Nina looked sheepish at this and exchanged a glance with a smug-looking Molly. Ofelia headed back into the kitchen to wash her bowl and cup. By the time she was done, Molly was ready to go. The car wasn’t locked, so Ofelia climbed into the back and waited for Molly. Soon the car was rolling along the main road in the direction of Barley Crescent. As they set off on the main road Ofelia texted Ollie:
He didn’t text back, but she assumed he’d seen it. Molly glanced over her shoulder, then said, ‘You know we’re all really proud of how mature you’re being. Keep up with the attitude you’ve shown so far and you could have a bright future ahead of you.’
Ofelia shrugged. ‘Thanks. Keep your eyes on the road though, I’ve had enough car crashes lately.’
Molly chuckled and focused on her driving. Soon they pulled up in front of a semi-detached house. It looked like an ex-council house. It was less than ten minutes’ drive away and Ofelia thought she remembered the way. If it came to it, she could even walk back. Molly insisted on giving Ofelia Nina’s number in case she needed picking up and spent five minutes fumbling with her phone looking for it and trying to work out how to transfer it to hers. Once it was done, Ofelia climbed out.
The garden of number seven was overgrown and unkempt. The living room window had a long crack down the centre. None of the houses on the street were in great shape, but number seven looked run down. The garden gate was rotting on its hinges and Ofelia had to lift and push to open it. By the time she got to the door, Ollie had already opened it. He was wearing jeans and T-shirt too, but was still in his socks. Ofelia glanced at the grimy, threadbare carpet in the hallway, then at Ollie’s shoeless feet. ‘You want me to take my sneakers off?’
He smirked. ‘Nah, probably safer if you leave em’ on. Come in. Welcome to the Webster abode.’
At that point Molly’s Citroen rumbled away in a cloud of black smoke. Ofelia stepped in and he shut the door. He headed for the stairs and she followed him up, noting that the carpet was sticking to her feet slightly and she had to step over a pile of yellowing newspapers stacked at the bottom of the stairs. The house had an air of one whose occupant hadn’t quite ‘had enough time’ for quite some time. Ollie’s room wasn’t much better than the rest of the house. His bed looked hastily made, and a bundle of unwashed clothes appeared to have been stuffed under the bed at the last minute. Perhaps when he heard the car pull up? His walls were adorned with posters typical for a high school aged boy. A band she’d never heard of, some expensive supercar she’d never seen before and a video game poster. He had a desk in the corner, with a cheap plastic chess set on it and a handful of little trophies along the back: one for cricket, and another for chess. The rest were nondescript and could have been for anything. He had a television and a games console in his room, on top of an old set of drawers. The TV was arranged so he could or sit on the bed and watch TV or play games. Ollie noticed her scanning his room. ‘Erm, sorry about the mess. What would you like to do? We can listen to some music, play a game or-’
‘Can we just talk? I’ve had crappy week and I think you’re the only person I can talk to.’
This seemed to throw him a bit - for a moment he looked lost. Then he smiled and rearranged his pillows so one of them could sit on the bed leaning against the chest of drawers and the other could sit leaning against the headboard. Once he was done, he climbed on and sat cross-legged, leaning against the drawers. ‘Sit. Spill.’
Ofelia adjusted the cushion at the headboard end and sat opposite him. ‘Thanks Ollie. I have so much stuff going on. Is your mum home? Can we talk?’
‘Yeah, she’s home. She’ll be having a lie in though. What’s on your mind?’
Ofelia told her tale in greater detail than she’d told him at school. It had to be a concise version. Condensing several centuries into a short speech was only possible if you stuck to the important stuff. She finished by retelling her meeting with Victor and his claim to have met another vampire and his offer to adopt her. When she mentioned the classic Mercedes 600L, Ollie’s jaw dropped. ‘I know that car! I reckon I know where he lives! Saw one, near here. I could show you if you like?’
She smiled. ‘That would be good.’
‘One thing you haven’t told me yet. How come you got made into a vampire? You said you didn’t want to be a vampire - what was all that about?’
