‘That’s right,’ Madison replied, looking at him in amazement. He was so like his brother. His mannerisms and everything just echoed Alexandre.
‘And you are sure it is quite safe?’ Isobel asked for the tenth time.
‘You are immortal, Isobel,’ said Jacques. ‘You will not die even if we do come crashing down.’
‘Please, Jacques,’ she said. ‘Do not talk about crashing. And what is wrong with travelling by train or by carriage?’
‘There is nothing wrong with it, unless you are vampire and dawn is approaching fast. This machine will take us back in double quick time. Is that not correct, Madison?’
‘That is correct, Jacques,’ she agreed. Madison loved the way they spoke to one another with that easy familiarity of siblings. She instantly missed Ben, feeling like she hadn’t seen him for days and felt an overwhelming need to hug him.
Climbing down from the helicopter, she looked out across the tarmac roof. Where was he? Come on Alexandre, come on. She walked across the roof, away from the chopper. Suddenly she was caught up in his arms as he carried her swiftly back to the waiting helicopter.
‘Allez! Allez! Go! Go!’ Alexandre shouted. Madison sat cradled on his lap and she felt the exhilaration of safety and the warm sensation of relief that he was at last here with her.
The blades whirred above their heads, beating in time with her heart. She rested her head on his chest and he took one of her hands and kissed the tips of her fingers. Alexandre ignored the raised eyebrows of the others, as he bent his head to kiss her lips. She scraped her nails gently down the side of his face and pressed her body in towards him. He was hers and she was his. They were lost in each other as the helicopter took off high above the city and banked west, back towards Gloucestershire and Marchwood House.
One Month Later
It was a late August moonlit night and Jacques and Freddie were helping Ben to climb to the top of the tallest tree in the wood. He was doing pretty well on his own, but Madison had said he was not to do it unless he was with one or other of the boys. As Ben reached the uppermost branch he poked his head through the thick foliage and pulled himself onto the wide bough, sitting astride it with a daring bounce.
He gasped in wonder at the panoramic view. He could see everything. For miles. But these far reaching vistas were not nearly so dear to him as the views closer to home - the rolling grounds of his beloved house. He caught glimpses of the deer as they slept under the spreading chestnut tree. The green spiked fruit was nearly ready to yield its knobbly brown conkers and he couldn’t wait to bake and varnish them, ready for the new school term.
He looked up towards the house and his eyes rested on the stables where seven horses slept. Next to the house he smiled at the timbered roof of their newly constructed garage which now housed a fantastic array of fast cars, 4x4s and motorbikes.
The nights were finally drawing in and the air held the faintest hint of autumn. He could make out the figures of the others, sitting on the lawn under a perfectly round harvest moon. Isobel was plaiting Leonora’s raven hair and Madison and Alexandre sat only inches apart, probably chatting about everything and nothing. Ben heard Jacques and Freddie good-naturedly insulting each other through the boughs beneath him.
The breeze ruffled his hair and he breathed in the sweet night-scented air. They were a strange family, the seven of them, but they were indeed a family and Ben had never before had such a feeling of belonging. No more crappy care facilities, no more foster parents. This was it. This was his life. He was finally home.
###
Thicker Than Blood, Book 2 in the Marchwood Vampire Series, coming soon …
OUTSIDE
a post-apocalyptic road-trip romance
Read the first few pages of Shalini Boland's new novel now...
*
Prologue
*
The woman swung the huge armoured vehicle out through the iron gates and turned left onto the poor excuse for a dirt track that ran parallel to the Perimeter. She remembered when Britain was open and free with real roads, pavements even, before all the trouble started.
As she turned, the full glare of the dying evening sun blinded her and she flicked on the windscreen filter. She heard a muffled thud, looked to her left and saw a dark figure lying by the side of the fence. She didn’t stop, but glanced in her wing mirror and made brief eye contact with him as he lifted his head.
‘A man,’ she breathed out. She’d been holding her breath for quite a time and sucked in another lungful of air. She felt a lip-biting pang of concern, realising she must have hit him. But everybody knew you didn’t stop for anything outside the Perimeter. I’m sure he’ll be okay. She reasoned, convinced and then banished her conscience.
‘Won‘t be long now,’ she said to herself, looking ahead at the vast tract of wilderness.
Chapter One
Riley
*
Pa is a black marketeer. Nobody and everybody knows this. Pa pays people not to rock the boat. He pays the guards, he pays the neighbours and he even pays his friends. He pays off just about everyone – a litre of whisky here and a bag of sugar there, and in return we live a life of ease and comfort. Pa believes in the carrot approach just as much as the punishing stick. As long as he doesn’t draw too much attention to himself from the wrong quarters, we’re safe and free.
