As she seemed to be getting nowhere with Mary, and as the woman truly seemed to be on edge, Amanda decided to try a different line of questioning.
“Do you know of any others around here who might’ve been involved in the attack? Or rather, do you know of anyone who might know something about what happened?”
“What do you mean?” whispered Mary, looking perhaps a little more concerned than she had before.
“For example, I’ve heard that there is someone called Johann Milch who lives in the area and the school has lost all contact with him. It might not lead anywhere, but if you knew where he is living, this could help.”
“Oh, Johann,” said Mary looking relieved. “Yes, I know Johann. He was living just near here not too long ago. Not that I think that he would have been involved in anything like what you’re talking about.” She paused a moment. “Though I guess you never know, especially when you’re in a position like him. You know,” said Mary leaning a little closer to Amanda and lowering her voice “he’s one of those who’ve taken to living off the blood of vermin and the like. You never know with them, do you? Turns you a bit odd; never have your full wits about you anymore. He was around here not too long ago; he even used to visit me every now and again. Tried to give him some of the real stuff, once in a while, when I had enough to get by, but he’d never take it. Odd, as I said.”
“Do you know where he might be now?”
“Oh, he’ll be around here somewhere, I can tell you that. But, I can’t say where for sure. Now, I think that’s about all I know about anyone else around here, really, so if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to get back to my work.”
Amanda quickly tried to think of something to keep Mary at her door, but no question came to mind and so she ended up saying nothing further but a thank you to a closing door.
***
Amanda opened the manila folder on the third vampire the school knew lived in and around Radcliff, but before she even looked at what was within, she put the papers to one side and started to think about Mary. Though the woman clearly could not be guilty, she seemed far too defensive to Amanda, suggesting there was something Mary was not telling her: whatever that thing was, she just did not know. There was the point that as far as Amanda could remember, Mary had been on edge from the beginning of their conversation, meaning that perhaps her strange behaviour was just a reflection of her personality. Amanda knocked her fists together, just as she had done after getting in her car following the conversation with Mary. Why had she not used her phone to record the interview with Mary; what might she have found in Mary’s words if she were able to listen to them again and not be distracted by the need to have to respond to the women? The excuse did occur to her that it had been her first interview and of course she was going to make mistakes, but she regretted her oversight nevertheless.
Amanda jumped up off the purple bed and walked up and down the room while trying to remember as much as she could about the conversation she had conducted with Mary. Apart from vague notions and denials, nothing of any real use came to mind, except for the fact that Mary had confirmed that Johann could possibly be found somewhere around Radcliff and that there was good reason to suspect that he might turn up somewhere near Mary’s home. This, she supposed, was at least a step forward in her effort to track down the elusive man, but she was also now fairly sure that this endeavour would be a waste of time: if what Mary had said about Milch’s feeding habits was true, the man could not really be considered a suspect.
Amanda had met others in the past who refused to drink human blood and who had opted not to retreat from the world. The first she met at the school, during a lesson. The purpose of the class was to show what choices vampires had when it came to trying to make a life in the outside world. They were told that the person brought before them was called Arthur and that he had chosen to live off the blood of animals several decades before. Over time, the man’s body had become heavily stooped, his limbs twisted and his fingers had curled into misshapen, clenched fists; he had also completely lost the ability to speak and, though Amanda would not admit it to anyone else, she believed there was a feral look about the poor man. The transformation that Arthur’s choices had brought upon himself had not affected his mental functions, something quite apparent from his mindful and cognizant gaze as well as the moving presentation he had written for the class, but it was also clear from his words, which were read out by the teacher, that he resented his form.
The teacher had also informed the class that the argument for the continuation of such a life had been somewhat undermined by the increase in the availability of donor blood in the time since Arthur had become a vampire, something which had significantly reduced the number of new abstaining vampires. She stated that a few vampires who had been living without human blood for hundreds of years had even changed their ways, something which had led to a slight reduction in the effects wrought on their bodies by their consumption of animal blood. However, she also pointed out that some, such as Arthur, continued to only drink the blood of animals as they still considered it to be morally reprehensible to consume that which was sourced from the human body. Amanda felt a great sense of respect for Arthur, for being able to live up to his own moral standard and to bear the consequences it created in terms of not only what it had done to his body, but his ability to interact with the living world. Indeed, the teacher informed the pupils that Arthur had been unemployed for almost the entire time in which he had been a vampire. However, Amanda knew she would not be able to follow the man’s example; she even doubted she would have had the strength to refrain from consuming human blood in the times prior to the expansion of donor reserves.
After opening the small hotel fridge and retrieving and emptying one of the plastic blood pouches she had brought from her car, Amanda wondered what motivated Johann to remain on the outskirts of Radcliff and to avoid giving into his hunger to drink human blood. The man was clearly an intriguing mystery. However, she had to accept that if Johann was anything like Arthur, it was unlikely that he would have been involved in the attack on Brenden: even the idea that he would assist someone to carry out the attack would not make sense if this was the case.
