Of course he still cared for her, but she was such hard work, so serious and judgemental. He needed … Well, he did not really know what he needed. It was all just too bad. What had happened to them all? Why had they changed into these strange creatures, so powerful, but so trapped and alone?
He walked back to the crates where his siblings lay, side-by-side.
‘Little sister. My brother. Why do you still sleep? Why won’t you wake? It is I, Alexandre.’
He picked up his brother by the shoulders and shook him lightly. ‘Wake up, Jacques. Wake up!’ He shook him harder and then lay him back down. It was useless. They were hard and unreachable. What was he to do?
Alexandre sat on the floor and wept. He cried blood tears into his arms. He wept for his dead parents and his sleeping siblings, for his lost century, his old life, his country, his friends - all those things he had once complained about.
He had called his old life boring. Well, he would take back that old life now in a heartbeat. He would never complain again. He would appreciate everything he used to have if only he could reclaim it. But it was all gone. Lost to history. Alexandre felt scared. He felt weak and alone in this cold damp cellar with his unreachable family. He had become a creature not of this world. A vampire. And there was only one thing that could soothe him now.
In the darkness, in his fear and confusion, Alexandre headed outside. The air helped to stem his rising panic. He needed to get to grips with what had happened. He was living in the future. His century had disappeared, his family and friends either long since dead, or in an unreachable sleep. He moved beyond the grounds of Marchwood, shocked at the similarities and the changes.
Reaching the outskirts of the local town, he saw that it had not changed too much - the same public houses, one of the same name, some different. Furniture stores, selling antiques but most of the merchandise looked modern to Alexandre’s nineteenth century eyes.
He saw the blurred shapes of frighteningly modern automobiles in metallic futuristic colours with bright beams of white lights and unfathomable speed. They contained harsh looking people with unnatural hair and faces. There were no horses on the streets and the people all dressed in shockingly indecent attire. Shiny black roads were covered in painted lines and bright lights shone everywhere. Even the air smelled different. Not so earthy, more industrial.
No time to ponder all this; he had to drink. He found a drunken old sot in a dim alleyway, who most would’ve found repulsive. But the stale odours and the tattered clothes were not repugnant to Alexandre. The fragrant blood called out above all else. Alexandre saw only the helplessness and harmlessness in this lost soul, and the sweetness ... He would take from him what he so desperately craved.
He drank greedily, the anger and grief still coursing through his body. As he took his fill, his emotions steadied and he felt himself calming and steadying. His equilibrium returned. Alexandre realised he had taken too much from this poor human and he laid the tramp down on the alleyway floor.
He now felt regret at the way he had taken his fill. He had fed selfishly without thinking about the man, only about easing his own pain and ridding himself of his misery. The man still lived, but had drifted into unconsciousness, hopefully dreaming beautiful thoughts of better days.
Zinging energy surged through Alexandre’s body and he remembered what it was to be a vampire. He had not fully realised how weak he had been. He would be able to speak to Madison properly now, give her his full concentration without the distraction of her … human-ness.
He left the alleyway and looked around properly. This was a disturbing era he had woken up to. He could not believe his own world had passed into history, never to be lived through again. He would have to learn all that he could about this … twenty first century. Twenty first century!
His clothing would have to change, but from what he had briefly seen before, the fashions today left much to be desired. Everybody looked bedraggled, dull and half-dressed. Isobel would have a fit. He thought about how outraged she would be at having to go out in this bizarre modern clothing and then he remembered she would not be going out anywhere.
He made his way back to Marchwood House and it only took him a few moments. To those who saw him, he appeared to be just a fleeting shadow on the wall or a half-glimpsed figure in the distance. A long-forgotten memory of someone or something.
*
The following morning dawned clear and cold. Madison had fallen asleep in her clothes, on top of Ben’s covers. She was freezing and rubbed her arms quickly to try to get the circulation going, but she still felt numb. She really would have to sort out the heating in this house. She realised Ben was no longer in bed and she shouted out his name, but her voice sounded hoarse and all she could manage was a quiet croak.
‘Ben!’ She ran out of the room in a panic and clattered down the staircase in her boots that she still wore from yesterday. ‘Ben! Where are you? You okay?’
The events of yesterday evening flooded into her brain. Had she really tried and failed to kill a vampire? Where was he now? Was he still in the house? And where was her brother? ‘Ben!’ she shouted really loudly this time as she approached the kitchen. He had been unconscious for days and now he was missing. ‘God,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Let him be alright. Please. He’s just a boy.’ She shouted again, ‘Ben!’
‘God help us, child,’ Esther said to Madison as she walked into the kitchen. ‘Do you have to shout so loudly?’
Ben was there, sitting in the kitchen opposite Esther.
‘Ben! You’re okay!’ Madison ignored Esther.
‘Yeah, sis.’ He smiled up at her worried face. ‘I’m great. Feel fine.’
‘I didn’t know where you were.’
‘What?’ he said. ‘Do I have you let you know every time I go into a different room now?’ He raised his eyebrows and looked at Esther who had stood up and began busying herself with the kettle, refusing to be drawn into their conversation.
