Hi, This is under Wooden French Saga, episode ninety seven, and this
is the recap last time we saw how Miguel and the Bensons ended up having
to dispose of poor Alice. Remember, Miguel ended the episode when he found
the skip by the launderette just as Dawn was breaking. Well. For this
episode, we're rewinding back to the start of that night to see what Lydia
did when she was out on her date with her old flame, James Harrington.
You remember James, She's mentioned him a few times. Works for MI
six, member of another satanic cult. I won't say too much here because
of you know, I've worked some reminders into the text for you and anyone
else that might be reading or listening to this in the future without the benefits
of my little catchup introductions. But you're enjoying now. Ah. You have
to think of these things, you know. It's a book after all.
Underwood and Flinch Season five in Tanner Bress, written and performed for podcast by
Mike Bennett. This podcast is intended for an adult audience. Listener discretion is
advised. Episode thirteen, approximately eight hours before he ended up burying Alice's body
and a skip. Miguel said his sullen goodbyes to Lydia as she dropped him
off at Chalk Farm underground station to begin his nighttime tour of Underwood's houses.
She had practically shoved him out of the car, so tired was she of
his childish complaining about doing what he saw as a pointless exercise. As she
was driven away, not for the first time, she found herself wondering if
making the Gallow vampire ahead of Cynthia or Gerald had been a mistake. She
reminded herself that she'd had no choice in the matter. It had either been
that or let him wither and die in that Malager hospital. Would that have
been such a bad thing? A voice in her mind asked, he's behaving
like a spoilt adolescent brat. He just needs time to adjust, she thought
in reply, he'll settle down once he gets used to things. But wouldn't
it have been so much easier to have someone reliable like Cynthia as your vampire
cohort and have Miguel working as guardian. Yes, of course it would,
but that's not the way it went down, and there's nothing I can do
about it. So kindly, shut up and focus on what's real and not
what might have been. I have a date to night, and I need
to get my head together. She looked at her watch. It was ten
to nine. She was going to be late. She leaned forward and said
to the driver, listen, there's a ten pound tip in it for you
if you can get me to the Dorchester by nine. The driver's eyes,
looking back at her from the rear view mirror, were unimpressed. Think wid
Hugh. I'll do what I can, but I can't guarantee anything. You
can see the traffic for yourself. Lydia sat back, saying nothing. She
could easily afford to increase the tip, but she refused to be hustled.
Instead, she closed her eyes and focused her thoughts on James Harrington. She'd
liked James from the moment she'd met him. He had the clean cut,
chiseled good looks of a Hollywood leading man from the nineteen sixties. He could
make her laugh too, something about him she had especially liked. She felt
a pang of regret, and not for the first time, she wished she
had never tried to recruit him to the sect. If she hadn't, especially
if she hadn't told him about Underwood, the living vampire and object of their
cult of devotion, she was sure they would have lasted a lot longer.
She never mentioned Underwood by name, of course, that was far too much
information for the uninitiated, nor had she told him her real name to him,
indeed to anyone she met in her satanic social life. She was Lydia
Delaunay, a name she'd given herself as a young girl because it sounded so
much more exotic than Wilson, the family name she had grown up with in
England before moving to Spain in the early nineties and officially adopting the even less
demure but nonetheless glorious name of Flinch. In her experience, the use of
aliases was not uncommon among those who engaged in Satanic rituals that incorporated illegal act
and it was possible that James Harrington wasn't James's real name either. She made
a mental note to add that the list of things she would tease from him
later on if she needed to fascinate him, though she would prefer not to
do this. He wouldn't be nearly so much fun in the bedroom if he
were not fully himself However, sex was only a secondary concern. The primary
purpose of her meeting was to get from him the truth of whom or what
it was that he and his satanic circle worshiped or knelt before, to use
his own phrase, I kneel before another. That's what he'd said another vampire.
That had been her first thought, but when she put it to him,
he denied it. So if not a vampire, then perhaps a specific
demon, one of the many vor wanted denizens of hell that possessed uniquely celebrated
qualities. She had known many individuals and groups that revered a specific demon,
and over the remaining nights of their affair, she had thrown a variety of
these demons names at him, trying to get a reaction, but the only
reactions she elicited were his amusement, slowly giving way to irritation and finally annoyance.
