The Vampire's Grave and Other Stories

by Amy Cross

  She pauses.

  “You're not safe, though. Every so often, one of us comes across one of you in a vulnerable position, and we feed. From the slums of the third world to the heart of New York and London, there's always space for the occasional mortal to disappear.”

  Reaching me, she holds one of the wine glasses closer.

  “But I thought maybe you would be different,” she adds. “You saw so much. What's wrong, did it all seem too melodramatic? Too violent? Too visceral? Do you still think the whole thing was your fevered mind's way of dealing with the death of your sister?”

  She waits for me to reply.

  “You don't want the wine?” she asks. “It's a very good vintage. I picked the grapes myself.”

  Staring at her smiling face, I can't help wondering if I'm finally going insane. Perhaps this is some awful hallucination at the end of my life.

  “Your grand-daughter,” she continues. “If you wanted, I could perhaps give her a gift, just something to -”

  “Leave her alone,” I stammer. “Please.”

  “But if -”

  “Leave her alone!”

  She hesitates, and I can see a hint of discomfort in her eyes.

  “I brought you here today,” she continues, “because I wanted you to finally see that it all really happened. I thought you deserved that, now that you're so old. I thought you should see that the world is so much more interesting than most mortals perceive. Was that a mistake? Should I have let you go to your grave in the belief that I was just a figment of your imagination? Aren't you grateful?”

  Again, she waits for me to speak, but there are simply no words. Either I am face to face with an illusion, or...

  “You're free to go,” she explains. “I won't stop you. I just... I suppose I wanted to hear you say the words.”

  “What words?” I ask.

  “That you believe. In me. In what I am.”

  I pause, before shaking my head.

  “Even though I'm right in front of you?”

  I swallow hard.

  “That's why I let you live, you know,” she continues. “So that I could wait and one day hear you say that you do believe.”

  I stare at her for a moment, before turning and opening the double-doors. Tapping my chair's control panel, I drive back out into the corridor., but then I stop again. I know she's right behind me, still watching, still waiting. I should just leave, but there's one thing I want to ask her first.

  “I was in Edinburgh many years ago,” I say finally, still not turning back to look at her. “With my wife, God rest her soul. I was walking along a busy street, with tourists all around, and suddenly I noticed a man looking at a shop window. He wore mostly black, although the lining of his jacket was purple. After I'd been staring at him for a few seconds, he turned to me and I saw something in his eyes. He seemed amused by the fact that he had caught my attention, and surprised. We watched one another for a few more seconds, before finally I was filled with the sense that I should hurry on. For several days after, I couldn't help looking over my shoulder in case I saw that man again. Was he...”

  My voice trails off.

  “I told you that there are others like me,” she replies calmly. “Because you had encountered me, perhaps it became easier for you to recognize another vampire when you saw him. And he, in turn, noticed your attention and probably wondered why you, of all the mortals on that street, had seen his true aspect. He probably did follow you for a day or two, out of curiosity. After all, it's very rare for a mortal to pierce the veil of fear and see one of us for what we really are. Perhaps you do believe that I'm real after all, Ben, even if you can't bring yourself to say the words.”

  “No.”

  “But you saw the man in Edinburgh, so -”

  “He was right in front of me.”

  “But you saw him, Ben. You wouldn't have done that if you didn't believe, deep down.”

  I hesitate for a moment, before tapping the control panel again and steering my wheelchair along the corridor.

  “I won't disturb you again,” she calls after me. “Goodbye, Ben. I have learned a great deal from our two meetings. I have learned about the mortal mind.”

  By the time I'm back outside, with Hayley beside me once again, I feel a shudder of fear in my chest. I keep running through everything I heard while I was in that room with Madeleine. As I wait for the driver to open the limousine's door, I tell myself that she wasn't really there at all, that I imagined her. Then, as Hayley helps me into the car, I decide that Madeleine has pulled some kind of trick on me, that perhaps she found someone to imitate her. A moment later, while Hayley is securing my chair ready for the journey back, it occurs to me that I experienced some kind of brief hallucination in that room. And then, a few minutes later as the limousine heads back along the driveway, I go back to the theory that I have somehow been duped, even if I cannot imagine why anyone would go to such lengths. There are explanations. I just have to choose one.

