Dark Tomorrow (Bo Blackman Book 6) (18 page)

Although, like Beth, most people think of the Houses of Parliament when they think of Westminster, there’s more to it than that. It might not be a particularly large borough, and the majority of the buildings might be historical listed structures, but there is still quite a large residential population. It was here that Alice’s mother thought she saw her daughter. There might not have been any alien sightings – I had Rogu3 check through various databases for me – but if Alice still exists this seems the most likely place to start looking for her.

Each vampire has an updated photo of what Alice might look like, complete with short dark hair and five years added on. It’s not perfect ‒ photofits rarely are ‒ but it’s a good starting point. We fan out across the borough and start asking questions.

It’s a dangerous operation, not because of Alice but because of our proximity to Hale’s base and all the others out there who are eager to take advantage of our weakened situation. We stay in pairs and I make sure everyone is aware that they need to stay alert at all times. It helps that Hope also musters her troops. Before long, there are more than a hundred of us, all searching for one altered little girl. Unfortunately, even though the streets are starting returning to a semblance of normality, most of the queries follow a pattern:

‘Good afternoon.’

Cue stammer and wide eyes. ‘You’re a vampire.’

‘Yes. Can you look at this photo for me? I’m looking for this girl.’

‘I thought all the vampires were dead.’

‘Please just look at the photo.’

Generally this is followed by a brisk denial that they’ve seen her and more questions about what’s happened to the Families. Without her blonde curls, no one recognises the photo as Alice Goldman. I guess people often don’t see what’s right in front of their faces. It makes my theory that she might have been hiding in plain sight all the more believable. I make sure that everyone keeps their questions – and their identities – as low key as possible. We don’t want to alert the bad guys, whoever they are, to our actions. Every reaction from every passer-by is carefully scrutinised. And so far, no one is having any luck.

O’Shea catches up with me down a leafy street near Westminster Abbey. ‘There are no aliens in London,’ he informs me stiffly. ‘Not of the green-skinned kind anyway.’ He appears annoyed at having spent the day searching fruitlessly for creatures that don’t exist. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that it’s better than being held prisoner by a raving loony MP who wants you to burn to death, and better than being rescued from that madman by your mortal enemy, but it doesn’t seem worth it.

I shrug. ‘Fair enough.’

‘Fair enough?’ he screeches. ‘Do you realise that I’ve just made every person I’ve met think that I’ve lost my marbles? I have a reputation to maintain.’

I pat him on the shoulder. ‘It was a lead that had to be followed.’

He grumbles loudly. ‘I spoke to all of Benjy’s friends. None of them had any clue where he’d gone. They’re convinced he wouldn’t have just upped and left though. I went back to his posh apartment to try and talk to him again and he’s gone. According to his neighbour, an hour after I spoke to him he packed a bag and left.’

I grimace. Another dead end. I’m starting to think we’re chasing ghosts.

Hope appears from round the corner from where she’s been questioning a bemused couple from Sweden. ‘Nope,’ she says. ‘They’ve not seen her either.’

O’Shea leaps in front of me, shielding my body from hers. ‘Witch,’ he hisses.

Hope smiles. ‘You must be Devlin.’

O’Shea makes a hex sign and backs up, colliding with me. ‘Get thee away from me!’

‘You know that doesn’t actually work, right?’

‘Bo,’ he says plaintively, ‘what is going on?’

‘We have a new ally,’ I tell him.

‘A black witch?’ His voice is rising to a high-pitched shriek. ‘Are you nuts? They all want to kill you!’

‘Apparently not.’

Hope holds up her palms. ‘Listen to your friend,’ she says. ‘I’m on your side. I’m one of the good guys.’

‘Bo, your judgment of people is seriously flawed.’

I grin. ‘You got that right.’

O’Shea’s brow furrows. ‘Hey! I didn’t mean me!’

‘It’s all good,’ I soothe.

A grey-haired man hurrying past throws us a look and gives us a wide berth. I dash after him. ‘Excuse me, sir!’ I say, waving Alice’s doctored photo in his face. ‘Have you seen this girl?’

