by Mia James
She rummaged further in the suitcase and pulled out a cancelled passport – her dad with an embarrassing 1990s haircut. A sort of half-mullet. There were a lot of stamps for Romania. Had they been going back to see her mum’s family? Why hadn’t April ever gone? There was also an envelope with birth certificates inside – hers, her mother’s. One with the name Hamilton, the other as Silvia Vladescu. April knew that name, because it was written on the tomb her father was buried in. But why would her mum have it on her birth certificate? Didn’t Grandpa tell me he’d changed their name when he came over in the sixties? Suddenly something clicked in her mind. She leafed back through the diary to the days before her dad was killed. She was sure she had seen that name before. And there it was: ‘Vladescu – Rom?’ and a phone number. One she recognised. Her grandfather’s.
April frowned. Was there something about her family which they were keeping from her? Duh, stupid question – of course there was. Every time she’d ever asked anything about the family’s background, her mother and grandfather had changed the subject. Well, it was about time she found out what they were hiding from her.
She leafed through a few more invoices and receipts. A lawnmower, a flight to Edinburgh. Then she pulled out a glossy brochure: a Ravenwood prospectus. Inside were sheets of information – educational standards, exam records, safety procedures (ah, the irony), policy on bullying (double irony – she wondered if it covered being recruited into a vampire cult) and endless pictures of the happy smiling faces of students messing about with test tubes and soil samples. Nothing of interest to April. On the back of one of them, her dad had scribbled some notes – a scribbled calculation about fees which made April’s jaw drop, and some details about the history of the school. She was about to turn over when she noticed he’d written on the inside cover of the folder too.
She looked at it again and her heart started beating harder. It was easy to see why the police had ignored this, if indeed they’d ever bothered looking inside the prospectus – why would they? It was a perfectly normal thing for a student’s father to have in his possession. There was a diagram of the governors hierarchy which her dad had circled in blue, with the note scribbled underneath: ‘Dean of admissions is key’, then ‘Speak to Peter D, AM’. April felt a rush of excitement. He had been investigating the school, Gabriel was right! She grabbed her bag and pulled her purse out, spilling all her cards and cash point slips onto the bed.
‘Come on, come on,’ she muttered, ‘Be in here, be in here …’
And there it was, the business card Uncle Peter had given her at the funeral. Her father’s old friend, the one who had offered him a job on The Sunday Times.
‘Bingo,’ she said and snatched up her phone.
Chapter Thirty
The newspaper offices were exactly as April had imagined they would be. Or rather, they were just the way she had seen them in films and on TV: a huge open-plan space covering the whole floor of the high-rise office building, divided up into smaller booths containing desks, computers and endless ringing phones. People rushed about carrying piles of paper or shouted across the room about having ‘a break on the city desk’ or needing to get things ‘subbed a-sap’.
Caro would have been over the moon to be here. April felt bad she hadn’t invited her along even though they weren’t really speaking. She also felt guilty for having snuck out of the house again despite having promised her mum she would tell her where she was at all times. But this was too important – to April, anyway. Clearly Silvia didn’t care much about her dead husband any more, let alone finding out who killed him, but to April it was everything. A girl led them down a corridor to a line of glass-fronted offices where a familiar-looking man stood. He had white hair and a beard. He was dressed in a creased shirt and grey trousers.
‘Hello, April,’ said Peter warmly, shaking her hand.
‘It’s very exciting here, isn’t it?’
‘Sadly not as glamorous as the movies would have you believe. Sorry for all the mess,’ he said, leading her into his cramped office. It immediately gave April a pang of longing and sadness: it was cluttered and chaotic, with piles of papers and books on every surface, his tatty computer screen covered in Post-its. It was so like her dad’s study – it even smelled the same: of coffee and newsprint and the dry dusty smell of computer fans.
‘So, what can I do for you?’ said Peter. ‘It sounded urgent on the phone.’
‘It is. Well, I think it might be,’ said April. ‘I found some of my dad’s notes and they said he’d talked to you about his Highgate investigation.’
‘That’s true.’
‘So what was it? The investigation, I mean? Can you tell me?’
He paused.
‘I know you’re a bright girl, April, and it’s only natural that you want to find out who killed your dad, but this really isn’t something you can get involved with. Leave it to the police.’
‘But the police aren’t getting anywhere. They’re not even looking in the right places.’
Peter raised his eyebrows.
‘And you think you have a better idea where to look than they do?’
‘Perhaps, yes.’
So why haven’t you told them?’
‘Because it sounds … well … a bit mad.’
‘The vampires, you mean?’
‘You know about it?’ said April, shocked.
Peter shrugged.
‘I know what Will was like and I know he loved a crazy conspiracy theory. If he could connect it to some sort of mythical beast, all the better. So it wasn’t a big surprise when he told me that vampires were over-running Highgate cemetery. He still believes the Loch Ness monster is eating Scots fishermen. Or, well, he did.’ He looked down at his hands. ‘Sorry April, it’s still hard to think of your dad in the past tense.’
