The Scarlet Deep
Page 76
“You don’t touch her,” Murphy growled, pulling the Russian’s hair back and punching him in the throat with three quick jabs guaranteed to crush the vampire’s windpipe. “Do you understand that?”
Anne could see that two of the foreign vampires had one of Murphy’s guards by the neck. She heard someone cock a gun.
“No!” she yelled, frightened that the situation was escalating past the point of salvage.
Just as she was about to push calm into the ruckus, she saw the water at the edge of the riverbank rise.
“Stop,” a low voice said. “Ye’re bleedin’ eejits. All of ye.”
The slap of water came suddenly when two waves rose from the river and grabbed Murphy, the bearded Russian vampire, and most of the guards, pulling them into the river and submersing them with a resounding smack.
In a second, everything was silent.
Tywyll stepped from the shadows with Oleg at his side.
Anne heard Oleg cursing low in Russian. “That boy. Always wanting to travel, and these things keep happening. I cannot travel with him.”
“I’ll just keep ’em down there while we talk.” Tywyll nodded toward the black water before he turned to Anne. “There’s my girl! How’re things, lamb?”
Anne pushed past her guards. “Da, could you let Patrick out of the river, please?”
Her sire’s eyes twinkled. “Was young Murphy in that ruckus? Oi, the lad. He needs to stay out of trouble, eh?”
“The big bearded one tried to grab for me. What did you expect him to do?” She looked at her friend. “Hello, Oleg.”
“Apologies for Misha. He is a good boy, but young. Not so bright yet. He will learn.”
“Well, he won’t be able to talk for a bit after Patrick’s fists. Da?”
With a swish and a slap, Murphy was spit out of the river, dripping and glaring at Tywyll.
“Tywyll,” he spat. “So very nice to see you again.”
“You too, lad! See you’ve made things right with my girl.”
“Indeed.” He stood and did his best to straighten a sopping wet suit. He snapped at one of the guards who had covered Anne, and the man turned and trotted back to the car. “Campbell will get me some dry clothes in a moment.” His attention turned to the Russian fire vampire towering over Tywyll. “Oleg Sokolov.”
“Patrick Murphy.”
“This is how you meet friends, Sokolov?” The water behind Murphy stirred with his anger.
Oleg, to his credit, raised his hands immediately. “I take responsibility for the boy. Misha is young and quite stupid. Very loyal, but stupid.”
“He tried to grab Anne.”
Oleg shook his head. “Did you punish him for me, Irishman?”
“He won’t be talking for a while.”
The Russian shrugged. “Good. This is good. I can see you are a man who appreciates protocol.” He gave a shallow bow. “Anne O’Dea, I come in the company of your sire to speak with you. I hope I will be welcome. If I am not, I ask that you allow my guards and me to depart with no offense on either side.”
Anne caught Murphy’s eye and nodded. This was better than she’d expected. She’d been hoping, at the most, for a phone call from Oleg. Talking with him in person would be much better.
One of Terry’s men asked, “Mr. Tywyll, sir, does Mr. Ramsay know about this one?” He nodded toward Oleg.
Tywyll’s chin tipped up. “I don’t recognize ye, so I’ll assume yer new, boy. This ain’t London here.” He gestured to the broad expanse of water behind the old floating pub and Tywyll’s flat barge. “This is the river. And the river’s my own and none other. Yer master knows that better’n anyone.”
Murphy put a hand up to stop Terry’s man before he could speak again. “It’ll be fine, Cooper. I’ll explain it to Ramsay.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Murphy.”
The first guard returned from the car carrying a garment bag. Murphy took it and went to Anne. She put her hand on his cold cheek and gave him a quick kiss.
“Enjoy your swim, mo chuisle?”
“Refreshing,” he muttered. “I’ll change and meet you inside. Stay with your father, yes?”
“Of course.” She glanced at Oleg, who was watching them with a curious expression on his face. “He’s a friend, Patrick.”
“Let’s hope so.” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Stay with your father until I get back.”
“I’m not helpless.”
“I know you’re not.”
Anne felt the cool slide of the steel against her skin as Murphy passed a dagger to her before he slipped away.
She took a deep breath and turned. “Oleg,” she said, walking toward her sire and the Russian. “It’s so good to see you. Thank you for coming, even though I doubt this pub serves any of your vodka.”
Oleg smiled. “An inauspicious beginning, my friend, but we will survive, no? Come talk with me. Your father assures me we will have privacy.”
“We will.” They turned toward the pub, and Anne noticed the still-churning water. “Da, are you just going to leave them down there?”
Tywyll shrugged. “They’re vampires, girl. They’ll be fine.”
Chapter Twenty
BY THE TIME MURPHY RETURNED to the Cockleshell Pub, Tywyll, Oleg, and Anne were the only inhabitants. The two guards not currently submerged in the river were standing by the door. He slipped inside, grateful that the low lights of the pub masked the less than hygienic condition of the place.
