Sophie Morgan (Book 2): Death in the Family

by Treharne, Helen

  If a halfling, or hybrid, child existed, then it would be quite possible it would have special powers. Could it ensure the vampires their rightful place in the world by acting as a conduit to them "coming out"? Or would it mean to reinstate humanity's grip on power by identifying and revealing the vampires that currently controlled it?

  The text was poorly drafted by someone with a rudimentary knowledge of vampire history. If the intention had been to give evidence that vampires existed, by producing some sort of historic text referencing them, they had failed miserably. The forger had produced little more than an ambiguous, confusing document that could be used for a variety of purposes in the wrong hands. Either way, they needed the manuscript back. The status quo had to be maintained.

  Tired of waiting, Kurt heaved the contents of the bucket over the slumbering vampire. It didn't seem so threatening when it was doused with water and wet through. The black hair stuck to his brothers' forehead and made him appear even younger than his years. They hadn't seen each other in almost twenty-four years yet the slim, pale man with the blue eyes appeared untouched by time. It felt strange to think of his brother as a man; he was the same age as most of his students.

  Kasper lifted his eyelids and shook his wet hair. He took in his surroundings. He didn't recognise them - could it be Julie's house? There was someone there, a man. Kurt stepped out of the shadows into which he'd retreated. Their gazes locked for a moment. Then they spoke, both saying the same word in the same rich tone. "Broder."

  9

  It had been a long time since Kasper had seen his brother. He should have known what else to say; he had had enough time to practice. Yet despite being hopeful of a reunion, he had never thought that it would happen.

  Kasper didn't struggle against the cords which bound him. He could easily have pulled himself free of them and overpowered his brother. He was younger and much fitter. It had been years since Kurt had dismissively waved him out of his bedroom and slammed the door behind him. Kasper hadn’t aged a day, but Kurt was frayed around the edges. Kurt’s s athletic frame supported a less robust physique than he remembered. His hair was still blonde but dirty with grey. "I don't know what to say," Kasper said, looking at the floor. The words sounded empty and he regretted that. He looked at Kurt. “It is good to see you brother.”

  Kurt’s brow was damp, his skin chilled to the point of burning. A cigarette shook in his hand. Two passions had consumed his life, keeping his mind active but his body untended. Firstly, to discover what had happened to his brother. By the second week of Kasper’s absence, Kurt had known that something was wrong, as had his parents. Kasper might saunter off for a few days without word, but he wouldn’t have missed his mother’s birthday. He had expelled a lot of energy in those early years in trying to find Kasper. None of his friends had heard from him. The police did little but, between private detectives and his own enquiries, he had kept hope alive for his parents. His second passion developed a little later. That was to understand the mythology and folklore around vampires, and to establish their existence. Who could have possibly thought that those two worlds should collide?

  "Neither do I.” Kurt took a long drag on the cigarette. “It’s been a long time. You look so young.”

  “Yes, but a lot has changed.” Kasper inspected the room around him. "Where are we? Is this your home? Are we still in Bethesda?”

  “No. We are in Cardiff. It’s not far from Bethesda. This is my house. I lecture at the university.

  Kurt’s pulse quickened. Perspiration chilled on his brow. This conversation should not be happening, not with his brother looking as he did. There was only one reason he could look the same; he’d known it the minute he’d seen him lurking at Julie’s window.

  “I should explain some things,” Kasper said, picking his nails. It was the same nervous tick he had as a child. It saddened Kasper and made him feel sick all at the same time. “You must be wondering why I look as I do. “

  Kurt threw the cigarette onto the ground and stared at his brother. “I know what you are, demon!” He pulled a small wicker cross from his inside pocket and waved it in front of him. “I know what you are. I am not afraid of you.” His outstretched arm quivered. His palms were sweaty. His lips were pulled back into a grimace.

  Kasper’s eyes tilted in his head and he smiled slowly at his brother. “That is a very pretty piece of craft you have there. Wicker I think?”

