‘And you would actually choose to be like this?’ Alexandre tapped his own chest.
‘Who wouldn’t want to live forever?’
‘Me. I would never choose this. Never.’
‘I don’t believe you. You are thriving as a vampire. You love the power it affords you.’
‘No!’
‘Tell me, what was your life like before you were turned? Was it exciting? Were you fulfilled?’
Alexandre tried to banish the traitorous memories of his human frustrations, of his feelings of inadequacy and boredom.
Blythe smiled.
‘You’d better go. You have a plane to catch.’
Alexandre glared at the smug lawyer.
‘All this is nothing personal. You know that,’ Blythe said, getting to his feet. ‘I meant it when I said I liked you.’
‘That is not something to make me happy. You’re a vain old fool,’ Alexandre growled.
‘Goodbye, Alexandre. Good luck. I sincerely hope you make the right decision. A little knee-bending is not the end of the world you know.’
Alexandre turned and left the room, unable to listen to the man any longer. As he hurried down the stairs, he could sense the others in the street below. They had just pulled up outside the offices. He would fill them in and then they would have to plan their strategy well. He would not be drawn into ancient vampire politics; it was nothing to do with him. He and his family must be able to live freely. Bending the knee was one thing, but he wasn’t stupid, he knew it wouldn’t end there. These creatures were devoid of humanity. There was no reasoning with them, no negotiating or bargaining. They would require him to submit. This eternal life would never be his own again.
There was only one option – the Emperor had to die.
Chapter Nine
Cappadocia, 571 AD
*
Some days, Aelia thought her old life must have been a dream. Everything was so different now, here with Widow Maleina. But for all her sharp words and harsh looks, the old woman wasn’t all that bad. There was no affection, no softness, nor even politeness, but neither was she deliberately cruel. Aelia wasn’t a prisoner, she was free to leave at any time, but then where would she go? She was an outcast and knew no one else outside her village. The widow had asked her no personal questions and for that Aelia was grateful. It would be too humiliating and upsetting to have to recount everything. Equally, the widow offered up no information about herself.
A rhythm had evolved in their daily lives. It was Aelia’s job to sweep their dwelling and keep it clean and she would also wash their garments every week. The cave had its own underground spring and so trips to and from the distant river were unnecessary. Aelia missed the communal ritual of fetching water, but there were other opportunities to taste a little freedom. She would spend hours gathering firewood and sometimes she hiked the eight mile round trip to shop in the markets. Something else she enjoyed doing was collecting the wild herbs and roots which the old woman used in her medicines. For Widow Maleina was a healer.
Aelia had a basic knowledge of plants, but nothing like the wealth of information the old woman had begun to share with her. Every morning, before breakfast, they went out early to gather ingredients. Aelia was gradually learning how to cool fevers and soothe headaches; how to clean wounds, treat snake bites and even knit broken bones.
Visitors came to the cave every day and paid Widow Maleina to cure them of their sicknesses. At first, Aelia was the subject of scrutiny as each visitor eyed her with undisguised curiosity.
‘My niece,’ the widow barked at each of them, until the stares grew less intense.
Inevitably, Aelia’s thoughts often turned towards the family and friends she had left behind. She hoped her parents had forgiven her and she prayed her sisters had not been tainted by the shameful shadow she had cast over them. The other person she thought about was Lysus.
Aelia had been surprised by her feelings. She had thought she would be devastated by his casual betrayal. She had expected to sob and wail and be heartbroken at his treatment of her. But for him to throw that stone was the final insult. She had looked up to him, trusted him and had never doubted his word. Growing up, she had heard all the stories of grand love and how painful it can be to experience longing and rejection. But, after the initial shock, all Aelia felt towards Lysus was cold hatred. She cringed, when she remembered how willingly she had followed him, like a trusting puppy. She had been weak willed and gullible. How had she let him make such a fool of her? She had allowed him to destroy her life and ruin her family’s good name. One day he would feel her anger. One day he would pay.