She could do nothing to induce him to surrender his secret, and in
the end she had lost her temper and attacked him a flurry of punches that
he had first endured and then abruptly ended when he hit her back and knocked
her to the floor, And that was that. Without another word, she
had gathered her things, ignoring his fawning apologies, and left Dorchester. She
opened her eyes to see the eyes of the driver looking back at her from
the rear view mirror. She looked out of the window to see the familiar
hotel entrants and a porter in top hat and tails approaching her door. The
driver turned around to her with a smile, and, with three minutes to
spare, Lydia's watch confirmed it. She tuttered in her opinion, being early
for a date was worse than being late. She waved the door porter away
and instructed the driver to drive around for another five minutes. She entered the
hotel's bar at seven minutes past nine, a low ceiling, warmly lit room,
busy with smartly attired men and women chatting the length of the sweeping curve
of the Art deco bar or seated at tables. Lyddia had selected a figure
hugging short, sleeveless little black dress with a low cut neckline. She wanted
to remind Harrington of as much of her as she could while still remaining elegant
and stylish. However, while she caught the eye of many a man in
the room, she couldn't see James anywhere among them. He must be running
late. She went to the bar, taking out her phone to check in
case its enter a message. There were none. She ordered a gin and
tonic and was about to take a seat when she spotted a familiar profile further
along the bar. It was him, but she saw with disappointment that it
put on weight. His once firm jawline and angular cheek bones were softer,
fleshier, and his shoulders and arms larger, but not with muscle. He
was transfixed by his BlackBerry, frowning at the screen and pressing his now not
so nimble fingers at the tiny keys. She waited until the bar man returned
with her drink before going over and taking a seat on the bar stool next
to his. When he noticed her in the corner of his eye, he
looked up, and his face, pudgya all over cheeks and nose tinged with
the rosy hue of the regular drinker, lit up with delight lydia. My
god, you look ravishing. Thank you, darling. She leaned in to
exchange air kisses. So do you. I wish don't go to the gym
nearly as often as I should. That's what I get for being a desk
jockey, I suppose Lydia declined to demur. So how are you? How's
I'm sorry, I can't remember your wife's Helen, and she's fine. Thanks,
same with the kids, twelve and fourteen. Now eldest one's getting to
be a bit of a handful. Started talking like a bloody idiot. Every
sentence seems to end within it. I want to send him off to boarding
school, but Hell's won't have any of it. He gave a little laugh.
But you don't want to hear about all that, and Christ knows I
don't want to talk about it. So how are you? And what brings
you to London? Business or pleasure? A bit of both, but mostly
pleasure. No better reason. Glad to hear it. He lifted his bind
of lager and took a sup before adding, as casually as possible, and
what's the business? If you don't mind my asking? Real estate or something
related to that family business of yours. Actually I've left the family business,
really, James couldn't hide the surprise from his voice. I half expected your
whole reason for being here was another of your recruitment drives for that sleeping vampire.
Cult of Yours, sleeping vampire cult Christ could he be more disparaging?
She took a sip of her drink, giving herself a moment, she told
herself not to take it as a personal slight. After all, she was
done with the sex. Now he could call it whatever he liked. But
still he'd formed his low opinion of the sect based on what she told him
before, and at the time she'd been deeply passionate about it. Sorry,
none of my business. James ran a hand through his thick, side parted
hair, the habit of his when feeling stressed. Shit, not five minutes
into seeing you again, and already I've gone and put my foot in it.
It's okay, it doesn't matter. Do you forgive me, she smiled.
Of course, there's nothing to forgive. I've come to terms with it,
though it is unfortunate. How so well I didn't so much leave the
family business as it and the family died. I'm now the last of the
Delawneys. Oh my god. James laid a hand over hers where it rested
on the bar. I'm so sorry, thank you, but don't be I'm
not. Ah, so you weren't on good terms. You could say that.
It all came to a head when the sleeping vampire awoke. James paused
in the act of raising his pint to his lips. What the vampire?
He woke up and it didn't go well? James lowered his glass. He
woke up? Yes? Is that I mean? Did he the vampire hurt
us? Yes? That's why I'm no longer there. But I thought you
said this was just a visit. It is. What I mean is I
can't be there at our family house or be part of what was our group,
our cultive devotion. She turned her face away and took a drink,
trying her best to give off the air of someone who's been mildly traumatized.
James was staring open mouthed, I see, so is is he still there?
