The Vexation of Vampires (Penny White Book 5) Read online

  Penny White

  and

  The Vexation of Vampires

  Penny White # 5

  By Chrys Cymri

  Copyright 2018 Chrys Cymri

  Go to my website, www.chryscymri.com and get a free exclusive story by signing up to my newsletter list. Click below:

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  Cover Design: Cover Couture (www.bookcovercouture.com)

  For Teddy

  A ‘little’ brother who is nothing like James!

  This is a work of fiction.

  All names, characters, businesses,

  places, events and incidents are either the

  products of the author’s imagination

  or used in a fictitious manner and any resemblance

  to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events

  is purely coincidental.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  About Chrys Cymri

  Other books by Chrys Cymri

  Connect with Chrys Cymri

  First Chapter of The Dragon Throne

  First Chapter of Dragons Can Only Rust

  First Chapter of The Judas Disciple

  Chapter One

  Nessie roared again. My eardrums squeaked in protest. I shifted my stance, my boots crunching into the pebble beach. ‘I don’t care what the Scottish Tourist Board promised you!’ I shouted at the giant dinosaur. ‘Loch Ness can’t cope with a full sized plesiosaur!’

  ‘Actually,’ Morey said from his perch by my right ear, ‘I think she’s an elasmosaurus. Plesiosaurs are much smaller.’

  ‘This is not the time,’ Peter told the gryphon through gritted teeth. ‘She’s stayed in the lake until now, but I wouldn’t want to risk her coming ashore.’

  The evening breeze brushed my brown hair back from my forehead and chilled my arms. It might be early May, but Scotland was a much colder country than England. The sun was no more than a thin sliver above the nearby hills. The idea of facing an enraged sea dinosaur in the dark did not appeal. Her front paddles slapped at the water, sending droplets to dampen my trousers and Peter’s jeans.

  ‘The fish supplies have to end,’ I told the snake-like head which hovered just a few feet away. The jaws were open, revealing a set of sharp looking teeth. We were trusting that the long green-skinned neck was already at full stretch. ‘There are too many boats on the Loch for us to keep feeding you.’

  ‘Forever,’ the dinosaur growled in a deep voice. ‘They said forever. Fish forever.’

  ‘That was possible, many years ago,’ Peter said. ‘But there are too many tourists here now. You’ve obviously been hit more than once.’

  Now that he’d mentioned it, I could see the white scars which criss-crossed the blue-green back. ‘It’s for your own safety,’ I added firmly. ‘I’m sure there are plenty of fish off the shores of Lloegyr.’

  ‘Alba,’ Morey hissed, purple feathers and fur raised in warning. ‘Scotland is an independent country in Daear.’

  ‘Off the shores of Alba,’ I amended. ‘You’ll just have to do your own hunting again.’

  A black tongue flicked against the ivory teeth. Then Nessie muttered, ‘Don’t want me back.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ I asked. ‘Who doesn’t want you back?’

  ‘The nest.’ She tilted her long head, bringing one large green eye to look down at me. ‘Been gone too long. Don’t speak their language now.’

  ‘She did migrate over a hundred years ago,’ Peter reminded me. ‘When Nikola Tesla carried out his experiments in 1883 and created a thin place in the loch. She’s only spoken to humans since then.’

  Morey stood tall on my shoulder to address the dinosaur. ‘Madam, I can understand your reluctance. But this place is no longer safe for you. The man who promised you fish forever was misguided. He spoke above his authority. These two humans are telling you the truth. You must swim back to Alba, and never return here.’

  Water churned as Nessie thrashed her body. I threw myself backwards, and a boot heel clipped against a rock. Morey leapt away as I lost my balance and fell to one side. I managed to tuck my arms out of the way, and land on my bottom. The stab of many stones promised interesting bruises by morning.

  Peter reached down into my coat pocket, grabbed what he found there, and held it out to the dinosaur. I think what he’d hoped to pull out was my pocketknife. What gleamed in the last rays of sunset was a silver cross. I didn’t know whether to laugh or to groan.

