by Anne Rooney
Ava suddenly threw her onto the snow and ran. She leaned against a building, and wondered why she wasn’t gasping for breath. Her breathing had become so shallow – just like Nathan’s when he’d tried to kill her.
The shard of mirror was still in her hand, smeared with blood. Ava looked back, but the girl was gone. The end of a black coat disappeared around a corner. A chill ran through Ava: someone was following her after all.
Five
Ava stumbled into her hotel bathroom. She felt sick with self-loathing but couldn’t vomit.
Maybe vampires can’t be sick, she thought.
Her head was reeling – partly with the excitement of the blood and partly with horror at what she’d done, what she’d become. How could she live like this? But she needed the blood. She just knew it. It was as necessary as breathing.
It was horrible, but she hadn’t killed anyone. She’d hold back; she wouldn’t kill. Then they wouldn’t become vampires. That was how it worked, wasn’t it?
It was rationalising, she knew. Ava had to excuse what she was doing, because she couldn’t stop doing it. She stood in the shower for a long time, trying to wash away the taint of wanting blood. There was no blood on her, not a drop – but she felt filthy.
The next morning, she slept late. She wished, now, that she’d stayed longer in Ignace’s castle and found out about life as a vampire. But he’d sent her away. He’d said they’d be watching her, and if she told anyone … She shivered.
Were they watching her? Maybe they’d help her. Because I really can’t do this alone, she thought. She wondered if the tall man who’d stared at her was working for Ignace. She hoped not. For no reason she could explain, he’d frightened her.
Ava turned on the TV, hoping for distraction, but there was nothing in English. The local station showed pictures of the police cordon near the circus, and then of the place where Ava had attacked the woman. She couldn’t understand the commentary. Grainy photos of both women came on screen, with a number to contact underneath.
Ava felt sick. Someone, somewhere, had made a connection between the attacks already.
She walked out into the street, desperate to get away. People went about their daily lives, going to work, shopping, trooping through the snow and the slush. They didn’t stare at her. She didn’t look like a vampire, then. She didn’t look like a monster people should avoid.
She could smell them, though. They smelled enticing. Even a tramp slumped in a doorway had a smell that drew her towards him. It was a smell she had never noticed about people before, a slightly muffled smell. But the smell of blood, all the same.
She stopped at the café and had another rare steak. That calmed her interest in the people. As she ate, she saw a tall dark figure through the mist on the window, looking in at her. That man, again – was it? She couldn’t be sure, but her skin prickled at the thought. When she left the café, there was no one there. She hurried, head down, listening hard for footsteps behind her.
She set off for the park where the circus was pitched. She felt dirty, and she was afraid to face Ivan. But he would understand, if he were a vampire. And she was drawn to him. He was cute, and funny, as well as perhaps a vampire.
It was dusk as Ava picked her way between the trailers and tents. The police were gone, the tape taken down, but a bunch of flowers lay wilting on the ground near the tiger trailer. Her stomach lurched. Flowers? Why? She had only bitten the woman.
She found Ivan’s trailer – it was easy enough as it said ‘Vampir’ in large red letters and had a picture of a caped vampire dripping blood.
‘Ivan?’ she called as she knocked. ‘Are you in your coffin or can I come in?’
He opened the door immediately. He was dressed in jeans and a shabby jumper, and it was only when he spoke and she saw his filed and built-up teeth that there was anything of the vampire about him. It looked odd, the jumper and those teeth. But the magic was still there: something unspeakably enticing about him.
‘Lovely to see you!’ he cried, waving his arms around. ‘I didn’t expect you’d ever come – but this is great.’
He swept her into the smoky warmth of the trailer. There was no coffin, but a narrow bed used as a sofa. The smoke and the warmth came from a wood-burning stove. Ivan swept a pile of comics from a small wooden table onto the sofa and pulled up a stool.
‘Sit? Would you like something? Tea? Something stronger?’
‘Let’s start with tea.’ Ava smiled. She let the warmth and the oddness of Ivan’s caravan fold around her and she relaxed into talking to this strange, strange boy. She didn’t know or care where this evening would go – but she was up for the ride.