  Kurt held his arm out further, tightening his muscles. “I have garlic too, and holy water.” With his free hand, he reached into his trousers and pulled out a hip flask and a large bulb of the plant. “I will kill you if you try anything!”

  “Why would I try anything? I’m not going to hurt you. Although perhaps I should. That’s quite a stunt you pulled. You could have killed me. What was it, a metal pipe or a bat or something?”

  “A crowbar.” Kurt nodded at the metal instrument that lay by his feet. “I thought you were a pervert.”

  “A pervert? What? Spying on Julie?” Kurt didn’t reply. “I admit that I was watching her, but that was only to see her, to ensure she was well.”

  Kurt waved the cross furiously in front of him as he brought the hipflask to his lips and attempted to unscrew the lid with this his teeth.

  Kasper looked on. “None of those things with kill us,” he said as Kurt wrestled with the screw top. “They are all ineffectual.”

  Kurt threw the flask down, sank onto the wooden stairs and gripped his hair in his hands. He mumbled words that Kasper couldn‘t understand, but it wasn’t difficult to imagine what they were – words of fear, expressions of confusion, anger. Kurt’s shoulders heaved as he began to cry.

  “I don’t know what to do, I don’t understand this,” Kurt said. “I know you are a vampire. But you are my brother. Why are you here, why now? Where have you been all these years?”

  Kasper dropped his head. “Trying to understand what happened to me. Figuring out what to do. Learning to control the impulses that now live inside me.”

  “We looked for you for years. Did you know that? Julie said that something had happened to you, but we didn’t believe her.”

  “Julie contacted you? What did she say?”

  “That you’d been attacked, that you disappeared.”

  “Yes, that is true.” Kasper knew that in leaving Julie so quickly and without word, he would have caused her great pain. But that was better than staying in her bed and giving in to the urge to rip out her throat that had come across him. “Tell me, how is she?”

  “Well, I think. I haven’t seen her, not to speak to, since that summer back home. She called looking for you, of course, sent a letter too, once she was home. But Kasper, you were always sloping off without telling anyone. How were we to know that this was any different?”

  “She would have known,” Kasper replied firmly.

  “Perhaps. But we were all much younger then. How were mother and father meant to take your relationship with such a young girl seriously?”

  Kasper nodded. Everything his brother was telling him was right. The bohemian lifestyle that Kasper had adopted as a student, did not scream responsibility. He would often take off for a few days, exploring his home country, sometimes even heading over to Malmo.

  “We did look for you though, Kasper. Private detectives. The police – not that they did anything. We made appeals on the radio. Put up posters. It was as if you just disappeared. As if you didn’t want to be found.”

  “I didn’t.”

  Kurt sighed, his heart heavy with love, regret and anger. He was relieved that his brother was alive, or at least not dead, but he was having trouble processing the entire situation. He wiped a tear from his eye with his thumb. “It killed mother. She was never the same after you left.”

  Kasper hung his head. “How are they?”

  “Dead. Long gone,” Kurt said. “That’s nothing you have to fear now, is it brother? Tell me, was it all worth it?”

  A whisper of sadness hovered at the
back of Kasper’s mind, although he felt no physical reaction to the news. Grief was now only an emotional concept. He felt a pang of sadness, but he felt it intellectually. He thought that he felt sad, rather than feeling the growing surge of loss that he would have felt as a human. I was wrong to leave without a word, he thought. If he hadn’t been so angry with Ferrers, so swept up in his own problems, he would have had the opportunity to visit his parents before his unchanging appearance could attract attention.

  “Well?” Kurt said, rising to his feet. “Tell me, how is it for you? Do you have any fucking idea what we’ve all been through? Mother. Father. Me. Julie too I expect. We wouldn’t have cared what had happened to you, what you had become. All we wanted was some peace of mind. To know that you were alive - or dead even!”

  ”I’m sorry.”

  “You’re a selfish, selfish boy Kasper.”

