This caused Miss Spinney to gasp and step back. The children didn’t seem to appreciate the significance though. Ofelia flexed her wrists and fingers, then lowered them over the keys. Without warning she stormed into the melody hammering the keys and striking with such speed and ferocity, Miss Spinney worried she might break a string. She played flawlessly. The tune was so fast and complex that many grade eight pianists would struggle to play it. Ollie’s spine tingled, and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. When she finally finished the piece, she was out of breath, her hands shaking. Applause erupted and filled the room. She didn’t bow, but simply returned quietly to her seat. Miss Spinney stared at her. ‘Where did you learn to play like that? Would you like to play in front of the school?’
Ofelia shook her head. ‘I learnt mainly in Vienna. I don’t want to perform. I just play for myself.’
Miss Spinney continued the lesson, handing out sheet music and going over sight-reading and music theory. Throughout the lesson though, eyes drifted to Ofelia, the quietly spoken Romanian immigrant, who also happened to be a concert pianist. Ollie whispered to her. ‘That was wicked.’
She smiled and thanked him, then got on with her work. Which was boorishly easy.
***
It poured down all morning so Ofelia and Ollie eschewed their usual seat on the bench overlooking the sports field. Instead they bought their snacks then wandered the corridors looking for an empty classroom, which was unlocked. They found one on the top floor near to the stairwell. Moving a chair so they could sit facing each other, they opened their crisps. Ollie started the conversation, ‘so how did you get on at the hospital? Did they cure you?’
Ofelia shook her head. ‘No. You were right, however being a vampire works - it’s clearly in more than your blood. It made me warmer, like closer to the right temperature for humans, but that made me feel ill. It made me have to feed too. I’ve drunk a litre of blood from the blood bank and fed on two humans. And no - I don’t feel good about it.’
Ollie was eyeing her suspiciously, his crisp wavering nervously just before his lips. ‘Hang on though, blood bank? How did you-’
‘The Doctor knows I’m vampire. She got it for me. I think she keep secret though. Listen, Ollie. I didn’t want to ask you this, but if I feel the craving coming on, can I feed on you? I think maybe I’m okay, but I thought I was okay last night - before I fed on one of my housemates.’
Ollie offered her a crisp and rubbed his chin with his other hand. ‘You’re sure it doesn’t hurt?’
She shrugged, ‘I don’t think so. It makes you sleepy, confused and forgetful. I was fed on many times before they turn me remember? I can’t remember what it was like to be fed on though.’
Ollie didn’t take long to decide. ‘Alright, if you need it. We’ll have to find somewhere quiet though, where we can be alone. Maybe the PE store cupboard?’
Ofelia reached out and gripped his hand. ‘Thank you Ollie. I hope I don’t need to, but I don’t want to lose control in front of everyone. I want to stay secret.’
He smiled, ‘I know.’
She leaned closer now, still holding his hand. ‘Hey, I forgot to tell you - I have meeting with Victor on Saturday. He seems to know a lot about vampire. I want to see if I can trust him, but I can ask him anything while I’m there. What do you think I should ask him about vampires?’
Ollie thought for a moment, munched his last crisp and scrunched up the empty packet. ‘Well, I reckon you should ask him how vampires came to be. How long have vampires been around? Then you should ask him if he knows how to make more vampires. You ought to ask him about this blood thing. It’s weird, you had that blood thing done at the hospital, but it made you need more blood? How does that work? I suppose you could ask him why you’re so good at everything. I mean, I know you’ve had a long time to practise, but it still seems odd that you always find difficult stuff easy.’
‘I think that’s just having more time to practise.’
‘You should ask him though. I reckon there’s more to it than that. You should ask him if he knows of any other immortals too.’
At that point the bell rang, and they made their way to their next lesson.
