Resurrection. The Underwood and Flinch Chronicles: Volume One.

Chapter Eight

‘Yes. There is a special alcove for the Flinches.’

David thought for a moment, then looked away to the mountains. ‘Oh well, if that’s what he wanted.’

‘It is. It’s what they all wanted – to be near their Master in death, as they were in life.’

‘Fine. But for the record, if I die, don’t go putting my remains down there, will you? That’s the last place I want to be ... or rather it isn’t, if you see what I mean.’

Conchita raised her eyebrows. ‘You don’t want to be with your family and Master?’

David turned to her. ‘No. I want to be free in death, as I haven’t beenin life.’

‘Whatever do you mean?’

‘I mean, I – ’ he shook his head slowly. ‘I’m not ready for this, Conchi. It’s come very suddenly and – well, I just don’t know if I can handle it.’

‘But of course, it’s a lot to have to absorb.’

He laughed. ‘Oh yeah, you’re not kidding. Twenty-four hours ago I was opening a jar of chicken korma sauce, getting ready for a nice romantic dinner with my girlfriend, and now look at me: my brother’s dying wish was for me to swear on the sword of our ancestors that I’d raise a vampire from the grave and guard him for the rest of my life. I’ve got to play Jeeves to Underwood’s Wooster. Only instead of just being an upper-class twit, my Master’s a serial murderer of gargantuan proportions. Oh, yeah – it’s a lot to absorb all right.’

‘You sound like you don’t want the job, David.’

‘Would you?’

‘Of course, I would be honoured.’

He laughed bitterly. ‘Now you’re starting to sound like Lydia.’ He took out his cigarettes and lit one. He offered her the pack. She shook her head. He took a long drag then said, ‘I dunno. Maybe it’s because it’s just so much more normal for you here. You guys are all involved in the Sect, you’re near this – near him,’ he pointed to the floor and to Underwood’s crypt below. ‘This is what you are, but it’s not what I am. I’ve got a life far away from all this and it’s one I don’t want to leave, you know?’

Conchita sat down beside him. ‘You are scared?’

‘Yes. You bet I’m scared.’

‘I understand. It is for you to decide David, for you are guardian now. Lydia will do it if you don’t want to. But you know ... that is not what John wanted.’

He nodded. ‘Yeah, he said that before he died.’

‘And I think he was right. It is good that you have fear of Underwood; fear is what keeps us alive in dangerous situations; it tells us to protect ourselves and the things we care for.’

‘Yeah, but Underwood is the thing I fear – not the thing I care for, not the thing I want to protect.’

‘But you will protect him. It is in your nature. John knew this. He told me so.’

‘Oh? Did he tell you why he didn’t want Lydia to the job, by any chance?’

‘No,’ she looked away. ‘He only told me that it must be you. You are a man, after all.’

David felt she was holding something back, but he didn’t push the issue. Instead he said ‘Oh yeah, the old man’s work business. He gave me that speech as well.’

The sword John had given him now lay across the small patio table in its scabbard. Conchita made to pick it up. ‘May I?’

‘Sure. Mind your fingers.’