Speaker 1: For Hello listeners, how are you? I hope you're well
as I am and raring to go for this season six,
episode four of Underwood and Flinch. This is a long
episode and alas that means an ad break in the middle.
Sorry about that. I hate to do it because it
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there instead. It is ad free, which you would expect,
And you've got the remaining eleven episodes of season six,
then there's season seven, and then there's the ongoing season eight,
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straight after this episode, which of course you will, then
you will want to start at the episode Underwood and
Finch Underground, episode fifty. Just scroll down through the feed
and you'll see it fifty. Begin there. Okay, there we are.
Then let's listen to the recap and then we'll go
straight into the story. In this episode, we rejoin Lydia, who,
as you know, has a second date with James Harrington,
the old flame of hers who works for MI six. James,
you may recall, is a fellow Satanist that she tried
to recruit for the sect, but he wasn't interested because,
as he said at the time, he knelt before another well.
On their last date, Lydia told James how her vampire
master was now dead by her hand and that she
herself was now a vampire who wanted to make contact
with his mysterious master. James said that he would pass
that on to his covent leader and when they meet
up again, which they're about to do in this episode.
He'll tell her how that went. Also, we need to
bear in mind a couple of things on the timeline
before we begin. The action of this episode follows on
from when Lydia and Cynthia managed to lure Inspector clear
Red and to that hotel in Whitechapel where Lydia fascinated her,
got all the information from her, and then got her
to you to work for her. We also need to
be aware that while Lydia is doing all this, Miguel
and Gerald are on their way down to Brighton to
do unspeakable things to David's girlfriend, as we heard in
our previous episode. Right, well, that's that. Then we're all
up to date, we're all on the same page, and
we're ready to go. So let's plunge into the now
fully expanded director's cut of Underwood and Flinch season six
and Bliss. Written and performed for podcast by Mike Bennett.
This podcast is intended for an adult audience. Listener discretion
is advised episode four, as a meeting with Inspector Claire
Redmond had gone on longer than anticipated. Lydia was running late, However,
She was feeling flushed, both with the success of the
meeting and with the blood meal that Redmond had afforded her.
After leaving the Inspector to sleep it off at the
Pub Hotel in Whitechapel, Lydia had sent Cynthia home to bed.
She had then hailed a cab to take her to
her date with James Harrington at the Dorchester Hotel. She
had already texted James once earlier that evening to put
the time of their date back to half past ten,
but now it was looking like she wasn't going to
get there until a quarter to eleven at the earliest.
Should she text him again with an update or just
arrive fashionably late? She decided on the former. Her lateness
had sailed past fashionable over an hour ago. As the
traffic lights changed from amber to green and the taxi
set off on another brief interlude of motion towards the
next set of red ones, Lydia took out her phone
and began to type. She apologized to James and said
that she'd be there in ten minutes. She sent the
message and then sat back to reflect on her meeting
with Redmond. Though the trap she and Cynthia had laid
for her quarry had worked like a charm. It had
taken longer than expected due to their erroneous supposition that
Redmond was still the lead investigator on the London vampire case. However,
once fascinated, the inspector had been more than helpful in
providing all the information she had relating to the case,
and most satisfying of all, she was now working as
a mole for Lydia. Under fascination. Redmond had also confessed
an attraction to, albeit one she hadn't consciously acknowledged to herself,
the man who was now heading up the investigation, one
DCI Guy Valentine. This attraction would be very useful if
Valentine proved to be uncooperative, provided, of course, that he
wasn't devoutly married or gay. Redmond hadn't struck Lydia as
a natural seductress. She had plenty going for her looks wise,
but she didn't use her natural assets to her advantage.
She had a good figure, but concealed it beneath conservative
off the rack clothing, probably from Marx and Spencer. She
wore her shoulder length hair tied back off her face,
and her makeup was scant and failed to highlight her
best features, namely her brown eyes and to die for cheekbones.
She was dead straight, a career police officer, the kind
of woman who would probably end up miserable and alone
with too many cats. At that moment, Lydia's phone lit
up and vibrated in her hand. It was James's reply.
She opened it imperative you are here by eleven. A
friend is coming and wants to meet you. You must
be here. Her good mood evaporated. A sudden blazing panic
rushed in. A friend Christ Going by the tone of
the message under all caps must it had to be
his master. He's come out to meet me in person,
and I'm going to be bloody late. She leaned forward
and spoke to the driver. How much longer? Oh, I'd
say about five minutes? Love. Thank God, she'd get there
in time, but it left her with no time to prepare.
Thankfully she checked her make up before she left Whitechap
But what was she going to say? She hadn't had
time to properly work out her pitch to him because
she hadn't been expecting to meet him so soon. Jesus, James,
you said, you were going to talk to your coven leader,
not the actual head honcho. Wait, she forced her mind
to be quiet. Maybe that's actually who it is, justice
coven leader, the high priest or priestess. That made sense,
didn't it. They could be screening her, making sure she
really was a vampire. Yes, that made sense. Relax, she
told herself. Even if it did turn out to be
James's master, she could manage him just fine. She knew
what she wanted and she had a good enough idea
of what she needed to say. Be calm, just breathe,
take deep, relaxing breaths. You're a vampire queen. See yourself
walking into the bar afraid of nothing and no one,
which was at five minutes to eleven, exactly how she did.