‘You know what I mean, Ben,’ Maddy retorted. ‘You were unconscious for days and then you weren’t there anymore.’
‘I was sleeping and then I got up to have breakfast,’ he replied. ‘And anyway, why were you sleeping in my room last night?’
‘Just wanted to make sure you were okay. Have you seen anyone else since you’ve been up?’
‘Like who?’
‘I dunno. Anyone.’
‘No, I haven’t seen anyone except Esther. Why? Should I have?’
‘No.’ Maddy thought quickly. ‘The doctor. I meant have you seen the doctor?’
‘He’s on his way,’ Esther said. ‘Be here any minute. But this lad looks right as rain now. Doctor Wilson asked me to ring him as soon as he woke up.’
‘Great,’ Madison said. ‘Well, little bro, I’m really glad you’re feeling better.’
‘I can’t believe I missed Christmas. I mean, why did I have to get ill then? Our first Christmas in our own place.’
‘I know. It’s a bummer but don’t worry. We’ll have a belated one with all the trimmings and presents and everything.’
‘Wicked,’ Ben said through a mouthful of scrambled egg on toast.
‘Don’t go in the dining room,’ Maddy warned. ‘Your present’s in there and I want us to ... Hey!’ she shouted as he jumped up from the table and dodged past her.
She chased after him, but it was too late. Ben pushed open the dining room door and there it stood in all its shiny glory, gleaming in the corner with a big red bow around it.
‘Oh wow! A trail bike!’ he gasped.
Maddy forgot her annoyance and just enjoyed the look of happiness and excitement on his face as he skidded across the room still draped in its redundant Christmas decorations.
‘Merry Christmas, shortie.’
*
Alexandre felt the previous evening had proved most unsatisfactory in terms of finding out exactly what had happened to wake him from his long sleep. He had meant to quiz Madison further, but he hadn’t been
able to think properly. The date, the lost years – these revelations had blurred his mind.
He wondered how exactly he had come to be outside in the daylight. He remembered the agony of it and his undignified struggle to find his way back to the darkness and then seeing her with the axe poised above his cowering head, ready to strike. He did not really blame her for that. She had quite understandably thought him dangerous. But he needed to know the details. Had the daylight woken him up? Had it jolted him out of his coma? Would it work on the others?
Last night, after his hunting trip, he had hoped to speak with Madison, but she had retired to bed and so instead he had slowly wandered through the sleeping house, remembering his bygone era as if it were yesterday. He now saw strange machines and objects in the rooms. Alien things - boxes and flashing coloured lights, large square units and small shiny intricate devices.
He had sat for a while in the drawing room until he felt the creeping approach of dawn and then reluctantly he had taken himself back down to the room in the cellar.
Now he looked miserably at his grey surroundings and sat on the edge of Isobel’s crate. When Harold had been alive, the house had been fitted with shutters to keep out the daylight. In this way, they’d had the run of the place at any time of day. Harold must have brought their sleeping bodies down into the cellar some time before he died and sealed them away.
It was just all too depressing to contemplate. He could feel despair washing over him again. No friends, no family, no freedom. And the last thing he felt like doing was sleeping. Thoughts and questions whirred through his mind. His body felt strong and full of energy, but the daylight made him a prisoner.
The room appeared clean, but had an unusual feel about it. There was none of the comfort and luxury he remembered. Just bare walls and floor and the hospital stench of chlorine. He wondered at the empty bed and then noticed a black leather-bound book on the bedside table. A bible?
The pages were yellowed with age. Not a bible, but someone’s handwriting. Alexandre began to read. It was a journal of some sort ...
… and so I watch them, unable to help. I miss Victoria and feel sure she would have known what to do for the best. She was always more practical than I …
Harold’s journal! Alexandre skipped ahead to the last entry:
…I am ninety two years of age. The pen shakes in my hand and my eyes are almost useless in this dim candlelight, but I must write of the __
And here the entry ended. Alexandre closed the book. Harold was dead. He would never see his parents’ friend again. The man who had cared for him and his siblings as though they were his own. Poor Harold. He must have watched over them for the rest of his lonely days.
Were he and the others now immortal? In all these years they had not aged a day. Would they live forever? It was a frightening thought. Please God, let the others wake up. He felt a creeping loneliness slide between his ribs. He climbed into his crate and closed his eyes, willing sleep to blot out the panic. He might be immortal, but human emotion now threatened to overpower him.
*
Madison did not go down into the cellar. She tried to keep her thoughts on her brother and his recovery, but Alexandre ran through her mind constantly, like a backing track on a continuous loop. Of course, Ben wanted to take his motorbike out straight away, but both Madison and Doctor Wilson expressly forbade it and, to Ben’s disgust, he was forced to delay his desires for at least a week - Madison hid the keys.
Esther still hung about the place and she and Maddy sniped constantly at each other, in subtle competition with each other over who was the best qualified to care for Ben during his grouchy recovery stage. All in all, tensions ran high throughout the house and in the end Madison couldn’t stand the atmosphere any more. By mid afternoon she conceded defeat and left Ben in Esther’s grumbling care, deciding to go out despite the bitterly cold weather.
