“I won’t go into all the details of the attack, I don’t think it’s necessary,” said Peter, whose words were becoming ever more hesitant as his mind played back the memory of what he did to Brenden. “I saw the boy from some distance away, lit as he was by the streetlights. I believe there was a moment when he saw me and I paused. He asked something of me, but I didn’t hear what it was, nor did I answer. Then I killed him.”
Peter swallowed with a throat so dry it was almost as if it were lined with sawdust. This description of his murder of Brenden, as minimal as his expression of it had been, caused him to briefly reflect on what he had done, something he had avoided doing until that very moment. Over the many years he had spent hiding in his home and the dark of his basement, Peter had often thought about what the attack on Johann had meant, and what it suggested about himself, but there was no doubt in his mind that the killing of the boy was worse. When attempting to justify his continued hiding away after the death of Johann, he had frequently told himself that the killing had just been a one off, an unfortunate mistake that would never happen again. But the murder of the boy undermined all this. As he continued to say nothing, Peter felt the force of the eyes in the room upon him and without meaning to, he began to consider how they were judging him. He began to feel a growing sense of self-loathing, despair and loneliness building within him, and then - after hearing the voice of Mary somewhere at the back of his mind – quickly suppressed these emotions by telling himself that he had not yet finished his statement.
“By the time I regained my sense of self,” Peter continued after clearing his throat, “the boy had already passed out: perhaps he was already dead. To my shame, once again, I fled as quickly as I could, returning to the house without any real consideration about the person I’d left behind. This time, though, I did not even lie to myself over whether I would alert anyone about the boy. Instead, I just went back down into the basement and waited for Mary to return to tell her what I’d done.
“Yesterday, I had some time to think about my actions. Unlike my wife, I truly regret what I did and would do anything I could to avoid the tragic loss of life I caused. At one time, my belief was that we had created something that would ensure that neither of us would ever again let the continuation of our lives out there lead to the end of the life of another, but now I’m convinced that one can never really escape the hunger. Because of this, my unease that another attack could always happen, and because of the crimes I committed, I accept that it is only right that I should go down into the tunnels. Indeed, I am even grateful that I can receive no worse sentence as that is probably what I deserve.”
After a long pause, Peter carefully turned off the microphone and placed it down on the lectern. He took a couple of steps back before slowly walking to his chair while the room remained in total silence. Only after the man had sat down did the deputy get to his feet to move things along.
“Now that we have heard the two statements, does anyone have any questions they would like to direct towards the two guilty parties?
“Ah, I see a few hands. Perhaps I should say that it is quite probable that we will not get around to everyone as we only have today to deal with this affair. This also means that it would be most gracious if those with questions were to keep them as short as possible. You will also not be surprised to learn that you can only ask one question. Apologies in advance if we do not get to hear what you may want to say. As I said before, I will be in my office during the break, so if you have any truly pressing enquiries then you can raise them with me there. Oh yes, one more thing, the guilty parties do not need to answer your questions if they do not want to. Right, let’s get on with it.”
After a quick glance across the mostly tiring crowd, the deputy pointed at a young-looking, balding, blonde man in a baggy suit.
“Ah,” said the man while smoothing down his suit, as if it would help him find what it was he wanted to say, “I think I might speak for a few people here by asking why it was that you gave yourself away at the end? I mean, we’ve all heard rumours about how you gave yourself up after…”
“I think the question is clear enough,” interrupted the deputy. “I’m not quite sure if this issue is pertinent to sentencing, or the cases we are dealing with in general. However, I know this has been a hot topic around the school for the last few days. I will allow this matter to be dealt with once, but that’ll be it. Anyone else who wants to ask this question can put their hand down. Peter, Mary, is there anything you would like to say in response?”
Shaking her head abruptly, Mary made it clear that she had no intention of saying anything. However, Peter, who was warming to the idea again of being among others for the first time in so long - and without putting anyone in danger – started to speak once more.