***
French was next. A lesson delivered by a stern but kindly Madame Flueret - a petite forty-year-old with long, fiery hair. Ofelia had already impressed her in previous lessons with her understanding, but had also confused her by occasionally using words and phrases from Middle French - the form used between the mid-14th century and the 17th century. Ofelia had lived in France several times since the mid fourteen hundreds. Whenever she’d been living there, she’d adapted to the contemporary language well, but she’d not even visited France for over a century, except for the drive to Caen to take the ferry with Stefan.
Once the class were seated and quiet, Madame Flueret fired up the interactive whiteboard. ‘Bonjour la classe. Aujourd’hui, je veux vous parler du pont d’Avignon. Est-ce que quelqu’un connaît la chanson ‘Sur le Pont d’Avignon’?’
Ofelia had heard the song. Mention of it brought back bitter memories. She hadn’t been to Avignon for centuries, but she remembered it well. She raised her hand. ‘Oui, mais la chanson est fausse. Ça devrait être, ‘Sous le Pont d’Avignon’. Personne ne dansait sur le pont, ils dansaient sous les arches.’
‘What?’, whispered Ollie sitting next to her.
Madame Flueret smiled, a little unnerved. ‘Très bien. C’est possible! Mais aujourd’hui, nous allons étudier la version populaire.’
She clicked an icon on the interactive whiteboard and the song lyrics appeared while a soft female voice with a french accent sang the song:-
Sur le Pont d’Avignon
L’on y danse, l’on y danse
Sur le Pont d’Avignon
L’on y danse tous en rond.
Les beaux messieurs font comme ça
Et puis encore comme ça.
Sur le Pont d’Avignon
L’on y danse, l’on y danse
Sur le Pont d’Avignon
L’on y danse tous en rond.
Les belles dames font comme ça
Et puis encore comme ça…
The song continued for another two verses. As the song played, Ofelia covered her mouth conspiratorially and whispered. ‘The song says “On the Bridge of Avignon, we’re all dancing round and round”. They didn’t dance like this on the bridge though, they danced under it - so it should be “Sous le pont”.’
‘Have you ever walked on or danced under the bridge?’ Ollie whispered.
‘I haven’t tried to cross that bridge over the Rhône from Villeneuve-lès-Avignon to Avignon since fifteen seventy-eight. I’d gone to Avignon with my friend Amicia Le Moyne, to hunt a vampire called Francois Caron. He made and sold playing cards. He ran a printing workshop in Avignon.’
Ollie screwed his face up. ‘What like normal playing cards? Did they have them back then?’
Ofelia sniggered, ‘Of course! Playing cards were old idea in fourteen hundreds! In 1578 they were different. Cruder, they have no printing on the backs and the pictures were simpler. They didn’t print the number of the card or the letter of the face card. You had to know how to count and recognize the difference between king and jack. They didn’t have jokers either. Just the fifty-two normal cards.’
Ollie shrugged. ‘Doesn’t sound like a criminal mastermind, why did you have to-’
‘He capture people, lock them up in his cellar and fed on them. When he kill them, he capture more.’
Ollie looked at her earnestly now. ‘Are all vampires evil?’
‘You asking, does being a vampire make a person evil? I don’t think so, but I think only evil people were allowed to become vampire. They have strict code for turning vampires I think, which mean they only ever turn people who are prepared to see themselves as superior and accept that non-vampires are a lower order. Like an animal to be used or something.’
Madame Flueret interrupted them now, ‘Av
ez-vous quelque chose à partager avec la classe?’
Ofelia smiled, ‘Non, nous parlons d’Avignon. Nous serons tranquilles.’
The teacher wavered over whether to try to embarrass Ofelia further, but thought better of it. It was difficult to be critical of the girl who was probably the most fluent speaker in the class. Ollie and Ofelia sat and worked in silence for the rest of the lesson while Madame Flueret translated the lyrics of the song and explained the grammar, using as much French and as little English as possible.
***
By lunchtime the rain had subsided, and the sun had broken through, so they stood outside to eat their sandwiches. Their usual bench was still soaking wet when they got there, so they stood. As they ate, Ollie opened the conversation. ‘You had many friends over the years?’
