Thicker Than
Blood
Book Two
Marchwood Vampire Series
Shalini Boland
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SMASHWORDS EDITION
Copyright © Shalini Boland 2012
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This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of
the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, events, locales or organisations is entirely coincidental.
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Smashwords Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
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http://www.shaliniboland.co.uk
Chapter One
Cappadocia 571 AD
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The stream tickled her heels. She pointed her toes and wriggled them under the cool clear water, watching the red dirt swirl away from her feet. She was pleased with herself for giving the others the slip. I mean, what would they do? Scold her possibly … warn her never to go off again. She would say she had fallen asleep, lost track of time, something or other … She just needed a few moments alone, that was all.
It was funny how she couldn’t stop smiling. So this was what it felt like. She had never in her life felt anything like this before. This was the secret that the women would not speak about in front of her. But now she knew. She was part of it now. She didn’t need to eavesdrop anymore.
She shouldn’t have done it. It was wrong and dangerous and she couldn’t even guess at the trouble she would be in if anyone found out. But it had felt so right and so … beautiful. Yes. She had felt very beautiful. She bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. She glanced over her shoulder, making sure no one was around. Her thoughts were so loud, she almost worried someone would hear them.
It was not really such a terrible thing to have done. They would be married of course and then it wouldn’t matter. He had assured her that they would wed as soon as they were able. And then they could be together whenever they liked. But for now it would have to be kept secret. A stolen moment. Like this, here, sitting alone on the bank of the stream. A moment in time to treasure and keep safe.
Aelia narrowed her eyes against the glare of the sun and looked down at her toes again. She frowned. Something had brushed up against her foot. Oh! A bird. It was dead and bloated, its beady eye unseeing. She shuddered and pulled her feet out of the water. Time to go home before someone missed her.
She slipped her wet feet into her sandals, stood up and smoothed down her tunic. The sun had not yet dipped behind the hill, she could relax; she would not yet be missed. Aelia picked up the water urn and headed back towards the village. She wished she might catch a glimpse of him this evening, but that would be a near impossibility. They lived at opposite ends of the village.
She had grown up with Lysus. He was the strongest, the funniest and certainly the most handsome boy in the village. He was older than she, but had recently started to pay her some attention, which had caused her friends to tease her and some to cast her envious glances. His father was the village leader, and so Lysus would be a good catch.
Yesterday, he had sought her out during the hot afternoon when everyone was asleep. He had dared to sneak into their courtyard, had jerked his head towards the lane and left as quickly as he had arrived. She had followed him. She was such a model daughter that nobody would ever think her capable of doing something so daring.
And he had been waiting for her, had drawn her around the side of a house, had stroked her cheek and teased out a blonde curl of hair from beneath her head-cloth. She had blushed and tried to brush away his hand, but he grasped her fingers and put them to his cheek and then to his mouth. His eyes were gentle, but his grip on her was quite firm, making her grow weak with some feeling she couldn’t identify.
She supposed the mere act of leaving her house unaccompanied had given Lysus a signal. He had assumed something and she had not dissuaded him of those thoughts.
‘You have grown pretty, Aelia. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.’
She bowed her head, not knowing what to say.
‘Will you walk with me, away from the village for a while?” He still held her hand and his eyes twinkled.
‘I cannot. I will be missed. I must return to …’
‘Just for a short while. We’ll be back before anyone wakes up.’
Aelia had been flattered and nervous and so let herself be persuaded. She followed him around the back lanes, terrified and excited, her head-cloth pulled across her face in case she was recognised. What was she doing? She knew it was madness, but some unknown force was pushing her on.
She still couldn’t work out how it had happened. They had been walking and then they had sat and talked about the heat and about some of her friends in the village. He had said she was the only one he could think about. That she was driving him to distraction with her unblemished skin and graceful hands. That he would give up everything for just a glimpse of her wrist, her ankle, her neck...
She had become dizzy under his warm gaze and had raised her hand to her face, letting her sleeve drop to reveal the honey skin of her arm. He had smiled and bent to kiss the flesh on her forearm. The rest was a haze of heat and feeling.
Unable to believe it had happened, she had cried afterwards and he had soothed her with kisses and promises. They would be married. Her parents would be thrilled at the match.
Either through her own eyes or those of a stranger, her childhood had been idyllic. A cocoon of love, warmth, joy and innocence. Born to a family poor in money but rich in happiness, Aelia had thrived and blossomed, secure in her skin. Her village was small and remote with its own customs and traditions; strong family values, but no tolerance for any other way. Thus, village life had been blissfully uneventful – until now.
Her father was an artisan, the village potter, and she was the eldest of four daughters. She didn’t doubt that her father would be thrilled at the match, as long as he didn’t guess what had already happened. But his parents might not be so happy. She doubted that she was what they had planned for their only son.
