She zips up her rucksack and then refastens the fridge padlocks.
Time to get the hell out of here.
Following Kate back towards the reception office, I think about stabbing a blood bag with the paperclip, and sucking out a few drops as though from a juice-bag. Only one or two—just to take the edge off. That’s all. I wouldn’t go crazy.
Shut up! You sound like a junkie.
At the doorway, Kate puts her hand out to stop me going any further.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper, but then I notice the bright light shining in from the waiting room.
Someone’s here.
Oh shit!
Dropping to the floor, we start to crawl towards the shutter. They’ll notice that it’s been pulled up. I go to it, but Kate prods me in the ribs and shakes her head.
‘Leave it,’ she tells my head.
Through the narrow gap, I see a woman in the waiting room. She’s pulling out a full bag of rubbish from the bin. I don’t think she’s noticed the shutter yet.
Kate drops the bag out of the window, and then climbs up on the ledge. She signals with her head for me to follow.
I can’t leave the shutter open.
‘Leave it, Thea! It’s too late.’
I look at Kate and then at the cleaner.
I can’t.
I crawl to the side of the opening and stare nervously at the woman. She’s not looking in my direction, so I grip the rim of the shutter and try to pull it down.
It won’t budge.
I pull hard. It moves, but really slowly—any harder and it might start to squeak. To the side I notice a green button. The control for the shutter? Letting go of the rim, I reach for it. Just as my hand grazes the button, Kate grabs my wrist to stop me.
She shakes her head and then takes hold of the rim and quietly starts to pull down the shutter. I help her until the gap has vanished, leaving the reception in darkness.
Kate looks pretty pissed off with me, so I obediently follow her through the window, trying not to make eye contact. The last thing I need right now is a lecture.
We leap down onto the concrete below. Kate gathers up the rucksack and checks for any wandering staff. There aren’t any, so we jog back over to the car.
Face drenched in sweat, I climb inside, letting out a long, exhausted groan. “That was bloody hard.”
Clipping on her safety belt, Kate glowers at me, like she’s about to snap my neck in two. “Don’t you ever do anything like that again,” Kate warns me. “Do you understand? You could have fucked up the entire operation.”
“Operation? Don’t be so dramatic,” I say with a slight giggle. “We got the blood, didn’t we? We made it out? So just relax, for Christ’s sake.”
“Do you think this is a game, Thea?” she barks at me.
“No.”
“If that woman had seen you, she would have told her boss, and then that boss would have told their boss, and within a matter of minutes, the entire police force would have been hunting us like rats.”
“Yeah, I know,” I reply. “But I had to. If the cleaner had seen that shutter open, she might have told her boss anyway.”
“Maybe—maybe not. But you need to start listening to me. It’s my job to keep you safe—and being reckless and idiotic is going to get us both killed. Is that clear?”
I don’t answer. Pride has well and truly taken control.
“Don’t ignore me,” Kate growls. “Is that clear?”
I nod, reluctantly.
“Good,” she replies. “Then let’s draw a line through this and get the hell out of here.”
She starts the engine and then we’re on the move again, heading back through the town, along the country roads to the place that I now call home.
It may be the only place that I know right now, where I sleep, where I feed, where I watch TV—the only place where I feel safe.
But with every ounce of my heart, my faded memories, my over-charged brain, I know, without a shadow of a doubt that the farmhouse is not my home.
And it never will be.
13
A vampire with a fridge and a microwave seems strange, yet so essential.
According to Kate, human blood should be around ninety-eight degrees Fahrenheit, any lower or higher and it loses its potency. Sucking on a stone-cold, dead man’s veins barely has any effect. I suppose it’ll take the edge off, like a bite of an apple to a human, but it’s a far cry from offering any real nourishment.
Kate puts five of the blood bags into the mini-fridge, stuffs another four into the tiny freezer compartment, and places the last one on the kitchen worktop.
Gazing at the transparent bag of red-gold, I think about tearing it open and swallowing the whole lot. Kate’s probably thinking the exact same thing. She makes a small incision in the bag and pours a little into a mug, about halfway up. She does the same with another mug, and then puts both into the microwave for a few seconds. When it bings, she opens the door, takes out one of the mugs, sniffs the blood, tastes a little, and then puts it back in for a few seconds more. It bings again, so she tastes it, nods, and then smiles. “It’s ready,” she says, and finishes the mug with one mouthful.
