Chapter 31

I turned the vehicle back towards Kamluck Logging. Until the cursed vendor, Jeff, came round, I was still waiting on Sidnee's research so I might as well continue with my other task of speaking to John. I'd put him off for days and now it was time.

I didn't want to hear whatever message he was here to deliver, but avoiding it wouldn't make it go away. I wondered if Octavius was going to use threats or bribery and braced myself for both.

I pulled into the main car park by the warehouse. The bunkhouse was back there somewhere; Connor had told me about its existence, though I'd never been there. Fluffy followed me, still visibly moping.

I found what I thought was the right building and knocked. I heard steps approaching and the door opened. ‘Bunny!' John said with surprise. I probably should have texted and let him know to expect me.

‘Hi. I hope you don't mind me dropping by but I feel bad that I've put you off again and again. I was close by so I decided to stop in.'

‘No, it's fine. Come in.' Even as he said it, alarm bells were ringing. John did not look fine – he looked wrecked. His hair was lank and greasy, and he looked exhausted, which is pretty hard for a vampire to do. I'd gone days with hardly any sleep and I still looked fresh-faced and ready to go. Vampirism had some upsides.

‘Good to see your dog looking so much better than he did in London,' he commented, looking at Fluffy. ‘He was in a complete state.'

I grimaced. When I'd rescued Fluffy from a bin near my house in London, I'd lied to John and told him I'd had my dog for years. Obviously I'd been talking out of my arse: firstly, Fluffy was young, and secondly, he was visibly undernourished. No pet of mine would ever be in that state. John had let the lie go, though he'd obviously not bought it.

He led the way into the barracks and Fluffy and I followed. The building was basic but useable: there was a common area with a kitchen, sofa and TV, and some doors off the corridor led to bedrooms and bathrooms. It wasn't a place you'd want to stay for long, but it was better than nothing. And there were no windows, so it was far safer for a vampire than the Portlock Hotel.

John ushered me into the communal living area. I sat on the sofa and Fluffy sank down at my feet. As John took a seat, he seemed to fold in on himself. I looked at him, alarmed. ‘Are you all right, John?' I asked with concern.

He smiled wanly. ‘I'm fine.'

He was far from fine. Guilt coiled in my stomach; he'd been trying to see me for days. ‘I know I've been putting you off and I haven't been a good friend, but I'll never forget what you did for me. You helped me when no one else would. Whatever you need, I'm here for you.'

That seemed to flick a switch in him. He leaned forward, put his head in his hands and started to cry. Crap. I was so not the person for this: I was terrible with my emotions, let alone someone else's. I walked over, perched on the arm of his chair and rubbed his back. ‘Let it out,' I murmured.

He shoulders shook; whatever was wrong, it was breaking his heart. It was several minutes before he brushed the tears from his cheeks. ‘My wife died,' he said dully.

‘Oh God, John. I'm so, so, sorry. Was it sudden?'

‘Sudden, but not wholly unexpected, I guess,' he said. ‘She'd been ill for a long while. Gwen was human. She had cancer so they couldn't turn her, but as long as I obeyed the king he kept her in cutting-edge trials and programs. She didn't have much of a chance and it killed her to see her illness being used to make me do things I wouldn't ever do otherwise. Horrible things. I think I'd reached my limit when I met you. I needed to know I wasn't a monster, even though I felt like one. Saving you was saving me, too.'

I squeezed his arm but didn't interrupt. He was silent for a moment before he continued. ‘Gwen could see that it was killing me too, I guess. I loved her enough to do heinous things to keep her alive, and she loved me enough to do a heinous thing to stop living.' His voice caught. ‘Yesterday she took her own life to free me from Octavius. Now I have no reason to go back.'

‘God, John, I'm so sorry.' I had nothing but the empty platitude to offer. I tried to imagine it, tried to imagine doing dark things to keep Connor alive. I'd do them, I realised, like John had.

He looked at me with haunted eyes. ‘I didn't get to say goodbye. I wasn't by her side, and I'll never be by her side again. And if I go back for her funeral, Octavius will get his claws into me. What do I do?'

I bit my lip. Gunnar could do some paperwork like he had for me and get John transferred to Portlock. Connor would take him in, no questions asked. Maybe Connor or Gunnar knew someone in London who could pull strings to get Gwen's body here for burial. I didn't want to make any promises, though. ‘Leave it with me. Maybe I can help.'

John nodded but his eyes were still dull and lost. Abruptly they fixed on me. ‘I don't know what's best,' he said finally, somewhat cryptically.

‘Best for what?'

‘For you,' he admitted. ‘I was sent here with instructions from Octavius to tell you something. I verified it and it's true, but telling you … it's cruel.'

Fuck, that sounded ominous. Did I want to know whatever truth Octavius had sent John with? After all, ignorance was supposed to be bliss. I weighed it up. The problem was that I was curious – and although curiosity killed the cat, it might make the bunny stronger. ‘Tell me,' I said finally. ‘If it's true, then tell me.'

John studied me before nodding. ‘You know Franklin was paid 50,000 pounds to turn you?' he said.

I knew that because Franklin himself had told me. I was suddenly sure that the secret Octavius had sent with John was the truth about who had instructed Franklin. Suddenly, I wasn't so sure I wanted to know; did I really want to solve the case of my death?

John looked away and shook his head. ‘This is hard.'

My blood ran cold. ‘Tell me,' I whispered. I had to know the truth even if it broke me.

He stared at me for a moment, opened his mouth and slayed me all over again. ‘I'm sorry. I double-checked. The money … it came from your parents' bank account.'