by Mia James
What would her father have done? He would have got up off his backside and done something, that was for sure. Action is always better than sitting around making excuses - reading Hamlet had taught her that. Hey, who says schoolwork is a waste oftime? But what did she need to do exactly? Maybe she could call Fiona; she felt so strange keeping her best friend out of the loop, just on a vague suspicion Davina might have ‘got to her’. You have to trust someone some time, she told herself as she leant forward and felt inside her bra.
‘Can I help you with that?’
She looked to her left and saw that Benjamin had slipped onto the stool next to her.
She blew out a long breath. ‘Ben! You almost gave me heart failure.’
‘Is that what you were massaging inside there?’
April gave him a weak smile. ‘Listen, Ben, you’re very sweet but—’
Benjamin nodded. ‘Hey, don’t worry. I heard about the fight with Gabe. Well, saw it actually. I’ve ... well, I’ve never seen Gabriel Swift like this over a girl before.’
She looked up at him, frowning. ‘What do you mean?’
‘April, you can’t have a screaming match in the garden and not expect people to overhear.’
She swallowed. ‘And what did you hear?’
‘Nothing much, something about how you didn’t want this, how you were sick of it, then I think “behaving like a child” was mentioned. Or rather shouted.’
April winced. ‘Sorry.’
‘Hey, don’t feel bad. If Gabriel doesn’t know when he’s on to a good thing, then that’s a bonus for those of us who do.’
April raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, thank you, kind sir.’
‘Look, I’m not about to give you advice, but it seems to me you’re a grown-up and you should do whatever you decide is the right thing.’
April nodded, took a final suck of her straw and tapped her hand on the bar. ‘You know what? You’re right.’ She slid off her stool and walked away, leaving Benjamin staring after her, open-mouthed. As April pushed her way through the crowd, she slipped a hand into her dress and pulled out her phone, keeping it hidden as she turned it on.
Sod Gabriel and sod his bloody prophecy, she thought, and screw the Furies and their stupid virus. I’m here to find out who killed my father. If he had been killed for asking too many questions about the vampires, it seemed logical that the man in charge of the Suckers might have a few answers. That was probably Mr Nicholas Osbourne, no less. But first she needed cold, hard evidence. She pushed her way out onto the terrace and down the steps; the dance floor was packed, everyone waving their hands in the air to some seventies disco classic. The perfect cover. She danced her way across to where Mr Osbourne was strutting his stuff with his wife and turned her back to him; then, checking that the flash was off - that would be a dead giveaway, in more ways than one - she slipped the phone under her arm and clicked the button. She danced back over to the tables and sat down, putting the phone in her lap. She scrolled through the menu to the ‘pictures’ folder and trapping her lower lip between her teeth she clicked ‘open’. And there he was, as large as life, dancing away with his wife. Nicholas Osbourne was in the picture.
It couldn’t be! How could he be there? He was supposed to be a vampire; not only that, he was supposed to be the top vampire! How dare he be human! He was clearly a bloodsucker, just not of the vampire variety.
And then she started to laugh.
Through the crowd, she could see Caro and Simon gyrating on the dance floor, as if they were oblivious that they were all teetering on the edge of the abyss.
It’s all down to me now, she thought fiercely. Someone’s got to find out who killed my father. Well, if it’s not Nicholas, who does that leave? Benjamin and Davina are vampire recruiters, but as far as I know, they don’t have any connection with my father. April felt another jolt of fear. Maybe it wasn’t all linked. Maybe there was more than one conspiracy going on here. God, please don’t make this any more complicated, she moaned to herself. Interesting though the idea might be to explore at a later date, April knew she needed to concentrate on what she did know. So who else is involved? Isabelle Davis? Davina knew of her, but she never said she met her. Alix Graves? Alix! And then another of those jigsaw pieces clicked into place. April could see Alix’s photo on the wall of Benjamin’s bedroom and she could hear him saying he had been doing work experience at one of his father’s companies. Could it have been Transparent Media, the one Alix was connected with? Well, there’s only one way to find out, she thought. She pushed through the crowd and up the stairs, then padded along the corridor.
She pushed open Ben’s door and peeked inside. Where was the light switch? No, better not turn it on. She opened her phone, using the display’s backlight like a mini torch. Moving over to Ben’s cluttered desk, she started going through the drawers, pulling out papers and holding them up to the light. Dammit. The mobile’s display just wasn’t bright enough. It was impossible to read anything. She fumbled around on the dresser and turned on a lamp. And then she heard a laugh - no, it was more of a cackle - and she turned, just feeling the slap of a blow across her face as she fell sideways.
‘You!’ said a male voice, high with glee, as strong fingers seized her face, cruelly pressing into her skin. He twisted her head around and her heart lurched. Marcus! In a blur, she remembered Gabriel’s words about hunters lying in wait, choosing easy prey. It can’t be! she thought. He can’t be... can he? But she didn’t have chance to think any more as she was pulled sideways.