*
Over the course of several weeks, Aelia became aware of the rumours. She overheard fragments of conversation in the market place and she was puzzled by odd questions from some of Widow Maleina’s patients. They were all talking about barbarians and an invasion of some sort.
One evening, as they sat cross-legged on the floor finishing their supper, Aelia plucked up the courage to ask the widow what was going on.
‘Is it true?’ Aelia asked.
‘What?’ the widow snapped. ‘Speak clearly or don’t speak at all.’
Aelia raised her voice. ‘Is it true the barbarians are coming? Everyone is talking about it. They’re saying that …’
‘Those gossips are all fools,’ Widow Maleina interrupted. ‘And so are you if you believe such rubbish.’
‘So why would they say it?’
‘Fetch me some more water.’
Aelia picked up the widow’s cup and hurried over to the spring at the back of the cave. She dipped in the vessel and scooped up some of the crystal clear liquid, hoping this wasn’t going to be the end of the conversation. She desperately wanted to know what was going on. She returned to see the widow mopping up her food with a scrap of flatbread. Aelia set the cup on the floor, unsure whether to sit back down or retire to her place at the back of the cave.
‘Stop looming,’ the widow said. ‘Sit down. You’re irritating me.’
Aelia did as she was bid; pleased she wasn’t being sent to bed yet.
‘Something bad is coming,’ the widow said. ‘Something we haven’t seen for centuries. It’s happening again.’
Aelia felt a chill. Widow Maleina continued talking:
‘I saved your life once before, my dear, and it seems I shall save you twice.’
‘Is it the invaders?’ Aelia asked.
‘I already told you that’s nonsense. Weren’t you listening? You can be so dim-witted sometimes. Perhaps your brain was damaged when I found you on the ground that day.’
Aelia bit her lip and lowered her head, ignoring her rudeness. It was like the woman didn’t know how to be any other way. She spoke in the same manner to her patients and they didn’t pay any mind to it either. So if not invaders, then what? What was Widow Maleina talking about? Maybe she was mad. But Aelia didn’t think so. In her opinion, the woman was sharp as a crow’s beak.
‘What is coming then?’ Aelia asked. ‘If not barbarians, then what is it that is so terrible?’
The widow eyed Aelia for a moment. ‘Demons.’
So she was mad after all.
‘You can doubt me but it won’t change the fact,’ said the widow. ‘Demons are among us and soon there will be more. Your family will perish along with everyone else.’
‘My family?’
‘I wouldn’t have thought you’d be worried about them. They cast you out did they not?’
‘How do you know about that? Anyway, it wasn’t my family who cast me out, it was the Praetor.’
‘Doesn’t matter. They didn’t prevent it. They didn’t come with you to make sure you were alright. They watched as you were sent out into the wilderness to die.’
The widow’s words stung.
‘That’s not true. My mother saved me from death.’
‘Pssht,’ the widow waved her hand to dismiss Aelia’s protests. ‘It’s not important. What is important is that we are sa
fe here. Everyone else is doomed. They will all die.’
‘What!’ Aelia got to her feet. ‘How? Why will they die?’
‘You’re making me tired with all of your questions. I thought you were a good girl, a quiet girl. I don’t want all this questioning. You want shelter here? Or you want to take your chances with the demons?’
Aelia took a breath. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to …’
‘I am tired now,’ Widow Maleina said. ‘All this chatter. I don’t like it.’ She stood and limped across to her sleeping quarters.
Aelia cleared away the supper things and retreated to her corner of the cave. None of the widow’s words made any sense. It must be nonsense. So why did she have such an uneasy feeling? Why did she believe every word the widow said?
Chapter Ten
Present Day
*
Madison shivered and reached for the quilt. She needed to pull it up to her chin to get warm. Where was the stupid thing? But as she felt around, she realised there was no quilt, there were no covers at all. And what was that smell? The air smelt damp and musty … horrible. And then she remembered.