“We didn’t really decide to give ourselves up. We still don’t really know what happened. Someone seemed to make a racket at the back of our house every time the school investigator, Amanda, turned up at our door. Perhaps it was just a coincidence, perhaps not. Indeed, Mary and I both suspect that someone may have even broken in to the house not long before I was found as the lock on the cellar trapdoor inexplicably broke just before the end.
“Whatever the truth is, the noises led Amanda to my hiding place. Once the trap door to the cellar was revealed, I felt the game was up and that it was pointless to carry on as if I didn’t exist. Maybe you think we could have kept our little subterfuge going, but how was Mary to explain my presence? Do you really think she could have come up with any story, after I’d come out from under the floorboards, that would prevent me from eventually being identified by the boy? No, once I appeared it was all over.”
A few more questions followed, most of which touched upon points the deputy felt had already been dealt with in Peter and Mary’s statements, and the gathered crowd gradually became restless, with conversations first emerging then growing ever louder. Individuals and couples began to leave, some leaving their coats indicating their intentions to return. Eventually, a group from the elite of vampires, who had maintained a steady silence during the course of proceedings, stood as one and walked down to the exit in their ancient suits and gowns. The session continued for a short while, but it was clear to all that whatever energy there had been left in the room exited with the vampires. Recognising that the right moment had come, the deputy brought proceedings to a halt by announcing the break.
***
Fifteen more minutes, thought the deputy to himself as he checked the time through the cloudy glass of his watch. Fifteen more minutes and then he would return to the hall to pass sentence on Peter and Mary. The man leant back in his peeling leather chair and mumbled to himself that he would be glad when the day was over. Almost the entire proceeding seemed to him to be nothing more than a triviality. The two had not only admitted their guilt, but the power he retained was also limited to giving a sentence of exile down to the Tunnels. Of course, he would have to decide how many years the two would have to remain underground, but in truth, this was also only a formality as almost no one returned from the Tunnels. Indeed, this was the case even when individuals entered of their own volition and had the option to return at any time.
So far, only a couple of people had come and gone to ask about matters in the case during the break and they had both been complaints about not being able to hear more about the details, particularly those dealing with how the two were caught. He was rather glad about the number of enquiries being so low. It meant that no one decided to question the guilt of the two or the run of the proceedings, it also suggested he would be able to put three cases to rest at the same time. Of course, one of those cases had only arisen because Peter O’Hare had revealed himself, and brought to light his wife’s attack upon him, but this did not matter.
Without anything else to occupy his mind, the deputy found himself considering the reasons for the eventual capture of the O’Hares and whether the truth of the matter would ever emerge. However, these musings were
only of the lightest kind, and in next to no time at all they gently let him settle down into a doze. Just before he finally dropped off into a true deep sleep, someone knocked on the door, and the deputy - more than a little frustrated at being deprived of the chance to rest – called whoever was outside to come in with a notable amount of irritation in his voice. To his continued displeasure, the door started to open in what the deputy perceived to be far too slow a manner, leading him to jump up from his seat, cross his tiny office and grab hold of the handle.
“Come on,” said the deputy, testily, as he swung the door open, “we haven’t got all day.”
Due to the deputy’s eagerness to move things along, he took the person on the other side of the door by surprise and practically launched them into the room as they had no time to let go of the handle. Immediately, the deputy realised he had made a mistake.
“Oh Brenden,” said the man. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
“Sorry, sorry,” mumbled Brenden, who then proceeded to turn around with the clear intention of leaving.
“No, stay,” added the deputy, grabbing hold of the boy’s shoulder before guiding him to a seat. Brenden gave no resistance. “You’ll have to forgive me. This morning went on a little longer than I expected. Why did you want to come and see me?” he continued as he swiftly closed his door and returned to his place behind his desk.
“He’s just like me, isn’t he,” said Brenden.
“Sorry?”