He barely looks at it. ‘No.’ He picks up speed and scurries off.

O’Shea stares at me. ‘This is your big plan? Find Alice Goldman by asking people on the street?’

‘If you have a better idea…’

‘The words needle and haystack come to mind,’ he mutters. ‘If you’re hoping to bump into her, you’re crazy. It’s a Wednesday and the last time I checked, most kids don’t hang around in the open on the streets of London in the middle of a weekday.’

O’Shea’s words hit me with the force of a freight train. I keep thinking that Alice was abducted and concealed somewhere but, from what her mother told me, that might not be the case. If Alice’s mind has been wiped and she’s wandering around the streets with an altered appearance, or if she’s been brainwashed by Stockholm Syndrome or magic or whatever, she must appear to be undergoing the numbing process of formal education; otherwise the local council would step in. Unless you’re going to keep a child locked in a basement – or in a room like Maria’s prison dormitory – you have to send them to school. I straighten up. Hiding in plain sight indeed. ‘You’re right.’

‘You bet I am.’

Hope meets my eyes. ‘School,’ she breathes. A smile spreads across her face. ‘We need to hit the schools.’

***

It doesn’t take long to send a message to tell everyone to switch tactics. If Alice is still alive, she’s old enough to attend secondary school – and there are only eleven of those in the borough. With witches and vampires heading off in all directions, Hope, a distinctly wary O’Shea and I make a beeline for the local council buildings. Not every child physically goes to school.

Ignoring the cluster of smokers hanging around the front, we march grimly inside. I take off my baseball cap and run my hands through my hair. I get the feeling that my weak disguise won’t do much for me here, not if I want to get any real information.

‘Which floor for education?’ I ask the young woman behind the desk. She doesn’t look up from her nail file. Doesn’t she realise what a cliché she is?

‘S’lunch time,’ she mumbles. ‘Come back in an hour.’

‘No,’ I say pleasantly, ‘I don’t think I will.’

She huffs and looks up. When she sees me, flanked by Hope and O’Shea, her mouth drops open. ‘Bo Blackman.’

I smile. ‘Hi.’

She swallows and leans forward. ‘I heard what you did to that receptionist in Canary Wharf,’ she whispers. She pulls away the scarf around her neck. ‘Do it to me.’

I stare at her stupidly. ‘You want me to drain you of your blood and leave you unconscious for an hour or two?’ I feel guilty about what I did to poor David; I don’t need to add to my guilt by doing it again.

She doesn’t seem to hear me. ‘I always wanted to be a vampette.’

I bank down the temptation. No, I feel like we might be getting somewhere with Alice. This isn’t the time to stop for a bite – even if everyone else is having lunch. ‘Maybe later,’ I hedge. ‘Where can I find the education department?’ They used to occupy their own building but cutbacks have forced them to join the rest of the council workers. I know they’re here somewhere.

‘Fifth floor,’ she says in a cloud of disappointment.

I force a smile. ‘Thanks.’

‘I never understood why so many people were willing to do that,’ Hope comments, as we start up the first flight of stairs. Naturally, the lift is out of order. ‘Let vampires drink from them, I mean.’

‘I’m equally baffled,’ I admit. I shoot a look at O’Shea.

He sighs. ‘Connor said it was like sex. Orgasmic was the word he used.’ He shrugs. ‘Something to do with the chemicals in a bloodguzzler’s saliva.’

Huh. No wonder Connor prevaricated whenever I broached the subject. I’d not heard that before. Then I frown. ‘Hang on a minute. Is that why you offered to let me drink from you?’ I recoil slightly. ‘Ick.’

O’Shea arches an eyebrow and pouts. I think he’s trying to assume the air of a sex kitten but it doesn’t work. ‘A woman’s never done it for me but if one could, it would be you, Bo.’

My frown deepens. ‘Are you saying I’m manly?’ I look down at my clothes. Nondescript jeans, leather jacket and black T-shirt. It’s not the most feminine look but I’ve been known to wear dresses. I’d wear them more often if they were practical.

‘Well, I find you pretty sexy,’ Hope interjects. I can’t tell whether she’s serious or not and I start feeling flustered.

