The Executive's Son: The Executive's Red, #3

Chapter 1

Daniel

My life is what you could call unusual. In fact, I’d say it’s completely fucked-up and a living nightmare. Everything was great back home, until my parents decided to pack up everything and drag my ass here, to this cold grey miserable place. You see I’m special, so they keep telling me. I guess I should know that myself. I’ve been on this earth for just over ten years, yet I’m double that in age, in size, and in mind. I’m rare. Sought after. Feared. I’m a goddamn freak of nature. There’s folklore about my kind. I mean shit, it’s enough to send the rational crazy. 

Dhampir is the term. I’m a being born of human and vampire. I swear, if I had a dime for every time I’ve heard the words, ‘Daniel, it is important to stay off the grid. Don’t get in with the vampire crowd. Watch your back, and keep your mouth shut,’ I’d be a millionaire and wouldn’t be here in this shithole. Don’t get me wrong, my parents have always been open with me about the past. But when Adrien pulled some strings to get me into college, and offered me a taste of normality, I didn’t expect that six months later I’d be here in the UK, because of some stupid mistake.

College was freaking awesome. The girls even better. No one had a clue what I was. I partied hard and study went out of the window. Spending all my life cooped up being home-schooled, had given me a rebellious streak. The only reason Adrien got me a place at Northwest College in Wyoming, is because my growth had come to a stop, and I was desperate to breakout. He thought it would be good for me to have the freedom I’d missed out on. He was worried I’d rebel and do a runner; drink blood and become the creature from the myth. Now I wish he hadn’t bothered trying so hard. I’ve had a taste of human normality, and it’s been taken off me because of some leggy blonde vigore.

Daniel!

Liz, just leave me alone. I’ve found a dark area I can hide in like Quasimodo. Don’t need you up here trying to cheer me up. Nothing can make this miserable place any better.

Daniel. She jogs up the attic stairs, regardless of me ignoring her. Usually ignoring her works. Not today.

I don’t mean to be all dicky about this. I understand what they’ve been through for me. But jeez, does a moment to wallow in self-pity mean nothing to them. I need out of this godforsaken country.

I have a box of your things here, she says, as I continue to blank her.

I pull my baseball glove out from a box of my memorable junk. Dom gave it me for my birthday. My fourth/eighth birthday.

I’ll leave it here, she says in that, please talk to me tone.

My eyes stay on the box, but I can see her in my side view. She’s doing that motherly fretting thing, hovering around me, and it’s pissing me off. No one has a clue how fuckin hard this is for me. I mean I look the same age as my parents, and it’s hard work to keep up the act of everything being fine. I’m not like them. I’m not like no one. I have no identity because I’m the only one of my kind.

I close my eyes, squeezing the baseball glove with my fingers until they burn. The pain is back, and I’m trying my damn best to keep the monster inside. My chin drops to my chest to hide my demon from Liz. She is aware of these sudden screwed-up attacks I keep getting, and she’ll only make it worse if she fusses. It’s the strangest sensation, almost powerful. It’s rage, but with it comes this overwhelming knowledge of the world, like I’ve been here before, lived through every era. It makes me hurt in a good way. It makes me feel invincible. But it’s like I’m possessed, and if I allow it to take me, I know I’ll change forever.

Daniel, you having one of your funny moments? her voice is almost a fearful whisper.

Holding back a growl, I drop the baseball glove and turn to her. No... Liz!

The look in her eyes cools me a little. The disappointment on her face has guilt filling my chest. I can’t call my mom, Mom. Now she’s my goddamn sister. And Dad, well, he kind of likes the fact his son is now more his younger brother. I’m so sick of what I am. I’m sick of being told what to do, and who I can spend time with. I’m sick of being labelled special, when to be frank, there is fuck all special about me. I can’t flit like my vampire parents. I can’t heal. And the special gifts I had when I was born, reading people, being able to influence thoughts, well, they all vanished years ago. All I was left with, was this frigging speed ageing, and now these Hulk like episodes. My life is like a messed-up version of a backward Benjamin Button. And to top off this shit life trip, I’m in Killiecrankie, Scotland. Killie-freaking-crankie.

Daniel, I know this is all strange for you, but just give it some time, she says. None of us want to be here, and it’s only for a few weeks until your dad has sorted things out with Nathan and the council. Rumour spreads. Look how far it spread back home.

I nudge the box across the square table so it teeters on the edge. I don’t want to hear this. I know it’s my fault we had to up sticks and leave. I knew Jessica was vigore, she fuckin told me. We’d been seeing each other for a few weeks, and she thought Adrien and Liz had adopted me. In her eyes I was a poor human orphan. I thought it was a good cover story at the time. Looking back, I was thinking with my dick.