“There’s still the others,” she muttered, before picking up the next file.
***
Brenden sat picking at a carving on his desk. Letters had been cut into the wood to spell out the name Edgar and just alongside them was the date January 1850. Brenden wondered if the date was real, whether it truly had been carved more than one hundred and sixty years before he had entered the class, or if it was just a fake. The thought made him stop scratching at the edges of the large and ornate E of the name; it also led him to wonder who this person had been and whether it was possible, owing to what the carver probably was, that he was still around.
“Hey Brenden,” said David. “While we’re waiting for the others, let’s have a chat.”
Brenden looked up to his fellow vampire classmate and hoped that if he remained silent, the man would eventually lose interest and just leave him alone. An awkward silence seemed far preferable to the boy than anything David would say. Though it was true that David probably had more in common with Brenden than the other members of the class - and certainly than the imposing figure of Adam - he found it strange to be in a situation where someone such as David treated him as a peer; Brenden saw him as nothing other than another adult. Though it was not just this that bothered the boy, he just did not feel as if he had the strength to deal with anyone.
“So, what are you then 12 or 13? I remember when I was that old, bit of a dog at that time and already trying to chat up the girls. I’m sure you were the same before, you know…”
At this point, David stuck his tongue out and jabbed his index and middle finger repeatedly against his own throat.
“Anyway, suppose it’s best not to go on about that too much, seeing as if you survive and go out to work in the living world, they’ll still be treating you as 13 in 30 y
ears. Ha, don’t make a face like that kid, if you want to avoid that, you can always wear make-up or some prosthetics to look a little older. You can now even get your face changed as long as you can pay. Just be glad you weren’t a few years younger or, for that matter, about 70 years older. I mean, have you seen the deputy? Poor guy must have been in his sixties when it happened. Oh, and don’t even get me started on the headmaster, what a tragedy!”
David continued to laugh at what he perceived to be the poor situation of the deputy and the headmaster for a little longer than Brenden felt entirely comfortable with, though he was not even sure what the joke was supposed to be in the first place.
“So, you’ve been thinking about what you’re going to do once you get shot of this place?” said David once he had calmed himself down. Brenden just shrugged his shoulders.
“I know I’m not going into those tunnels, that’s for sure. In fact, I want to get out of this place as soon as I can and get back to the real world. My game’s over here in the UK of course; can’t turn up walking around as if nothing’s wrong after people have seen you buried. Still, I guess I could go somewhere like New York or Asia. I’d be able to get a few other things over there as well, if you know what I mean. Ha, maybe not, but perhaps you will one day. Anyway, all I have to sort out is how to get there in the first place and kit myself out with a social security number, ID and the like. Might be tough, but hell, I’ve got the time if I need to wait.”
“You may find that such a task requires a little more effort than you may know, David,” said Adam calmly as he gently set down a small pile of books before Brenden. “The living mostly desire to have nothing to do with the undead. I dare say that you will find that their systems of bureaucracy will cause you more problems than you care to imagine, and even if you manage to worm your way through these, you will still have to earn a wage sufficient to support what an individual such as yourself would require. Even those who accept the school’s help to slowly reintegrate them into the community and supply them with the documents that they require find that it takes time and effort to remain even on the edges of society. Of course, you could join the world of organised crime or worse. Indeed, you might as well if you spurn the chance of getting your documents from the school. I know of some who have made such a choice and who have had all that they wanted from their existence, for a time. You see, if you take such a path, neither this school nor any other institution like it will help you: you will make yourself a fugitive in our world and in theirs. Then, one day, you will either get yourself shot in the head, rendering you a mindless vampire, or you will be caught, after which you will run out of blood and go on a rampage that will most likely lead, in one way or another, to your death.”
David said nothing in reply and took to examining a corner of one of the books that Adam had dropped on Brenden’s desk. Now that it had arrived, the silence that Brenden had wished for earlier on seemed to be even more uncomfortable for the boy than the experience of having to suffer David’s unwelcome words.
“My apologies, David,” said Adam. “Perhaps I went a little too far, but my underlying point still stands. As I have said on many occasions before, the world out there is not made for the likes of us; the living do not want us; they find it hard enough to accept their own. All too often, naïve new students, just like yourself, leave and get lost out there, only to return here for help. I understand that you find it a challenge to see it now, but in time you will come to recognise what I say as true. Most of us must accept that it is necessary to remain here, with our own kind. This is not just because life in the shadows out there is brutal and unforgiving, it is also because of the constant burden one must live with when in the living world, that of not being able to live as true to what we are.”
“What you say might be right for some,” said David, using his words to help him regain his composure. “But I’m going to have to see for myself what lies out there first, even if I do have to return. You’re right that I’m new here and, to some extent, that’s to my advantage as it means that their world, as you might want to call it, is still my own. And with this insight, I can assure you that there are plenty of things that a couple of guys like us can do out there without getting into too much trouble at all. So despite what you say, I’m going back. But enough about me, what do you say little buddy?”