Who this? He glanced around to make sure he wasn't overheard this vampire
Lydia gave a curt shake of her head. No. She imagined that right
about now, James was probably trying to decide whether not to stick with the
previous plan of bedding her or to make his excuses and leave. She needed
to make sure that he stuck to the first option. She took a napkin
from the bar and pretended to wipe away a tear, then flicked her hair
over her shoulder and turned back to him with a smile. But anyway,
that's quite enough of me. What about you? Still in the old job,
by which she meant m I six, but wasn't going to say out
loud for obvious reasons. Sorry, your job still, James, bonding well
from a desk? Yes, are you an em yet? He chuckled.
No, still very much as z. I'm afraid, but look, I'm
sorry to go back to it. But this vampire is he still there in
Spain? No? Where is he nowhere? I killed him? Bloody hell?
How did you? I mean? What did you use? Stay through
the heart? You're not taking the pierce, are you, James? Because
if you are, it's in very poor taste. No, No, I'm
not. Frankly, I'm amazed. I wouldn't have imagined that you'd had it
in you had what in me? The ability to kill a vampire? Yes?
That and well, yes what nothing? You didn't believe me, did
you? I don't know what you mean. When I told you about him
before? You didn't believe me? Of course I did. No, you
didn't. I never understood till just now you thought I was lying, either
that or that I was insane. Ah, I did not. Why do
you believe me now? I'm curious what's changed? Nothing things changed. I
always believed you, Lydia. So why didn't you come out to Spain to
see for yourself when I told you about it? Before? I told you
at the time, I was happy with my own group still am. Yes,
you said you knelced before another, did I yes, you did,
but you wouldn't tell me who or what that other was. I don't try
to deny it, darling. That's why we split up. We split up
because you walked out and never returned any of my calls. Yes, but
you're not sharing with me. Was the reason why I walked out. As
you know, damn well, James squirmed in his seat. Look, Lydia,
I'm sorry, okay, But as I said, then, our group
is very much a closed thing. We're forbidden to speak of it to anyone,
doesn't matter whether their believers or not. We can't speak to anyone about
it under any circumstances period. Top secret like your work. Yes, are
they connected? What is your group something to do with your job a satanic
cult within government agencies. Again, James looked around in case they were overheard.
God's sake, Lydia, keep your voice down. No, it's nothing
to do with that. It's just secret. Okay. There's nothing unusual about
that, is there? There is? When you won't even tell your girlfriend
about it? Girlfriend? She weren't my girlfriend. I was and am married.
So what was I then? Your mistress? Do you prefer that word?
I didn't think of you as either of those things. You were just
Lydia. He reached out and took her hand. Gorgeous, captivating, endlessly
fascinating, Lydia. She looked down at his hand on hers. She was
messing this up, letting her past anger get the best of her. She
was supposed to be seducing him, not giving him thirty lashes. She closed
her fingers about his and squeezed them gently. Shit, I'm sorry, darling,
this is the last thing I wanted to happen. I came here because
I wanted to see you again, to catch up on things, and maybe
She traced a finger down the neckline of her dress, over the swell of
her breasts. Something more. I I really want that too. Christ the
last thing I want to do is have a barney with you. I get
enough of that at home with the wife, not enough makeup kisses afterwards,
I suppose no, no, usually not any Oh, poor James. Lydia
gave a little laugh. Well what say we start the evening over, go
back to Hello, and do it all over again, but without any horrid
recrimination. James nodded clearly relieved. Yes, that sounds like a bloody great
idea. So she batted her lashes. Hello, Hello, who do you
kneel to? What? I thought we were starting over? We can start
over as often as you like, Darling. It's always going to come up.
It's like a badly weighted, bloated corpse at the bottom of the lake
of our love. Ha ha ha ha. Oh look at me. I'm
a poet and I didn't even know. Fuck this. James grabbed his pint,
took her last slug, and set it down on the bar with finality.
I can't do this, Lydia. It was nice seeing you, but
I've got enough shit in my life without you adding to it. He got
up, but she still held the fingers of one of his hands in hers.
He tugged at them but she held on Lydia, let me go,
shan't. He tugged hard, but still she held him of for Fox's sake.