Ofelia shook her head. ‘No. When you live a long time, you start to avoid getting close to people. You get fed up of watching them grow old and die. My first best friend was boy who lived in Brasov called Albrecht. They were building the church at the time and we used to climb the scaffolding together. He died around 1450. Then I made a good friend while hunting the vampire in France. We met in Marseille around the late fifteen-twenties? I can remember looking out to sea with her and watching them build the Château d’If. I think she was about ten at the time? Her family had fallen onto hard times during the hundred years war. Her grandfather had been an important man living in a grand château, but her father lost everything and left her an orphan. We travelled together, hunting vampires in the kingdom of France for decades. I watched her die of old age in fifteen eighty-nine. I wanted to stay friends with her daughters, Sandrine, Manon and Fleur - but they didn’t like me. They accused me of being a witch and heretic. They reported me to the Spanish Inquisition.’
Ollie paused eating his sandwich and turned to her. ‘Oh my god! Were you captured?’
‘Nearly. Inquisitors came to the house to collect me in the middle of the night. I climbed out of a window and escaped over the rooftops.’
Ollie gave this some thought, then took another bite of his sandwich before continuing. ‘Hang on, couldn’t you have used your vampire superpowers to just kill them all?’
She shrugged. ‘I could. But I didn’t want to. They weren’t evil men, they were just stupid men; following stupid orders and not thinking about what they were doing. Besides, even though I can’t be easily killed, being stabbed, beaten and burned - such as might happen in a fight hurts. It was easier to escape. I never saw Sandrine, Fleur or Manon again. If the inquisitors had got me into one of their torture chambers, I would have killed every man who tried to stop me leaving. Thankfully, I never had to.’
Ollie sighed. ‘Will you be my friend forever? I mean, even when I’m an old age pensioner and can’t walk and stuff? I find it weird to think I’ll end up drooling away, losing my mind in some nursing home in seventy years’ time while you’ll be bringing me bags of Werther’s Originals looking like my eleven-year-old granddaughter.’
She put her arm around his shoulder. ‘I don’t see why we’re not friends forever. Maybe I even manage to break this curse and we can grow old together? Maybe get rooms next door to each other, in same nursing home in seventy years time?’
They laughed at this. Ollie had more though. ‘So you’ve lived since fourteen hundred and something right? When do you think has been the best and the worst time?’
Ofelia pondered for a moment then smiled. ‘For people, generally life gets better. Now is the best time but future will be better. Yes, there’ve been wars and things. But in medieval times people were dying all the time of stupid things. I think the average life expectancy used to be around forty years old? Everyone had lots of children because most of your children die. If you don’t have lots of children, you have nobody to look after you when you are old. You never saw many really old people, especially not among the poor. For me, life got better in the nineteen-forties. They invent sunscreen. The early ones were not so nice, but before then the only way I could go out in the day when it was sunny was being buried under big hats and long cloaks. The worst time? The Second World War was a bad time. There was fighting everywhere, but there’ve always been wars. Because I was in Romania at the end of the war, I ended up stuck behind Iron Curtain for years. I guess it seems like long time for most people, but for me it wasn’t long time. I got shot in 1916 during Battle of Brasov. It hurt like hell and took forever to heal. So I try to stay out of the way during the Second World War.’
‘Who shot you?’ Ollie asked.
‘I don’t know. The Germans, the Romanians, the Austro-Hungarians? I don’t think it matters. I hope they were trying to shoot the other side’s soldiers and not me though. Most soldiers don’t really have killer instinct of course. They point their gun, close their eyes and fire. I think I was shot by accident.’
‘Do you have a cool scar or something?’
‘I did. It had faded completely by nineteen twenty though.’
The bell went, and they headed back into the school, Ollie musing that Ofelia, if you got her talking - was like a living, breathing history lesson. He also couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness that she wanted to end her immortality. It seemed such a precious thing, desired by so many... Why throw that away? But then most people hadn’t had to endure living through war-torn Europe for five centuries. How could anyone truly understand what it was like to be immortal? It clearly wasn’t all good.