One summer’s day, after she set those pink lips of hers around my cock, things got overheated. And the pendant that is supposed to shield what I am, was ripped off my neck. She jumped off me like a fire poker had been shoved up her ass, just as Adrien barged in. She screamed at me, asking me what I was as I stood there with blazing red eyes, covering my dick with my hands. Adrien tried to calm her down, but she ran out on me half-naked, like I had the black plague. It was one of those mortifying moments that will haunt me for the rest of my life.

Now, I have the talisman symbol that’s supposed to protect me, tattooed on my damn chest. So I don’t need to listen to how Adrien is fixing my mistakes, and covering our tracks. Because I know it’s my fault we’re here.

Liz, why here; why not another State. Adrien has an apartment in New York.

The council is based in London, and he has business to attend to. You know all this.

Why couldn’t I go with him? I fuckin hate this place.

She shakes her head at me. You know why. She huffs and puffs. The whole Jessica incident has been kept under wraps, thanks to your dad. He needs to make sure the lid is kept on it.

You’re forgetting, it’s not Dad anymore, I snap. Jeez, I can look after myself. I’m not Meredith. Do you think I’m going to rip some virgin off the street, drink her blood, and go all Dracula on the world?

God, you’re being such an ungrateful shit.

I smirk at her. I’m being rational. I mean come on, I look the same age as you. How long do you think I can stick around and be told what to do? I’m not a fuckin kid anymore.

First off, you may have grown up quickly, but you are still my son. She’s real pissed at me now. We don’t feel obligated to protect you. We love you. You want to be all grown up, then act it. We’ve sacrificed everything to keep you safe.

Yeah. I bite down and inhale. And don’t I know it.

I hear her apologetic outbreath. Daniel, I didn’t mean it like that. Look, was your life not good before Jessica? You can live a normal life, and your dad and I will do everything we can to make sure that happens. But you have to be careful. We were warned by Demetrius, and he’s not the kind of vampire you don’t listen to. He gave us a chance. So we do everything he asked, and blend in.

I turn back to my box of knickknacks. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. The only thing I want to do, is get the hell out of this house.

Daniel, I don’t want to be here anymore than you. This place has memories, some good, some not so much. It reminds me of my family; my human family. The sadness in her voice has me turn to face her. So just for now, just deal with this. Finally she leaves me alone to think of a way out of here.

I SNEAK OUT OF THE front door, zipping up my hoodie as the chilly wind hits my neck. This shitty weather makes this dull grey place, even duller.  

The headlights of Dom’s Porsche flick on as I approach. This is the only thing he came here for, so he could have it taken out of storage.

He walks around his vintage boy toy, kicking each wheel and inspecting the sleek silver body. He loves this car too much. It’s been here in the UK since my birth, and every time he’s wasted, he likes to show me the picture of it, which he keeps inside his wallet.

Danny, Dom smiles, wiping his hands on an oil rag. Gorgeous isn’t she?

Jeez, is he about to start banging his car.

I put on an interested smile. Yeah, she’s as sexy as the pics. How about I take her out for a spin?

I’m pushing my luck, but I have to try and steal some wheels to get out of this place. I’ve left my two wheel beauty back at home. My BMW G310Z black and green baby, is in our private lock-up in Wyoming. God, I feel sick thinking about her not being maintained. She’s one of the first off the production line. Adrien gave her to me for my ten and a half years on this earth. You see, no one celebrates half years do they? But my ten and a half years, was the equivalent to twenty-one. The only perk of my crappy existence I guess.

He bursts out laughing. Yeah, good one.

Just messing with you. I know you don’t trust a soul with her. I pat his back to throw him off the scent, because my plan really is to take his car.

He climbs into the driver’s side, running his hand around the polished wooden steering wheel, then starts her up. The exhaust spits then grumbles low. I pout and nod. She sounds good, healthy, and reliable enough to get me miles away from here.

I watch Dom beaming, as he pumps his foot on the gas pedal to create the perfect mechanical sound. The growl and vibration travels from the soles of my boots and up my spine with a tingle. It’s a sound only a man can appreciate.

Dom steps out, leaving the door open and engine running.

British racing green was the original colour. But she had a bump in two-thousand and seven. So I had her re-sprayed silver.

Hmm. I try to look fascinated. So, she’s still going strong then?

He pats the hood. Yep, she’s in good working order. He takes a step behind the door. Get in, have a feel of her.

Okay. I shrug and quickly slide down into the firm black leather seat.

I wrap my hands around the warm wooden steering wheel. It’s smooth and seems to fit my fingers perfectly. I glance at the basics: speedo, oil, and fuel dials. It’s simple. No mod-cons. Just a car with an engine. Doesn’t even have an mp3 player. But now I’m sitting here, I see that Dom was right. You don’t need all the mod cons. Sometimes man and machine is the perfect combination. I really want to take this car out for a spin. I need the buzz to clear my head.