  Kasper was keenly aware that his was not a fight he could win. Kurt was correct; at the very least he could have written to his parents and bid his farewells. He could have told them he was joining the foreign legion or something. Hell, he thought, I could have faked my own death.

  “Yes, Kurt, I am selfish. I should have made contact, but you must understand that I did this to protect you. I am a vampire Kurt. I am a killer.”

  “I know all about you vampires Kasper.” Kurt’s cheeks burned hot. Perhaps Kasper was right and the cross and the holy water would do nothing, but could a vampire even be trusted? Kurt picked up the silver flask, unscrewed the top and hurled the content at his brother.

  Kasper remained tied to his chair, still damp, unaffected by the blessed liquid. “I told you brother, that will have no effect on me. Vampires aren’t like they are in the movies.”

  “I know that! I’ve been studying them for years – I know about the folklore, the myths, I ...”

  “But you don’t know what kills us. And you didn’t know I was a vampire did you? You didn’t figure out that that’s what had happened to me? Did you never consider that, brother, or were you too busy with your head buried in a book? You think because you’ve read a few studies or talked to a few cretins who say they’ve met us that you know all about our kind?”

  “Your kind? YOUR kind?”

  “Yes. Like it or not Kurt, I belong to vampires as much as I belong to you. We’re all part of one fucked-up family.” Kasper began thrashing around in his binds. This was not going as well as he had hoped. The fact that Kurt knew about vampires made him dangerous, even if that knowledge was limited or misinformed. Kurt might attempt to hurt him again. That meant Kasper would have to defend himself.

  "I know what you are brother, I've been tracking your sort for years. I never thought that it would come to this. That it would be you." Kurt’s knuckles had turned white. His legs wobbled. His pulse quickened. He launched the empty hip flask at the wall, bent down and picked up the crowbar at his feet.

  "Me?"

  "Yes, you. That it would be you who would be the one to finally prove to me that vampires exist."

  "Prove?" No, no, no. Kurt could not go public with this. Kasper was dead, but didn't want to be killed again, nor did he want Kurt's life to be in danger. The vampire community had clear rules about keeping under the radar and one loose cannon in the academic community would be an easy mess to clear up.

  "I can't let you tell people about us Kurt,” Kasper said, thrashing against the bungee cords restraining him. “It's too dangerous, for me, for you. I don't want any trouble here. Honestly, if anything I'm pleased to see you my brother. I'm not the same person that I once was, but you are my brother. I can't allow you to do this."

  Fear crept up Kurt. What if Kasper broke free? He threw his cigarette down and lurched forward, crowbar raised. Kasper reacted quickly; he wiggled his hands, but the cords, which bound them, were still tight, he wouldn't break free in time. He couldn't allow this to happen, he had to do something, but this was his brother; what should he do?

  “And I can’t let you hurt me Kasper, nor Julie, nor anyone. I am sorry, brother.” Kurt swung the crowbar high above his head and lurched towards Kasper. Their eyes met and Kasper recognised the sadness and resignation in them.

  At the back of his mind, Kasper knew that he could force the binds and lash out if he needed to, but he didn't want to, damn it, this was his brother. In one swift move, he pushed his feet into the floor, and forced his body forward. With the chair still tied to his body, he swung around and whacked his brother with its legs.

  Kurt's head made contact with the concrete floor. The crowbar hit the ground with a clang. Despite the restraints being much looser than they had been, Kasper kept them on and sat back down in the chair, quietly waiting for his brother to regain consciousness.

  10

  Richard packed the final things that he wanted to take to Wales with him. Unsure of how long they would be staying, he opted for a simple wardrobe of black - trousers, jeans, sweaters, shirts and t-shirts. He threw in his leather jacket and decided to wear his lambs' wool coat. Ferrers' housekeeper had offered to pack, but he knew she wouldn't have done it properly - if Rachel wanted her to pack for her that was fine. Rachel could at least have a little feed while she was at it, which would make her marginally more tolerable during the drive.