Walk in to the bar at the Dorchester. She looked
along the length of the bar, expecting to see James
where they had been seated the other night, but he
wasn't there. Then a movement caught her eye and she
saw him waving a nervous hand from where he was
sitting at a table in the corner of the bar,
and he was alone. Lydia went over, where the fuck
have you been? He hissed as she sat down opposite him.
I was delayed. I'm sorry, James, but I have rather
a lot on my plate at the moment. He seemed nervous,
his eyes never resting on her for more than a
moment as they continually scanned the room. Not as much
as you're going to have. I spoke to my hygh
Briest about you. Told him what you said and how
you wanted to meet the Master. He said, he passed
it on up the chain of command and called me
as soon as he heard back, which he did about
an hour ago. So what did he say? He knows
who knows the Master. He's sending some one here to
meet you, who I don't know. He didn't say. Some
kind of gatekeeper between him and the likes of us
would be my guess. Thank Christ, you finally showed up.
Can you imagine the kind of shit I'd be? And
if you hadn't, how would it have made me? Look?
My chances of ever being chosen would be wiped out?
I might even have been. He broke off, Well, it
doesn't matter. You're here now. What do you mean your
chances of being chosen? Nothing? It doesn't sound like there's
nothing to you. Look, it's just a thing in our coven, Okay,
As I keep telling you, the activities, rites, and rituals
of our coven aren't something I can speak to outsiders about.
Lydia ordered the gin and tonic from the drinks waiter.
When he was gone, she said, James, you know I
can make you tell me, don't you? James was taken aback. Really,
you do that to me? After all I've done for you,
for Christ's sake, Lydia, I'm helping you here. Can't you
just for once have a little trust Thanks to me,
You're literally minutes away from meeting the gatekeeper that stands
between you and the master of the largest organized cult
on earth. Lydia chuckled. Actually, I think you'll find that's me.
James shook his head. Oh, Lydia, you have no idea,
no idea. The waiter returned with Lydia's drink, and James
told him to charge it to his room. He was
about to question the wisdom of Lydia's imbibing when his
phone lit up and vibrated loudly on the table. He
picked it up and saw the caller's name was Withheld.
I think this is it? Well? Do you better answer? It?
Hadn't you? He did? Hello, Hello, mister Harrington. It was
a woman's voice. He detected a trace of a foreign accent. Yes,
where are you? Who's calling? I believe you are expecting me? Ah? Right?
Are you here now? Yes? I'm at the bar. They
sent me a photo of you, but I don't see
you here. James stood up and looked over the heads
to the bar area. Standing behind the bar stool seated
drinkers was a black woman with a phone to her ear.
She was strikingly beautiful, and when her eyes caught his,
he felt a small shock, as if he had been
caught ogling her, which in a sense he had. Is
that you? She asked? Yes, he held up her hand.
She hung up and started towards them. Is that her?
Asked Lydia. Yes. Do you know her? Not personally? No,
but I've encountered her before. Who is she? I don't
know her name, but any time I've seen the Master
in London, she's been there. He stood up and smiled
as the woman drew near. She was young, in her
mid to late twenties, her straight hair falling just past
her s olders onto an elegant gray coat. Ah, hello,
said James. We have met, but I don't believe you've
ever been formally introduced. No, we haven't, she spoke softly,
her eyes resting on Lydia. This is the one you
told Eldred about. Yes. He held out a hand to Lydia,
who rose. This is Lydia, Lydia, this is sir. I'm sorry,
but I don't know your name, Celeste. She extended a
hand to Lydia, who took it, and as she did,
Celeste surprised them by raising Lydia's hand to her lips.
She kissed it lightly, lingering a moment before smiling and
releasing it. Mont chante, Hello, thought Lydia. I'm in here.
Celeste now turned to James. I'm told you have a room. Yes, good,
let's go. Where to the room. Yes, Celeste raised her
arm to reveal the laptop bag she carried. You have
an audience waiting, oh, said Lydia. Surprised online, Celeste gave
the smallest of nods, then turned to James. Shall we go.
They rode the elevator in silence. It wasn't until the
door of James's room was closed that Celeste spoke again.
So you are lovers. James looked at Lydia. Well, uh,
we enjoy each other from time to time, yes, said Lydia.
Then with a smile, she added, though I confess lately
I've been enjoying more of him than usual, if you
know what I mean. I am not sure that I do,
said Celeste. You are dating, no, said Lydia, disappointed that
what she had thought of as a vampiric in joke
had fallen flat. I'm a vampire, so I've had the
pleasure of dining on him, feeding on him. You know, yes,
I know what dining means. I'm sorry, said James, But
your name, your accent, it's French.