As they walked back to the school, Ofelia felt a sudden urge to feed. It started slowly but built. By the time she was walking through the main doors, her fangs were beginning to throb. She turned to Ollie. ‘Ollie, I’m really sorry. But can I feed on you?’
He looked at her, trying to cover her swollen upper gum with slender fingers. She looked desperate and afraid. ‘Sure. Shall we go to the PE store-?’
‘No time! Girl’s toilets by the gym - now! They’re always empty at end of lunch.’
Ollie was unsure about this, but Ofelia seemed unwilling to take ‘No’ for an answer. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him gently but firmly down the corridor, against the general flow of traffic. The corridor behind the gym was deserted. She ducked into the toilets to check they were empty, then reached out and dragged him in by his blazer lapel. Ollie for his part was starting to feel afraid now. He could see something primal and animalistic in her eyes, as she pulled him into the room and stuffed him into an empty cubicle. Inside, she lowered the seat and lid, pushed him down onto the toilet and locked the door. Ollie was trembling. ‘You’re sure this isn’t going to-’
‘Just relax, I try not to take too much, so you recover quickly. I don’t want you in trouble for missing lessons.’
He tried to relax, but it was impossible. She didn’t wait though, she manoeuvred to the side, allowed her fangs to descend and sunk her teeth into the side of his neck, while gently pulling his shoulder and head apart with her hands. He struggled for a moment, then slumped almost as soon as her fangs broke flesh. Holding him firmly with her hands, she lapped and lapped, sucking at the wound, then she sealed the wounds by rubbing her spittle onto the bite. He was out cold and pale. She gently lowered him onto the cistern and propped him up so he wouldn’t fall. Then she performed an impossible leap up and over the cubicle door, landing in a roll. He’d wake up, not knowing where he was or why he’d locked himself in a cubicle of the girl’s toilets. She’d have to explain it to him later.
As it transpired, he missed geography altogether and turned up halfway through history, looking pale, tired and confused. The teacher asked him where he’d been. Ollie simply claimed he was feeling ill and had fallen asleep on the toilet. When he sat in the empty seat next to Ofelia she gently gripped his wrist, ‘Are you okay?’
He nodded. ‘Just tired. I can’t remember much, but I remember our earlier conversation. I know what happened. I’ll be alright.’
He was quiet for the rest of the day and Ofelia worried that feeding on him had compromised their friendship. Of course
, she’d been desperate and could have lost control in the middle of class. It seemed she hadn’t had much choice. She spent the rest of the afternoon hoping for the school day to end so she could get back to Harper House. Hopefully at least now she’d slaked her thirst sufficiently to not succumb to the craving any more.
***
The rest of the week was uneventful, though Ollie remained a little quieter since she’d drank his blood. By the time it was Friday night, Ofelia had gone over the visit with Victor again and again and made herself a list of questions she wanted to ask him. Ollie’s suggestions had been good, they’d seemed sensible. Now she sat on her bed staring at her list:
Satisfied, she tore the page out of her notebook, folded it and slipped it into her pocket. It was late by now so she brushed her teeth and got ready for bed. Each night she’d been repeating the exercise of secreting Immortal Paradox into a glass from her fangs to help Stoney sleep. This night Stoney knocked on her door and popped his head through. ‘Hey Offers, can I have some more of that stuff to help me sleep?’
Her jaw dropped. ‘You remember?’
‘Yeah, I didn’t use it straight away last night. I watched some YouTube on my phone for an hour first.’
Ofelia resisted the urge to panic. He clearly still had no idea what the Paradox was or where she was getting it. It seemed unfortunate that he’d remembered what she was doing for him. She cursed herself under her breath in Romanian for not making sure he administered the Paradox immediately every night. Stoney was still waiting anxiously. Ofelia waved him away. ‘Go back to your room, I bring you some sleepy stuff in five minutes.’
Ofelia (The Book of Davoth 1) Page 14