She didn’t want to open her eyes for fear of what she might see, but they opened anyway. The bed she lay on was narrow and covered in a grubby white sheet. Sitting up, she took in her surroundings and her stomach lurched. A concrete floor, bare stained walls, no windows and a noisy, whining strip light. The room was small with two doors. Her head pounded and her mouth tasted disgusting, like six-month-old milk. Her wrists and ankles hurt where they had been tied together. She gave them a rub and winced as she saw the red raw flesh.
Sliding off the bed, Maddy staggered across the three feet required to reach the nearest door. It rattled in its hinges as she tried the handle - locked. She gave the base of the door a half-hearted kick before heading over to the second door. This handle creaked and the door opened inwards to darkness. Maddy patted the wall until she found the light switch. Another strip light buzzed on, illuminating a sink, a toilet and a blackened shower head protruding from the ceiling. Everything was caked in layers of grime, rust and other stuff which she’d rather not think about. Shallow pools of liquid lay on the floor. She wrinkled her nose, turned off the light and closed the door. What the hell was going on?
She strode across to the locked door and rattled it again, harder than before.
‘Hey!’ Her fist pounded against the peeling paintwork. ‘Open the door! Hey! Is anyone out there?’
She put her ear to the door and listened hard but all she heard was her own ragged breathing. No sound came from outside. Either there was no one there, or they were ignoring her. Well, they couldn’t ignore her forever, could they? They had brought her here for a reason and she’d probably find out what it was soon enough. Maddy shivered. She was still wearing the same boots, jeans and sweater she had on at the ice rink, but it was freezing in here. Scanning the room, she spied a dark shape on the floor near the end of the bed. It was her parka. She picked it up and shrugged it on, then checked for her mittens, but the pockets were empty. Never mind. The coat was toasty and she zipped it up to her chin and shoved her hands back into her pockets.
Suddenly, the light spluttered and went out. Darkness. Silence. Maddy’s skin crawled and fear clutched at her belly. She took a breath and told herself that whoever had taken her hadn’t harmed her. They obviously wanted her alive. For now at least. She shuffled over to the low bed, climbed on and brought her knees up to her chest, hugging them in tight to her body.
Alex would find her soon and then her captors would be sorry. She wouldn’t like to be them when he arrived. She remembered what Alex had done to that slimy solicitor, Vasey-Smith, when he’d held her at gunpoint - Alex had broken his neck with a flick of his wrist. She wished he’d hurry up and find her now because she was beginning to freak out and this place was rank. She was cold, hungry and felt so grotty that the vain part of her almost didn’t want Alex to come and see her like this with her hair all greasy and her X-rated breath.
Images of warm bubble baths, crisp cotton duvets and toothpaste floated into her head, followed by the picture of one of Esther’s home-cooked roast dinners with mountains of crispy potatoes and treacle tart for pudding. Her stomach gurgled and she banished the image from her mind. No, she couldn’t waste time wishing for the impossible; she needed to work out how she was going to get out of here. Part of her brain was telling her to crumple down onto the bed and sob her eyes out, but Maddy refused to give in to it. She needed to be strong and clear-headed, she couldn’t dissolve into tears.
A whirring noise broke the silence, followed by a crackle and a pop and then the humming sound of the strip light flared into life again. Once more, Madison was forced to take in her depressing surroundings and she decided she would have preferred to remain in darkness.
Maddy dozed on the bed, leaning back against the wall. Sometime later, she didn’t know how long, she was startled awake by a jingling sound. The locked door opened and Maddy opened her eyes and immediately sat upright. It was dark. The power must have gone again. Someone entered the room. Maddy’s heart began to race.
‘Hey,’ Maddy croaked. ‘Who are you? Why am I here?’
The light flickered on and off a couple of times illuminating a slim girl just a little taller than Maddy - maybe 5’3 or 5’4. She wore her hair in a French plait.
The girl didn’t look at her. She put something down on the end of the bed and made to leave. The room plunged back into darkness.