Speaker 2: Isn't it It is? But I have lived in the
English speaking world for many years, more years, in fact,
than both of you combined. James's eyes widened. You mean
you're a vampire, I am, which is why I am here.
We do not send humans to assess with our vampires
what they claim to be. Humans can be so easily
convinced if you know what I mean. On echoing Lydia's
earlier comment, Celeste gave her a knowing smile. Lydia sat
down on the edge of the bed. Despite now being
a vampire herself, she found she was filled with awe
and wonder to be in the presence of another of
the speed She had spent most of her life revering Underwood,
believing him to be Satan's angel on earth, the last
of his kind, the one and only. Yet here standing
in front of her was another. These magical, powerful, terrible
creatures were evidently in no danger of extinction, were they
even rare? Celeste went to the dressing table to unzip
the laptop bag.
Speaker 1: So what are you going to do? Asked James. Is
there some kind of test you do? Celeste turned on
the computer, then looked back at him over her shoulder.
Test yes, to confirm that she is what she says
she is. Celeste smiled, amused, Oh, I have already done this,
you have said, Lydia, when your scent, Celeste spoke with
her back to them as she tapped at the keyboard.
My scent, you mean channel. I don't see how that
makes me a vampire. I mean beneath your perfume, your scent.
Lyddia was mildly affronted. She had showered only a few
hours earlier. Since then she had done nothing physical other
than feeding on Redmond, which hadn't exactly caused her to
break a sweat. She turned her nose to her armpit
and sniffed. She smelled nothing other than her deodorant and
the light touch of her perfume. I am sorry, Celeste,
but I do not smell, and frankly, I find the
suggestion that I have some kind of animal muskiness about
me really rather insulting. Celeste sighed and turned back to
her Lydia, you are a fledgling. You are yet to
learn the subtleties of what you have become. First of
all you do have is sent every one does. If
you have not noticed this of others yet, you will
in time. You will also learn that vampires don't smell
the same as humans, any more than goats smell the
same as BIG's. Well, I wouldn't know. I can't say
I've ever smelt either. Also, say it is the blood
you drink, it comes out in your sweat. From this
I can estimate when you last ate, how much you consumed. Indeed,
how hungry you are right now? Really, Lydia swept a
lock of hair over her ear. So how hungry am I.
She intended the inflection in her voice to suggest a
double meaning. Hopefully Celeste had been in the English speaking
world long enough to notice that. Celeste smiled. You are
not you ate recently and from a woman. Lydia's flirtatious
manner evaporated, replaced by genuine surprise. How do you you
mean you could smell her too? Of course you were
close to her, your face and hands in her hair.
I'm guessing you enjoyed your meal. Oh my, said Lydia.
You know now that you mention it. I have noticed
things like that since, not just on the people I've
bitten or been close to, but in the air, on things, chairs, beds.
You are beginning to awaken. Lydia turned to James and laughed, Ah,
oh my god, how awesome. Yes, said James. Yes, I'm
sure it must be. I can't wait to experience it myself.
Don't look at me, darling, said Lydia. I'm not making
any vampires anytime soon, are you, Celeste? And turning to Celeste,
she was surprised to see her staring at James with
a look that could cut glass. Evidently chastened, James lowered
his eyes. I'm sorry Celeste, I didn't. I only meant
one day it might be nice, you know, if I
could experience that myself. Celeste's eyes flicked to Lydia, and
seeing her anxious expression, she smiled, Course you do, James.
Maybe one day you will. But as Lydia says, not
by her hand and not by mine, Come, don't look
so miserable. This is a happy occasion. You have brought
to us a new friend. Someone who once was lost
is now found. James raised his head, but not far
enough to meet Celeste's eyes. Yes, thank you, Celeste. Lydia
took a sip of her drink. L was weird, she thought.
For a moment there it felt as if she'd stumbled
into a private s and M session. Clearly, in declaring
his wish to become a vampire, James had overstepped some
kind of line. Very good, said Celeste. So sit and
relax while I make the call to our master. She
turned back to the computer. James sat down on the
bed next to Lydia, his hands in his lap and
his eyes downcast. Laid a hand over his and asked,
in a low voice, are you all right, darling? Yes,
said James, then tapping into a reserve of good cheer.
He gave her a reassuring smile. Yes, of course, Can
I get you something from the mini bar? You look
as if you could use a stiff one. No, No,
I'm fine. I had a couple while I was waiting
for you. If anything, I need to clear my head
a bit. Are you sure I'm going to have another one? Really?
Don't you think you should? I mean, he nodded to
where Celeste sat at the dressing table, looking into the
glow of the computer screen. Like I say, clear head
and all that. Liddy was about to tell him that
a clear head was the last thing she needed when
Celeste suddenly spoke, but not to them. This podcast continues
after the break. We'll come back. Liddy was about to
tell him that a clear head was the last thing
she needed when Celeste suddenly spoke, but not to them.
Good evening, or should I say good afternoon, Celeste. A
man's voice came back through the computer's small built in speakers.
