say, Trudy or Jane.
There’s the slightest intake of breath, then Angelique speaks again. ‘I’ll transfer you to our Spa Director.’
‘Oh, goodness, Angelique, there’s no need for that.’ Repeatedly using someone’s name helps them to connect to you; the more often I say ‘Angelique’, the more likely she is to trust me. ‘It’s not a serious matter. It’s simply that La Bancroft enjoyed her day so much yesterday, I’ve been requested to make a note of her treatments so she can repeat the experience.’
‘Oh, yes, okay, I’ll get that information for you. It’s the same treatment she has every Wednesday though. I don’t think there was anything different this week. Shall I email it all across anyway?’
‘There’s no need for that,’ I respond smoothly. ‘It’ll be more helpful if you could just tell me now.’ I hope that the Spa De Loti receptionist is unnerved enough to be speaking to a vampire to not question my request.
‘Uh, certainly, yes. Please hold the line.’
New Age muzak fills my ear. I hold the phone away for a moment, but that just makes the rap music from the next car seem louder. I have visions of Angelique wearing a white mock doctor’s outfit, double checking with the Bancroft Family on another line and then telling me in a suddenly rediscovered Cockney accent to piss off. She’s not that suspicious, however.
‘Ms Midnight? The treatments were our acid burn exfoliate body scrub, smouldering hot stone massage and sensory deprivation tub.’
‘I see. Angelique, can you confirm for me when the deprivation tub began and ended? I’ve heard it’s so amazing that it feels like five minutes when it’s actually an hour. I’d like to have the definitive answer for Ms Bancroft.’
‘It started at two o’clock and finished at four. It’s rather a long period of time but I guess you guys are used to be in small enclosed spaces like coffins.’
Oops, Angelique, I think to myself, you forgot yourself for a second there. ‘We don’t sleep in coffins,’ I say, in my chilliest tones.
‘Oh, goodness, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you! I’m sorry, I didn’t…’
‘That will be all.’ I hang up on the poor girl who is still apologising.
The lights turn green and a slow trickle of cars seeps through. I drive forward, making it to the front of the queue just as they flick red again. Tapping my fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, I consider the information I’ve been given. Aside from the fact that Spa De Loti has some seriously disturbing sounding treatments – acid burn exfoliate, anyone? – I feel like I can cross Bancroft off my list for the incident at Tam’s office.
The Families all have immunity from human prosecution. They don’t stop randomly killing people because they’re worried they’ll end up in prison: they stop themselves because it’s bad PR. I can’t believe that the Head responsible for the worst bloodguzzler attack in years would be out of contact while it was going down. Then I think of the fact that every single Family dropped in to see Rebecca. Perhaps they’ve banded together, put aside their usual animosity and are all in it together.
No. They may have an uneasy truce but they’ve been at each other’s throats for the last three hundred years. A stupid enhancement spell from a dodgy daemon isn’t going to change that. I move the Bancroft Family to the bottom of my list of suspects. I have to trust my gut on this.
Once I’m past Marble Arch, the traffic eases and I put my foot down. I swing into the Brighton Hospital car park a little after ten o’clock. I balk at the displayed parking charges – how can a hospital expect people to pay that much? I’m down to my last few coins and they won’t even cover half an hour. I’m tempted to drive around and find somewhere cheaper but the traffic has annoyed me and I’m going to have to return this car sooner or later. Where would be safer to leave it than here? I
There’s the slightest intake of breath, then Angelique speaks again. ‘I’ll transfer you to our Spa Director.’
‘Oh, goodness, Angelique, there’s no need for that.’ Repeatedly using someone’s name helps them to connect to you; the more often I say ‘Angelique’, the more likely she is to trust me. ‘It’s not a serious matter. It’s simply that La Bancroft enjoyed her day so much yesterday, I’ve been requested to make a note of her treatments so she can repeat the experience.’
‘Oh, yes, okay, I’ll get that information for you. It’s the same treatment she has every Wednesday though. I don’t think there was anything different this week. Shall I email it all across anyway?’
‘There’s no need for that,’ I respond smoothly. ‘It’ll be more helpful if you could just tell me now.’ I hope that the Spa De Loti receptionist is unnerved enough to be speaking to a vampire to not question my request.
‘Uh, certainly, yes. Please hold the line.’
New Age muzak fills my ear. I hold the phone away for a moment, but that just makes the rap music from the next car seem louder. I have visions of Angelique wearing a white mock doctor’s outfit, double checking with the Bancroft Family on another line and then telling me in a suddenly rediscovered Cockney accent to piss off. She’s not that suspicious, however.
‘Ms Midnight? The treatments were our acid burn exfoliate body scrub, smouldering hot stone massage and sensory deprivation tub.’
‘I see. Angelique, can you confirm for me when the deprivation tub began and ended? I’ve heard it’s so amazing that it feels like five minutes when it’s actually an hour. I’d like to have the definitive answer for Ms Bancroft.’
‘It started at two o’clock and finished at four. It’s rather a long period of time but I guess you guys are used to be in small enclosed spaces like coffins.’
Oops, Angelique, I think to myself, you forgot yourself for a second there. ‘We don’t sleep in coffins,’ I say, in my chilliest tones.
‘Oh, goodness, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you! I’m sorry, I didn’t…’
‘That will be all.’ I hang up on the poor girl who is still apologising.
The lights turn green and a slow trickle of cars seeps through. I drive forward, making it to the front of the queue just as they flick red again. Tapping my fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, I consider the information I’ve been given. Aside from the fact that Spa De Loti has some seriously disturbing sounding treatments – acid burn exfoliate, anyone? – I feel like I can cross Bancroft off my list for the incident at Tam’s office.
The Families all have immunity from human prosecution. They don’t stop randomly killing people because they’re worried they’ll end up in prison: they stop themselves because it’s bad PR. I can’t believe that the Head responsible for the worst bloodguzzler attack in years would be out of contact while it was going down. Then I think of the fact that every single Family dropped in to see Rebecca. Perhaps they’ve banded together, put aside their usual animosity and are all in it together.
No. They may have an uneasy truce but they’ve been at each other’s throats for the last three hundred years. A stupid enhancement spell from a dodgy daemon isn’t going to change that. I move the Bancroft Family to the bottom of my list of suspects. I have to trust my gut on this.
Once I’m past Marble Arch, the traffic eases and I put my foot down. I swing into the Brighton Hospital car park a little after ten o’clock. I balk at the displayed parking charges – how can a hospital expect people to pay that much? I’m down to my last few coins and they won’t even cover half an hour. I’m tempted to drive around and find somewhere cheaper but the traffic has annoyed me and I’m going to have to return this car sooner or later. Where would be safer to leave it than here? I
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