David nudged Brenden on the arm to get his attention, but it took another go to retrieve the boy from his thoughts as Adam’s words had driven him to consider what sort of life he could have in the outside world.
“Hey, B-man! What do you say?”
“Sorry?” replied Brenden without knowing what question had been asked of him. “I don’t know, I guess, I just don’t really know.”
***
Flecks of rust came off in Amanda’s hands as she forced open the gate to the house of one Samuel Packard, the man who had been listed in the third Radcliff vampire file. It had taken her some time to find the gate as it was hidden somewhat by the mass of overgrown bushes and trees that surrounded the property; she had almost given up on finding the thing when, finally, she spotted it through an arch in a mass of untended hedges. As she tried to remove the red-brown rust from her skin, she could feel herself starting to lose her patience with the situation; perhaps, she considered, it would be better to postpone her visit to Packard and return another time. However, just as she was about to return to her car, she heard something move not too far away from her in the dark expanse of the unfamiliar garden. In a flash, Amanda fished around in her leather bag to find her phone, turned on its LED light and held the device out before her.
“Samuel?” she called out.
This time, she heard a rustling noise behind her and spun around to see if she could catch sight of whatever had made the sound. However, nothing was visible except for the mix of light grey-greens and browns of the overgrown garden. With the assistance of the light from her phone, Amanda followed a yorkstone path up to the main entrance of the gothic, Victorian, red-brick house and knocked on the door, causing flecks of dark green paint to fall to the floor.
The door was answered immediately by a slightly surprised and handsome man dressed in a long black coat, who on closer inspection appeared to be a little too thin and somewhere in his mid-20s. He gave Amanda a serious nod as if to tell her to get on with her business, before fixing his dark-brown eyes on her in a hard stare.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” said Amanda, feeling a little uneasy due to the demeanour of the man before her. “I’m looking for a Samuel Packard.”
The man did not respond to Amanda for just long enough to make her feel even more ill at ease, but not so long that she felt it was appropriate to break the silence. When he did respond, he did not do so in words. Instead, when he felt the moment was right, he merely gestured to Amanda that she should come inside and make her way into the living room; a space which turned out to be dimly lit, lined with lilac velvet wallpaper and filled with a cluster of worn, green leather armchairs, an assortment of mahogany furniture as well as the faint scent of tobacco. After following the instructions given to her, Amanda noticed the man had not entered with her; after a nervous inspection, she discovered he was not even to be found outside in the hall. Unsure of what to do, Amanda paced around the threadbare carpet for several minutes and sat down in one of the leather chairs, concluding that as she was there, it was better just to wait it out. As time passed by, Amanda kept on telling herself that the situation was getting ridiculous and that under other circumstances she would have already endeavoured to find her missing host or even left.
However, the strange behaviour of her host led her to believe there was a chance that he would return in his own time. Indeed, there was more than a little evidence around her to suggest she was in the house of a vampire whose time as a member of the undead predated even his school file, which had first been put together in the early 1920s. If the evidence was an indicator of the truth, Amanda considered that it would be not so surpris
ing for the man, who she hoped was Samuel, to take an inordinate amount of time to do anything; why would anyone rush if they not only knew they could see a hundred years pass by without ageing a day but had experienced what such a thing was like.
A light thud announced the man’s return; Amanda looked over to see that he had brought a silver tray with him, upon which sat two bone china cups. Without a word, the host placed the tray down on a dark wood table, before handing Amanda one of the cups, which was filled with blood. The novice detective was suddenly glad she had resisted the urge to leave, it was not often she was treated to an unexpected and free supply of blood and she had no intention of turning it down.
“Please, forgive me,” the man said finally in a voice that was surprisingly clear and firm for someone that had previously been so silent. “I was not expecting any visitors today; unfortunately, you just happened to catch me as I was in the middle of something. But do not worry about that, it’ll be attended to.”
“I’m sorry to have to ask you this,” replied Amanda, “but are you Samuel Packard?”
“I am. And may I ask for your name?”
“Amanda. I’m just here to ask…”
“About the boy, Amanda?” interrupted Packard.
“Yes,” replied Amanda, a little taken aback. “I’ve been sent by the Tithonus School to ask if you know anything about the attack.”
“Of course you have, my dear. Why else would you be here in the home of one of your elders? And do not look so surprised about what I know, I’m well acquainted with the practices of the old place. As soon as I saw the stories in the local papers, I knew that the school would be sending someone. But, I am afraid, my dear, that you have undertaken a needless journey. As much as I would like to give you a little information on whoever might have perpetrated such a messy and public attack as the one that led to that young boy joining the school, one that could only have been carried out by a fool, I have nothing for you.”
The School of the Undead Page 6
