The House Read Online Free PDF Page B

to keep
them all from going crazy.
    I walked
through the kitchen and grabbed the phone off the hook on my way
past, taking it into one of the unused bedrooms. The duvet was a
dark blue with pale blue sheets and pillows peeking out. Other than
the bed, the only furniture was a small dresser, a sink and a
straight-backed chair. The room didn’t feel homely or safe in any
way, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak to my grandfather from my
own room. It wasn’t like he’d ever know where I was, but sitting
surrounded by all of my things would make it worse somehow. I
didn’t want to invite him back into my life and that’s what calling
him from my bedroom would feel like to me.
    The phone rang
all of four times before it was picked up. Nobody said anything at
the end of the line. It was typical of my grandfather. He wouldn’t
be asleep yet; he would be working and he was frequently distracted
just after picking up the phone by said work. I was used to it and
it certainly wasn’t his worst quality.
    “Hello,
grandfather?” I was quiet and tentative, not two of my normal
qualities. Then again I was speaking to one of the most powerful
witches in the Devon Covenant. Perhaps one of the most powerful
living witches in the whole of Britain. It should be enough to
humble anyone.
    “Beatrice.”
There was surprise in his voice, not necessarily in a bad way, but
it was there. I hadn’t expected it. I don’t know what I’d expected;
anger or regret maybe. We hadn’t parted on very good terms. I
hadn’t spoken to him at all for four years. I guess I wanted more
emotion from him than just vague surprise. Maybe I just wanted him
to care that I was calling, but that was the little girl in me
talking and I quickly quashed the thought. I did just fine on my
own.
    “Yes
grandfather, it’s me.” If Marie was the only person who got to call
me Trixibell then my grandfather, Richard SinClara, was the only
person who actually referred to me as Beatrice. I think I was named
after his mother, or aunt, or something. I realised suddenly that
he was silent on the other end of the phone. I had called him so I
had to start the conversation. “I need to ask you something.”
    “Yes.”
    I sighed again;
it seemed to be a night for sighing. “Have the vampyre succeeded
from the witches?”
    “I do not
understand what you mean.” Fine, he was going to be stubborn. I
could do stubborn. In fact, it is one of my strongest qualities. We
were adept at out- stubborning each other and I knew how he worked.
I’d spent my teenage years being far too sullen around him to know
otherwise. If I wanted to do something I sat there until he said
yes. He sat there saying no until I gave up; we were generally
about 50/50 for winning.
    It was only
after I realised that I was doing more and more for him and his
work than I had ever wanted to that I decided to leave permanently.
I don’t think he ever truly understood why it bothered me. I
shivered at the thought and had to drag my head back into the
conversation. This wasn’t about the past; it was about the here and
now. The here and now in which we had rogue vampyre running
about.
    “You know
exactly what I mean grandfather. I did not think you played games
with me.” Even though I knew he did. He liked to pretend that he
treated me honestly.
    “The vampyre
are ours, they have always been and will always be ours.” Simple,
sure and steady. I let it go that ‘always’ was a damn long time
just because they’d kept them so far. I couldn’t see them letting
go unless something drastic had happened. I had to check though. I
wondered for a moment if he was just being defensive and they had
lost control. I shook my head to clear it but I filed the thought
away for later. I could never tell with my grandfather.
    “Then have some
of your witches gone rogue because I can’t think of any other
reason for five vampyre - five vampyre who have no knowledge of
shifters - to attack me and my friend.” I