  “Are you okay?” Hayley asks. “You seem very quiet. What happened back there?”

  “Oh, it was just...” I pause, as the limousine slows and the gates start to open again. “An old friend,” I add finally, figuring that it would be best to avoid specifics. “Nothing important, she just... It was nothing.”

  “She?”

  Now that the gates are open, the car crawls through.

  “She must be loaded,” Hayley continues, “and she obviously went to a lot of bother to bring you here. What did she want?”

  “She wanted me to tell her that I believe in her,” I reply, before I can help myself. “I mean... Something like that.”

  “Believe in her? How?”

  “Never mind.”

  “But Gramps -”

  “Never mind,” I say firmly. “Please, Hayley, I'm tired. Don't pester me.”

  “You're being very mysterious,” she mutters, as the limousine waits for a gap in the traffic, ready to drive away from the mansion. “Whoever she is, she must care about you if she brought you all this way just to hear you say you believe in her. Who is she, anyway? An old girlfriend? Someone from before you married Grandma?”

  She asks more questions, but I can't focus on her voice. Instead, I find myself thinking back to that moment in the room with Madeleine just now, and once again I try to imagine myself saying the words.

  “I believe in vampires.”

  My lips move slightly, but some part of my soul rebels against the very idea.

  Leaning back, I feel for a moment as if my head is fit to burst, as if conflicting beliefs are crushing my skull from either side.

  “Are you okay?” Hayley asks. “Grandpa?”

  “I'm fine,” I whisper. “Just let me be.”

  It takes a few seconds, but finally I force myself to stay calm.

  Perhaps I must simply focus on the facts. Not supposition, not flights of fancy, not beliefs. Just facts. Turning, I look back at the mansion's gates as they swing shut. I met a girl named Madeleine on a coach many years ago, and I met her again today, finding her un-aged and barely changed. I can't bring myself to say that she is a vampire. I simply can't. I am too rational and too sure of the world and its nature. But equally, I can't deny that it was her both times.

  Resurrection

  One

  "MOMMA!" Eva screamed, standing at the back door. "MOMMA! WHERE ARE YOU?"

  Seconds later, she heard a set of panicked feet racing down the stairs, and eventually her mother appeared at the back door, staring at her with a look of terror in her eyes.

  "What's wrong, Eva?" she asked, fumbling to get the door unlocked. "Are you hurt? Did someone do something to you?"

  Eva stared up at her, waiting until finally the door swung open.

  "Let me see," her mother said, kneeling in front of her. She pushed the hair from across Eva's face and looked frantically for any sign of injury. "Where are you hurt?" she continued, her voice trembling. "Eva, where is it? Tell me! Talk to me, sweetheart
!"

  "I'm not hurt," Eva said, finally allowing herself to smile. "I just couldn't get in the back door, that's all. Someone locked it again."

  "You..." Her mother stared at her. The panic had been all-consuming, and it was clear that she was taking a moment to reset her thoughts. "You know we keep the back door locked these days, sweetheart. You have to use the front door. I told you that."

  "I didn't want to go all the way round," Eva said. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

  For a moment, Eva could see a hint of anger in her mother's eyes. If she was annoyed at her daughter's actions, however, she quickly managed to contain herself. More than anything else, she was just relieved that nothing bad had happened. Reaching out, she put her arms around Eva and gave her a hug.

  "You mustn't scare me like that," she said eventually. "Sweetheart, when you shout and bang on the door, it makes me think that something's wrong."