Ofelia sighed. She knew this had been coming and hadn’t been looking forward to recanting this tale. Now seemed like the time though and part of her wanted to simply get it out of the way. ‘You know my real name isn’t Ofelia. My father’s name was Dimitrie Neamțu. He live in Brasov and was important man. Not nobility or aristocrat, but important. People had been disappearing, mainly kids. Strange things going on. I think he went roaming the streets at night, spying on people. Eventually he learn about the vampires. He set about slaying them. My mother Letiția, she tell him to leave it. But he won’t listen. He succeeds in slaying three vampires. After the second, they realise there is slayer in Brasov. After the third they knew it was father. I had a friend, Albrecht. He warned me that people were asking about me. Eventually a vampire called Gavril Dracul, he tell me to warn my father - leave Transylvania for good within three days or our family pay the price. I tell my father, but he was not afraid. The next evening, he go to the town square and give big speech about how we have vampires amongst us. He finish by swearing that he will slay every living vampire or die trying and cut his thumb, making it a blood oath. I think one of the vampire heard this speech. The Black Church was still being built at the time. The next evening I climb the scaffolding with Albrecht. He liked climbing and taunting the builders. Gavril had been following us. He followed us up the ladders. He throw Albrecht off the scaffolding. The builders weren’t there so nobody saw. Then he capture me, and knock me out. I think he bundle me into sack and carry me off, because I wake up in some cellar tied up in sack. They let me out of sack, feed on me, then leave me locked in cell. For weeks the vampire take it in turns to come feed on me. They’d been doing this with the other people who’d gone missing. They want to keep a regular food supply. They threaten to eat me, but I think this wasn’t real threat. I don’t think vampires eat people. Finally, their leader, a Simion Dracul come up with better idea. My father swore to slay all living vampire, so they make his daughter a vampire. Will he slay his own daughter? They fetch me from cell, drag me to their dining hall and hold me down on table, then force me to drink blood. Nothing happen at first, but then I feel itching everywhere, then the itching turn to burning. I felt like I was dying, I couldn’t stand, I could hardly breathe. I pass out, I wake up I don’t know how many days later, feeling cold, dead. They keep me captive and don’t give me blood. Once the thirst is upon me, Simion and Gavril take me to town at night. Gavril find my father in the inn, trying to get people to help look for me and hunt the vampires. Nobody knows Gavril is vampire. He asks my father if he want to see me and leads him to alley behind the inn. Simion had already captured a servant, heading home from Bran Castle. When my father saw me, I was feeding on her - fangs bared and everything. I’d thought being turned was the most painful thing I would ever experience. But seeing the look on my father’s face when he realise I am vampire maybe hurt more. Gavril overpowered him and fed on him there while I watched. They took me back to the cellar, I was told a few weeks later father had committed suicide.’
Ollie listened intently, trying to take the story in and make sense of it. It was a dark, dark tale, but it wasn’t over. ‘So what happened then? How did you-?’
‘I wait. I act like one of them. They take me out to feed, they bring me back. I don’t resist. Eventually they don’t lock me in cell, they just keep eye on me. In time, they accept me as one of them. The night I left the house in Brasov, I put stake through heart of seven vampires and burn their house to the ground. Then I keep an eye on who come to ask about the Draculs. I’d slain Simion and Gavril in their sleep. Soon, a female vampire called Magdelena Florescu was about town at night
and asking what happened. I knew her. She’d been one of the vampires who’d fed on me while I was still human and captive in the cellar. I follow her around. I see who she speak to. Over the next two hundred years I slay every vampire I can find, until I can’t find any more. But this Victor says I miss one.’
Ollie scratched his head and sighed. ‘Could this Victor be a-’
‘No! He doesn’t look like one, he doesn’t... No, maybe someone he is still in contact with? I think he’s interested in making himself a vampire. Maybe that’s why he want to study me.’
At this Ollie climbed off the bed, opened the top drawer in the chest of drawers and pulled out a little box. ‘I almost forgot. I went into town after school yesterday. The market was on and I bought you a present.’
He handed the small cardboard box to her. ‘Ollie, you shouldn’t-’
‘It’s nothing,’ he interrupted.
