Title.
Chapter Three
“Hello. Hel-lo-o? You going to keep on ignoring me, or are you going to do your job and greet me like a good receptionist?” Rhianne stood folding her arms, waiting for a response.
“Sorry, did you say something? I must apologise, but my hearing often fails me when in the company of trash.” The woman sitting before Rhianne smiled as she looked up at the witch. “What did you want again?”
Rhianne smiled politely, trying hard not to swing her fist back and punch the woman in the head. I could turn you into a toad in three seconds flat, you crazy old hag. Rhianne coughed her thoughts away.
“Lozenge sweets?” smiled the woman. “For your cough?”
“So nice of you, Ms. Bankhouse. But no, I would rather cough out my guts onto your clean desk, than take some throat sweets from you. But thank you.”
Ms. Bankhouse continued to smile, un-phased by Rhianne’s insult. She was attractive and despite being past 50 showed a youthful arrogance perfected by age. “Mr. Ravenscroft is not in today. So please crawl back under the dirty rock you came from and I’ll pass him your message.”
Rhianne took a step forward. “He is in. I can see his shadow under the door.”
“Oh that’s not Mr. Ravenscroft. It’s a ghost. We have a ghost you see, who is moving behind that door. It is the ghost you are seeing. Now, please close the door on your way out.”
“Look, I don’t have time for this you over-possessive psycho nut. I’m going in.” Rhianne immediately moved towards the door forcing Ms. Bankhouse to suddenly rise from her chair, placing one hand on her chest.
“Move one step closer, witch and I’ll slice your head where you stand. Do not underestimate me child. I’ve been dealing with creatures worse than you from before your parents were born. I will not hesitate in putting you down.”
Rhianne turned her head and looked Ms. Bankhouse dead in the eye. “I’m older than I look and certainly more deadly. Try it, old woman.” Rhianne clenched her fists, ready for whatever attack was coming her way. They didn’t like each other. That was no secret. In the past seven years they had clashed numerous times but this was the first time things were actually going to happen. Rhianne didn’t want to fight, especially as there were more pressing things to deal with but if that glorified receptionist wanted trouble, Rhianne wasn’t going to back down. “Come on, try it,” Rhianne repeated.
“Ladies, this really is inappropriate behaviour for what is supposed to be the fairer sex.”
Rhianne looked over, relieved that Ravenscroft was standing in his doorway. “Ravenscroft, get Mrs. Norman Bates here off my back. I swear to you, I’ll blast her straight to Mars if she doesn’t back off.”
Ravenscroft smiled, closing the book he held in his hands. He looked over to Ms. Bankhouse and nodded to her, still smiling. He was one of those rare people whose eyes smiled when he did and were so warm, so inviting that no one could stay mad or angry for too long. “Gillian, please. You can let Rhianne in. I’ll be fine. I know what, why don’t you go out and send that package for me. Kin’s quite eager for those contents. I believe the Zombie issue in Mexico has gotten a little bit more complicated than he thought.”
Gillian Bankhouse nodded, still composed, still in control, still looking at Rhianne with an icy glare. “Certainly, William.”
Ravenscroft ushered Rhianne into his office. Rhianne raised her eyebrow, slightly smirking at Gillian, before stumbling over Gillian’s well-placed foot as she walked in. Ravenscroft quickly took her into his office before she could respond, leaving Gillian to smile to herself as she left.
“That psycho has got to go.” Rhianne walked straight to Ravenscroft’s drinks cabinet and opened a bottle of whisky.
“Have a drink why don’t you,” gestured Ravenscroft. He waited until Rhianne poured the contents of the glass into her mouth before settling down into his armchair. He studied Rhianne. She always fascinated him. She was an extremely confident woman but always somehow let Gillian upset her. Rhianne was someone he valued as a friend, but couldn’t understand why both she and Gillian would not get along.
Rhianne breathed in deeply before resting her feet on to a table opposite Ravenscroft. “I don’t like her.”
“She’s my family Rhianne, and as close to a mother as anyone could get. When my folks died, she took over and raised me and she did a great job. You know this. Why the two of you are always at it, I’m at a loss.” Ravenscroft shifted Rhianne’s feet off the table.
“Yeah well, she better watch her step.”
“Rhianne, I like you. But Gillian would take you in a fight, no question. Your skills are magic but she’s pure warrior.”
Rhianne brushed him off with her hand and looked around the office. There were more books than she remembered. His office was almost like a mini-library, with books on every subject, from each corner of the world. Ravenscroft had always told her that knowledge was power and he made sure he was clued up on everything. She turned to him and smiled, noticing an addition to his rugged face. “A new scar?”
Ravenscroft lifted his hands to the small scar just over his eye. “Yes, a new scar. Had a disagreement with a Banshee over in Ireland.”
“Ah yes, Banshees. They can be quite a hoot sometimes. Who won?”
“I did.”
“Good for you. Now, I have some news that might land you with a few more scars.”
Ravenscroft stood up and moved to make himself a drink. “Really? What’s the issue?”
“Missing elf-fairies.”
Ravenscroft immediately turned around. “What do you know?”
She gestured to Ravenscroft to sit down and he complied. Rhianne told him what she knew.
A week earlier, she was approached by a source claiming that the Dealer was peddling a new type of blood to the vampires. She normally stayed away from vampire business, knowing that any conflict with them would be messy. In her experience, they were extremely unreasonable. What piqued her interest here was the fact that the blood was from an enchanted creature. Rhianne knew that these creatures were pure, without guile, and it was clear that the Dealer was up to something questionable at the very least. When the source mentioned elf-fairies, Rhianne knew she had to do something.
Enchanted creatures were species unlike the demons and monsters, vampires and ghosts. These were creatures empowered with the greatest gift one could receive; the gift of love. These creatures were capable of so much passion, so much love, that it was considered unholy by many with their knowledge to destroy them. Of course, only a few knew of their existence. Now that the vampires were aware of Elf-Fairy blood, Rhianne feared a mass slaughter.
“That the dealer was behind the missing elf-fairies, I have no doubt. He admitted his hand in the affair but directed blame towards the vampires. But it’s the map, the one he has possession of, that’s the thing I’m unclear about.”
Ravenscroft shook his head. “We shouldn’t get distracted. The elf-fairies need protection first. The map is secondary.”
“But the two seem connected. My feeling is that Dealer wants whatever the map leads to and he needs the vampires to help him. Using elfie blood was the means to get their help. We need to find out what the dealer actually wants and protect the elfies at the same time. I’m still not sure how he found them. I mean, not many people know of the portal.”
“You would be surprised. The elf-fairies are not that great in keeping hidden, despite warnings.” Ravenscroft stood up and walked to his coat. Rhianne leapt up from her chair. “I’m coming with you.” She paused for a moment. “Where are we going?”
Ravenscroft smiled at Rhianne’s child-like enthusiasm, despite her age. He found it endearing. “We’re going to visit some vampires. We’ll speak to the Dealer later, but first I want to see what the vampires are up to. Maybe rock the boat a little. We’re not sure which clan in involved but I have an idea where to start. And I know the best place to find them. It’s time we went clubbing.”