I presume you found them, otherwise you'd called. He had
an American accent, a Southern drawl. In the background, there
was music playing. Lydia listened and her brow furrowed. As
she recognized. Oops, I did it again by Britney spears, Yes,
said Celeste, so wisby Now well put her on, then
let's have a look at her. Celeste got up from
the chair and waved Lyddia to sit down in her place.
Lyddia got up from the bed and walked over. On
seeing the screen, she stopped, surprised. The face of a
man she guessed to be in his early forties awaited her.
But he was not as she had expected, cloistered in
some extravagant room, anything from a medieval castle to a
penthouse apartment, with the night pressed chill and black against
the windows as it was here. Instead, he sat in
brilliant sunlight, with a bright blue sky framing his Panama
behatted head. He sat back, and she saw he was
on the deck of a boat, a motor yacht, and
a big one at that. Younger people in swimwear lithe
and attractive, lounged in and around a swimming pool in
the background. One couple who looked to be in their
thirties were standing close behind him and watching the screen
with interest, or at least they appeared to be. They
both wore sunglasses, so it was impossible to say exactly
where they were looking. So you most billidiu, said the
man in the hat, who also wore sunglasses stirkwise Hawaiian
shirt was open at the chest, revealing a mat of
black and gray hairs curling from his deeply tanned skin.
Come closer, let me take a look at you. Lydia
sat down behind the laptop. I don't understand. I thought
I was going to be speaking to a vampire. The
man chuckled and waved a hand to the sky above. Ha.
You do see the time of day here, don't you?
Our respective time zones. Don't make a face to face
chat with the master convenient right now, so I'll be
speaking on his behalf. My name is Clok and you
are Lydia. He picked up a piece of paper and
read from it delaunay. Is that right? Yes, that's right,
and you're a vampire newly made. Lyddy didn't like the description.
It made us sound naive, but it was essentially correct.
She raised her chin with a hint of hauteur and admitted, yes,
it had gone to what we've been told. You're not
a victim of this London vampire. We've been hearing so
much about. But again, he checked a sheet of paper.
You were made by the vampire you and your coven
had been worshiping as he slept in a coffin for
he peered up at her from behind his sunglasses. How
long fifty years? Obviously not me personally for all that time,
but my covent did fifty years. God, so that would
mean your vampire fell asleep in nineteen fifty eight, that's right.
At this point, the man standing behind Cloak peeled himself
away from the woman he was with and came forward
to whisper something in Cloak's ear. He had a heavy beard,
one of those sculpted clumps of chin privet that had
become fashionable in recent year years among young urban white
men hipsters. Lydia recalled that was what they called themselves.
The sunlight fell behind him, casting him mostly in silhouette,
but she could see he also had some of the
uniformly required tattoos on his arm. Cloak listened, then nodded.
Then the hipster drew back to his waiting lady friend,
a bozzamil latina, whom Lydia considered to be practically bursting
out of her bikini and then apparently you killed this
vampire yours. Is that right? Well? Actually, no, I know
that's what I said to James, but the whole story
is a bit more complicated than that, is it. Now, Well,
go ahead, I'm all ears like, I'm sorry, but I
was hoping to tell it to your master in person.
I'm sure you were, but as I already said, that
is impossible. Right now, Well, I can call you back
in your nighttime if you like. I've got curtains in
my house, so it's really not a problem. The hipster
chuckled at this. His girlfriend too, Cloak, however, was not amused.
Are you suggesting the Master is somehow too lazy to
speak to you? Do you really believe you are something
that Meyrit's disturbed in his sleep? Well, no, said Lydia,
despite the fact that it was exactly what she believed.
I'm only saying that I'm willing to disturb my sleep
for him because I recognize that I'm not important or
you got that right, mister Lorney, You most certainly are not.
The only reason we're having this conversation at all is
because of this whole London vampire shit show that's been
going on over there. Now tell me, and please don't
give me any bullshit? Is that your handiwork? Lydia took
a deep sip of her drink to give herself a
moment to think this could be the making or breaking
of her If Cloak was calling it a shit show,
the chance were high that he and his vampire master
were pissed off about the London murders. So if she
admitted that Miguel, her vampire progeny, was responsible for one
of those murders, it might not go in her favor.
So should she lie and say she had nothing to
do with it. If she did and they found out
that she was lying, then that, coupled with her indirect culpability,
would probably be worse. She sighed and admitted, not exactly.
What does that mean? It means it wasn't me, per se,
But I do know who did one of them, though
I stress, only one, and I'm afraid it was a
vampire of my making. Cloaks eyebrows rose above his sunglasses.
So you're making vampires only one and only because I
had to. If I hadn't, he would have died. Well,
come on, by what you say, he's been getting up
to that mightn't have been such a bad thing. You
do know you're not supposed to be doing that, right, No,
I didn't know that. I don't know anything, which is
one of the reasons I want to speak to your master.
I've got no idea about things like that. I need
a mentor to show me how all this works, how
I work. I mean me as a vampire. These are
the kind of things that my late master would have
taught me if he hadn't died, Dad, or you killed
him died I didn't kill him and it was a
male vampire? Yes, why was his name? Lydia? Balked? What?