Stop it like a child. You know I can make you, tell
me, James, you're being tiresome, just as I could crush your fingers
into a squidgy mess. She tightened her grip, not a lot, just
enough to make him WinCE. But I'd rather not have to. James gave
her more than the WinCE she wanted. Faugh, Dio, please let me
go, only if you sit down and be nice. All right, all
right, I'll sit down. He got back on his stool. See I'm
sitting. I'm sitting, and you'll be nice. Yes, his voice was
strained with pain. Good boy. She released him, and he snatched his
hand back, flexing the fingers and blowing on them. You see what I
didn't tell you earlier, James, was that before I killed our sleeping vampire,
he killed me. He stared at her, incredulous. What that's how
it works, isn't it. Surely you've seen the films. The vampire bites
the victim, trains them of blood, and then the victim comes back to
life as a vampire. Although that's not quite right. If that were the
case, it would have been a hell of a lot easier. Can you
believe he didn't even want to bite me? You you're saying you're a vampire?
Yes, but that's that's not possible. You're irresistible? Well yes,
I used to think so too, But first him and now you, it's
like no one wants to have me any more. A thought strucker for the
first time ever. Why is that I'm not looking old? Am I?
No, James said, still staring at her in disbelief. Then what is
it You do? Want to take me upstairs? Don't you? James opened
his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Oh I know I've
gone and told you that I'm a vampire, haven't I imagine that's what's causing
you to somewhat reevaluate your options. Well, what if I tell you that
I won't hurt you, that I promise not to take so much as a
single teeny drop of your blood? I I don't know. I you're not
scared of me, are you? James? A big brave spy like you?
No? No, of course not. But I really think I ought
to be going home Lydia, No, you said you'd be nice to me,
and going home. Isn't being nice now, is it? Would you
like another drink? No lager? Is it? No? Look? What
is it you want from me? I already told you I want to know
who it is you kneel to. And I told you I can't tell you
that. Oh you can tell me if you want to, James, You
just don't want to with difficulty, James said, well, that's because of
the consequences. The consequences of betrayal don't bear thinking about. Oh, worse
than being bled to death in a hotel room. I'm not going upstairs with
you, Lydia. Oh yes you are. I am fucking not. James's
words caught the attention of the barman. His incurious glance swept over them,
but he passed by with seasoned disinterest. You won't have any say in the
matter, darling. I can make you do anything I want. I can
take your mind and shake it upside down until all I need comes tumbling out.
And then if I'm feeling peckish, I can feed from you. I
can let you live or die. It all depends on whether you've been nice
to me, and so far I'm afraid things aren't looking good for you.
You're right, you know I don't believe you which part any of it?
Lydia. You're not well. You need help now, Really, I have
to go. Lydia grabbed his hands and stood up. Wait, James,
I can prove it to you how by stealing my mind. He stared into
her eyes defiantly. Go ahead, you'll find I'm not an easy nut to
crack. They train us, you know, Oh, I'm sure they do.
But no, I don't want to steal your mind. I want all
of you mind, body, and soul. James scoffed. Well, I
suppose I should be flattered, but frankly I Lydia moved close to him and
whispered in his ear, hold me, darling, what hold me like you
used to? Her breath tickled his ear, sending a shiver through him.
Almost automatically, James raised his arms to embrace her, but he stopped himself.
I can't, Lyddy I. He didn't finish a sentence. It was
sucked back into him, along with the rest of his breath as he felt
her bite into his neck. But it wasn't a human bite typified by the
incisores at the front of the mouth, he felt two sharp points of pain,
and from the feel of her mouth on his neck, he knew those
points must be her canines. He tried to push her away, but she
held him in an unbreakable embrace. He was seized with a combination of panic
and acute embarrassment. This couldn't be happening. They were in the bar at
the Dorchester. He knew he should fight, pull her hair, grab his
pint glass and smash it over her head, even scream for help. But
they were in the bar at the Dorchester. It was unthinkable. You couldn't.
And then then it hit him. All feeling of pain melted away as
a wave of sensual bliss began to radiate through him from Lydia's kiss. For
yes, it was a kiss, that's all. Anyone around them would think
she was kissing him. People might think it was a bit vulgar, probably
thinking get a room, and they could it was a hotel. He laughed
and felt absurd. Ha oh, oh, God, Lydia. Then she
broke off abruptly, her hand still at his neck where she had been kissing
him. Here hold this in place. She lifted his hand to his neck
where she held a napkin against him. What, oh, what is it?