‘I knew it would be you,’ crowed Marcus, pushing her back towards the desk, forcing her face close to the lamp. She began to scream, but he rammed her face downwards, catching her cheekbone against the corner of the desk and sending a flower of pain shooting out from her cheek.
‘No, no, no,’ he said. ‘We can’t have you screaming, can we? Not until we’ve had our little chat. Now what were you looking for in here, hmm?’
When April failed to say anything, Marcus slammed her head forwards again, this time bashing her against the bookcase.
‘Speak!’ he commanded. ‘What. Were. You. Looking. For?’ On each word, he pushed her closer and closer to the lamp until the burning pain of the bulb against her skin was unbearable. She twisted to get away but he was too strong.
‘Were you going to take another of your clever little photos with this, hmm?’ he said, dangling her phone in front of her face, then smashing it against the wall. ‘Tell me or I will make the pain go on for ever. Believe me, you will wish you’d got this over with quickly,’ he hissed, pushing his mouth close to her ear and whispering, ‘Like your dear old dad.’
‘NO!’ she began to yell, but Marcus was too quick: he slammed her head against the wall and little stars popped across April’s vision. She could feel blood running from her temple.
‘There’s no rush, Angel,’ he cooed, running a finger down her face, then slowly licking her blood from the tip. ‘Not when you taste so good.’ He grinned manically.
He’s a vampire, oh God, Marcus is a vampire, her mind screamed. And he’s trapped me. The hunter has caught his prey.
‘I’m wait-ing!’ he sang, slamming her head against the wall again.
‘Drugs!’ she screamed.
Suddenly Marcus flung her to the floor.
‘What? What drugs?’
April thought fast. She had a reputation as the school’s bad girl with her visits from the police, so perhaps it had a shred of credibility. But only a shred.
‘I wanted some, and I thought Ben might have hidden them in his room,’ she said, drawing the words out, playing for time.
‘Ben does not use drugs,’ said Marcus, his voice dripping with disdain. Every word he uttered chilled April to the core. He was a vampire, a killer, he was going to drink her blood. Oh God, please God help me, she thought. But then something inside her clicked. Something Gabriel had said about predators, about leopards and lions.
‘Do you?’ she said quietly. ‘Do you u
se drugs?’
‘What?’ hissed Marcus, outraged. ‘No!’
‘Well, what were you doing in Benjamin’s bedroom, then?’ she asked, edging closer to him. ‘What were you doing in here, all on your own in the dark?’
He raised his hand again. ‘I’m warning you!’ he said, but April could see he was rattled.
‘Does it make you feel sexy, Marcus?’ she whispered. ‘Do you like being close to Ben’s things... you freak!’ she screamed, simultaneously grabbing the lamp and throwing it at his face. Marcus jerked back in surprise and gave her just enough space to jump over the bed and dive into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
‘You bitch!’ he yelled, and she saw the door handle rattle up and down violently. April grabbed a chair and jammed it against the door just as it shuddered in its frame. Marcus was throwing himself against it.
‘I’m going to kill you, you little bitch!’ he screamed, followed by another thud against the doorframe. April looked around desperately. It was a small room - sink, bath, shower and two sash windows to one side.
THUD.
She pushed her face against the window and cupped her hands around her eyes, but she couldn’t see anything but blackness down there. No way out. I’m trapped. And Marcus is going to kill me.
THUD.
She looked around quickly. Maybe she could find something to use as a weapon, but beyond a shampoo bottle and a disposable razor, there was nothing. This time, the thud was accompanied by the sound of splintering wood. Surely someone would hear the noise and come to investigate? But she knew, with the disco and the noise of the party and the size of the house, it was unlikely. She could scream her lungs out and never be heard. No, she had to save herself this time.
THUD.
She looked back at the windows. They were her only chance; she had to get out or he was going to kill her. She quickly undid the locks on the first window and heaved. Damn! It was stuck fast. She tried the other and it gave a little, enough to get her fingers under it.
‘Nowhere to run, bitch!’ yelled Marcus through the door. ‘I’m going to have fun with you!’
She heaved with all her might and - thank God - it opened a little more. She heaved again and the gap looked just big enough. It had to be.
THUD.
She forced her bare shoulders through, the decades of layers of paint cutting into her skin.
CRASH.
She was almost through - until his hand closed around her ankle. He pulled hard, but he was too late. She kicked out, hit something, and then she was pitching forwards, down, down into the black, twisting, turning. God, I’m going to break my neck. And then THUD! Her own thud, this time. April had landed on something soft, yielding, wet and warm. And then she was flailing around, terrified, disorientated. Am I drowning? she thought. And then she realised. Her fall had been cushioned by the plastic cover of the hot tub and her lower body had sunk into the water. She scrabbled around and finally gripped the side of the tub, rolling over onto the floor, her wet dress clinging to her.