  He zipped up the bag, picked up the suit carrier and made his way across the landing, stopping at Rachel's room on the way. He wasn't sure why Ferrers’ insisted that they had separate rooms, but he welcomed it; he needed his privacy and, despite his attraction to Rachel, he didn't need her appetite for life to extend to controlling him.

  Rachel was happily sucking on the housekeeper's wrist as he poked his head around her door. She held out the limp arm in his direction." Want some?"

  "No thanks, I ate," he replied. This was true. Ferrers kept a stock of blood in the American-style fridge in the kitchen should anyone need an emergency topping up. Although they hunted regularly and indeed could survive quite happily for several days without blood, Ferrers was an advocate of a little and often. Their semi-rural location meant that finding a suitable late night snack was often impossible. The three of them had all eaten a proper breakfast; Rachel was purely succumbing to gluttony.

  Rachel rolled her eyes. She knew he was judging her. She liked her path to destruction and he should keep his mouth shut and his cold, empty eyes to himself, she thought. Jesus, all she wanted was a bit of bloody fun. "Are you done, miss? I'm starting to feel a bit light-headed.” Rachel released the wrinkled wrist and let it drop to the housekeeper’s side.

  Mrs Craig rolled her sleeve back down and buttoned the cuff. Vampires, she sighed to herself, worse than bloody teenagers. She'd seen them come and go, but Rachel was definitely pushing her buttons. She half wished the vampire would have secreted her hypnotic venom after she fed, at least she wouldn't have to put up with the memory of the event. The girl had no manners and it was worse now that Mr Ferrers was letting the girl feed unsupervised. At least Ferrers was quick and discreet, which was good as she didn’t want to feel groggy, weak or confused when she had such a big home to run.

  Miss Rachel was going to cause them all a lot of bother someday, Mrs Craig thought, she could feel it in her bones.

  Still, Mrs Craig was grateful for a steady job and a quiet life. She at least lived at the gatehouse now and not the main house. She had more room that way and got to shut her front door and leave her work behind her.

  She’d worked for Ferrers all her life, as had her mother before her. His vampirism had never bothered her. He had impeccable manners and good self-control - a vast improvement on many men she'd encountered in her life.

  Rachel, on the other hand, acted like a petulant youth. She flounced around the house, left her clothes everywhere and frequently left half dead cats, dogs and foxes on the drive which Mrs Craig had to clear up. She would be glad to see the back of her for a few weeks; grown women shouldn't act like that - an educated one at that.

  As Rachel admired herself in the mirror, wiping the bl
ood away from her lips with a cosmetic wipe, Mrs Craig went about folding the rest of her garments and placing them in the expensive leather suitcase.

  The elderly woman zipped up the case. “It’s too heavy for me to carry Miss Rachel.”

  Rachel wasn't paying attention, she was too busy admiring her new beauty and wondering where her next meal would come from, to notice Mrs Craig quietly shuffle out of the room.

  Ferrers reclined in the soft, cream leather of the limousine's rear seats. He wore a black cashmere overcoat which he didn't need and a grey, mohair suit and purple tie. He was accustomed to dressing for business at all times and regretted the lacklustre, casual style of the contemporary man. Perhaps appearance was something he valued because throughout his time on earth it had been the outward sign of rank and role; there was something comforting and reassuring about that, he often thought.

  Rachel got in the front passenger seat and slammed the door shut. She had a face like thunder and a tone which suggested boredom and frustration.

  Ferrers had seen these traits in new vampires before. He knew that Rachel didn’t feel like she belonged in her old world, so rather than work at a compromise and exercise self-control so she could pass in it, she would embrace a new role - that of vixen, of murderer, of Bacchanalian indulgence. Of course, it would burn out over time; she'd bore of it, get herself killed or go mad. Ferrers couldn't be sure which yet.

  Rachel avoided his gaze in the mirror and focused on examining her freshly painted, red nails.