“I can,” said Jamie. “But if it surprises you, then you’re nowhere near as clever as you think you are.”
There was a moment’s silence, before the ancient vampire burst out laughing and Jamie joined in. The joke had been risky, but he believed he had acquired a pretty good feel for Valentin’s boundaries, such as they were, and had been reasonably confident of getting away with it.
“I do enjoy talking to you, Mr Carpenter,” said Valentin, once their laughter had faded. “There is more life in you than in a dozen of your black-suited friends.”
“Thanks,” said Jamie, smiling broadly.
I like talking to you too. I look forward to coming down here.
“You’re most welcome,” said Valentin. “So. What’s currently occupying your time, Mr Carpenter?”
“You know I can’t tell you,” replied Jamie. “Although I’m sure you know.”
Valentin smiled. “I do hear the occasional murmur, even all the way down here. Emptying the jails was a clever move on my former master’s part. Very clever indeed.”
“You think it came from Dracula?” asked Jamie. “Not Valeri?”
Valentin snorted. “Please,” he said, his voice thick with contempt. “Although getting others to fight instead of him does indeed sound like the work of my dear brother, this is too bold, too smart a move for his tiny little brain to have devised. This is Dracula beginning to assert himself, I’m sorry to say.”
“That’s what I thought,” said Jamie, and sighed, deeply.
“I hear the escaped vampires are unusually powerful. How perplexing.”
Jamie narrowed his eyes. “What do you know about it?” he said.
“Nothing,” said the ancient vampire, with a glint in his eye that Jamie didn’t like. “Absolutely nothing. I assume you and your colleagues are no closer to locating my former master?”
“You know I—”
“Can’t tell me, yes, of course,” interrupted Valentin. “So I will just assume that’s the case, and you need neither confirm nor deny. Which is a shame, especially given that I’ve told your superiors on a great many occasions that there is a solution to your problem.”
Jamie sat forward in his chair. “What solution?”
“Me, Mr Carpenter,” said Valentin. “Sorry, I rather assumed that would have been obvious. I can find them.”
“How?”
“I know the dark corners where my brother hides. I know the men and women with whom he associates. I can extract information from people who would not even tell you their names. And more than that, I can feel them. We’re linked, by blood. I can find them, but I am not allowed to do so.”
“Why not?” asked Jamie.
“Your superiors do not trust me, Mr Carpenter, as I have lamented so many times. They believe that my being here is a ruse, a sham of some kind, and that if they allow me to leave, I will return to my brother and my former master and tell them everything I know about this place and its inhabitants.”
“That’s stupid,” said Jamie. “What could you tell them that they haven’t already got from Valeri’s spies? We barely survived his attack as it is.”
Valentin raised his hands and spread them wide. “I’ve made that point quite vociferously,” he replied. “Unfortunately, they are less capable than you of seeing the simple logic of the matter. So here I remain, unable to help, and getting more and more bored with each day that passes.”
Jamie considered the stupidity of the situation that had just been described to him. “Can’t you just go?” he said, eventually. “Do you really need their permission to leave?”
“My dear Mr Carpenter,” replied Valentin. “I’m flattered by your faith in my abilities, I truly am. And yes, I probably could make my way out, if it became necessary to do so. But once out of this cell, there are only two options: break through the airlock and fight my way to the surface, or dig through several hundred metres of concrete and earth. Either one would likely involve killing the majority of the men and women in this base, which is not a prospect that particularly appeals to me.”
“I’ll talk to them,” said Jamie.
“I’m sure you will, Mr Carpenter. As always, you have my gratitude.”
“Cool,” said Jamie. He was dimly aware of the fact that Valentin had not actually asked him to do anything, that he had, in fact, volunteered to speak to his superiors on the vampire’s behalf, but he pushed the thought aside. What he had said made sense, surely anyone could see that?
His console vibrated against his hip; he reached down and dismissed the alarm again.
“Time for work?” asked Valentin.
“Almost,” said Jamie, standing up and stretching his arms over his head.
“Those newly-turned vampires aren’t going to destroy themselves, are they?”
“I doubt it,” replied Jamie, a smile rising on to his face.
“That’s a real shame,” said Valentin, and stood up. “It’s been a pleasure to see you, Jamie, as always.” The vampire extended his hand and he shook it with a thick band of confusion rippling through his head. It was how he always felt when he left Valentin’s cell, as though he had somehow only heard half of the conversation, that what was actually important had taken place without him noticing.
“You too,” he said.
Valentin smiled a final time, then floated back on to the chaise longue and opened the battered paperback copy of The Count of Monte Cristo that had been lying on the coffee table.
Jamie watched him for a second or two, then walked through the UV wall, feeling the familiar tingle on his skin. He turned to his right and walked quickly towards the cell at the end of the block.
It was always a strange moment for Jamie when he stepped out in front of the UV wall that enclosed the square room his mother now called home.
The warm, comfortable space she had made was in such stark contrast to the austere grey concrete of the other cells that it always made him want to laugh. Marie Carpenter was standing in the middle of the spotlessly neat room, smiling nervously at him as he appeared. He walked through the ultraviolet barrier, hugged her, and felt her reach carefully around him and link her arms at his back. This too made him want to laugh; his mother was so worried about accidentally hurting him with her vampire strength that she held him as though he was made of glass.
“How are you, Mum?” he said, pulling back. “Everything OK?”
“Everything’s fine,” she said. As they always did, her eyes flicked to the scar on his neck. “How are you, love?”
“Surviving,” replied Jamie, smiling at her. She frowned, and he instantly regretted the small joke. “I’m fine, Mum,” he said. “I’m all right.”
“Good,” she said. “That’s good.”
They stood, looking at each other, for a long moment.
“I might sit down, Mum,” said Jamie, eventually. “What do you think?”
“Yes,”