  But Nessie froze. After a moment, she twisted her head, looking at the cross with first her left eye, then her right. ‘She had one of those,’ the dinosaur rumbled. ‘The woman in black. The one who said I could stay.’

  ‘Do you remember her name?’ Morey asked.

  ‘She was a ruler, and had been victorious in battles.’ The deep voice was tinged with sadness. ‘She said she decided who stayed in her empire.’

  ‘Victorious?’ Peter repeated. ‘Victoria? Queen Victoria?’

  ‘Queen Victoria,’ Nessie agreed. ‘She said I could stay.’

  I rose slowly to my feet, rubbing at my aching backside. ‘Queen Victoria is long dead. And her great, great, great…’

  Morey helped me out. ‘Her descendant, and the one who is now Queen. Great, great granddaughter.’

  ‘Queen Elizabeth the Second,’ I continued, ‘is now the rightful ruler of this kingdom. And she has commanded that you return to your own world.’

  The dinosaur drew back. Water and pebbles swirled around her body as she re-entered the lake. When only her head and part of her neck were still above the shore, she said quietly, ‘The other queen liked me. She would come to talk to me. I wish this queen liked me. Then I could stay.’

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ I said with a confidence I didn’t quite feel. ‘Time for you to go home.’

  ‘This is my home.’ Then she was gone, only bubbles showing her progress under the water.

  Peter handed the cross back to me. ‘I’ll report that Nessie’s gone back to Daear. I guess a special ops boat will check in the morning to make sure she’s stayed there.’

  I stared numbly at the now silent loch. ‘She really didn’t want to go.’

  ‘Maybe not. But we had our orders.’

  ‘We did.’ I pulled out my iPhone. ‘I suppose I should send a text to Sue Harkness.’

  ‘Yes, do that.’

  My eyebrows rose at his warm tone. ‘You’re a fan of our Minister without Portfolio?’

  ‘I’m not sure about her government.’ Peter was typing away at his phone to send a message of his own. ‘I’ve sworn an oath of allegiance to the Queen, not to the Conservatives. I’ll serve whatever party’s in power, but it’s easier when I like them. And I like Sue. She’s always been very supportive of the Lloegyr Liaison Team.’

  Morey flew back up to my shoulder. ‘And a bit of poetic licence there, Black, saying that the Queen wanted Nessie to go.’
/>
  ‘We were sent by Her Majesty’s Government,’ I pointed out. ‘Close enough.’

  The hire car was only a slow trudge away. I could feel my battered muscles stiffening as we made our way up the beach, through the small set of trees, and to the road. Peter opened the doors. Morey hopped into the back, allowing me to take the front passenger seat. Peter slid into place behind the wheel, and we headed off into the twilight.

  ‘I’ll see if I can book a flight to Birmingham for tomorrow,’ Peter said as we bumped along the track. ‘I might as well drop off the car?’

  ‘I don’t need it,’ I confirmed. ‘Raven’s ready to give Morey and me a lift tomorrow. I’ll send a rat to let James know that we’ll be there when he meets up with the clan.’

  ‘Flying in a plane,’ Peter mused, ‘isn’t the same once you’ve ridden a dragon.’

  ‘That depends on the dragon,’ Morey said. ‘Raven’s flying is still rather erratic.’

  ‘Even now?’ Peter twisted the steering wheel, and we were onto a much smoother, surfaced road. ‘But it’s been three weeks since the Spirit Ceremony. How long does it take a dragon to get drugs out of his system?’

  ‘Well, something’s still definitely affecting him,’ I said. ‘At one point, I thought he was going to dump us into Loch Ness.’

  ‘Sudden gust of wind,’ Morey explained. ‘But nothing that I haven’t seen him handle before.’

  We’d arrived at the cottage. Peter pulled into the drive and turned to look at me. Turning off the engine plunged the car into darkness, making his eyes hard to read. ‘Are you sure you should fly on him?’