‘She’s spoken for,’ O’Shea says shortly, glaring at her.

Hope’s mouth twitches. ‘You mean by the newly resurrected Lord Montserrat.’

‘He didn’t die,’ I say, as we keep climbing.

‘No,’ she returns. ‘He just changed from a vampire into a human. How exactly did that happen?’

‘Kakos daemon.’

‘So you said. The daemon saved him by turning him back?’

My eyes narrow and I almost spit out the words. ‘No. The daemon was getting his revenge on me for not dancing to his tune. It was a trap and I walked straight into it.’

O’Shea reaches out and rubs my arm. Hope, however, looks thoughtful.

We round the last corner and head up the last few steps. A crooked sign at the top reads ‘Local Education Authority: Westminster’, except the letter ‘s’ is missing from Westminster and someone has taken a Sharpie and changed the ‘i’ to a ‘u’.

‘Wet munter,’ O’Shea reads. ‘That’s not very polite. Do you think they knew you were coming, Bo?’ I punch him on the arm. He grins. ‘Makes me glad to be an Agathos daemon. At least we don’t have to go to schools run by this lot.’ He peers into a nearby office. ‘Those computers look like antiques.’

‘Cutbacks,’ I say. ‘The government is more interested in spending money on running down the last few remaining vampires than on education.’

‘I’m guessing not many people come up here.’ O’Shea glances into a battered cardboard box filled with bits of paper. ‘They’d be horrified if they did. This is supposed to be our tax money hard at work.’

I roll my eyes. ‘And when was the last time you paid tax?’

He doesn’t get the chance to answer. A ruffled-looking human, with a few crumbs from whatever sandwich he’s been eating still attached to his mouth, walks out and adjusts his tie. ‘Ms Blackman,’ he beams. ‘I’m Jonathan Tamworth. What can we do for you?’

I gaze at him suspiciously. Technically, this guy is a civil servant. Surely his first impulse should be to inform his superiors that I’m on the premises, then knock me out so he can drag me back off to Vince sodding Hale.

He notices my look and blusters in a bid to appease me. ‘You’ve been a hero of mine ever since you stopped that school from becoming a bloodbath.’ I nod in sudden understanding. He’s referring to the incident where I stopped Rogu3 from being gunned down. ‘We don’t expect snipers to show up at school dances and try to take out our students. I think you’ll find that many of us in education are sympathetic to your cause. What’s happened to the Families is a terrible business.’

I think he’s being genuinely sincere, despite his sycophantic tone. I test the water to see if I’m right. ‘I’m here because another of your students is in danger, Mr Tamworth.’

‘Oh my goodness.’ He knits his fingers together anxiously. ‘Who? We can let the police know and…’

‘We need to keep her identity secret,’ I tell him, making things up as I go along. ‘For her own safety.’

‘Of course, of course! What can I do to help?’

‘I’m very worried that innocent children are going to get hurt.’ Although I’m not lying, I still lay it on thick. ‘We are sending small teams to watch every school in the area to check that they’re safe. If you could phone ahead and alert the schools so that our people aren’t ... challenged, that would be extraordinarily helpful.’ Let’s face it, the last thing we need is a panic on our hands because the last of the country’s bloodguzzlers are hanging around schools as if they’re waiting to get their revenge on those who deserve it least.

‘Yes!’ He almost trips over himself, he’s so eager to help. ‘I can do that.’

‘And,’ I continue, ‘I’d like a list of all the children in Westminster who are being home-schooled.’

He nods vigorously. ‘Indeed. Come right this way.’

I exchange glances with Hope and O’Shea. This is going far more swimmingly than I expected so it automatically puts me on edge. It’s a shame that I’m forced to look for shadows at every turn, even when people are genuinely helpful.

Tamworth settles himself into a chair which squeals in distress when his arse lands on it. He grimaces. ‘Sorry.’ He pats his stomach. ‘The wife keeps telling me to lose some weight.’

‘I think it’s the cheap furniture rather than your trim self, Mr Tamworth.’ He’s not the only one who can play the sycophancy game.