  "You worry too much," Eva said, allowing herself to be hugged but not reciprocating. She knew it was mean, but she couldn't help having fun with these little tricks. There was just something so funny about the way her mother – usually such a reserved and cautious person – fell to pieces whenever she thought something was wrong. "I'm eleven, Momma. I'm not gonna get hurt every time I go outside."

  "No," her mother said, releasing her from the hug. "You're not. And do you know why you're not? Because you have a mother who takes care of you, and who looks after you, and who keeps you safe." She glanced across the back garden, her eyes briefly fixing on the nearby woods. Ever since they'd moved to the new house, Eva's mother had been haunted by the thought of the creatures that could be lurking beyond the treeline. She had constant nightmares of foxes, badgers and all sorts of other beasts attacking her precious little daughter.

  "I just wanted a drink," Eva continued, feeling a little bored with the game now. She'd only wanted to scare her mother, not to drive her into total panic.

  "What kind of drink?" her mother asked, getting to her feet and walking through to the kitchen.

  "Cola," Eva said, following her.

  "You know we don't have cola in this house," her mother said. "That stuff's full of sugar. We have water, milk or fresh juice."

  Eva sniffed, before glancing over at the phone. She hated the phone. Any second, that phone could start ringing with bad news. Eva didn't understand why the phone couldn't just be disconnected and thrown away. For a moment, she imagined someone hundreds or thousands of miles away, picking up another phone and getting ready to call. She waited, terrified that at any moment, the phone might -

  "Water, then," her mother said, grabbing a glass. "You don't want cola. God knows what's in that stuff. I don't think bubbles are good for you, either. There are all sorts of chemicals in those drinks, and there's no way to be sure that they test them properly. No daughter of mine is going to eat or drink anything that doesn't have a proper list of ingredients. I don't want you ingesting chemicals!"

  "Have you heard from Daddy?" Eva asked, still staring at the phone.

  "No," her mother replied quickly, having anticipated the question. "It's Tuesday. We never hear from him on Tuesdays. You know that."

  "We did once," Eva said. "About a year ago, he was supposed to call on a Wednesday, but he called a day early instead."

  Her mother opened her mouth to argue with her, but finally she realized that there was no point. Passing Eva the glass of water, she took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. She'd learned long ago that arguing with her daughter only made things worse. Eva was an intelligent girl, and she often rang rings around her mother thanks to her ability to accurately recall even the tiniest detail of past events.

  "Do you think Daddy's mission went well?" Eva asked.

  "I don't know anything about your father's missions," her mother said.

  "But you know they're dangerous. He goes out in big army jeeps with lots of guns. That's got to be dangerous."

  "Well..." There was a pause. "He's in a dangerous part of the world, sweetheart, but he's going to be okay. He's got all the training and all the equipment he needs, and if he really gets into trouble, he can phone a friend who'll come and blow up the bad guys for him from high up in the sky."

  "Why do people keep trying to kill him?" Eva asked.

  "No-one's trying to kill him."

  "People shoot at him."

  "They're shooting at the army, not specifically at your father."

  "But he's still there," Eva continued. "He could still get shot. Maybe a bullet will -"

  "He's not going to get shot!" her mother snapped, raising her voice a little. "Oh," she added, rushing forward and giving Eva another hug, spilling half the glass of water in the process. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Momma never means to shout at her angel, it's just..." She paused for a moment. "You mustn't think bad thoughts. If you think bad thoughts, you're tempting fate. You must think good thoughts, only good and happy thoughts. Daddy's coming home in six weeks. That's not really such a long time, is it? Just six more weeks of positivity. Do you think you can manage that?"

  "I suppose," Eva replied non-committally.

  "That's my girl," her mother said, stepping back and smiling. She had tears in her eyes, which was pretty much par for the course these days. It was clear to everyone, even to Eva, that her mother was cracking up. Sometimes, Eva felt as if her mother lived in a bubble, spending all her time worrying about other people. Even those rare smiles seemed forced and nervous.

  "I'm going to go and play again," Eva said.