She shrugged on her thick puffa coat, a woolly hat, gloves and a scarf to cover her mouth and nose. The lemon bright sunshine gave no heat and the wind spat out an icy northern blast. Madison walked for fifteen minutes and then gave up, turning back and making her way over to the Land Rover.
She decided to drive slowly around the estate and listen to some tunes on her iPod. She needed something to drown out the jumble of thoughts that refused to order themselves. If only she had somebody to talk to about all this. She couldn’t make sense of anything by herself and didn’t know what to do for the best.
Was she stupid to stay in this place with its secrets and dangers? But where else could they go? This was her place as long as she lived in it. If they moved out, they would lose everything, but maybe that would be better than this constant strangeness.
She started up the engine and motored across the front lawn. Morris would give her the evils, for making tracks across the grass, but he was the least of her worries. She would head down to the woods, see if the river had frozen and then she’d drive back. Half an hour’s worth of loud music and beautiful scenery would help her to relax before night fell and he returned.
Was he down there in the cellar now? She hadn’t dared to go and look. The very thought of it made her heart stand still and her stomach disappear through the floor. She pressed play and a wall of guitars and drums quelled her panic. She put pressure on the accelerator and shot off down the hill towards the dark smudge of woods in the distance. Brown rabbits bounded out of her way and birds flocked together overhead, gloating and secure in each others company. She reached down and felt around for the plastic shape of her sunglasses to shield against the metallic glint of winter.
Before long, Madison reached the river, turned off the engine and the music and jumped down onto the slippery bank. The grey brown river still flowed, although a few sheets of ice floated near the edges. A couple of ducks huddled on the far bank and eyed Madison hopefully in case she’d brought them any tasty titbits.
‘Sorry, birdies,’ she said, as a green-necked drake stood up and waddled towards her. ‘I forgot to bring bread today. Next time, I promise.’
The duck looked across at Madison. He quacked a couple of times before realising he wasn’t in luck and waddled back to his mate, plopping down disappointedly next to her.
As Madison cruised back up the tree-lined avenue, the sun cast dappled shadows on the tarmac. Bright, dark, bright, dark, bright, dark. Maddy’s sunglasses gave everything an unreal quality, like she was looking at an old, jerky movie reel. Bright, dark, bright, dark. She had turned off her music and instead, heard the tyres hissing along the road and the engine humming in time. Bright, dark, bright, dark. The avenue of trees came to an end and she drove into brightness again.
Back home to her house of secrets. Excitement and anticipation overlaid a gut-clenching fear that wouldn’t be pushed away. She stopped trying to blot out her thoughts and decided to give in to them, to see if it lessened her anxiety. She was undeniably besotted with Alexandre, but he also terrified her to the point of numbness. He was a vampire for God’s sake. A mythical being from another century. He was also heartbreakingly beautiful and she felt sick with nerves when she was near him. But was that because of what he was or because of who he was?
Her home, her refuge from the world was now an unpredictable place. Alexandre had a prior claim to the house and there was no way she could ask him to leave. Anyway, she didn’t think she wanted him to leave.
And what about the others? The ones still sleeping. What on earth would happen when they woke up? Because she knew they would wake up at some point. It was surely only a matter of time. Alexandre awoke, so it followed they would too.
She did want to meet her ancestors – a real family she could call her own. She and Ben wouldn’t be alone anymore, but it would be beyond weird to have ancestors the same age as them. She supposed it might be like having cousins. And it would be great for Alexandre to get his brother and sister back.
But if that happened, Marchwood House would definitely not be hers and Ben’s anymore. Leonora and F
reddie Swinton had a much stronger right to it than she did. Well, legally they were dead with no rights to anything, but she wouldn’t be able to stand in their way if they wanted to reclaim it. To have it to themselves.
She’d just have to hope they’d all get along, like one nice big happy family. But Madison had long passed the point of believing in fairy tales. And what about Morris and Esther? How would she keep the existence of five vampires a secret from them? It was going to get ridiculously complicated.
She sat there in the Land Rover, on the driveway. Nervous. The sun was setting fast and she knew he’d make an appearance soon. She’d have to tell Ben. Warn him beforehand. She took a deep breath and opened the Land Rover door.
Chapter Twenty Two
*
‘Yeah, that’s hilarious, Maddy,’ her brother said.
Esther had finally gone home and night had almost fallen. Madison and Ben sat in the lounge half-watching a repeat of Only Fools and Horses. The log fire blazed as they slouched on the sofa. Ben in his pjs with a quilt pulled over him.
‘Ben, I’m deadly serious.’ Madison scooched up closer to him. She’d just told him a condensed version of what had happened yesterday - that the five statues in the cellar were not statues, they were vampires. One of them had woken up and they would probably see him tonight.
‘Mads, what are you like?’
‘I’m not ‘like’ anything. His name is Alexandre and I don’t think he’s dangerous. He’s French.’
‘A French vampire?’ Ben looked at her. ‘Does he suck blood and turn into a bat?’
Hidden (Marchwood Vampire Series #1) Page 26