Why was his name? Your late master? Lydia's lips tightened.
Underwood had been over three hundred years old. The chances
were that Cloak's master, if he was a vampire of
long standing, would at least have heard of him and
could possibly have known him personally. So had he been
a friend or a far Either way, it could go
badly for her. If he had been a friend, even
though she hadn't personally killed Underwood, she had been the
indirect cause of his death. That was bad. On the
other hand, if he had been Underwood's enemy, then the
Flinch's biological extension could also have been his enemy. That
was worse. However, she didn't feel she could lie about
it because having Underwood sect behind her was part of
her bargaining strategy. Also, if this master was the Big
Cheese all evidence suggested he was, then the fact of
Underwood's death would soon be known to him anyway, and that,
coupled with what they already knew of her from James,
there was no way around it. She had to tell them,
at least if it came from her. She could tell
them a version of events that cast her in a
favorable light, and there was no one alive who could
contest that except David, but he would soon be dead. Hello,
Cloak waved his hand at her. Do we still have
a connection? Can you hear me? It was Underwood, said Lydia,
Lord Daniel Underwood. For a moment, Cloak only stared at her.
Then he turned around to the hipster, just as the
other started forwards, coming up to the computer and leaning
in so his face almost filled the screen. That's a
goddamn lie. Who are you? And don't bullshit me, or Celeste,
there's going to end that eternal life of yours. In
about thirty seconds time, Lydia flinched from the screen as
if the man was about to come through it and
grab her by the throat. It's not a lie, she cried.
I swear I'm telling you the truth. My family have
been the servants of Lord Underwood for over three hundred years.
She turned around to appeal to Celeste, only to see
she was now pointing a silenced pistol at her. She
held her hands out defensively. I swear to you're not lying,
his servants, said the hipster, who also spoke with an
American accent. Yes, Lydia turned back to him. Guardians, my
real name is Flinch, Lydia flinch. The man's only reaction
was silence. He just stared at her as if he
were scrutinizing her from behind his black sunglasses. Then his
hand shot out and slammed the lid of his laptop down,
severing the connection. Well, said Celeste, that could have come better.
I suppose we may as well make ourselves comfortable until
they got back. She sat down on a chair in
the corner, all the while holding her gun trained on
Lydia's face. Do you have to point that thing at me?
I was just put on notice to kill you if necessary,
So yes, I do. But why I haven't done anything
to you or to your master, and I wouldn't. I
swear if your coven wants nothing to do with me,
then the last thing I want is any trouble. I'll
go away and you'll never hear from me again. I'm
sure that is true, but I am not the one
you need to convince. Lydia looked back at the computer screen,
where the program which looked like but wasn't Skype, remained
inactive but for a little icon that informed her that
the call had ended. Well, will they call back? Oh?
They will, yes, but perhaps only by phone next time.
I suppos it depends on whether or not they want
to talk to you or only to me. Lydia didn't
like the sound of the second eventuality. Who was that man,
she asked, Not Cloak, but the other one, the guy
with the beard. Our master has many aides. He is
not like your lord Underwood. Assuming you are who you
say you are, she smiled, impressed. Underwood, Anne Flinch, your
family and its master are very famous, and I confess
it is something of an honor to meet you. I
hope it's old godswell for you. Really, I would hate
to have to, she indicated the gun. It would be
a great pity. But you wouldn't have to, Celeste, said Lydia,
fighting to keep her ever rising anxiety from her voice.
No one need ever know. If you were to let
me go, you could say I escaped. James wouldn't say anything,
would you, James. James sighed and pushed his hand through
his hair. I'm afraid you still don't understand who you're
dealing with, Lydia. If those men tell Celeste to kill you,
she will, and if by some miracle she should fail,
then I'll kill you or die. Trying on seeing Lydia's
shocked reaction, he added, nothing personal, darling, I know you
do exactly the same if the shoe were on the
other foot, Although saying that, we do sort of have
to wonder, don't we. If you're talking about my relationship
with Underwood, then you have to know I was as
loyal to him as either of you are to your master.
You told me you killed him, Jesus James, that was
just shorthand for what actually happened, which was and is
for your master's ears only without waiting for a reply.
She turned to Celeste. Do you think they'll wake him
who your master? Now that they have this new information
about who I am, they could have to pass it
on to him, aren't they? Celeste shrugged. It is for
them to decide what they are going to do. I
cannot second guess. She was interrupted by the ring tone
of the video phone. She gestured to Lydia with the
gun get up, Please go over. Zen's a corner where
I can see you. Lydia did as she was told,
and Celeste went to the computer and answered the call.
The hipster was now sitting in the forefront with cloak
standing cloaks behind. The busty woman and the other pool
side guests had gone, as had the music. Where is
she said the hipster? She is here. You want to
speak with her? Yeah? Put her on. Celeste stood up
and beckoned Lydia to take her place. Lydia came and
sat down. She reached for her drink, and, on seeing
it was empty, held out the glass to Celeste. Would
you mind, darling? Celeste, unamused, took the glass and handed
it to James, who then took it to the mini bar.