She hands me the other one and I do the same. I close my eyes as the blood oozes down my throat, warming my body as it fills my stomach, taking away that wretched pain.
I open my eyes and stare at the open blood bag. I want some more.
I reach for it, but Kate quickly moves it away, putting a plastic clip over the tear to seal it. “Control yourself, Thea,” she says as she puts it into the fridge with the other bags, “or there won’t be any left.”
“We can get some more,” I say. “In a few months. They’ll never know.”
Kate shakes her head. “No—we can’t. This blood is for us to mix with animal blood. Remember? This cup is just to get you through the day.”
Eyes still glued to the fridge, I reluctantly nod my head. “Okay.” It’s not okay—far from it—but I know she’s right. I’ve got to keep my head; don’t let the addiction rule me. I’m not an alcoholic. I can—
Suddenly an image forms in my head of Mum, glugging down a glass of red wine on the couch, bitching to me about missing the school bus. A returning memory should fill me with happiness—with hope—but all this one does is depress me.
Kate walks out of the kitchen, towards the couch. “We’ll go hunting tomorrow evening.” She sits down and puts on the TV. “But right now, I’m tired, and all I want to do is veg-out and watch a movie.”
I look at the fridge again, almost licking my lips, imagining devouring another mugful of blood, but then join her on the couch. “A movie sounds good,” I say. “I need the distraction.”
“Good girl. The last thing I want to do is put a padlock on that fridge.”
Ha! Joke’s on her—there’s no place to put one.
“I heard that,” she says, pointing the remote at the DVD player.
PART IV
JUNKIE
14
I’m walking along the path of a huge, stunning park. It’s cold and the moon is bright, illumining its perfectly trimmed bushes and trees that spread across the lawns, aside along a silent river.
There’s a man beside me, holding my hand. He has brown hair and a thick winter coat on.
“Do you think we’ll be able to afford the house?” I ask him. “I mean, realistically, Pete?”
Who the hell is Pete?
He nods with conviction. “Of course we will. It’ll be tight, but it’ll be worth it. And then we can finally leave that bloody farmhouse.”
“Hey, what’s wrong with living with my parents’?” I ask, playfully elbowing his ribs.
“I love them to bits, Becky.” And who the hell is Becky? “But just think how awesome it’ll be not having to drive so far to work in the morning.”
“I know. It’ll be great. I’ll just miss them, though.”
Pete snorts. “Softy.”
I elbow him ag
ain.
“Do you think my parents will be happy or annoyed with the news?” I ask him, his blue eyes on the river as it glistens beside him.
“Happy,” he says with a grin, and then peers down at me, wrapping his arm around my waist.
“I hope so.”
There’s a lit up shopping centre about two hundred metres ahead, but it doesn’t look familiar.
Nothing about this area does.
Where the hell am I?
Pete’s hand suddenly rips from mine. It hurts, yanking my shoulder hard. Frowning hard in puzzlement, I turn to him, but he’s on the ground, face down. What the fuck was that? I go to help him, but something shunts me from behind, propelling me forward. Landing on the pathway, I smash my nose and cheek on the concrete, blood cascading from my nostrils. Disorientated, I slowly twist my head to the side. There’s a tall man with thick black hair; he’s sitting on Pete’s back, with his face buried into his neck. I start to pull myself up, the park around me out of focus. With a mouthful of blood, the man sees me, leaps from Pete’s twitching body, and then tackles me down to the ground. With my face against the path, I scream, but he grabs my hair, lifting my head up, and then covers my mouth with his hand. With muffled cries, I desperately try to wriggle free, twisting viciously, but he’s too strong. Someone help me! He smashes my head on the concrete and I almost lose consciousness.
It’s just a dream.
It’s not real.
I feel my body being dragged along the path, onto the lawn. The faint light of the park disappears as I’m pulled through a series of bushes.
Eyes barely open, I try to kick out, but my legs no longer function. I reach up and pull on the man’s hair, but my grip is too weak, fingers limp and useless. I slip in and out of consciousness as he wrenches up my dress and rips my underwear completely off.
This isn’t happening.