“Peter. I was scared to even look at him when I first saw him. But when Mary said about how she had killed him, I realised that in a way, Peter is just like me.”
“Brenden, the man has killed! He has killed two people, one of them being yourself.”
“Yeah, I know. But, he didn’t really mean to, did he? It was, sort of, it was an accident, wasn’t it?”
“My boy, he was foolish to let himself fall into the situation he was in. No, more than foolish; especially after it happened the first time.”
“I know. But that’s the thing that’s helped me make up my mind. I found it really hard to decide, but when I heard their story, I could see that I could end up just like them out there.”
The deputy sighed and rubbed his fingers around his tired, closed eyes. He realised that he had not quite processed what the boy had said, perhaps the morning really had drained him more than he had realised.
“I believe I must have missed something, you’ll have to forgive me. What did you want to say about the case?”
“Well, I suppose it was to say that I think I forgive them. They didn’t really mean to do what they did, did they? I guess it might make no difference, you know, for the sentencing. But I thought I should tell you before you sentenced them later on. But also, I wanted to say that I have come to a decision. I don’t want to end up like them. I want to go down to the Tunnels as well, so I never end up hurting people like they did.”
“Brenden, my good fellow,” said the deputy with a degree of genuine surprise. “This is no choice that you should take lightly. This has been a long morning, one I am I sure that was much more tiring for you than for me, and it has been most trying for myself. Of course, I don’t mean to contradict your wishes, but I believe you should wait for the emotions that have most likely been roused from the events today to die down. Perhaps in a few days, you will see things differently. Have a few words with your teacher as well. Are you with Adam? Still, see what he has to say. You are still truly very young, and to go down there. Indeed, we may even be able to find you a family. So to retreat to the Tunnels so soon, and with that man. Well, I’m not so sure this would be right at all. Just wait and see, you may change your mind yet.”
The first response of the boy was to hang his head. He had been so convinced, he had not expected the deputy to question his decision. Then something told him for the first time since he had arrived at the school that despite the concerns of the deputy, he was still sure of what he wanted.
“No,” the boy mumbled. “I don’t think so.”
Just as the deputy was about to attempt for a second time to convince the boy to reconsider his plans, a knock came at the door. It was Freddie, he had come to inform the deputy that it was time for him to return to the hall. Within an instant, even though the boy was still sitting in front of him, the deputy’s thoughts about Brenden disappeared from his mind and he left the room in a hurry. It was only after the old vampire was halfway down the corridor that the meaning of much of what Brenden had said became apparent to him. When the deputy poked his head back into his office, he found Brenden staring off into nothing and absently picking at the broken skin beside his nails.
“Brenden,” said the deputy. “Of course I’ll take your kind sentiments into consideration when determining the sentence for Peter and Mary. Come on now, let’s go back to the hall. They’ll all be waiting for us.”
Chapter 7
Rain streaked down the windshield of Amanda’s Clio. The young vampire had waited several minutes after parking her car in the hope that the worst of the weather would move on, but the uniform, heavy grey sky suggested that nothing of the sort was going to happen anytime soon. She turned the keys to 56 Balfour Lane around in her fingers while weighing up whether she could run down the O’Hare’s long drive without either getting too wet or covered in mud. She had to do it, she had no intention of hanging around in Radcliff for any longer than she needed to. After taking a moment to brace herself, she threw herself into the driving rain, slammed the car door behind her and then ran as fast as she could past the puddles and potholes to reach the house. The keys slipped from her already dripping wet fingers as she raised them to the lock, prolonging her exposure to the elements just long enough for her to have to suffer one more blast of rain-filled wind as she retrieved the damned things from the sodden earth. Finally, she was in. She put her back to the door, glad that the most that the turbulent weather outside could do to continue to disturb her was to send a howling wind down the building’s chimney. After the relief of getting inside faded, she looked down at her clothes and discovered that she had not been so lucky in avoiding pools of muddy water that had formed on the drive.