Pa can get his hands on just about anything from before. If you’ve got a craving for a pot noodle he can probably magic one up from somewhere. But it’ll cost you all you’ve got and more besides. Pa isn’t swayed by threats or tears. He’ll hold fast and stare you down and if you can’t pay you might get a bullet in your head, or worse.
This morning, my parents are standing together in the doorway of the sitting room. Behind me, the sun floods in through the windows and they edge closer to avoid squinting into the too-bright light.
Both their faces are ghost white and Ma’s nose and eyes look pink and swollen. She shivers and her teeth chatter as though she’s chilled and it isn’t the warm July morning it appears to be.
‘Riley, can you sit down?’ Pa asks.
‘Okay,’ I say. They’re acting weird. It’s freaking me out.
‘Riley ...’ Pa says, running his hands through his hair. He comes over and crouches down in front of me. He takes both my hands in his and looks into my eyes. His intense expression is making me uncomfortable. I want to look away.
‘What? What is it?’ I ask, not sure if I want to hear his reply.
‘Something’s happened.’
‘What?’
‘Riley, it’s your sister.’
I shake my head. ‘Where is she? Where’s Skye?’
‘She’s … Oh I’m so sorry, baby, she’s dead.’
‘I look at Pa and then I look up at Ma. They stare at me, a look of horror on their faces. What are they talking about?
I feel my face contort. The sound that comes out of my throat is not a cry or a scream or even a sob. But a laugh. A strangled giggle. A short staccato burst of inappropriateness. I cover my mouth with my hands.
‘Riley! Did you hear what I said?’ Pa stands up, shocked and angry. ‘I just told you your little sister is …’
‘I heard you,’ I whisper.
‘So why the hell are you laughing?’ His anger grows and his voice suddenly booms. ‘What can possibly be funny about …’
‘… I don’t know, I don’t know.’ I try to absorb what he’s telling me. ‘I don’t know why I laughed. I don’t know.’ It’s true. I have no idea where that reaction came from. Why would I do something so awful? No wonder Pa’s mad.
I can’t process the other thing. The thing Pa told me.
‘You don’t know?’ He stands up. ‘She doesn’t know!’ he shouts to no one in particular.
‘Stop it!’ Ma says to him. ‘She’s in shock.’
Pa turns to look at her and then turns back to me. His face suddenly loses its hardness, like melting ice cream.
‘Of cou
rse. She’s in shock,’ he murmurs. ‘We’re all in shock.’ And then something really horrible happens. My powerful, strong, wonderful Pa starts crying. Proper messy crying where his face twists and his voice sounds broken. I’m appalled. Pa never cries.
‘Pa …’
I’m not a typical daddy’s girl. I love the bones of him, but I feel easiest around Ma. We always talk make-up, fashion, gossipy stuff and laugh a lot together. Skye belongs to Pa and Pa definitely belongs to Skye. They’re a team. I never feel excluded exactly, but I don’t have the same natural connection they do … did.
I stare down at the patterns on the carpet. I’ve never noticed just how vivid the individual colours are. The over-all effect is of a soft warmth, but I focus on a particular strand of red that seems almost luminous, as if it’s going to jump out of the weave and hit me in the face.
*
I wake up in my parents’ bed. A moment of peace and then everything rushes towards me in a crash of disbelief and pain…
Skye.
Ma lies next to me on top of the quilt, humming in a scary way while she strokes the hair off my face. I must have blacked out, fainted or something after they told me Skye was ... And I had laughed. How can that be? Is there something wrong with me?
‘Ma.’ I speak gently, as if talking to a young child, but she carries on humming. ‘Ma!’ I pull away from her and wrench her hands from my hair. ‘What happened to Skye? Where is she? She can’t be …’
‘Sh, sh baby,’ she croons to me and kisses my forehead.
‘Ma, you’re scaring me. Are you okay?’ I can hear the tremor in my voice.
‘Everything will be alright’, she says in a strange new childish way. ‘Just sleep and it will be okay.’
I throw myself out of bed, run out of the bedroom and almost fall down the stairs to find my father. He’s standing in the lounge talking to some of the guards, including Roger Brennan, the Head of Perimeter Security.
Even though we don’t really speak to any of them, we know all the guards by name. They’ve guarded the Talbot Woods Perimeter for the past sixteen- and-a-half years since the fences first went up, just before I was born.
This spring a new guard started - Liam. This thrilled us as we rarely get to see new people. On his first day, his watch stopped and Skye and I sneaked him a new battery out of Pa’s supplies. Since then, we’ve been friends of a sort. We’ve never properly chatted, but he’s about nineteen or twenty and always has a wink and a flirty comment for us which makes us blush and think he’s wonderful.