Of all of her friends she was probably the least likely to have done what she had done. Verina or Licinia - she could imagine them giving into a boy. She had heard them talk immodestly on more than a few occasions. But they would never in a million years believe that she could be so … so wanton. Well she would never tell them, never tell anyone. It was her and Lysus’ secret; one they would laugh about once they were married.
And now a fingernail of sun slipped behind the hill as Aelia walked into the village carrying the heavy jug of water. It was quiet. Something felt different. She glanced around and strained her ears. There was no chatter, no clacking of pots as meals were prepared, no children playing outside. The dwellings were silent and still.
She tiptoed cautiously up the main path and turned left as the eerie silence followed her. Had everyone fled? Had some foe attacked their peaceful village? Should she knock on someone’s door and ask? She walked up to a house, set the jug of water on the ground and raised her hand to rap on the door, but then lost her courage and lowered it again. She was too scared to make a sound in the echoing silence. Her throat felt dry. She scooped up some water from the urn and drank a few sips. Then wiped her wet hands on her tunic and resumed her course
towards home, along the silent road. A dog barked twice and a startled bird cawed. Her heart beat loud in her ears. The sun was halfway behind the hill now.
Suddenly she made out a murmur of voices. As she walked, the murmur grew louder. It became a buzz and a hum, like a chattering crowd. She sensed … fear? No, more like agitation and anger. The closer she got to home, the louder the noise. A new seed of worry began to grow in her chest.
Aelia quickened her pace, a pearl of sweat formed at her breastbone and slid down towards her navel. She rounded the last corner and saw a gathering of people. It looked as though half the village was standing outside her house. Shafts of evening sunlight striped everyone with swirling dust motes. As she approached, the crowd gradually grew silent and all eyes gazed at her, but Aelia couldn’t read their expressions. She could still hear a couple of voices, one of which was the croaky sound of her father. His normally quiet tones, now raised loud and angry.
What on earth was going on? She tried to find a face in the crowd, a friend who might smile and tell her what was happening. But each time she tried to catch someone’s eye, their gaze fell away to the floor. Her fear was really taking hold now, squeezing itself around her ribs and numbing her thoughts. As she walked woodenly towards her house, the crowd parted to let her through. Whatever had happened, she and her family must be at the centre of it. Within seconds she was outside her dwelling where she saw her father arguing with Praetor Garidas the village leader. Her mother saw her and stumbled over to where she stood.
‘You stupid, stupid girl!’ her mother shrieked and grabbed hold of her arms, shaking her so that she dropped the water urn. It shattered and the liquid soaked quickly into the parched ground. But now her mother was holding her and sobbing into her shoulder.
Only a thin slice of sun was left sitting on the top of the rocky hill, its light now a heavy orange glow. Aelia suddenly realised what was happening. She understood the reason for the crowd, for the argument between her father and Praetor Garidas and for her mother’s inconsolable disappointment. Aelia understood that it was her fault and that her life would never be the same again.
Chapter Two
Present Day
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Sitting on her ass on the freezing ice after having skidded into an inelegant tumble, Madison thought that if there was ever a perfect moment to remember forever, this was it. The tears streamed down her cheeks as she tried to think of insults to hurl at the others, who were almost puking with laughter at her, but she couldn’t get the words out because she couldn’t stop laughing either.
It had been Leonora’s idea to come ice skating, because she’d said she and Freddie used to go skating a lot before.
The others had been enthusiastic too, but Maddy wasn’t keen at all. She’d never ice skated in her life. She’d never even roller-skated, or bladed or whatever the hell else kind of skating there was, due to the whole ‘being-in-care-and-then-fostered’ and ‘never-having-any-fun’ thing. She’d been worried she would look like an idiot. And now, here she was on her ass, looking like an idiot. But the funny thing was, she didn’t care, she really didn’t.
Gloucester Cathedral had turned its cloisters garden into a temporary ice rink for the whole of November and December. In one of the cloisters, a brass band played Good King Wenceslas and in another, chestnuts roasted on a brazier. Right at the centre of the glistening ice floor stood a twenty foot Christmas tree studded with teeny tiny white lights which echoed the stars in the inky blue night sky. It was so beautiful here; like something on a Christmas card. The rink was only small, but it had been large enough for her to get up enough speed to completely and utterly embarrass herself.
After nervously skate-walking around the edge, Madison had finally plucked up enough courage to let go of Alex’s hand. She had soon found her rhythm, but became over-confident, flying off with no control smack bang into Miss Look-at-me-aren’t-I-gorgeous-and-can’t-I-skate-way-better-than-any-of-you-plebs. The girl had been doing some fancy spinning ballet number until Maddy had barrelled into her, and grabbed the girl’s waist to steady herself, like some illegal rugby tackle, sending them both skidding across the rink and taking out random skaters on their way. If this was ice-skating, Maddy thought she might be addicted.
Now, Alexandre glided up to her and held out his hand. Maddy gave him a fake glare, took his hand and let herself be helped up.
‘That was quite something,’ he said.