Six
They talked for hours. Ava felt secure, buffered against the horrors inside her head. She was drunk on Ivan, light-headed with having fun again. Perhaps, even, falling in love slightly, she thought. Did she trust herself to fall in love again after Nathan? Ivan was different, though – and she was different.
It was dark when she made her way back from the park. Snow swirled so thickly in large, cartoon flakes that it was hard to see. She didn’t expect there to be anyone out tonight. But there was a skinny, stooped man leaning in a doorway coughing. He must have been fifty at least. His skin was tired and grey from smoking, and his eyes were blank. He stepped out of the doorway to ask Ava for money.
Ava reached into her pocket for coins, and her fingers found the piece of mirror. The reality of what she was came crashing back to her. At the same moment, she saw a scratch on the man’s bare arm – a line of dull, drying, dark red blood. The longing came over her so quickly she couldn’t stop herself. Ava grabbed his hand and pulled it to her mouth, then sank her teeth into it.
The man screamed and screamed, thrashing at Ava’s head and shoulders with his other arm, but she didn’t let go. She sucked and swallowed and felt the warmth flood through her again. At last she tore herself away and ran off, leaving the man yowling.
As she passed a side street, Ava saw the same tall figure she’d seen before. He was wrapped in a long coat. He had a hat pulled down over his brow and a scarf over his mouth, but his eyes gleamed brightly between them as though he were smiling.
The warmth the blood had spread through her body was gone in an instant – those cold, knowing eyes chilled her to the core. Ava wanted to run, but didn’t dare in case he ran after her. There was something about him, something odd that she couldn’t pin down and that made her feel instantly sick with fear. It was a feeling both of evil and of some strange familiarity – as though she knew him and knew he was very bad.
Panicked, Ava ran; she was almost as terrified that he’d seen what she’d done as that he’d catch her. But when she turned and glanced over her shoulder, the man was hurrying the way she’d come, towards the screaming man. She was relieved, but alarmed – was he going to help? What would he think of Ava, running in the other direction? She didn’t care, as long as he didn’t come near her.
Back at the hotel, she showered and tried to calm her nerves. The man hadn’t followed her to the hotel – she prayed he didn’t know where she was staying. Somewhere in the night she heard the wail of a siren. Police or ambulance? It had taken a long time, if it were for the man she’d attacked.
She shuddered, thinking of him taken away to hospital, telling them what had happened, seeing the disbelief or horror on the doctors’ faces. Would they believe him? What if they spoke to her stalker? Had he seen her do it? It wouldn’t take long to put the three cases together and realise he was telling the truth – especially now the first two had been on television.
Seven
‘Truth or dare?’
Ivan slammed down a tiny, chipped beaker in front of Ava. Thick red liquid slopped up the inside.
She was back in his trailer, unable to keep away. The rickety table rocked and the lamp flickered. Ava laughed and hooked a strand of hair behind her ear. She felt safe here, with Ivan. She could put the horror and guilt of last night out of her mind.<
br />
‘Truth,’ she said.
‘Do you have a boyfriend?’
‘Not any more,’ Ava said.
‘What happened?’
‘Not fair – that’s a second question.’ Ava looked down, twisted her fingers together. Nathan’s face floated into her mind and she shook her head to get rid of it. ‘My turn. Truth or dare?’
‘Truth.’
‘Are you really a vampire?’
Ivan downed the drink and sloshed more into the glass from a jug.
‘Trade secret. Now you – truth or dare?’
‘Dare.’
‘Bite me. Let’s see if you could do my trade.’
‘I can’t. I’ll do anything else – but not bite.’
‘No – only biting will do. Drink, then.’
Ava knocked back the drink.
‘It’s blood,’ she gasped. Her whole body thrilled to it. It took all her will power not to grab the jug and down it all.
Ivan laughed. ‘Of course. But you did it!’
Ava refilled the glass. She closed her eyes in pleasure and Ivan raised an eyebrow.
