biggest opportunity of my career, or do I stay here and?—”

“—fake-date the vampire.”

I whip my head around. Arabella stands in the doorway, elegant hand on her hip, her frosty blue eyes studying me in an unnerving way that makes me feel as naked as Quoth had been earlier. She overheard the whole conversation.

“You should stay,” Arabella says. “You want to stay.”

“Arabella’s right.” Isis tosses a book over her shoulder. “Forget this week’s book club read. You should stay and fake-date the vampire lord and show them that their stupid law can change and his mother can take that harpy Perdita back to whatever vampire court she came from. You’re literally living in a paranormal romance novel.”

“Do you want to go back to London?” Dora asks, cutting straight to the heart of things the way she always does.

That’s a good question. I suppose when you find out that your employer is a vampire, you should make like an angry goose and get the flock out of town.

“It’s what I should do,” I say. “My mum needs my help, and this TV show is a huge deal. I may not be happy with where Faye’s taking the business, but I believe the Winnie Wins System can help people. This would be my chance to show the world, but I can’t do that without Faye.”

“That’s not true,” Maisie says. “From everything you’ve told us, you’ve been running the business on your own for years.”

“Maybe so, but we trademarked the Winnie Wins System. It belongs to the business. I can’t use it on my own. And there’s the matter of my mum. I’m worried about her blowing up her relationship with her neighbours. If the council comes around again…”

If things are that bad, is she safe in the house?

“So it sounds like you should go back to London.” Komal leans forward. “But…?”

But when I think about leaving Black Crag and returning to London and the business I’m rapidly coming to resent and my mother’s spat with her neighbours and the council, a sick feeling twists in my stomach.

How can that night Alaric and I had together be illegal? How can anyone say that this thing between us is wrong and bad?

“You guys are the supernatural experts. Am I safe at Black Crag Castle?” I ask as Arabella folds herself into a beanbag, crossing her long legs at her ankles and kicking off a pair of vicious Louboutin heels. “Alaric frightens me.”

Even as I say the words, I know they’re not true. I know Alaric would never hurt me. I believe that in my bones. I’m not afraid of his fangs and his hunger. I afraid that if I stay, I’ll fall even deeper…

“For pity’s sake,” Arabella sighs. “He’s a vampire, not a Strictly Come Dancing judge. He’s probably more afraid of you and your ability to get his head chopped off for breaking this law.”

“Ignore Arabella. The rest of us do.” Dora tops up my teacup. “You should ask yourself if what happened today undoes everything that’s happened between you before.”

“I wonder…” Komal taps her perfectly-manicured nails on the arm of her chair. “We’ve been noticing Alaric in the village more over the last few weeks. I think he’s been training himself for when Winnie arrives. That’s probably why every time he goes to the pub he looks like he’d rather be at the dentist having his fangs extracted.”

“Once, the waitress got the orders mixed up and set down a Sunday roast in front of him. I’ve never seen someone look so affronted at a Yorkshire pud,” says Celeste as she takes a bite of cheese scone.

My heart twists. That was just like Alaric – to do something he hates because he thought it would help someone else.

“Reginald has lived at the castle for years, and Alaric hasn’t hurt him. From what you say, Alaric hasn’t even fed from him,” Mina says. “That’s unusual for a vampire, and it requires an insane amount of self-control. You caught Alaric by surprise with your blood today. As long as you keep your blood inside your body from now on, you should be fine.”

“Unless you want him to bite you,” Isis pipes up.

“I don’t want to be a vampire.”

“For pity’s sake, none of you have explained to her how it works?” Arabella snaps.

The book club members hang their heads in mock shame.

“For Alaric to turn you into a vampire, you and he have to exchange blood in a ceremony known as the Kiss,” Arabella says in a bored voice. “It’s a lengthy and somewhat dangerous process to make a new vampire, and my understanding is that he’s not allowed to do that without a licence from the Conclave – that’s a ruling council vampire from the different courts. The Conclave need to have control over who becomes a new vampire, because they can’t risk oversaturating the feeding pool.”

“AKA, too many fangs, not enough necks,” Isis pipes up.

“When a vampire bites you, all that happens is that he gets sustenance and you both experience a rush of ecstasy. Some people have described it as ‘the most exquisite rapture on Earth.’” Arabella shrugs. “I wouldn’t know. But you might enjoy it. It’s the reason humans become Thralls.”

Oh.

My cheeks flare with heat. “Well, okay, then, thanks for letting me know.”

“You aren’t getting much out of this fake-dating relationship if he’s not even sucking on your neck. Unless…” She raises one of those impossibly-perfect eyebrows. “I presume you had to explain to Alaric about contraception?”

Now my whole face is burning. “How did you?—”

“You should have your fake fiancé explain to you about Dhampir. All I know is that it’s illegal for a vampire and human to bump uglies.”

“Why have you never told us this before?” Maisie leans forward.

“Because none of you have been foolish enough to fall for a vampire.” Arabella glares at me. “Until now.”

I sink down my beanbag.

Beth wanders in then, a platter of what look suspiciously like green-coloured brownies covered in globs of snot tucked under her arm. “Blessed evening, sisters! I brought mung bean brownies—Oh, Winnie knows, doesn’t she? Arabella’s making her, ‘you must endure my lecture on the ways of vampires or I will do something unspeakable to you,’ face.”

“I have no such face.” Arabella glares at Beth. “Take that back, or I’ll stop referring my clients to you.”

“Fine, fine. I take it back. Arabella has no special ‘I’m a vampire expert’ face, nor any penchant for revenge. Welcome to the world of the supernatural, Winnie.” Beth holds out her tray, and a waft of burnt-bean scent assaults my nostrils. “Brownie?”

