So I'm a Vampire... Now What? - Book 2 (Original Version)

Chapter 11.1 - The Wicked One

I couldn't tell Claude about Beatrice.

I tried. I mean I really really tried, but every time I opened my mouth to do it, I always ended up talking about something else, anything else at all.

That left me really confused the first couple of times it happened. I should have been glad to see that she was alive and okay, but instead, there was just this unmistakable dread that sent a spike of panic and terror right into my heart.

It may have had something to do with the fact that she was wearing a very stylish black eyepatch over her left eye; her eye should have healed by now, so what the fuck was going on there?

Maybe it was how she just stood there looking right at me, not waving, not smiling, just making sure that I saw her. Making sure that I knew that she saw me.

I had backed away from the window, wondering why I was reacting the way I was. Why did I feel like I was being hunted?

I slowly crept back to the window, heart pounding, talking myself into a state of calm that wasn't fooling even me. I peeked out and yup, she was still there, looking right at me—

I backed away from the window and noped the fuck out of there. In case you're wondering what that means, that mainly consisted of me backing away going "Nope, nope, nope! Never doing that again."

The first thing I had to do was to tell Claude that Beatrice was there and that I had a feeling deep in my gut that she was coming for me and we were all in danger and—

"I'm really craving a Cinnabon right now," I said calmly, instead of yelling my warning. I casually slid onto one of the stools next to the kitchen island, my body completely betraying everything my mind was telling it to do. What the fuck?  "What do you guys think?"

What the fuck was I doing?

Claude gave me a look of concern.

"Everything okay with you dude?"

No! Noting is okay and everything is fucked! We have to get the fuck out of here now!

That's what I wanted to say. Really it was.

"Nah, I'm just craving something sweet. And warm. And Cinnbonny."

Ronnie glanced up from her computer but never stopped typing.

"I'm so not going on a Cinnabon run if that is what you're hinting at."

"Since you're here," Claude said. "We're trying to create a profile on your girlfriend Beatrice, but all of the information on her is gone."

"What he's not saying is that it was there an hour ago."

"Madame Vera gave us a very detailed history, lots of notes about her, but Ronnie can't seem to find it anymore for some reason."

Ronnie flipped him off and resumed her furious staring at her screen and occasional typing and clicking, her mouth pursed tightly.

Claude turned to me, clearly in project management mode. The SmartBoard was full of profiles behind him, including one of Harry. There were three question marks representing the Gentlemen, but up on top, right next to a photo of Louise was a big black empty box labelled "Beatrice".

"Maybe you can help? Tell us everything you know about her while Ronnie finds out how she got hacked."

"I didn't get hacked," Ronnie muttered furiously, "I do the hacking!"

"She totally got hacked," Claude stage-whispered to me. "You don't happen to have any photos of her, do you?"

It struck me, at that very moment that, no: I didn't have any photos of Beatrice, not a single one. There had never been an urge to take photos, which should have struck me as odd, but it had just never occurred to me at all. Beatrice had sucked me into her world and I had gone along with it and fallen in line with her behaviours, one of which had never been about documenting the moment. Plus we were having sex all the time and those don't make for the best photos. I had a ton of photos of me and Jaime because photos are what happen in a relationship, but with Beatrice, it had never been a thought.