‘Strange girl,’ he said. ‘Dare.’
Ava’s mind was full of the blood. She couldn’t think of anything – least of all a dare.
‘Handstand.’
‘What? That’s tame! What’s got into you?’
‘I can’t think of anything I want you to do.’
‘What, not anything?’ He stroked her face, then leaned in to kiss her. He tasted good. Ava put a hand on the back of his head and drew him towards her as soon as he started to pull away.
‘Wow. Have we finished this game?’ he said at last.
‘Nope. You haven’t done the handstand.’
Ivan stood up, bowed, then did a handstand on one hand. He held it for thirty seconds, jumped upright, and bowed again. Ava clapped.
‘I live in a circus, remember,’ he said. ‘It’s as if I dared you to breathe. One more round. You – truth or dare?’ Ava hoped he wouldn’t dare her to breathe.
‘Truth.’
Ivan slammed the drink down in front of her.
‘Why won’t you bite me?’
‘Because I’m a vampire,’ she said.
‘No way? Me too. So that’s OK, you can bite me.’
‘No, seriously. You wouldn’t answer my question. You wouldn’t say if you really are. And I am,’ Ava said.
‘Prove it. Bite me.’
‘No.’
‘I want you to,’ he said.
‘I know. But that’s not enough.’
He leaned over and kissed her again.
‘What if I bit you?’ he whispered.
They kissed, long and hungrily. He hooked her long blonde hair behind her ear to bare her neck and traced his tongue along a blue vein. Then he pushed the sweater from her shoulder. The skin glowed pale gold and smooth in the dim light of the lamp.
Ivan kissed her shoulder, played his tongue over it until he found the warm, plump top of her arm and then, ever so slowly at first, sank his pointed fangs into the flesh. Ava gasped with excitement and alarm, and Ivan sucked long and hard. When he raised his head she looked into his eyes, expecting to see passion. But she saw only fear.
She looked down at her shoulder. Two holes marked the place he had bitten. Two slightly pinkish holes. They both looked at the holes and waited. It seemed hours before Ivan spoke.
‘You don’t bleed.’
‘No. Well, I do eventually. But slowly. I told you, I’m a vampire,’ Ava replied.
‘There’s no such thing as vampires.’
‘What?’ Ava stared at him, her eyes wide with horror, matching his. ‘But – you’re a vampire. Aren’t you? You drink blood, you have the teeth, you …’
‘Think. Where are you?’ he cried. ‘This is a circus for heaven’s sake! I’m a circus act!’
Ava pointed to the jug of blood.
‘Where’s that from?’
‘Butcher. It’s animal blood. You didn’t really think it was human, did you? Did you?’
Ava was afraid to say that it didn’t taste human, but she’d assumed that was because it wasn’t fresh. Ivan was backing away now.
‘You – was it you? The lugat?’
‘Lugat? What’s that?’ She remembered the word the woman near the tiger cage had shouted that first night at the circus.
‘It’s an Albanian word for vampire. The lugat bites, but rarely kills. It weakens its victims, and sometimes makes them lust for blood, too. It doesn’t have pointy teeth, like this’ – he bared his dramatic fangs – ‘but has ordinary teeth, like you. And makes an ordinary, ugly bite. Like the bite on Donka.’
‘Who?’
‘One of our performers.’
Dread gripped Ava’s stomach. The circus woman – she was a person, with a name, with friends. And one of her friends was Ivan. He carried on:
‘She was bitten by someone near the tiger cage. Someone who didn’t bleed when ripped up by the –’ He stopped. He looked at her bandaged arm. ‘Take the bandage off.’
‘Is that a dare?’ Ava wanted to make light of it, get back to where they were before. She didn’t want to spoil this, didn’t want to lose him.
‘No. It’s an order.’
Ava ignored the order.
‘Where is she? Is she OK?’ she asked.
‘What? No, of course not. She’s dead. Like the others.’
‘Others? You said lugats don’t kill people.’
