A Kiss at Midnight

Chapter Forty Five Part 1

Seven years later

Preston Street was a quiet side street off Stoke Street in Peyton. To traverse this street, one must wander down a narrow lane way. Shops here wore facades of rich mahogany wood panelling. A cornice, its ornate design to grace the shop's exterior or rain droplets did, depending on the day. A single display window to showcase wares such as boots of caramel leather or glass jars of sherbet lemons and humbugs sweets. At the haberdashery, a garland of azure blue and gardenia white cloths was strung across the glass panes. The soft chime of a bell to accompany Carrick as he stepped outside the shop. An oblong package of brown paper tucked under his arm.

"Carrick," a male voice said.

He turned to see Carys Van Helsing approaching, sharply dressed in navy blue and carob brown. The two males had quickly become friends once Carrick returned to Peyton for good. Carys was the one to introduce him to the Consortium; an organisation founded by four families who dedicated their resources and their very lives to hunt creatures that delighted in carnage. And Carrick's current employer. Unlike their shadowy predecessor, hunters of the Consortium required proof of bloodshed before they could enact a hunt.

"Just back from a hunt, are we?" Carys asked, having noticed the splotches of mud decorating Carrick's midnight breeches and the hem of dust upon his jacket.

Carrick nodded. "I had a few things to purchase before returning home." With a wave of his hand, he gestured to a shop further up the street. "And one last stop to make."

Carys retrieved his pocket watch, glancing at it.
"Mind if I accompany you? It would seem I have a bit of time to spare before meeting a client about a new hunt."

Carrick gave his assent and they walked to Mabel's, a shop specialising in items for children. Ducks and horses carved out of wood sat on shelves next to dolls of porcelain white and golden brown curls. Cribs of fawn brown and beige to create a maze leading to the counter. Muslin cloths and woollen blankets neatly folded in baskets. Mabel herself was behind the counter. A softly spoken woman in her late forties, her amber brown curls drawn back into a braided bun. Carrick handed her a slip of parchment paper bearing his name and order.

"Ah yes, Mr Ellis. One moment," she said, walking over to a set of drawers.
Carrick rested one hand on the counter of charred spruce as he waited. His thumb to sweep over the golden band of his wedding ring. On the way to Gretna Green, he and Zane discussed his alias and ties to Sebastian Ellis, his real father. It was decided that since Ellis wasn't an entirely rare name Carrick should keep it, Zane and Leo would help him draw up documents to open accounts. Regarding his alias of being a cousin to Sebastian, it too should be kept but used sparingly as to not arouse the old lord's suspicions to use of his family name.

Carys hooked one booted ankle over the other, leaning against the counter. "It has been a long time since I stepped inside this shop. Nowadays, it is the toy shop on Stoke Street and demands of dolls, teddy bears and marbles. A Van Helsing these days may possess a scream upon her lips, a crossbow in hand and a toy clutched in his other," Carys said, referring to his six years old daughter Aoife and four year old son, Devon.

Carrick let out a chuckle. "I haven't had the pleasure yet. No, my daughters prefers the wooden toys found here." He leaned close to Carys, his voice low as to not let Mabel hear. "Abigail likes to chew on the duck figurine, she says it helps to sharpen her wolf teeth."

A slight shake of his friend's head yet it could not wipe the smile from his face.

The sound of swishing skirts drew Carrick's attention back to Mabel as she placed down a rectangular parcel. "Apologies about the short delay in shipment but Mr Pearson has assured me this is his finest wool."