‘It is for me too. So what did he tell you, exactly?’
‘It was some wild story about an army of vampires, how he had proof they were secretly recruiting people and planning to take over the world. I had to point out that we were a newspaper – we need to retain some kind of credibility.’
‘He said he had proof?’
Peter shook his head.
‘Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. Look at it from my point of view, April. Your dad was one of the most respected investigative reporters in the business. If he said he had seen something with his own eyes – Weapons of Mass Destruction, crack dealers in Buckingham Palace, whatever – that would be enough for me. But this? Well let’s just say this kind of investigation was always his Achilles heel. I knew your dad for twenty-five years and I can’t remember a time when he wasn’t chasing some sort of marauding mummy or werewolf. It was what he did instead of going to the football or collecting stamps.’
April could see his point. Even if her dad had dragged the Vampire Regent into Peter’s office, the paper’s readers would still be highly sceptical about the story. If they had realised the same William Dunne had published umpteen books about the Yeti and flying saucers, and there was no proof to back up his story, the paper could become a laughing stock. After all, how likely was it? Suddenly April understood that it was this very scepticism which had allowed the vampires to carry on killing people undetected for centuries. Gabriel was always saying how great they were at hiding, but how well did you have to hide when no one would believe it even if you pushed a vampire in front of them?
‘So why didn’t you tell me? At his funeral you said you hadn’t seen him for years.’
‘To be honest, I was a little worried about it; about your dad. I mean, I know he was enthusiastic about his ghouls and ghosties, but he was so … well, so persuasive about this. I had no doubt he genuinely believed what he was saying, which was why I was reluctant to tell you about it. I didn’t want to say I thought your dad had lost it.’
April nodded sadly. She knew Uncle Peter meant well, but she couldn’t help feeling disappointment. She had been harbouring a small hope that he might take the whole thing se
riously. Instead, he was just another person who knew the story, who knew that vampires had overrun a village in London, but who didn’t – or wouldn’t – believe it.
‘But had he lost it?’ said April. ‘I mean, something’s wrong, isn’t it? People are dropping like flies. Even if you don’t believe the vampire thing, there’s definitely something going on in Highgate. Maybe there’s a serial killer at work. You can’t dismiss the whole thing, can you?’
‘Yes, of course it’s crossed my mind,’ said Peter with a touch of irritation. ‘Will was my friend. I want to see his murderer brought to justice more than anyone. I even sent a couple of our best reporters up there to investigate, but they didn’t get anything except the official police line that the deaths are unconnected.’
‘And you believed that?’ said April.
Peter looked at her with a smile. ‘I know what you’re saying, April: your dad was killed and there have been two attempts on your life, which suggests a strong link between the victims. But this Marcus Brent, the boy who attacked you? Surely if you’re looking for a serial killer, he’s a strong front runner. He clearly had a grudge against people in your family.’
‘No, but Marcus—’ April began to protest, but Peter held up a hand.
‘I’m not saying this Marcus did kill your dad or anyone else, I’m simply saying that if you’re looking for a link between the murders, Marcus Brent is a much more believable solution than a nest of vampires.’
‘I know it sounds crazy – I know!’ said April. ‘But if my dad said he had proof, then maybe there is something out there to find.’
Peter looked at her, rubbing his chin.
‘Do you know something the police don’t?’
April shrugged. What could she say? Yes, I’ve seen vampires with my own eyes. I’ve kissed two, killed one, stabbed one and had my arm half torn off by another. It sounded hysterical. Besides, she had to assume the police were watching her – there was a very good chance they would come straight into Peter’s office the moment she left. DCI Johnston was already questioning her reliability as a witness – what would be make of her claiming the undead were walking through his crime scene?
‘It’s not that I know anything the police don’t,’ said April, hoping he wouldn’t see through the lie. ‘It’s more that I’m seeing things they can’t. Yes, my dad’s theory sounds crazy, but when weird things keep happening right in front of you and people keep being killed, there comes a point when it starts to make sense. I was almost torn apart, Uncle Peter.’
Peter nodded. ‘I know it must have been disturbing, but the police psychologist, Dr Tame? He seems to think the boy was deranged or on drugs or both. That doesn’t make him a creature of the night, does it?’
‘Dr Tame?’ said April, looking at him sharply. ‘He interviewed you?’
‘Other way around. I’m the one trying to get the story, remember? Dr Tame is very press-friendly.’
April sighed. What hope did she have when Peter was talking to people like Tame?
‘Okay. Well thanks anyway,’ said April sadly. She supposed she had hoped he would say ‘Vampires? This is sensational! I’ll put my best people on it – we’ll have this case cracked in a week!’ But that wasn’t any more realistic than expecting the police to take her seriously. She began to get up, but then had a thought.
‘What if Dad was right about the conspiracy, just wrong about the blood-suckers?’ said April.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Peter.
‘Well, I’ve been through all his notes and it seems that, along with all this vampire stuff, he was right in the middle of writing an exposé about Ravenwood.’