Told you, Dom says, gesturing his head for me to get out.

My brain is working hard here as I remain seated, pointlessly looking into the backseats. What would get Dom to leave his precious baby alone with me? And then it happens, a spark of fuckin genius.

His hand is resting against the roof and he’s bent over, frowning down at me.

Oh, forgot to mention, you have a message from that girl. What’s her face? I click my fingers. Vanessa. Something about video calling you at... I glance down at my wristwatch. Well, now. Holy shit, his eyes are huge. She’d like this car. She seems a classy chick.

I’ve only gone and done it. He’s now flitting through the front door of the house.

I smirk, quickly pulling the Porsche’s door shut. I know all about his secret XXX video calls with Vanessa. Thankfully, I’ve never had a visual. Only had the misfortune of accidentally picking up the gross noises coming from his room.

I make sure he’s well gone, shift the gear stick, and slam my foot down on the accelerator to leave a trail of gravel behind me.

Chapter 2

Maeve

Goddamn hair. What a stupid idiot idea this was. I’m going to be late, and my dad is going to kill me. I’m going to make a shit first impression, with frigging purple streaks in my hair, hung-over eyes, and the breath of death. Halloween sure has a lot to answer for.

I’ve had my head over the bathtub, trying to wash out this ridiculous, supposed to be temporary hair dye, for the last half-hour. If I hadn’t been suffering from alcohol poisoning yesterday, I’d have probably succeeded. But no, I spent all day Sunday in bed feeling sorry for myself, and now I’m being punished, big time.

It was all my friend’s idea. We went to see this rock band called, Lost Generation, who were playing at an allegedly haunted pub in Edinburgh City Centre. The dress code was Goth (not what I usually go for) so I wore black ripped jeans, a plain black vest, and dyed the tips of my black hair, purple. To be completely honest, I looked a mess, and had one of the worst nights out ever.

I stuck with drinking these lime green jello shots. Whereas my friends, and most of the other customers, were on something a lot stronger in powder form. I hated the music, the company, and the crowd, so much so, those evil jello shots were the only thing keeping me there. Then I was hit on. The guy was hot and kissed like a dream, and the secret I hide, my still intact virginity, became a real issue. I couldn’t do it, lose my goodness on some dark backstreet. Thankfully, the guy was understanding, frustrated, but a gent about it all the same. That was my cue to jump into a taxi, and get the hell home. 

This will be my first big job for my father’s real estate company, and I’m going to fuck it up. I didn’t even want this job. But in this shit economy, I haven’t got a choice if I want to keep a roof over my head.

I left college seven months ago, and I spent five of those months going for interview after interview. I was desperate not to work for my dad, and he was desperate for me to become a part of the O’Riley business. The look on his face when I agreed to take the position was so infuriating. His words to me were, ‘Art is a hobby Maeve. Hobbies are pastimes and don’t make money.’ So now I’m stuck selling properties to the rich city suits, who want to come up here to live the rural life because they think this place is like Braveheart or something.

In one month, I have only one sale under my belt, and I can tell you, it wasn’t easy. I’m not the kind of person who simply mingles with others. But I’m having to learn, fast. Dad thinks I’m too honest and has told me that to sell properties, sometimes little white lies are a must. But I disagree. I disagree so much that I’m still looking for the kind of work I want to do. Still hoping to produce the next artistic masterpiece some posh art gallery will display. Wishful thinking is what I’m hanging onto.

The house I’m going to be surveying and valuing is in the middle of nowhere. Killiecrankie to be exact. A house one of my dad’s close friends owns. When he showed me the photos, I told him there wasn’t a chance I could do it. I’m no big-time estate agent. The one property I have sold was only a two-up two-down townhouse, here in Edinburgh, not a freaking mansion. But he insisted and told me to be professional. All I know is that the family I’m going to be selling for, have come back over here from the States, and need a quick and lucrative sale. The Knight family. A prosperous but private family, I’m going to be spending three days with.

I violently scrub my chin length layered black locks with a towel, praying with my eyes closed. I un-scrunch one lid and slowly remove the towel to look in the steamed up cabinet mirror. Shit, shit, shit. It’s still flipping visible. Maybe I should wear a hat, or a damn bag over my head. My white face, my fucked-up hair and tired eyes, scream unprofessional.

My phone buzzes on the white cabinet shelf. I drop the towel into the bathtub and pick it up. It’s a message from my dad:

Maeve, give me a call once you have landed in Killiecrankie. Remember, Mr Knight has a love for whiskey, so don’t forget that 1988 bottle of bourbon I left with you. Also, it is important to gloss over minor structural issues and give a generous valuation. Be like me Maeve. It’s all about the deal. You’re selling the O’Riley name, so don’t let me down. Good luck sweet-pea x

Fuck-off Dad, I utter as I type: Ok Dad, love you x

I slam my cell-phone back onto the shelf and stride out of the bathroom.