‘They don’t usually. Or so the Albanians say. But it looks like they’re wrong in your case. You did it, didn’t you? You killed those people. You’re a psycho – a sick psycho!’ Ivan had now backed away to the kitchen of his trailer and was feeling around behind him for a knife.
‘No!’ Ava cried. ‘No! I’ve never killed anyone! I swear I haven’t!’
‘You expect me to believe that? Even I’ve been blamed for it and I’m not a real vampire! Three people have been found dead – well, Donka was found dying – bitten and knifed, and you expect me to believe it’s not you? That by some amazing coincidence, a real vampire turns up here at the same time as a different psycho-killer who happens to bite people? Come on!’
‘Ivan –’
‘I’m not called Ivan! It’s an act! My name’s Darren and I am NOT a vampire. You, though – who are you? Where are you from? Are you dead?’
He had found the knife now – a long bread knife. He held it out in front of him. Ava saw the fear in his face and his hand trembling.
‘You can’t hurt me with that. Not enough. You know that! If anyone knows it, you do.’
‘Did you kill them?’ His voice was high and quivery.
‘NO! NO, I DIDN’T,’ she shouted. ‘I bit some people, yes. But I’ve never killed anyone. I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. I don’t even have a knife,’ she added. ‘But you do.’
‘You think I did it?’ he stuttered.
‘No. I didn’t even know it had happened.’
They stood looking at each other.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said at last. ‘But you can see how it looks. It’s a surprise, a real vampire in my caravan.’ He gave a nervous laugh.
‘Please put the knife down,’ she said.
‘I won’t hurt you – there’s no point, as you said.’
‘No. But I might hurt you if you cut yourself.’
She walked over to him, took the knife from his hand, and kissed him gently on the lips.
Eight
It was very late when Ava left Ivan’s trailer. Or Darren’s – but she preferred to think of him as Ivan. As she stepped out of the door, someone moved in the shadow of the trees. A man in a long coat and a hat, waiting. Waiting for her.
She gripped Ivan’s hand too tightly and pointed to the trees. A glint of steel in the moonlight, and the man was gone.
‘I’m afraid,’ Ava said. Ivan took her in his arms.
‘Do you want to stay? Go home in daylight?’
She nodded.
‘But –’
‘I know.’
‘No, I mean the man. I’ve seen him before. He’s been following me.’
Ivan drew her back into the trailer and locked the door.
‘Are you sure? For how long?’
‘I don’t know exactly. A few days. And he saw me …’
‘… Bite someone?’
‘Yes.’ She looked down, ashamed. Ivan was no longer her refuge from the horror. She had to face up to it even here.
‘And these people were alive when you left them? You swear?’
‘I swear,’ Ava said.
‘I don’t think he’ll harm you,’ Ivan said. ‘I think he’s a vulture. He wants those people; not you.’
‘You mean – he killed them?’
‘That would be my guess.’
‘Why?’
‘I have no idea. Why do psychos ever kill people? Because they’re psychos. Come here,’ he said. ‘He won’t harm you, but you can stay.’ He folded her into his arms.
‘But I haven’t hurt anyone tonight.’
‘He didn’t know what would happen when you came here. The first time you came here, there was Donka. Perhaps he hoped …’ Ivan’s voice trailed off.
Ava shuddered.
‘I don’t want to be alone. Not ever.’ She snuggled into Ivan’s jumper and his arms. At that moment, they both heard it: the tread of a boot in snow. Then a scratching noise by the door.
‘He’s on the steps to the trailer,’ Ivan whispered.
‘There’s no one there,’ Ava whispered back. Ivan looked at her.
‘But you can hear him.’
‘We can hear something. But no one is there. I can smell – people. Blood. Always. I can smell your blood. I can smell the blood we drank earlier. I can’t smell him. I can’t smell anyone at the door.’
‘Dare,’ said Ivan. ‘Open the door.’
Ava was certain. She couldn’t smell blood – he couldn’t be there. But as she approached the door that certainty wavered. She did hear a noise. But even if it were an animal she would smell its blood. The whole world smelled of blood to her now. She turned the key, and paused. Ivan stood behind her, his arms around her waist.