‘Bitch! You bitch!’ screamed Marcus in frustration. Surely he wasn’t going to follow her.
SLAM-PLASH.
Wrong. April felt the spray from the hot tub as Marcus landed in it feet first. My God, he’s crazy! She scrambled to her feet - only one shoe, kicking it off, tearing up the seam of her dress so she could move. Mum’II kill me, that cost a fortune, she thought madly as she looked around. Which way? She couldn’t run towards the house because Marcus could easily cut her off in that direction, so she vaulted over the balustrade and ran across the sloping lawn, angling towards the marquee, feeling the snow on her bare feet, burning with cold.
‘Gabriel!’ she screamed. ‘Anyone! HELP ME!’
‘Too late,’ hissed Marcus. He had moved so fast, cutting her off, unimpeded by dress and bare feet. For a moment, his face was caught in the light from the house: his lips were pulled back in a snarl, his eyes narrow and black, his nose upturned; he looked the way Gabriel had, that night by the Thames.
So you can see me as others do, that’s what he had said. So you can see me as I really am.
April didn’t have time to think, she was running for her life. She swung around and headed the only way she could - towards the graveyard wall. Without stopping to think or break stride she leapt for the wall, her bare toes digging into the bricks, skin tearing painfully, her nails splintering, all the time expecting to feel his hands grab her. And again she was falling, rolling over and over, this time landing in snow-bent bushes, the branches jamming into her thighs, her shoulders, her chest, her torn knee screaming with fresh pain. Desperately, she pulled herself free, not feeling the wounds now, totally focused on getting away. She ran forward blindly, her palms held out in front of her, thumping into gravestones and trees, their angles catching her knees, their roots pulling at her ankles. She ran and ran, until finally she ran straight into the side of a tall white monument, the stone slamming into the side of her head, dazing her and sending her careering sideways into a snow-filled ditch. She was winded, dizzy, gasping for breath, but instinct told her to stop, to play dead. To hold her breath like a mouse hiding in his house, sang her mind crazily. She listened, straining her ears for sounds of her pursuer, but there was nothing. Had she lost him? Had he failed to get over the wall? Had someone seen or heard them fall into the hot tub?
No.
‘I can hear you,’ sang Marcus, terrifyingly close. ‘I can hear your little rabbit heart beating.’
Don’t call me rabbit, thought April angrily. Only my dad calls me rabbit.
He was close, just to her left, but she was shielded by two splintered gravestones, fallen, broken fragments of them cutting into her back.
‘I’m going to find you, you do know that, don’t you?’ called Marcus. ‘And when I find you, Marcus is going to have all the time he wants with you, isn’t he? No one will hear you scream out here.’
She could hear his footsteps crunching on leaves. He’s going away, she thought, hope rising ...
‘And when I’m finished with you, I’m going to do to you what I did to those bleeders in Covent Garden,’ he said, a note of glee in his voice.
April almost squeaked in surprise.
‘Oh yes, I tore their throats wide open, just where your boyfriend left them. You never knew it was me, did you? I was watching you, tracking you, waiting for my moment. But Gabriel Swift got in the way. He’s always getting in the way.’
April wanted to scurry away, she wanted to run. But instinctively she knew her only chance was to stay as still as she could, hold her breath, hope that he wouldn’t find her, hope he couldn’t hear her shivering bones. Marcus is a vampire, Marcus is a vampire... she thought. He must be the rogue vampire Gabriel was talking about, the out-of-control killer, mastered by his urges, unable to stop. A modern-day Jack the Ripper, added her dangerously overstretched mind.
‘But no one’s going to get in the way any more, are they? No, because after I’ve dealt with you, next on my list is Caro Jackson, then your little friend Fiona, and then that meddling Gabriel Swift will be no problem at all.’
April wanted to scream, to lunge at him, to stop him before he hurt anyone else she loved, but all she could do was lie there, turn herself to stone. She could hear his footsteps, just on the other side of the graves, crunching in the snow.
‘Can’t you forgive me, April?’ he whispered. ‘I was only following orders, after all. Isabelle was getting too close, you see, he didn’t like her asking so many questions. And your dad? Well, that was inevitable, wasn’t it?’
Marcus, Marcus killed my fizther!
She could see him moving to her left now, creeping forwards, his arms outstretched, his silhouette like a horrible twisted tree come to life.
‘Alix Graves, well, that was something different. Alix couldn’t make up his mind. He wanted to join us, told us he could persuade all his little teenage fans that eternal life was better than living with Mum and Dad. But then Alix got cold
feet. And now he’s cold all over, isn’t he?’
Marcus had stopped. Only his head was moving, slowly turning from side to side.
‘But you know how I’m going to catch you?’ he said.
She held her breath. Waited. Waited. And then she screamed. Because in one terrible rushing noise he was on her, his sharp fingers gripping her neck, his breath on her cheek. His crazy, crazy eyes staring right down into hers.