‘I do all my own stunts,’ she replied.
He held her face and kissed her lightly on the lips.
‘Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?’
‘Bruised, but I’ll live.’
‘Hey, Maddy!’ Ben shouted across the rink. ‘That was awesome!’ He shuffled towards her, holding onto Isobel to steady himself. ‘Wish I’d videoed it. Could’ve got loads of Youtube hits with footage like that.’ He broke down into fits of laughter.
‘Yeah and the Youtube sequel would’ve been ‘Sister murders her brat of a brother’,’ Maddy retorted.
‘Are you alright, Madison?’ Isobel asked. ‘I have never seen anything quite like that before.’
The others skated over to see if Maddy was okay and to laugh some more.
‘That girl looks very angry,’ Leonora said.
They all turned to see the girl in question skating towards them, her glare fierce enough to melt the ice.
‘You shouldn’t be on here, if you can’t keep yourself under control,’ the girl snapped as she spun to a halt.
‘I’m really sorry,’ Maddy said with an ill-concealed smirk.
‘It’s not funny. You could’ve killed someone.’
‘Sorry,’ Maddy repeated.
‘Calm down, it was an accident,’ Ben said.
The girl gave them all a dirty look and skated off.
‘Say cheese,’ Isobel said, holding out her phone to take a photo. They all tilted their heads together and pulled silly grins.
‘Will you show up on there?’ Ben asked.
‘What do you mean?’ Freddie replied.
‘Well, I didn’t think vampires could show up on photos.’
‘Yeah,’ Freddie said, ‘and we’re also allergic to garlic, crosses and daytime TV.’
‘Okay, okay,’ Ben replied. ‘I didn’t know. Just asking. You always see it in films don’t you – no reflections in mirrors and stuff.’
‘Don’t scare Isobel like that,’ Jacques said. ‘She’d die if she couldn’t see herself in a mirror. She wouldn’t be able to do her hair properly.’
‘Oh, Jacques,’ Isobel replied. ‘You’re so funny, you should be a comedian.’
‘I know. I crack myself up.’
‘No, really, you should.’ She pushed him off balance, so he skidded across the rink. Isobel smirked.
‘Anyone want a hot chocolate? Ben?’ Maddy said, knowing the others wouldn’t be interested. ‘I need something sweet to take the edge of my humiliation.’
‘Yeah, Mads. Can I have whipped cream and marshmallows on mine? And a chocolate flake?’
Maddy raised her eyebrows. ‘Shall I see if they can fit a jacket potato and a tub of ice cream on there too?’ She turned away from her brother, wrapped her arms around Alexandre and kissed him again.
‘Urgh, you two are so gross,’ Ben said, pretending to throw up. ‘Don’t forget the flake.’ He shouted, attempting to skate off.
‘I won’t be long,’ Maddy murmured into Alexandre’s ear.
‘I’ll come with you,’ he replied.
‘No, stay and skate. I’ll only be a few minutes.’
‘Make sure you are.’ He held her mittened hand and kissed it before letting her go.
Maddy skate-walked to the edge of the rink where she sat on a bench, stuffed her mittens in her pocket and began to unlace her boots. God, Alex was so amazing. Life was so amazing. She smiled to herself and gave a small snort of laughter as she pictured herself flying into that girl.
‘I’m such an idiot,’ she said out loud.
She smiled back and carried on unlacing her boots.
‘Very impressive,’ he said.
‘Huh?’
‘Your skating manoeuvre out there – very impressive.’
‘Oh. Yeah. Thanks. I mean, God, so embarrassing.’
‘We all have to start somewhere.’
‘I suppose. But most people don’t start by taking down half the population of Gloucester.’
‘True.’
‘Well, see you round,’ she said, standing up, her boots in her hand.
‘Sure. See you round,’ he said.
Maddy glanced around until her eyes landed on the signpost to the café and she headed away from the cloisters towards the alleyway.
*
Alexandre watched Madison as she slipped and slid across the ice towards the edge of the rink. He was suddenly overcome with a feeling of such intense happiness, it almost scared him. He loved her so much. Too much. All those years ago, when he and his siblings had become these creatures, he had accepted that he would never know happiness again, that his life was effectively over. But here, now, he felt as though he had reached the pinnacle of everything. This was what life was about - this place, this time, this girl.
The night air was crisp and sharp and the scent of blood was sweet in his nostrils. He would hunt later, but he could ignore the call for now.
‘Come on, Alex!’ Jacques called, skating over. ‘Stop mooning about after Maddy. You’re embarrassing yourself.’
It was incredible how quickly his younger brother had adapted to twenty first century life. It was as though Jacques was made for this era. He already had a full vocabulary of contemporary British slang and he, Freddie and Ben were a regular little clique or, what was the word? Posse? Ugh, Alexandre cringed. He preferred his own colloquialisms and felt foolish attempting to use modern-day terminology; like he was trying too hard. It just didn’t sound right.
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