‘Hey, wait a minute. Where are you going? You have to help me.’
The girl ignored Maddy, her dim outline heading towards the door. Still groggy with sleep, Maddy jumped off the bed and stumbled across the room.
‘Hey! I’m talking to you. Why have you got me locked up? Who are you?’
But the girl had left the room. Maddy groped around for the door handle and pulled, but she wasn’t quick enough. The girl had already locked the door.
The generator kicked in and the strip light came on properly.
‘Oh yes, now the light decides to stay on.’ Madison could’ve screamed. How had she allowed herself to miss such a perfect opportunity for escape? She could’ve kicked that girl’s ass easily and bolted out of the door. What a total idiot. She didn’t even think the girl had any kind of weapon and all Maddy had done was gawp uselessly at her.
Next time she’d be totally prepared, as long as there was a next time. But she knew it wouldn’t be as easy as all that. There had to be more people outside the door somewhere. Back at Gloucester Cathedral there’d been several men in that van. God, the evening at the skating rink seemed like weeks ago. But it couldn’t have been more than a day or two. The others must be worried sick. Poor Ben, he’d be going crazy by now.
Maddy looked at the bed: the girl had left a bottle of water and a plate with a couple of slices of bread and a pear. Not exactly one of Esther’s roast dinners, but she was starving and it looked pretty good to her. Soon the plate was empty and Maddy felt hungrier than ever. She sipped at the water and thought about how she could overpower the girl. Her eyes rested on the plate. It was cheap pottery and should break easily enough. She walked into the vile bathroom and turned on the light. Then she closed the door behind her.
Tentatively, Maddy banged the plate on the chipped tile floor. It didn’t break, so she brought it down a little heavier. It was vital it didn’t smash into tiny pieces. She wanted a pointed shard which she could use as a weapon. This time, the plate broke in half. She held one of the pieces and banged it against the wall. Part of it dropped on the floor and shattered, but Maddy was left holding a large triangular piece which would be perfect. She allowed herself a grim smile.
Maddy had been in a few scraps before, but never anything like this. Well, not unless you included the time she’d tried to kill Alexandre with a pickaxe. But that was before she knew him. She wasn’t going to try and kill the girl anyway; she would just try to incapacitate her. Should she stab her in the a
rm or the leg? The eye would be good, but she didn’t think she had the stomach to do it. She’d better decide quickly and decide well, because this might be the only chance she’d get to escape.
*
They had arranged to transport themselves to Turkey in packing crates. Not a particularly glamorous or comfortable way to travel, but there wasn’t enough time to arrange passports and this way it meant they could travel safely by day. As usual, they were all gathered in the large living area of the basement. It was late morning and the marble mantel clock showed twenty past eleven.
‘But how will we ensure the aeroplane people will not open the crates? What if one of them opens a crate in daylight?’ Isobel said.
‘They won’t open them,’ Alexandre replied.
‘But how do you know?’
‘Easy,’ Ben said. ‘Just mark the crates: ‘Light-Sensitive Artwork – Do Not Open in Daylight’.
Jacques grinned. ‘Would that work? It sounds a little strange to me.’
‘We did it at school. Light damage is called ‘photochemical deterioration’. That’s why they don’t let you use flash photography in art galleries.’
‘Interesting,’ said Leonora. ‘Do you think that’s what happens to us? Photochemical deterioration? Maybe vampires have an extreme version of this condition?’
‘Maybe,’ Ben said. ‘Let me see if I can remember what our teacher said … Light energy is absorbed by the molecules of an object and this can start a chemical reaction. Each molecule needs a certain amount of energy to begin a chemical reaction with other molecules. It’s called something like activation energy. Different types of molecules have different activation energies. Maybe a vampire’s activation energy is really weak or something.’
‘Wow, Ben. You’re really quite clever,’ Jacques said.
‘Yes,’ Freddie agreed. ‘That is very enlightening.’
‘Don’t sound so surprised,’ Ben said, flushing under their admiring stares.
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