Guildhall Guardian: Thamesian #1 (Thamesians) (2 page)

So very sudden after he had been immune to humans for most of his years as a Guardian, going back and forth between envy and contempt for them.

They were weak, nosy and undiscerning.

They lived their lifetime, the majority of them oblivious to the underworld just in front of their eyes.  Yet he did not share the pure loathing the Vampires had for them. 

  Sometimes he remembered his own humanity.

And then he purged the maudlin memories with the delivered wine which had lately gone missing for two weeks in a  row.

  "Could have got yourself a concussion, dear, you aren't dizzy, are you?"

  "No don't worry for me! My name is Gioia, we are the 25th of September 2013, I am twenty-four years old, Italian citizen, see I am fine."

  "Italian?" asked Roydon with a nuanced hint of interest.

Gemma nodded "Allright, I'll let you two have a chat if everything's well''.

  "Piacere, Gioia Di Terzi."

Gioia blushed.

  "I am not used to hear my mothertongue anymore even after such a short period of time, English has got the best of me.''

  "Not entirely I hope so Miss Di Terzi'' he said.

He would love to hear her swear Italian, sensuous words to him.

She looked at him with wide eyes, her stance a little fidgety. Did he scare her? He was not used to dealing with young human females after all. Though she did not seem the type to be frightened so easily.

As if he knew her already, there was no fool like a fool old of five centuries.

Roydon straigthened himself. Here the mystery would have to be solved, she was indeed an ordinary young human worker, nothing to catch the attention of a Guildhall Guardian, the master of their local underworld. 

He only hoped she did not precipitated herself into trouble again. Twice she had walked right into a supernatural lair.

  "Come, young lady"he said"I will get you back home, enough pub for you today".

*

  I jolted awake. He had broken the spell.  This man, I didn't even know his name, was dangerous. And I was drawn to him, no matter why. Who was he?

He reeked of wealth,power,and control. His accent was polished, poshier than anyone I had heard since my arrival here.

He was confident and effortlessly social save for the occasional gleam of, was it pain?, discomfort in his eyes.

It was like he did not quite fit into his time, no matter the disguise. Maybe a British business man educated in a foreign country his Italian accent was perfect, maybe one of the royals who ruled this working class city and did not care to hide his blueblood?

Maybe just a Londoner? I was not very trained to recognize them yet...

  "I think you should introduce yourself first before you convince me to follow you" I said.

He smiled as a man caught without his manners. Posh dude for sure.

  "I beg your pardon. I quite forgot I do not wear a badge myself" he joked dryly"I am Roydon Thamesian".

Okay. And that was all? No other intelligence?

His name was definitely regal.

Roydon. 

Maybe I had hurt myself more than I thought when I fell.

Or maybe I was really losing my mind and I should get repatriated to my country before I deteriorate into full-blown madness?

"You seem upset" he remarked "You don't like my name, do you?"

"Hum...thanks for the offer but I think I will just walk home, it is not that far''.

Roydon fucking Thamesian touched my arm.

"I suggest you it is not very safe to walk after night, in this quarter I mean. It would be my pleasure to drive you home.''

"What? Why? I bet this is something you don't tell the tourists.''

"No I don't warn them. I like my tourists scared and bloody" he joked again.

II

I should have said no. It was hard to resist the pull that draw me to this mysterious Brit but not impossible. NO. Should have been my definitive answer.

Of course Sir Roydon Thamesian was driving a black, sleek BMW coupe.

It was unbelievably show-offy in a town like this.

Not the first time I had seen this car I realized, in the medieval Quarter, parked next to the Olde Pub.

Everything about screamed nobility and/or mobster. I clutched my shoulder bag, I was still me, Gioia di Terzi, after a day of work, praying that I didn't have any remain of lettuce stuck in my teeth.

In the rear mirror I checked myself, even paler than usual, small faced in this impressive car.

Roydon started the car and just glided into the narrow streets, no circulation to block him of course until we reached the City Hall. His hands were strong on the wheel, the side of his face sharp, the collar of his white shirt slightly revealing.

I just couldn't realize I was sitting next to him instead of being curled up in bed, cursing the too fast coming next day of work.

Red lights.

"Where do you live?" he asked politely.

"Uh...oh. St John's Road, number 20."

What was the advice? Never disclose your address to a stranger. Too late.

*

  Gioia seemed unmeasurably absorbed by the streets out the window.

He was making her uncomfortable, oh well, this was the 21st century. Chivalry and concern turned into stalkerish behaviour. 

  "That's quite far from the city centre" he remarked casually. 

She was a puzzle to him, really. Brand would be chiding him for losing time like that, dawdling instead of taking care of the pending business.

  "Yes, it's a quiet neighborhood and my landlady is really nice.  So, Mister Thamesian, what do you do for a living?"

She was finally showing some curiosity toward him.

It was a tough question to answer for someone like him. What could he say that covered the truth: my main business is to guard vampires's graves. I am law and order in the Medieval Quarter which really is a supernatural playground of all kind. It would not do.