Ofelia pulled the lid off the box and stared inside. On a piece of black felt sat a plain, but large, shiny silver crucifix. It was on a necklace of black leather cord. She frowned, and opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. ‘I know you’re not a Christian, but I saw it and thought it looked nice and I thought, you know... If someone suspects you’re a vampire, but they see you wearing a crucifix - well, it might throw them off the scent.’
She smiled at this and plucked it out of the box, clasping it in her hands. ‘Thank you Ollie. It’s a good thought. Will you fasten it for me?’
She handed it to him and swung around. The cord ended with a little silver fastener at both ends. He hung it around her neck and clipped the two ends together. It hung heavy on her chest. She reached up and played idly with it for a moment, smiling to herself.
‘You really like it?’ Ollie asked.
‘Yes, I really like it. Want to go out for a walk? You said you’d show me the car? The old Mercedes?’
‘Yeah, let me get my trainers and jacket.’
Ofelia waited patiently while Ollie pulled on a slightly battered-looking pair of trainers and a dark green fleece. They left the house via the front door, Ollie locking it after them. His mum was obviously still in bed. The sky had brightened up now, and the clouds had faded. Ollie led her out of the crescent, then up the main road and past where the houses ended. A moss-green, rotten public footpath sign loomed closer, sticking out of a forest of stinging nettles. Ollie was about to start pushing through them, but Ofelia grabbed his wrist and pulled him back. ‘Let me go first. Nettle stings don’t hurt me.’
He slowed and allowed her past. She trampled some nettles with her feet and plucked a few of the larger ones out by the stem, showing no discomfort at all. Soon she’d cleared a wide pathway through the undergrowth. Away from the road, the path opened out onto a massive field. It was headed for a thickly wooded area. Mud squelched underfoot and their progress was hindered by desperate attempts to avoid stepping in the deepest parts of the mire.
Once they were in the wooded area, the path improved. It became a firm, dry, well-trodden path, part of a well-used, circular walk. As they walked through the shade of the trees, Ollie turned to her again. ‘Ofelia, one thing bothers me. You’re over five hundred years old right? So are you an adult or a kid? An adult pretending to be a kid and going to high school is a bit. Well, some people might think it was a bit creepy.’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I think your body, and maybe even your brain go through some changes when you become adult. I never went through those changes. Maybe I’m just old kid?’
Ollie laughed at this, nodding agreement. ‘Yeah, I suppose. I can’t imagine what it’s like to live for five hundred years.’
She smirked now. ‘Mostly boring. Sometimes scary. During and after the war wasn’t a good time. Did you know Romania switch sides during the war? Bucharest must be the only city to get bombed by both Hitler and the allies. After the war of course, we had Russian occupation. I used to think vampires were evil, but I think Stalin was worse. That’s the crazy thing about the Second World War People think it was battle of good and evil, but it wasn’t. It was battle of Nazi evil vs Stalin evil, with the allies playing kingmaker. The Arbores nearly got transported to Russia for being of German descent. Two of them did, the rest hide in the forest and wait for transportations to die down. Life was tough for Romania under the Soviets. But I’m glad we switched sides. I wouldn’t like to live in world where Hitler had won.’
As they walked past an outcrop of jutting gritstone, Ollie stopped and pointed to the side. ‘Here, this is the way to that house.’
He leapt over a trickling brook, which ran alongside the path onto the opposite path. There were remnants of a long-forgotten footpath, only passable by pushing through or trampling down the bracken. The steep bank climbed amidst mighty, ancient oaks and towering beech trees. Dry, fallen leaves carpeted the path and crunched underfoot as they climbed. When they got to the top Ollie was panting and out of breath, but Ofelia looked fresh. From this vantage point she could see the reservoir stretching out before them and stood staring wistfully at it. ‘Romania has seen a lot of wars. In five hundred years borders move, allegiances change. You know for a while I wasn’t really Romanian? I suppose I started Transylvanian, and I always was Transylvanian, but I wasn’t always Romanian. Transylvania was part of the Kingdom of Hungary in the fourteen hundreds. Then after the Battle of Mohacs in fifteen twenty-six, it became part of the Kingdom of János Szapolyai, or the Eastern Hungarian Kingdom. In the late fifteen hundreds, Transylvania became principality, then under the sovereignty of the Ottoman Empire. Then, in late sixteen hundreds it become part of the Habsburg Empire under Leopold first. It only became part of Romania after the Austro-Hungarian Empire dissolved at the end of the First World War.’