  ‘There’s really no choice, not if I want to be at the ceremony.’ I patted his arm. ‘It’ll be okay. Raven’s worst flying is still better than the average tacsi dragon.’

  ‘I’ll send a rat as well,’ Morey said. ‘We might as well kill two birds in one swoop. The eyasses are ready to go to the clan, so we can arrange that for tomorrow.’

  ‘And there goes another day off,’ I murmured, although I knew my cheerful tone belied my words. ‘James and Jago will get what they want, to stay together.’

  ‘Your brother wouldn't have been my first choice for one of my children.’ Morey climbed up the seat, and rubbed his soft feathers against my cheek. ‘However, Jago is alive, thanks to his care. I only hope James doesn’t corrupt him with his nightclubs and short-term romances.’

  ‘It must be tough, though,’ said Peter, ‘to see your children leave.’

  ‘It’s the natural progression of life.’ Morey whistled a sigh. ‘The mansion will feel rather empty.’

  ‘I’m sorry I can’t be there,’ Peter continued. ‘But I need to get back to the station.’

  ‘I understand all about duty,’ Morey reassured him.

  The gryphon flew to his usual place on my right shoulder as I left the car. As we stood outside the front door, the bright porch light revealed the mud which clung to my boots. I removed my footwear before stepping inside in my socks. Peter and I carefully placed our shoes near the front door, and headed off to the lounge to ask our landlady about a late supper.

  <><><><><><>

  I yawned as I took a seat at the breakfast table. Morey was already at his place, demolishing a pile of bacon. ‘This is the best I’ve ever tasted,’ he mumbled through a beakful. ‘Heavenly.’

  ‘Fae the local butchers,’ said Mrs Buchanan as she came into the small room. She poured me a cup of coffee. ‘An’ ye must hae hauf a pig on yer plate.’

  ‘Morey!’ I admonished.

  The laugh lines around the old woman’s eyes deepened as she grinned at us. ‘Nay, lass, ‘tis guid tae see a man enjoyin’ his food.’

  I could see Morey’s tail rise at the word ‘man’. But then he glanced down at his plate, and obviously decided that eating was more important than issuing a correction.

  The landlady brought out a plate of eggs and smoked salmon with a side of toast. I tucked in, inwardly sighing at the thought that this was the last morning here. ‘We’ve enjoyed our stay, Mrs Buchanan. Thank you for your hospitality.’

  ‘Twas nothing,’ she insisted, pouring herself a cup of tea and leaning back against the nearby pine dresser. A collection of mugs celebrating royal weddings and various jubilees rested on a shelf just above her grey head. ‘Is Nessie gaun noo?’

  ‘I'm afraid so,’ I said, after pausing a moment to work through her thick Scottish accent. ‘I hope that doesn’t affect your bookings.’

  Mrs Buchanan threw back her head and laughed. ‘Och, they’ll keep comin’, them wha’ think they’ll find Nessie!’

  I polished off the eggs and savoured the last mouthful of salmon. ‘We’ll be leaving in an hour or so. If you’d like to give me the bill?’

  ‘Nae need, yer young man’s already paid it.’

  The coffee cup helped me to hide my smile. Peter would be thrilled to hear that he could still be considered ‘young’ at the age of forty-one. ‘That was kind of him. I know he left very early for his flight--he pushed a note under my door.’

  ‘An aboot that.’ Mrs Buchanan waggled a finger at me. ‘Yer tae be merriet. Ye cuid hae shared a room.’

  ‘Not until after the wedding,’ I told her as I felt my cheeks flush.

  She chuckled. ‘Make sure ye dinnae hae any wee bairns ‘til ye’ve tied the knot?’

  I was too tired to correct her. Morey, however, was eyeing me. He knew full well that I had no intention of having bairns, wee or otherwise. At the quick shake of my head, he swallowed his last morsel of bacon and asked, ‘Have you always had the Sight, Mrs Buchanan?’

  ‘Och, aye, always.’ She leaned forward to pour fresh tea into Morey’s bowl. ‘Ma mither and granmither had an’ all.’