  "Where?"

  "Outside."

  "Where outside?"

  "In the woods."

  "Are you sure you want to do that?" her mother asked nervously. "Wouldn't you like to play inside, with your books or your dolls? I'll even let you watch a DVD if you're good."

  "I won't go far," Eva said. "I promise. I'll make sure I can always see the back gate, so I can hear you if you call for me." She was just parroting the instructions her mother had given her many times before; she had no particular intention of staying within those boundaries.

  There was a pause, and Eva wondered if she was going to be made to stay inside again.

  "Fine," her mother said eventually, sounding tired. "Just... not for too long, okay? I'm worried it might rain, and you could get ill if you end up soaked. Do you understand? The last thing I want is to have to tell your father that his little princess has got pneumonia."

  Eva nodded.

  "I mean it. I'll be mad at you if I have to come and search for you out there."

  "I'll stay close," Eva said. "I won't be more than an hour, and I won't go any further than the old oak tree."

  "No climbing."

  "I won't climb it," Eva replied, turning and heading back out into the garden.

  "I'll know if you climbed it!"

  "I won't climb it!"

  "And if you meet anyone out there," her mother called after her, "come home immediately, do you hear? You're not allowed to talk to strangers!"

  "I won't," Eva said, hurrying along the garden and out through the little gate. This was when she was at her happiest: running away from the house, alone, heading out into the wilderness beyond. She knew that if she went far enough, she wouldn't be able to hear the phone, even if it rang all day.

  Finally, she reached the edge of the woods. With her mother having become a nervous wreck lately, Eva loved spending as much time as possible away from the house. Of course, she kind of wished that she had some friends, perhaps just one person she could take to the forest and teach about the place. The problem wasn't that Eva was anti-social, it was just that there were no girls her age nearby, and she hadn't started at the local school yet, so she had no choice but to play alone. Anyway, she felt certain that the woods were good for her; they fired her imagination and kept her busy, and she was happy to just wander between the trees, making note of the things she saw and occasionally collecting little samples of foliage.

  She felt safe out there as she trudged th
rough the piles of dead leaves. Safer than she felt at home, where the phone might ring at any moment with bad news from the other side of the world.

  Occasionally, she imagined she heard someone nearby, but it always turned out to be the wind or some kind of harmless animal. One time, she even saw a deer. Few people in this dull little town ever bothered to venture out far from the housing estate, and Eva knew that she didn't have much to worry about. Besides, she was good at running, and she felt certain that she could easily get home without anyone being able to catch her. The woods were her world, where her rules applied, and she felt much safer out there than she did when she was in town. At least in the woods, everything moved nice and slowly. Eva had even come up with a plan to move out there one day and just live in the wilderness.

  Hearing a screeching sound high above, Eva glanced up and saw a small black creature circling the forest. At first she thought it might be a bird, but as it swooped down and flew past her, she realized it was darker and more ragged. A bat, maybe. Whatever, it was soon gone.

  After a few minutes, she reached the large old oak tree that stood alone in a clearing. Towering high above her, the tree had obviously suffered some kind of disaster in the past, and its trunk was split and twisted, opening at the top into two gnarled arms that seemed to reach up to the sky. Eva liked to imagine what kind of tragedy had struck the tree long ago in the past; a lightning strike, perhaps, or some kind of huge battle between a pair of giants. So many of the trees in the forest were tall and thin and straight, but this tree was different.

  This tree seemed powerful and important.

  In fact it was this tree, more than any other in the forest, that attracted Eva's attention, and she kept promising herself that one day she'd try to climb all the way to the top. Looking up, she could see thick branches that would surely provide support, and she longed to know what it was like up at the very top, beyond the leaves. She couldn't help imagining herself all the way up there, breaking through the canopy and looking out over the whole world. She'd never come down again, either. She'd just stay up there forever and ever, watching the rest of the world and not having to talk to anyone or wait for the phone to ring.