The only other people we see are those who live in the Perimeter and of course the delivery drivers, trades people and the army. Occasionally we get a glimpse through the wire fence at a rare passer by.
I wait downstairs in a blur of grief and anxiety until the guards finally excuse themselves and leave Pa sitting on the sofa. I desperately need to speak to him to make sense of what he told me. I stupidly start to hope there’s some reasonable explanation and Skye will come running in to ask us what we’re making such a fuss about.
Pa stands up and holds his arms out to me. I stumble into them and breathe in his comforting smell of diesel oil and cologne. We sit next to each other on the sofa, his arm around me. He kisses my hair and strokes my cheek with his fist.
‘You alright?’ he asks gruffly.
‘No,’ I reply.
‘No,’ he echoes.
‘What happened?’ I ask in a quiet voice. ‘How can she be gone? It’s Skye. She’s my sister. She can’t not be here anymore.’
‘I don’t know. Luc found her this morning.’
‘Luc?’
My sister thinks … thought seventeen-year-old Luc Donovan was the cat’s pyjamas. This summer especially, he’s all she talked about. Luc’s so good looking, Luc’s so amazing. She adored him. I always pretend to be disinterested when he’s around and I’m sure he thinks I’m a stuck up cow. Pa’s voice interrupts my thoughts.
‘Luc found her next door, in their poolhouse. It was an accident. She … she fell through the glass door …’
‘What? That doesn’t sound right. How can you fall through a door?’
‘I don’t know, Riley. But I’m bloody well going to find out. The guards are questioning Luc right now. I’m going down there and I’m going to get some answers.’
‘Skye …’ I say. ‘It can’t be true.’
Pa stands up. ‘I’ll be back in a minute. I’m just going to check on your mother.’ He walks quickly from the room and I know he’s crying again. He doesn’t want me to see.
What Pa told me doesn’t make any sense. I have to speak to someone, to find out what happened. Nothing feels real. I haven’t even cried. I open our front door and walk down the driveway. Liam, the new guard, is standing outside our house. I hesitate, wanting to know every terrible detail but at the same time I can’t bear to find out.
‘Liam!’ I call out.
He looks across at me with awkward pity and I can tell he’d rather be anywhere else than here with me, Skye’s sister.
‘Riley, I’m sorry about Skye,’ he calls over, not making any move to come towards me. ‘I can’t be talking to you about this though.’
‘But she’s my sister. I’ve got more right to know than you have.’ It comes out sounding angrier than I meant.
Liam chews his lip and strides towards me. He takes hold of my arm and leads me back up the drive and around the side of the house. There’s a heat haze shimmering up off the ground … or is it my vision blurring? He takes off his guard’s hat and twirls it around nervously in his hands. A grade one buzz cut shows off a nasty scar on his forehead where you can see the stitch marks, but handsome features offset this bullet-proof exterior. I’m pretty sure he’s the coolest person I know.
‘Okay, I’ll tell you what I know,’ he says. ‘But I don’t want to and it’s not nice.’
* * * * *
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
*
Shalini Boland graduated from Bournemouth University with a BA Honours degree in Business Studies. She lives in Dorset with her husband and two sons where she writes songs and novels (in between doing the school runs and hanging out endless baskets of washing).
*
Her second novel in the Marchwood Vampire Series Thicker Than Blood will be published soon. For more information visit www.shaliniboland.co.uk
*
Connect Online:
Follow on Twitter
http://twitter.com/#!/ShaliniBoland
Hidden on Facebook
http://www.facebook.com/Hidden.MarchwoodVampireSeries
Outside on Facebook
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Acknowledgements
*
Lots of people to thank and I don’t want to leave anybody out.
Firstly, it’s got to be my gorgeous mum, who’s always been incredibly encouraging about my writing and about my life in general.
Thanks also to my late father who gave me the workaholic gene
and taught me to always follow my dreams.
Endless thanks to my husband, Pete Boland, who is my
strongest champion. He’s also brave enough to also tell me
the bits he didn’t like and for that I’m so-o grateful.
Thanks to my brother, Neil, and my best friend, Sarah Samuel,
for their over-the-top enthusiasm. Love you both!
The writing community on Harper Collins’ Authonomy site has really helped me knock my story into shape. Among the most helpful and wonderful: Amy Bates, Sessha Batto, Simon Betterton, Rachael Cox, Robert Craven, Paul Dayton, Stella Deleuze, Becca Hamilton, Lorraine Holloway, Gerry Johnston, Sian O’Leary, B. Lloyd, Lisa Scullard, Brian Todd, Suzy Turner and T.L. Tyson. There are others … you know who you are.
Thanks also to the stupendously talented Simon Tucker
for such an awesome book cover.
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