Ollie, hunched over, his hands resting on his knees, looked up to her. ‘How do you remember all this stuff?’
She continued staring over the distant, vast body of water as she spoke. ‘I don’t know. I read a lot, I remember some of this stuff happening. Maybe the vampire has better memory than human?’
Ollie, recovered now, straightened up. ‘Come on, it’s not far.’
She followed him up the bank, then over the brow. The path became more visible as it cut straight through a cluster of pine trees, their needles scattered over the forest floor. They followed the path down to an overgrown, ancient hedge. Ollie stooped and pushed his way under the branches with Ofelia in tow. They emerged in the manicured grounds of an enormous country estate. The house was visible in the distance, with a large pond and fountain in front. It was a massive stone building set over three floors, with what looked like an additional windowless cellar beneath. Ofelia counted the windows. If the central double-doors beneath the grand stone porch had been a window, there would have been nine times three windows on this elevation. She scanned the grounds near the house. ‘Where’s the car?’
Ollie pulled her back into the bushes and started trekking around the border. ‘It must be around the back. Follow me. I’ll show you his garage.’
The scramble through the bushes was undignified and time-consuming, but the effort paid off. When Ollie eventually pushed through the undergrowth, they could both see, clear as day, the gleaming black Mercedes. Ofelia stared at it. ‘Oh god it’s him! Do you know anything about him?’
Ollie shook his head. ‘Nah, not really. I looked for this place on the net after I’d found it. Turns out it’s called Tempest House. It’s been in the same family since the sixteen hundreds but there’s no information on the owners. It’s never been open to the public either, even though it looks like it could be.’
‘I think this guy try to foster me or adopt me or something. He says he knows what I am and can give me more freedom. He just want samples of blood and DNA and stuff. What do you think I should do?’
Ollie stared at the house for a while, then turned to her. ‘I dunno. He’s clearly rich. I suppose it might be nice to have a guardian who knows your sec-’
‘I don’t need guardian!
I need someone to pretend for me!’
Ollie sighed, ‘I dunno. Maybe you should try to meet up with him again, try and work out what he wants?’
‘He’s already set in motion his application. He says he’s of Romanian descent, but I... I don’t know. I feel like he’s lying about something. Maybe everything.’
Ollie pulled away from the border, back into the bushes. ‘Come on. We’d better go. I don’t want to be seen.’
Ofelia followed him. As she did, she whimpered and her hand shot up to her mouth. Ollie gasped and turned to her. ‘What’s up?’
‘Urgh! My teeth! They start hurting like there’s some pressure or something.’
‘Your fangs you mean?’
‘Yes. When this Victor tell me my teeth will go back to how they were, he knew what he was talking about.’
They fought their way through brambles, nettles and waist-high weeds until they emerged back onto the main path. She’d hoped for some flash of inspiration when she saw Victor’s house, but she still didn’t know whether to trust him. As they began walking the circular route around the reservoir, Ollie felt Ofelia’s icy hand reach out and grip his. He gave it a little squeeze, and they walked hand in hand, crunching through the fallen leaves and just enjoying the countryside.
When they finally got back to Ollie’s house, it was past lunchtime. As they entered his house, they were treated to the smell of sizzling bacon. Ollie’s mum was in the kitchen, frying. She looked up and smiled as they entered. ‘Hi Ol. Is this your friend? Where’ve you both been?’
‘Yeah, this is Ofelia. We’ve just been for a walk up to the reservoir.’
‘Are you hungry yet?’ Ollie’s mum asked, as she flipped a piece of bacon over with a spatula.
Ofelia (The Book of Davoth 1) Page 10