“No thanks, I’m full.”

“Full of Celeste’s scones, are you?” Beth glares around the room as she shoves Celeste’s empty platters aside to place her brownies front and centre. “The rest of you better finish these. I’ve been slaving over the stove for hours to get them just right and I think the cultured sea vegetable drizzle gives them a delightful zing?—”

“Crooooak!” Quoth dive-bombs the table, sending brownies flying across the floor.

“Quoth!” Beth glares at him, hands on hips.

“Sorry, Beth.” Mina covers her mouth, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter as Quoth hops across the table, trying to shake cultured sea vegetable drizzle off the tip of his wing. “He says he saw a bee, and you know how his instincts take over when he’s in bird form.”

“Damn you. That’s the eighth time this year that bird has ruined my treats.” Beth pouts as she flops into the beanbag next to Arabella. “I propose we take a vote on whether male birds should be allowed at our girls-only book club meetings.”

“Croak!”

“We’ll add it to the agenda.” Isis raps her knuckles against the now-empty table as she shoves the final bite of scone into her mouth. “I’ve already called the meeting to order. Our first item of the evening has been to encourage Winnie to stay in Argleton and bang her hot vampire boss.”

“Hear hear!” everyone yells.

“Our second item of business is a very important request from Komal.”

Komal stands up and taps the badge on her t-shirt that declares ‘Proud Member of the Argleton Tourism Board.’ “As you all know, I’m the organiser of this year’s Midsummer Festival, which is taking place on Saturday on the village green.”

“Explain for the Londoner,” I say, happy for the conversation to veer away from me.

“Midsummer is the name given to the ancient European tradition of celebrating the summer solstice – the longest day of the year,” explains Isis. “In the Christian calendar, the festival coincides with St. John’s Eve, where it’s believed that lighting a bonfire in the name of St. John the Baptist will help to ward off dragons. But the traditions are much more ancient than that, going back to the people who worshipped at celestial monuments like Stonehenge.”

“Sounds suitably supernatural,” I say.

“It’s a time to embrace the warmth and abundance of summer.” Isis clasps her hands. “It’s one of my favourite witchy celebrations because it’s the perfect time for rituals of rebirth, healing, and fertility.”

She elbows me. My cheek flush with heat, and everyone giggles.

“Midsummer Festival is so fun,” Maisie says. “I cover it every year for the paper. Everyone in the village gathers on the green. There’s an outdoor concert, a fete, games, and of course, the bonfire.”

“Every year I make a special Midsummer Festival cake,” Celeste adds. “This year, I’m experimenting with summer berries…”

“The plans are in place, and I truly believe it will be the best festival ever. But we don’t have nearly enough stalls and Counsellor Durant is breathing down my neck, looking for any excuse to get rid of the festival. He actually said that people didn’t want to participate in a pagan aberration .” Komal makes a face. “I’ve got Celeste’s cake stall, and Beth’s running her natural skincare booth, and we’ve got Richard from the pub with his cider, but three of our regular stalls pulled out. The Argleton Naughty Knitting Society can’t run their booth this year because two of their members need hip operations, and Helen Wilde is too afraid of the murderer running loose to run her new sex toy business.”

“Thank the gods,” Mina whispers under her breath. I gather from their surnames that Helen must be related to her.

“Cynthia Lachlan’s Jammery and that overpriced local knickknack store also declined because of the murderer.” Komal folds her arms and glares around the room. “So I need the rest of you to either find the vamp responsible or help me come up with at least three new booths for this year’s festival, or bloody Augustin Durant wins.”

“Heathcliff made me promise not to do a bookstore this year,” Mina says. “After last year’s disaster.”

“Well, you’ll have to tell him to suck it up and try again. This is for charity. ”

“Maybe Winnie and Alaric will have a stall,” Isis clasps her hands over her heart. “A kissing booth?—”

“We’re not pressuring Winnie.” Dora elbows her sister. “If she wants to stay, we’ll welcome her as an official member of the book club and help her figure out how to navigate a relationship with a vampire. But if she leaves, we’ll all watch her on TV and talk about this cool Clutter Queen who we used to hang out with before she became a big time star.”

“Fine.” Isis pouts, but then her face lights up. “I know – Dora and I will do our fortune-telling booth again!”

“Can’t we just enjoy the festival this year?” Dora mumbles.

“Everyone loves our fortunes.” Isis beams. “Besides, I’m the one who does all the work. I must channel all my energies into reading the cards, while Dora sits on her arse with the cash box and sells her herbal teas.”

“If you think I contribute nothing to the affair, then you should run the booth yourself this year?—”

As the girls argue about possible Midsummer Festival booths, I stare at the phone in my hands. There’s a beep and another text comes through.

Reginald: I’ve packed your things into the trunk. After your meeting is finished, I’ll drive you home to London.

Home to London.

Far away from Alaric and his mother and Perdita, the woman she wants him to marry. Far from pottery lessons and midnight chats by the fire and listening to Alaric passionately describe the drying times of different modelling paints.

Home to the biggest opportunity of my career – a chance to get the Winnie Wins System on TV and maybe help thousands of people get their clutter under control. A chance to finally escape the obnoxious posh clients I loathe and do something that helps people.

Home to my mother, who may drive me crazy but at least she never left me. At least she needs me.

Home, where I can start over again with a new flat, a blank slate.

Home, where absolutely nothing supernatural ever happens and none of my mediocre Tinder dates ever ends in fangs sinking into my neck…

I should be happy to escape from Alaric and his fangs.

So why don’t I feel happy?