Think of it as a bandage. You don't need it, You're not
bleeding anymore. It's just to cover the wounds. Wounds. He looked around,
and a few heads that had been facing their direction turned away, looks
for exchange. Eyebrows raised. Yes, Oh, don't worry, they'll fade
in no time. You won't need to hold it there for long, she
bit me. Yes, Jesus, it was incredible. I've never felt anything
like it. Oh, thank you. You see how easy it would be
for me to kill you? She smiled, running her tongue quickly over her
teeth, the tip of it touching one of the points of her fangs for
just a second before she closed her lips. You you are vampire, You
really are? Yes, I really am. She raised a finger to attract
the attention of the barman. Do you want that drink now? Fuck?
Yes, a scotch, make it a double. The barman arrived just in
time to hear him anything with it, Sir James shook his head, turning
to him as though in a dream. No, just as it comes.
The barman nodded, and for you, madam, Another gear tea. Please,
thank you. The barman went to get the drinks, and Lydia turned
her attention back to James. Sorry about that, darling, As I say,
I could have just fascinated you and taken what I wanted. But I
want you to tell me what you know, because you actually want to.
You understand, you and I. We're friends, aren't we. James?
Well course, James nodded. Always always liked you, wanted you back.
Lydia smiled, Oh, you little squeety, and you know it's always been
the same with me. So tell me what's the story with this little secret
circle of yours? And who the jolly fuck is it? You kneel to
a Gravitas came back to James's manner as he replied, Oh, Lydia,
I'm sorry, really I am, but I can't tell you. He he'll
know, then he'll kill us both. Lydia rolled her eyes. Oh,
for God's sake, Look, why does it even matter? Why do you
want to know so badly? Because I do? Okay, it was the
way you said it back then, when I told you we worshiped a living
vampire, you were like, she mimed his shrug, So what I kneel
before another. Well, I didn't mean it like that. It doesn't matter
how you meant it, it's what you said and how you said it.
I said we Revere a real life supernatural being, and you just shrugged and
said you knelt before another. So my question to you is same as it's
always been another. What tell me and know that if you don't, I
can take it from you anyway. Lydia, Please, please, can't you
just forget I ever said anything? No, I can't. I'm going to
give you two account of three. One. You can't just steal my mind
in a crowded bar. Oh, yes, I can two. Or if
I don't look at you, obviously, I'll make you look at me,
darling. If I can give you a loving bite on the neck, taking
you by the chinny, chin chin and making you look into my eyes is
going to be a piece of piss. James looked down to his knees.
Lydia, please don't. Lydia reached a hand towards his chin, and that's
three James. Wait, he caught her hand. Wait, I've got another
idea. What's that? The barman came back with the drinks. A brief
curious glance from one of the other is customers, and then a smile.
Enjoy. Lydia returned the smile, thank you. Then to James, go
on, what if you were to join us? I thought you said you
were a closed group. We are, but I could speak to our leader,
tell him about you, and then he could tell our you know,
the one, the one you kneel too. Yes, I don't have any
direct contact with him. There are channels, you understand, But our leader
he does have contact with him. Lydia picked up her drink and took a
sip. Hmm does he indeed? Yes? She swirled her drink, the
ice clinking against the glass. I don't know, James. You said if
you told me about him, your hallowed master, that he would kill us.
So what guarantee do I have that he is not going to come after
me if you go this route, because it's the correct route. If a
suitable candidate is found for the coven, I take that information to our coven
leader. Lydia frowned. What so I wasn't suitable before? Is that what
you're saying? No, you weren't asking to join us before, were you?
You were asked me to join your group? You're what did you call
it your sect? Hmm, well, yes, I suppose so. All
right, fair enough, but that still doesn't answer how you can be so
sure your great Master isn't going to try to kill me. Note that I
say try, because you're a vampire and he won't kill a vampire. Really,
Lydia put down her drink. You say that as if it's not out
of the ordinary. I'm sorry, I can't say any more than that.
Oh come on, darling, you can't say that much and just clam up
on me. At least tell me this, am I? As in me
being a vampire? Am I? Unusual? To him? James reached to
his whiskey, his hand ever so slightly trembling, He took a long swallow,
Then mating her eyes again for the first time since she'd bitten him,
he replied, No, you're not man or monster, demon or vampire?
Who or what is the master of James Harrington's oh so secret Satanic circle?
And will Lydia be welcomed or well? We will just have to wait and
see as the story continues to unfold. In Underwood and Flinch season five,
the music you're listening to is Ahmad Ahma by Farid Fajad from the album and
Rusa Volume four, courtesy of Taranay Records and our good friend Fawaz al Malud.
You can stream the track from Spotify, YouTube Music, Google Music and
all the other music streamers out there.