‘Really?’ said Peter. ‘What sort of exposé?’
‘Something to do with the school governors,’ said April. ‘No one seems to know who’s behind Ravenwood, but they do seem to be using the students to do all sorts of high-level research for companies like Agropharm.’
‘Agropharm?’ said Peter, suddenly interested. ‘The pharmaceutical conglomerate?’
‘And Ravenwood has strong links with Nicholas Osbourne, he’s the CEO.’
‘Oh, I know who he is, he was at your Dad’s funeral, remember? But this is interesting,’ said Peter, beginning to scribble down notes on a pad. ‘And they’re using Ravenwood pupils as unpaid researchers?’
‘They’re selling students’ work. Mr Langdon, the head of science, has just sold a camera sensor to a Japanese electronics company. He’s admitted that the pupils came up with the idea – you should talk to a student called Jonathon, he’s just left Ravenwood, so he might be prepared to talk.’
April wanted to tell Peter everything – that Jonathon ‘left Ravenwood’ because he was dead, his blood drained by Davina and the Faces – but she suspected it would be more effective if he discovered Jonathon’s disappearance on his own. Let him make the link between the Ravenwood students and the murders himself.
‘This is interesting, April,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘Do you have any other evidence?’
‘An email from Nicholas Osbourne to Mr Sheldon giving him a hard time for not producing enough geniuses for the conveyor belt.’
‘Mr Sheldon? You mean Robert Sheldon?’
‘Yes, he’s the headmaster. Do you know him?’
‘A little,’ said Peter quietly, thinking for a moment. ‘Well, this certainly seems more printable. And how did you get this email?’
‘Research,’ said April, turning red.
‘Well, maybe it is worth looking into after all. Do you think you can find out anything else for me?’
‘So you do need someone on the inside to help?’ said April.
‘I’m not putting you on the pay-roll if that’s what you’re asking,’ smiled Peter. ‘But it’s certainly better than having you running around in the dark by yourself.’
Chapter Thirty-One
How bad can it be? thought April, staring at the shop across the road. I mean, I’ve faced homicidal vampires. It can’t be worse than that, can it?
She took a deep breath and forced her feet to move. One step, two steps … cross the road. Eight steps, nine steps … open the door. The crystals tinkled as she stepped into the cramped little bookshop and April had to remind herself to breathe. Jessica was sitting behind the counter, just as she had been that first time April had walked in. She looked up and raised her eyebrows.
‘Hello, April,’ she said. ‘I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect to see you again.’
April walked over to her desk and held out the library card.
‘I said I’d bring the card back and so I thought I should and … well, say thank you.’
Jessica took the card, but didn’t speak.
‘And I’m sorry about that night at the party,’ said April, rushing on to fill the silence. ‘I – I think I over-reacted a bit. Well, a lot actually. Anyway, it wasn’t your fault, so I’m sorry if I dragged you into my drama.’
Finally Jessica smiled. ‘It’s okay, April,’ she said, gesturing to a chair next to her desk. ‘I think I would have reacted in exactly the same way. Gabriel has many fine qualities, but tact isn’t one of them. Anyway, it sounds as if you had bigger problems to worry about that night.’
April nodded as she sat down. ‘It was a memorable evening, I’ll say that much.’
Jessica leaned forward and touched April’s hand.
‘I hope Gabriel convinced you that there was nothing going on between us? Truly, April, there never has been any romance between us. I’m very fond of him, but well, we have history.’
‘Oh yes, I know,’ said April quickly. ‘Gabriel explained it all.’ She paused. ‘Well, not that I believed him for a long time,’ she added with a laugh.
Jessica smiled. ‘As I say, I think I would have reacted the same way. But really, it’s as much my fault as his. I think I knew you were talking about Gabriel the moment you told me about the vampires in Highgate. I really should have said.’
‘But how …?’
Jessi
ca waved a hand.
‘Oh, call it intuition if you like. But he’s never very far from that damned cemetery and … well, there was something in the way you talked about him. There aren’t that many men who inspire that sort of emotion and you were taking an awful risk for him, so I knew it had to be someone special. That was why I wanted to see him, to make sure he appreciated that he’d found someone pretty special in you too. Unfortunately it rather back-fired, didn’t it?’
April looked away, afraid that if she spoke she might burst into tears.
‘Oh no,’ said Jessica, stepping out from behind the desk to put her arm around April. ‘Is it Gabriel?’
April nodded.
‘He took the blame for the murder thinking he was helping me, but all I could do was give him a hard time about kissing you. And now he’s being chased by armed police.’
‘Don’t worry, Gabriel will be fine,’ said Jessica. ‘Really. Those idiotic policemen have no chance of finding him, not if he doesn’t want to be found.’
April fought back the tears. You’ve got to toughen up, isn’t that what Miss Holden said to her? She was right. What use would a Fury be to anyone if she kept bursting into tears at the first sign of trouble?