  ‘I don't have it,’ I said. ‘Which is why Morey became my Associate. Keeping in contact with him means I don’t lose the Sight.’

  ‘Yer Associate? Is it nae the other way roon?’ Mrs Buchanan laughed again, and collected Morey’s empty plate as she rose to her feet. ‘Die ye nae say a dragon will come fer ye?’

  ‘Sometime after I pull out my pocketknife. How long depends on how far away he is.’

  ‘I’ll be peepin’ fer him. Lang time syne I’ve clapped eyes on a dragon.’

  After a third cup of coffee, I dragged myself up the narrow stairs to my tiny bedroom. My backpack was wedged between the bed and the window, and I struggled to pull it free. The soft sides soon bulged with clothes and my small toiletries bag. I stripped the sheets and, after a last trip to the shared bathroom, I made my way back down to the hallway.

  Morey only had himself to pack. So he was waiting for me on the small table by the door, tail curling and uncurling around his cat feet. I went outside and stuffed my feet into my boots.

  Early morning sunshine trickled through the pine trees which surrounded the cottage. I took deep breaths, filling my lungs with the clean scent. The small parking area seemed the best place for a dragon twice the size of horse to land. I pulled out the knife, and half exposed the shimmering blade. Mrs Buchanan joined me in the storm porch, a tea towel in her hand as she finished drying a pot. Morey took a seat on the nearby bench.

  I was just thinking of joining the gryphon when Mrs Buchanan gasped and pointed upwards. ‘Is yon him? Och, he’s braw.’

  From the tone of her voice, I assumed the word was a complimentary one. I had to admit, Raven looked particularly handsome as he circled over the property, obviously taking time to plan his landing. His scales shifted from green to black as he flitted in and out of shadow. The golden claws gleamed, and even the scars on his right leg seemed to only add a rakish element to his otherwise sleek body. I found myself sighing.

  A tea towel slapped across my arm. ‘Ouch!’ I yelped, and glared at Mrs Buchanan.

  ‘Yer tae be merriet,’ she reminded me sharply. ‘Stop makin’ eyes at the beastie.’

  Raven tucked his wings in close and dropped down into the clearing. His feet sank deep into the churned ground, and his ears and horns pu
lled back in distaste. Then he turned his narrow head towards me. ‘Glorious Penny. Debates with dinosaurs suits you. I have never seen your hair so gleaming.’

  I didn’t dare say, in front of the landlady, that the lack of a proper shower meant that I hadn’t washed my hair in three days. But I still found my hand smoothing down a few loose strands. ‘And how did you know about the elasmosaurus? Oh, I know, the rats told you.’

  ‘Rats?’ Mrs Buchanan repeated.

  ‘In my country of Lloegyr,’ Morey explained, ‘messages are passed by flying rats. They are sent by their telepathic rat kings. It’s a very efficient service, and the rats excel in epic poetry.’

  ‘They do for you,’ I said. ‘I get doggerel.’

  Morey sniffed. ‘The rats tailor their delivery to the literary level of the recipient.’

  ‘So that’s me told.’ I turned to Mrs Buchanan. ‘Thank you again.’

  She shrugged. ‘I dinnae like the Sassenach parliament, but Nessie needed to gae.’

  I strode over to Raven. His nostrils flared at the sight of my dirty boots, but he still held out a foreleg to give me a step up. Despite my best efforts, slicks of mud traced across his skin as I climbed into place.

  My backpack just fit between my chest and the spine in front of me. This left no room for Morey, who had to find a perch on my shoulder instead. His claws dug into my jacket, adding to the many small holes left from previous trips. Having a small gryphon in my life definitely added to the monthly clothes bill.

  Raven looked around, pulled himself back on his haunches, and launched us upwards. A loud Scottish exclamation made me suspect that the dragon’s departure had flung mud across Mrs Buchanan. For a moment I felt a stab of guilt. Then I reminded myself that Raven’s actions were not my responsibility. I turned my face away, and prepared myself for the visit to Morey’s clan.