Who is your father demanded the hipster Arthur Flinch. He
died in nineteen eighty four, and all this time he
and Underwood were in Spain. That's right where in Spain
and Lucia, out in the countryside, near a town called Almessina.
We were under the impression that Underwood was dead, that
he died in Berlin at the end of the war.
I can't speak to that. All I know is that
for my lifetime, until he was resurrected anyway, he'd been
in a coffin in the cellar of my father's house.
He was in the death sleep. Yes, so you resurrected him.
Lydia hesitated, then said, not me personally, No, my brother did.
The Hipster's eyebrows rose. You have a brother, yes, I
had three, but the other two are dead, but not
the one who revived Underwood. No, he's still alive. More's
the pity. So why isn't he there? Now, let's just
say we don't get on answer the fucking question. James
handed Lydia a gin and tonic. She took a swallow
of it and said, look, I'm sorry, I don't mean
to be rude, but since you're already setting a low bar,
who are you exactly? You're a servant, right senior obviously,
but still a servant. I don't see why I should
be telling you all this, Celeste, shoot this bitch in
the leg. The gun coughed in Celeste's hand. Lydia felt
a spear of burning pain pierced the culf of her
left leg and then her right. As the bullet passed
through one and then into the other. She screamed and
fell off her chair. Then, breathless with shock, she stammered,
Jesus Christ, Jesus fucking Christ. The hipster continued to speak
from the laptop above her. If you are what you
say you are, that shouldn't be too much of a problem.
Lydia lay on the floor, staring at her legs in disbelief.
Jesus fuck fuck. I'll get a towel, said James, hurrying
to the on sweet bathroom. Lydia said, the hipster kindly
answer my question. Why isn't your brother there? Because he's
a count, shouted Lydia. Christ, I'm in fucking agen. It'll pass.
I know it'll fucking pass, but it doesn't make you
feel any better now, does it. For the last time,
where is your brother? Please. I'm sure Celeste doesn't want
to have to shoot you again. I don't know, No,
I do know. Wait, let me think. Her mind was racing.
Where was David in Spain flying to England? He couldn't
be here yet, it was too early in Spain. He's
in Spain, but he's coming here tonight. What tomorrow, some
fucking time. James hurried over with two white bath towels
and dropped to his knees beside her. Here, let me
get these under your legs. Lydia gritted her teeth as
he lifted her legs, then eased the towels one at
a time through the seeping blood. It's more for a
carpet than anything else, he said. I'm sure you'll be
fine by morning. Oh nice to see you've got your
fucking priorities right. And I thought you loved me, my do,
But James shrugged. This is your fault, Lydia, not mine. Harrington,
the hipster said from above. Put the laptop on the
floor so I can see her. James did as he
was told, setting the laptop down next to Lydia's sweating face.
The hipster smiled, There's nothing like a little pain to
focus to mine now, is there? Lydia gritted her teeth,
holding back a promise to give him plenty of focus
if ever, she were to meet him in person. So,
this brother of yours, if Underwood's tradition still adheres, then
he's the guardian, right stress? Lydia hissed, Is that why
you evidently hate him so much?
Speaker 2: No?
Speaker 1: I hate him because he tried to kill me? Why
did he do that? Because he's a count? So lest
the hipster beckoned the vampire in a tone which to
Lydia suggested another shooting was imminent. No, please, I'm sorry.
Lydia was breathing hard. The pain was excruciating. She couldn't
think straight, couldn't lie straight, because he tried to kill
Underwood and I stopped him. Is that so? Yes? He
kept trying repeatedly. He drove a steak through his heart
when he was sleeping, and pretty fucked it up. He said, Underhi,
bes evil had to be stopped. I fought him, drove
him away. I thought he was done, but he wasn't.
He hired a Russian gangster to help him. They kidnapped me, yes, yes,
and they used me his bait to trap Underwood. He
came to save me, but they got him and they
were shot to fuck. He almost bled to death, but
I told him to feed on me to save himself.
And I don't know how his blood, it must have
got into my mouth made me a vampire. And then
Jesus James gave me some fucking parast I'm aspirind. Would
you please anything? There's gin? Said James. Yeah, Lydia beckoned
for it, give me the bottle? And then what said
the hipster? Then David killed Underwood. I don't know how
he did it. I was dead, I mean, you know,
transforming into a vampire. I was unconscious, and when I
woke up, it was over. The Russians were all dead.
David was gone. He probably thought I was dead so
there was no need to kill me again. And Underwood,
he think Lydia think one of the Russians. He was
still alive, dying near me. He told me that David
blew his head off with a shotgun. But you just
said you didn't know how David did it. Jesus, could
you just I've been shot in both legs. I meant
to say that I didn't see how he did it, okay,
but you did see Underwood's body. No, I had to
get out of it, didn't I. The son was coming up,
police were coming. There wasn't time, I see. The hipster
sat back and stroked his beard. James handed Liddia the
bottle of gin, and she struggled to get the cap
off her hands, slipping in her blood. James took it back,
removed the cap, then gave it back to her. She
took a deep swig, gulping it down till she coughed
on the heat of it. You know, this is all
a little like history repeating itself, said the hipster. See.