“Crap,” she muttered to no one.
Amanda did her best to knead the worse of the dirt and rain down to the bottom of her jeans, but she mostly just succeeded in making her hands filthy. While just about holding in her frustration, she tore off her jacket, freed her hands of as much mud as she could, took off her trainers, then peeled herself out of her wringing wet socks and trousers. After using her pullover as a makeshift towel - something she was not keen on doing, but left with little choice if she wanted to avoid leaving a trail of mud around the house – she ran to the kitchen to clean herself up as best she could before bounding up the stairs to find Mary’s bedroom. Once in the room, she delved into one of the woman’s wardrobes and selected a baggy pair of trousers as well as a pair of thick woollen socks to wear. She was not best pleased that she would probably have to spend the next hour or two in Mary’s old clothes, but she would rather do that than walk around in either next to nothing or the wet pile she had left near the door.
After hanging her soggy clothes on the radiator in the hall, Amanda went through to the kitchen to make herself a cup of black and sugary instant coffee. Though she was not sure if she would drink it, she knew that the smell of the coffee would help her relax. Indeed, as soon as she poured the hot water into the old brown mug she had selected from the cupboard, she could feel her frustration ease away. While looking out of the kitchen’s window, which provided a view on nothing more exciting than the side of a neighbour’s house, she took a sip. The water was still too hot and the taste of the coffee suggested that Mary had bought the jar some time ago. Amanda did not mind as the aroma was all she really needed. Her glance drifted over the assortment of potted plants that sat on the windowsill, most of them spider plants, until eventually, her eyes settled on the kitchen door, the door through which Peter had left to kill bot
h Johann and Brenden.
She put her coffee down. She had a job to do and there was no point putting it off any further. She had been tasked by the deputy with clearing up the mess in the house and to remove everything she could find that could prompt the local authorities to suspect that there was something suspicious about the absent owners of the house. To help her with this task, the deputy had allowed Amanda to discuss, albeit briefly, what was in the house with both Mary and Peter. The most important thing they had stressed, apart from the small amounts of blood that still remained in the fridge, was to clear out the cellar. Mary had insisted that apart from the cellar, there was hardly anything she could think of that might suggest that anything was out of the ordinary as in the rest of the house they had lived their lives in just the same way as they had before her final Christmas visit to her sister’s. As Amanda looked at the severely outdated décor of the room around her, she could see that Mary had clearly been telling the truth. Amanda was even a little concerned that this very thing might cause an issue as the place was a virtual time capsule from the period of the couple’s death. In reality, there was little she could really do to solve this problem; it was not as if she had the time to redecorate.
There was also the little matter of her knowing that a story was being concocted by the school that could partly address this issue. Before she left, the deputy had informed Amanda that it was quite likely that, soon enough, a story would appear in the local paper about how a couple from Balfour Lane were suspected missing after disappearing following their renting of a boat while on holiday in America. Of course, it would be made very clear that the couple were elderly, meaning that the state of the house, as well as the true age of Mary and Peter, would not lead to any unwanted questions. Problems would only arise if anyone who had recently worked with Mary, who despite what she wore still looked as if she were in her 20s, somehow managed to connect her with the missing woman in the story. Mary had, she admitted, always used her real address with employers, so it was a possibility. They would not necessarily identify Mary as the missing woman, but they might start to ask questions about what had happened to the young woman they had worked with, as well as where and how this unidentified, youthful looking Mary - who also happened to share a name with the elderly lady who had been lost for some time in the United States – had lived in such an outdated house. When Amanda raised this matter with the deputy, he suggested that it was nothing to worry about. His experience with such matters, he assured her, suggested that such problems developed only very rarely as it was hardly ever the case that people really remembered old work acquaintances, let alone checked-up on them. From the tone of the conversation, it also became quite clear to Amanda that fabricating stories to cover up disappearances was something the school had attended to on more than the odd few occasions.
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