   "Officially, I am the Guildhall curator, an English Heritage officer it doesn't mean it's all dusty business, I am also in charge of the social media PR of the Medieval Quarter."

   "And off the record?"

*

  He had just revealed the exact amount of facts to keep me on edge. He worked for the Guildhall, it explained it all. This posh/curator/publicist whatever, oh my God, he was light years from any man I ever met before. He actually held my attention.

   "Let's just say I have been around for a long time in the Quarter and its people often come to me for help. We all are a small village into the city."

  "Kind of a big boss, are you?" I tentatively teased him.

  "That's one way to say it" he smiled, his golden eyes illuminated by the streetlights.

"I am very fond of Art actually, it was one of my majors at Uni. You do have a dreamy job."

Roydon looked straight at me. Adrenaline was rushing through my veins. Fear and excitation. All of that while talking about monuments and art. Well done. I was freaky.

  "It has its drawbacks sometimes." he said.

  "Like what?"

  "Can't travel for very long. The business takes an eternity. Sometimes I feel as ancient as the Guildhall."

  "Well we all let the work get to us'' I said to lift his mood.

His smile was the most elegant thing I had never seen then. I could get used to make him smile like that.

  "I believe you've arrived."

That was really short. I looked at my house, the lighted threshold, the minuscule garden over concrete, the red bricks, the green trash. All of that seemed different because of Roydon's presence.

Even the trivialities of routine, the insignificance of everyday habits were bright and light now. Or it was the side effects of English beer.

I hopped out of the car.

  "Thanks for the ride."

What now? I knew that English people were not very fond of proximity. And I was over my head to even think about hugging him, kissing him...what, not kiss stranger you just met in a pub.

Not kiss Roydon Thamesian. I could do that, totally.

  "Arrivederci Ms. Di Terzi, we will meet again before long." he said with one last yellow stare.

My legs wobbled as I opened the door and stepped into my boring existence again.

*

  "My Lord, I am reminding you of your appointement with your brother at two o'clock, tomorrow."

Roydon willfully sipped his glass of white wine.

  "Yes, I remember. How can I forget dear Brand. He will surely confront me with the wine shortage."

  "May I suggest Sir that we make do with the Stonehenge?"

  "Gemma recommeded the same. Yet we all know that this beer has unpredictable effects. It's a poor substitute. Order some anyway, we can't go on drinking human alcohol, can we?"

  "Certainly not, Sir."

Roydon opened his laptop. Robert had sent him Gioia's file. After actually meeting her he felt guilty about reading it.

He shouldn't want to be involved with her in any way.  Yet he was plagued with the image of her face, and the passion in her voice when she spoke about what she liked.  Completely irrelevant, all humans, all people had interests, why her?

He deleted
G.Di Terzi.docx
. Too easy this way.

Roydon wanted what Gioia was willing to let him know.

III

  This night I dreamt that Roydon Thamesian was standing behind my window, in the street just under a lamplight. In a Teenage TV-show disturbing way.  I woke up to drink some water and when I looked behind the curtains to check, oh hello stray cat lurking behind my window.

Was I supposed to believe that Roydon Thamesian was a cat-shifter with a predilection for hanging out in suburban, empty streets? Hell, no.

Attraction leading to over sensitive imagination ergo psychedelic dreams.

And also I should never eat curry noodles before bedtime.

  "We will meet before long'' if only he hadn't said that.

You couldn't say that to a girl like me (loner, temporary worker in a foreign country, someone who was left with crumpets instead of real Italian cooking)when you were a man like him (fancy golden-eyed curator and sexy driver).

I got back to bed grumbling over the odds of ever meeting Roydon again.

  A girl could not dream after all.

*

To sleep per chance to dream
, would never be for him.

With the lack of wine, the unwanted souvenirs of his lifetime were beginning to resurface. outbreak of memories

No one of them wanted that, especially not him.

Roydon wasn't prepared for that. He understood why humans dabbled in narcotics and drugs. Pain which comes with the ordeal of failures, losses and deaths over and over.

He had worked harder than ever in that year 1430.

  "By this royal charter, we have been granted the status of mistry of merchants, my friends. The guildhall is strenghtened and well-established."

He had felt proud then. Roydon Thamesian, grandson of a mere peasant, son of a salmon fisher from Kingston upon Thames, a merchant who thrived among his guild. A family he could feed. A city where his name would live on.

He had many friends among the other merchants. With his high stature, his extraordinary voice and his amber eyes, the man bewitched female and male alike.

  
Now Roydon was used to his social media network, his  internet tools and the easiness of having a butler and a grand life- albeit grand responsability.

Progress and wealth had weakened him in some ways, but he believed himself to be the strongest one of today's Guild.

His recollections were slicing him open and raw. No doubt the others were suffering too. Brand would be a pain in the arse to have a meeting with.

He envied the Vampires, his masters, who were sound asleep in their graves.

*

  One more Guildhall morning and now that I knew who was living behind its walls.

The fog had grown thicker and the Quarter was deserted of its usual tourists. It was only the middle of the week, there should have been more people. Again I got sucked by the eeriness of the atmosphere.

I stopped by the graves, the nagging feeling told me I had to check.