The reason we were of the mistaken impression Underwood had
been dead all these years was so far as we knew,
he died in a Russian air raid back in Berlin
at the end of the war. Building he was in
too a direct hit blew the damn thing to smithereens
no way anyone could have gotten out of there alive,
or so we'd been led to believe. But yes, I
see then, as now, no one actually saw his body,
or any part of it that you could definitively say
was his. I guess one severed legs pretty much like
another Lydia didn't know what she should say to this,
so she took another swig from the bottle. You see
what I'm saying, Lydia. You think he could still be alive? Exactly? Okay,
So what so we come back to this London vampire
problem of yours? Oh no, said Lydia with a slow
yet determined shake of her head. I'm ahead of you there,
I already considered it. If you knew Underwood, you'd know
he would never have made a mess like that one
in the church. That was the one we I mean,
my the vampire I made didn't do he did the
one on the skip. I presume you know which ones which,
don't you? The hipster nodded, yeah, we know. Good so
that church thing. Underwood would never have made a mess
like that, A mess like what you seem remarkably well informed.
I am. Actually that's one of the things I wanted
to speak to your master about. There was a knock
at the door. Lydia turned to it, as did Celeste
and James. Hello, came a voice through the door. Room Service,
Is everything okay in there? We've had reports of a
woman screaming. Celeste got up. She held a finger to
her lips mutely instructing Lydia to be quiet, and went
to the door, opening it just wide enough to see outside.
She fixed her eyes on those of the hall porter
and said, I'm so sorry that was me. I'm embarrassed
to say it, but there was a huge spider in
my path. I have a phoebeer, you see. But it's
okay now, my boyfriend and has taken care of it. Okay, madam,
said the porter, whose voice had taken on the listless
quality of the fascinated. Sorry about that. Just so long
as everything's okay, everything is fine, Thank you, good night.
She closed the door and came back into the room.
You were saying, said the hipster. What said Lydia. Oh yeah,
I want to talk to your master about that. I've
got a cop working on the inside of Scotland's yard.
She's on the case. Told me all about it. I've
got a you know, fascinated. The pain in her legs
was lessening. She was also starting to feel a little high.
Whether it was the gin, the blood loss, or just
her body's healing process mellowing her mind and body, she
didn't know, but she welcomed it. She took another swig
of gin her. This time it was Cloak who spoke, Yeah,
in Inspector Edmund, check the papers. You'll see. She's mine,
she pointed at the computer screen. And she can be
your master's too. What she knows I know, and if
he helps me, then he gets to know too. The
hipster chuckled, Oh, you have it all worked out, don't you, Lilia.
I wish I did. Look as I say, all I
want is to learn from your master, to be his protege.
You know what Underwood would have been to me if
he'd survived. I need to be nurtured. I see, well,
and we'll be sure to pass that along to him
when he wakes up, and you can tell him that
I have sex too Underwood's cult. Once I've killed my
fucking brother, I could be a very powerful ally for
your master. Maybe we could even join forces, you lot
and mine. Imagine that. James says, you're the biggest in
the world. That I said he was wrong, because mine
is that is, it will be mine when Davy's dead.
Hold on there, said the hipster. What do you mean
You're going to kill him? Of course I am. He
killed Underwood. He wants to kill me. It's him or me.
Isn't it kill or be killed? Ah? No, No, we
wouldn't like that at all, Lydia. That's not how this
sort of thing is done. What do you mean? I mean?
We have rules a cold we all live by. Vampires
don't kill vampires or their guardians. What she pointed an
unsteady finger at Celeste. You were going to have her
kill me a minute ago. That's vampire killing vampire, isn't it. Yes,
But we're invested with the authority to make that call.
Lydia's that then, what makes you so special that you're
above your own law? Because we or that is to say,
our master, he is the law, and you, well, you're
at least partially responsible for this whole London vampire fuck up,
perhaps more than partially. For all we know you did
both of those murders. We only have it on your
say that you didn't. The same goes for Underwood's death.
Your word is all we have on that. No, Look,
you've got it all wrong. I'm not lying to you.
I swear it. It was Miguel. Miguel killed the girl
in the skip, not me, and that was it. That
was all he did. I swear I have no idea
this other vampire is none. She turned to Celeste. You've
got to believe me. I'm innocent. Of course you are,
said the hipster. So you won't mind coming here to
join us as our guests. The Master will have many
questions for you. I what Celeste will escort you to
a private jet as soon as your legs are adequately healed,
shall we say tomorrow night? Oh and be sure to
bring that of the vampire you made too. Miguel right, yeah,
but I can't he he can't come right now? Oh?
