Shadow Phantoms - H.P. Mallory Page 0,31

seemed more like the work of one or two, not a whole army of them. And one or two Vryloka I could handle.

By the time I returned to my room, I had more or less decided I had allowed myself to get sucked into Laucian’s story because, frankly, I had been bored recently. I had put Denise ashore at the last port, despite her protestations, and had not yet located another Bryn substitute to start training.

I yearned for a quest; something to do, something to fight for, or just something to fight. I missed the days when there always seemed to be some direction to my existence, some challenge. That was why I had believed him. Because the Vryloka would certainly have been a challenge. They would have been a way to pass this infinite boredom.

But, no. No, it was all simply too ridiculous to countenance. It was typical of someone like Laucian, living in the past, that he would reinvent an enemy from millennia ago. A good enough vampire in his way—brave and strong, certainly—but not to be relied upon when it came to the here and now. Perhaps, like me, he was bored and looking for something to do. It was a common problem in vampires of a certain age.

You think it can be hard to fill an afternoon, try filling eternity.

But even as I dismissed the whole thing as nothing to worry about, my eye caught the five pictures that Laucian had left upon my table. On the one hand, they underscored my point about how out of touch he was; who the hell carried physical pictures anymore? He could have emailed them to me, if he had an email address and a bloody computer or smart phone. But, on the other hand, they also tweaked the straining nerve of uncertainty that his visit had stretched. Each of the victims were notable people within their communities. Could that be a coincidence?

And then I thought of Emma.

I had not seen my niece, Emma Balfour, since her mother had disappeared. Since then, she had been looked after by Bryn, as her father (a man from whom I had expected better) had gone off the deep end following his wife’s disappearance. With my tempest pouring her version of events into young Emma’s ears, the child no doubt viewed me with near total hatred. As everyone else did…

Though I tried to stop it, my mind began to stray back to those happy days in Kinloch Kirk. I had never really thought I would be much of a family man. I had never expected to have the chance to find out. But with Emma and Rowan so close, I had been given the chance to be an active uncle as well as a father.

Uncle Sinjin. Who would have guessed how much I would enjoy being Uncle Sinjin, or could have predicted how much I would miss hearing that name? I remembered birthdays together, tiny arms thrown round my neck to hug me in thanks for the expensive toy (and always the best out of all the presents) I had bought.

I remembered reading The Gruffalo to them both, until I could recite the wretched book from memory. I remembered playing hide and seek with them in the copse that surrounded Mathilda’s old house. Did they still play there?

Probably not. They were both a bit old for hide and seek now.

That was the worst of it. I had missed so much—so many memories I could never get back.

But, though I knew none of them would accept my help, if there was anything I could do to help them without their knowledge, I would do it. And if Emma was genuinely in danger and in need of protection, I would provide it. I loved that child as if she were my own and I would fight to the death anyone who intended to harm a hair on her lovely head.

I might never hear the words again, but I could still be Uncle Sinjin from a distance.

EIGHT

EMMA

“B’caw! Cutting it close! B’caw!”

Patricia popped out of her clock. Today, her giant clock hung along the wall of a second-floor staircase.

“Not today, Patricia!” I ran down the stairs, past the cuckoo.

True, I was still the last one out of the dorm, but by a much smaller margin. Patricia squawked the quarter hour six minutes ago. I didn’t have Jupiter’s vial anymore, but if I hurried, I had just enough time to arrive on time and magic-free.

The last thing I