Anne could see that two of the foreign vampires had one of Murphy’s guards by the neck. She heard someone cock a gun.
“No!” she yelled, frightened that the situation was escalating past the point of salvage.
Just as she was about to push calm into the ruckus, she saw the water at the edge of the riverbank rise.
“Stop,” a low voice said. “Ye’re bleedin’ eejits. All of ye.”
The slap of water came suddenly when two waves rose from the river and grabbed Murphy, the bearded Russian vampire, and most of the guards, pulling them into the river and submersing them with a resounding smack.
In a second, everything was silent.
Tywyll stepped from the shadows with Oleg at his side.
Anne heard Oleg cursing low in Russian. “That boy. Always wanting to travel, and these things keep happening. I cannot travel with him.”
“I’ll just keep ’em down there while we talk.” Tywyll nodded toward the black water before he turned to Anne. “There’s my girl! How’re things, lamb?”
Anne pushed past her guards. “Da, could you let Patrick out of the river, please?”
Her sire’s eyes twinkled. “Was young Murphy in that ruckus? Oi, the lad. He needs to stay out of trouble, eh?”
“The big bearded one tried to grab for me. What did you expect him to do?” She looked at her friend. “Hello, Oleg.”
“Apologies for Misha. He is a good boy, but young. Not so bright yet. He will learn.”
“Well, he won’t be able to talk for a bit after Patrick’s fists. Da?”
With a swish and a slap, Murphy was spit out of the river, dripping and glaring at Tywyll.
“Tywyll,” he spat. “So very nice to see you again.”
“You too, lad! See you’ve made things right with my girl.”
“Indeed.” He stood and did his best to straighten a sopping wet suit. He snapped at one of the guards who had covered Anne, and the man turned and trotted back to the car. “Campbell will get me some dry clothes in a moment.” His attention turned to the Russian fire vampire towering over Tywyll. “Oleg Sokolov.”
“Patrick Murphy.”
“This is how you meet friends, Sokolov?” The water behind Murphy stirred with his anger.
Oleg, to his credit, raised his hands immediately. “I take responsibility for the boy. Misha is young and quite stupid. Very loyal, but stupid.”
“He tried to grab Anne.”
Oleg shook his head. “Did you punish him for me, Irishman?”
“He won’t be talking for a while.”
The Russian shrugged. “Good. This is good. I can see you are a man who appreciates protocol.” He gave a shallow bow. “Anne O’Dea, I come in the company of your sire to speak with you. I hope I will be welcome. If I am not, I ask that you allow my guards and me to depart with no offense on either side.”
Anne caught Murphy’s eye and nodded. This was better than she’d expected. She’d been hoping, at the most, for a phone call from Oleg. Talking with him in person would be much better.
One of Terry’s men asked, “Mr. Tywyll, sir, does Mr. Ramsay know about this one?” He nodded toward Oleg.
Tywyll’s chin tipped up. “I don’t recognize ye, so I’ll assume yer new, boy. This ain’t London here.” He gestured to the broad expanse of water behind the old floating pub and Tywyll’s flat barge. “This is the river. And the river’s my own and none other. Yer master knows that better’n anyone.”
Murphy put a hand up to stop Terry’s man before he could speak again. “It’ll be fine, Cooper. I’ll explain it to Ramsay.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Murphy.”
The first guard returned from the car carrying a garment bag. Murphy took it and went to Anne. She put her hand on his cold cheek and gave him a quick kiss.
“Enjoy your swim, mo chuisle?”
“Refreshing,” he muttered. “I’ll change and meet you inside. Stay with your father, yes?”
“Of course.” She glanced at Oleg, who was watching them with a curious expression on his face. “He’s a friend, Patrick.”
“Let’s hope so.” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Stay with your father until I get back.”
“I’m not helpless.”
“I know you’re not.”
Anne felt the cool slide of the steel against her skin as Murphy passed a dagger to her before he slipped away.
She took a deep breath and turned. “Oleg,” she said, walking toward her sire and the Russian. “It’s so good to see you. Thank you for coming, even though I doubt this pub serves any of your vodka.”
Oleg smiled. “An inauspicious beginning, my friend, but we will survive, no? Come talk with me. Your father assures me we will have privacy.”
“We will.” They turned toward the pub, and Anne noticed the still-churning water. “Da, are you just going to leave them down there?”
Tywyll shrugged. “They’re vampires, girl. They’ll be fine.”
Chapter Twenty
BY THE TIME MURPHY RETURNED to the Cockleshell Pub, Tywyll, Oleg, and Anne were the only inhabitants. The two guards not currently submerged in the river were standing by the door. He slipped inside, grateful that the low lights of the pub masked the less than hygienic condition of the place.