Why is that? Because he's Lydia tried to imagine where
Miguel and Gerald would be at that moment. She looked
at her watch. It was after midnight. They'd be in
David's flat by now. Would Miguel have bitten David's girlfriend yet?
Would she even be human anymore? She took a slug
of gin, then said, he's busy. Well, then you'd better
unbusy him and get his ass to that hotel asap. Okay, yeah,
Lydia groped at her jacket, clawing her pockets for her phone.
Let me let me call him. It might still be okay,
what do you mean by that what's he doing? Nothing,
said Lydia, fumbling her phone out of her pocket. It
slipped from her bloody fingers like a popsicle squeezed from
its sheath. Shoot, James, can you dine it for me, darling,
I'm a man, Yes, James picked up the phone. Uh, yes,
of course he's in your contact Is he as Miguel? Yes?
Just dialytn't give it back to me. James found Miguel's
name in her contacts and pressed call. He listened for
a second, then handed it back to her. It's ringing.
Lydia took the phone and pressed it to her ear.
She kept her eyes down as it continued to ring.
Come on, Miguel, for fox's sake, not picking up, said
the hipster. Lydia ignored him and listened until a prerecorded
Miguel told her in Spanish to leave a message. Shit.
After the tone, she said, Miguel, call me the moment
you get this message, okay, and I mean immediately, and
if you haven't started yet, don't abort Okay, call me back.
Having just lit a cigarette, the hipster blew a lung
full of smoke aside and said, aboard, that sounds pretty serious.
What's he doing, Lydia? Hang on, I have to try
the guy that's with him. Her slippery fingers managed to
select and call Gerald's number. She waited as the phone
rang and rang, and then went a voicemail. Jerry, it's Lydia.
Stop everything, aboat wherever you are when you get this message,
just stop and call me immediately immediately. She hung up
and dropped the phone down beside her. They could have
called me back. Oh good, and hopefully before they do
this thing you desperately don't want them to do, which
is Lydia pushed her hair from her eyes, smearing her
face with blood as she did so could she lie?
Should she? She looked at Celeste, who still held the
gun trained on her. He's oh shit, we didn't know, okay,
we didn't know there are any rules about this sort
of thing. I was just, you know, see my revenge,
revenge on your brother for the last time, Lydia. What
is it they're going to do? Lydia closed her eyes,
then sighed and slumped back against the bed. Miguel's going
to kill David's girlfriend, turn her into a vampire, and
then she's either going to infect David, which would be fabulous,
or he's going to kill her, which will also be fabulous.
And then they're either going to kill him there or
bring him back to London for me to kill depends
on you know, how it goes. Either way, It's all good,
except that now it isn't, is it? She waited for
the blast of rebuke. When it didn't come, she opened
her eyes and turned to face the screen. Through his
thicket of beard, she saw the hipster was smiling at her.
She raised her eyebrows. Is it, No, it's definitely not.
But I have to say, that is one evil plan
you've got there, don't you agree, mister clok It is
indeed fiendish. Mister Deray Deray, so that was his name.
It rang a bell with Lydia, though she couldn't place it.
Props to you for being such a badass, Lydia said Deray.
But you better hope that plan of yours does get
aboarded or your judgment will not go well. Judgment, What
do you mean? I mean? You have n't til sundown
here when our master awakes, he's going to want to
be informed. Of course. Now put Celeste on. He waved
a hand in an upward gesture, just tip the laptop
screen up so I can see her. Lydia pushed the
lid of the laptop back so it was facing up
at Celeste. Then Deray continued, Celeste, keep her there with you,
even if you have to wait beyond the sunrise, and Carlos,
as soon as those guys are hers get back to you, yes,
mister Doray. Abruptly, Deray reached out and shut his laptop,
severing the connection. Lydia looked at the screen for a moment,
then up to Celeste. What judgment it is exactly as
it sounds. It sounds pretty fucking brutal. It depends on
the crime. So if they killed David Anderwood's guardian, Oh,
this would be very serious. How serious the penalty its
death unless the defendant has a very good reason for
doing it, And I'm afraid that you don't. So I'm fucked.
Celeste smiled, never said die, Lydia. There's always a chance
that one of your associates will get some message in time.
Lydia considered where in the mission Miguel and Gerald would
be if they had their phones switched to silent mode.
Almost certainly they'd be either in the interaction stage with
Lisa or beyond it. She unscrewed the cap of the
gin and took another swig. She was indeed fucked. Who
are Deray and Cloak And what can Lydia now expects
from their master? The mentor and ally she was hoping
for or just judgment? Join me next time. Listeners for
season six, episode five of Underwood and Flinch. The music
you're listening to is Ahmad Armor by Farid Farjad from
the album and Rusa Volume four courtesy of Taranay Records
and our good friend Fahwas al Malud. You can stream
the track from Spotify, YouTube Music, Google Music and all
the other music streamers out there. And so there we are,
my friends, season six, episode four, and I hope you
enjoyed it. That's all from me for now, so have
a great month and I'll see you again next time.
Until then, my friends, when the moon rises again over
Underwood and Flinch, take care and farewell.