JEEZ, IT’S FRIGGING cold today. I quickly slam the door to my black Beetle, my teeth chattering as I turn the key in the ignition. I purr out, taking a second to calm my galloping heart, pulling down the sun visor so I can check out my deplorable reflection once more. Okay, that’s enough of that image. I flip the visor shut. I’m just going to have to fuckin do the way I am. I just hope my hosts will notice the nice grey designer suit I’m wearing, over my PURPLE hair. I don’t have time to sit here sobbing over my appearance. The daylight is fading, I have my dad’s reputation weighing down on me, and I have less than one hour to make the two hour journey.

Well surprise-surprise, I’m late. One hour late to be precise. I’ve probably broken several road laws on the way here to Killiecrankie. I’ve been through one red light. On roads with no speed cameras, I’ve drove like a rally driver. I’m stressed, hungry, and tired. And to top it off, my darling dad is now calling me again. His name is flashing on the screen of my phone, which is supposed to be acting as my satnav.

Piss-off Dad, I yell at the inanimate speakers, ringing and ringing.

I refuse to answer his call. He’s only going to ask me where I am. And if I tell him I’m not at my final destination yet, as I drive along on this pitch-black country road in the sleet, I’ll have to listen to him prattling on about punctuality. No, tonight my father can remain in the dark about my nightmare journey.

Finally my album comes back on and Dad stops calling. Now I can concentrate on creating a reason I’m late, other than I was trying to wash Goth out of my hair.

Okay, according to my satnav, I’m around a mile out from the Knight’s house. I turn to my right to take a look through the tall dense verges to my side. I’m looking through the trees for the lights of a house to come into view, but it’s no good. It’s too dark to see a thing out here.

‘Take your next right,’ the husky male voice of my satnav says.

I whip my head around to face the road ahead, and I’m suddenly blinded by headlights coming straight at me. FUCK. Whoever is speeding down this road isn’t going to stop, or move aside. I pound the palm of my hand down on the horn. Too late. I’m now bumping over rough terrain and heading right for a goddamn tree. I scream, removing my hands from the wheel to cover my face as my body jolts forward with the impact.

My ears are ringing and my neck aches. I groan out, lifting my head up from the airbag as I blink over and over to focus through the dizziness and smoke.

Oh god! I start to panic, adrenalin bombarding my body.

Gasping, I manage to unclip my belt and thrust open the dented door. I swing my quivering legs outside, noticing the car that caused all this, is still up on the road around fifteen feet away. Why the fuck did I swerve to miss it? My car is completely trashed, and the offender’s wheels are in perfect working order it seems.

I’m in shock. My heart is missing beats, and my breathing is erratic. There’s a humming in my head and I can taste the smoky fuel at the back of my throat. But even through the shockwave of what has just happened, I’m still so fucking angry.

I watch a male figure emerge from the car. As I get nearer, I understand why the dickhead wouldn’t move out of my way. His car is some old sports car. The kind of car you’d see a middle age man driving, because he’s having some mid-life crisis. The driver of this vehicle however, is young. I can only just see his shaded silhouette, but notice that his outline is tall and robust.

You fuckin idiot! I scream, watching him jog toward me. You could have killed me!

I clamber up the verge, using my hands in the cold wet dirt. I see the guy’s boots as my eye line becomes level with the road. He holds his hand down to me, but he can piss-off. I huff and strain, ready to attack this idiot.

Let me help you.

I freeze up for a millisecond because the voice of the guy has thrown me off my raging course. Deep. Young. American.

I don’t look at him as I step up onto the tarmac, stretching my legs and back to straighten up. I take in a vast lungful of air, brushing my filthy hand down my bicep.

I don’t need your help. My eyes finally voyage up to land on his.

He’s standing in the middle of the road with his hands out to his sides. Behind him is an old Porsche, widthways across the road with the door open. He’s tall, but strong looking, wearing jeans and a grey hoodie. He’s my age, and he has the most striking green eyes I’ve ever seen. Even in the darkness as he views me with concern, his eyes kind of glow with shit hot sex appeal. He’s very fine. The perfect specimen. But still he’s a complete and utter wanker for what he’s just done. I can hold onto my dignity, and not let his good looks get to me. Hell, I’ve managed to keep my virginity for twenty-one years. I’m sure I can give this guy a piece of my mind.

Look... He steps closer.

My hand shoots out to stop him. Don’t come near me. Are you nuts. Why didn’t you move over, asshole!

He puffs out, moving his head back. Why didn’t you? he says in a snappy tone. In case you haven’t noticed, probably because you were too busy putting lipstick on or something, the road is barely big enough for two cars. You should have given way.

I should have given way! You were speeding like a formula one driver. Where the hell was I supposed to go?

I stare at this beautiful