With one hand on my throat, his fingernails digging into my skin, he rams his cock inside me. I close my eyes tightly as I cry out in agony.
And then I feel his teeth sinking into my neck.
It’s not real.
With each thrust of the man’s hips, the agony in my neck worsens. I want to move, but I can’t. My eyes start to close, praying that the horror will be over soon.
But then I feel something move.
It’s coming from inside my stomach.
Just before my eyes close, before I pass out, I finally notice the large bulge on my abdomen…
I’m screaming when I wake, back in the farmhouse bedroom, sobbing uncontrollably as I clutch my stomach. In a panic, I throw the quilt off my body, only to find my normal, flat abdomen.
No bulge, no bleeding.
And no baby.
“Nightmare?” Kate says, still with her head resting on her pillow; her bloodshot eyes, sparkling with tears.
I nod as I sit up against the rough wall behind me. “It was horrible,” I say, wiping my eyes with my pyjama sleeve. “It felt like another memory. Like the one I had about Jared. But it couldn’t have been. I was someone else.”
Kate goes silent; her stare blank; lost.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her.
“Where were you in your dream?”
“I was in a park with a man. We were attacked by someone. Another vampire, I think.” I sniff loudly, struggling to shake off the trauma. “I was pregnant.”
I watch a single tear roll down Kate’s cheek, stopping at the lips. What’s wrong with her?
And then it hits me. “It was you.”
She doesn’t answer, but it’s obvious when a second tear leaves her eye.
We don’t speak for several seconds; Kate is clearly fighting hard to stop from breaking down.
“I had the same dream last night,” she finally says; her voice much weaker, less confident. “The same one I’ve had a thousand times.”
“I’m so sorry, Kate,” I reply, reaching over to take her hand. “I had no idea.”
Kate brushes away another tear and sits up. “I lost everything that night. My humanity; Pete.” She swallows hard. “Our baby girl.”
My insides begin to churn as I picture that beast holding me down. “That’s awful.”
“That stinking vamp infected me with his dirty fucking cock,” she says with a venomous bite. “Left me for dead.” She lets go of my hand and rubs her eyes with her palms. “I don’t remember much after that. I woke up a few days later in hospital, with my left wrist handcuffed to the bed-rail. They said they tried to save my baby, but the infection had spread to my womb.” She pauses for a moment. “So they ripped her from my body—and killed her like a fucking rat.”
I start to sob, shaking my head in disgust. I wish there was something useful to say, but there isn’t, so instead I gaze at her and witness a so-called monster become human again.
“I couldn’t think straight,” she continues. “Everything felt surreal. I kept begging them to call my parents, but they said that it was too late.”
“Why?”
“Because I was in the early stages of turning. They were prepping me for extermination.”
I hold a hand over my mouth in shock. “Oh my God. What did you do?”
“I did the only thing I could do: survive. I dislocated my wrist and thumb on the metal bed-rail, so I could slip my hand free from the cuff, and then I smashed the nurse in the face with a metal chair.” Kate holds up her left wrist and starts to rotate her hand. “It still hurts now. My healing abilities hadn’t kicked in yet.”
“So what happened next?”
“I threw the chair through the window—and then ran.” Kate shrugs her shoulders; that self-assurance almost fully resorted. “And I’ve been running for over twenty years.”
“I had no idea what you’ve been through,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
“Now do you see how important it is to stay under the radar?”
I nod.
“I didn’t have someone looking out for me in those first few days. I just fed on anything and everything. Dogs, cats, homeless men and women. It didn’t matter to me. All that mattered was survival. Once my memories came back, the pain of losing so much quickly followed, so I needed a new life. The first thing that had to go was my name. Becky Hylands became Kate Barlow. I had no money, no job, so I travelled across the UK, had a few shitty jobs, cash in hand, did a lot of drinking, drugs, anything to help me forget about my old life. But drugs have very little effect on a vampire; maybe a quarter of the strength. That didn’t matter though. Partying is a great cover for a vampire. Once the sun came up I’d go to bed—so did all my human friends. No one suspected a thing.” She chuckles quietly to herself. “The funny thing is, when I got wasted before I was a vampire, I used to dread the sun coming up, facing another comedown. Now I miss it almost as much as my family. The irony.”
“So what happened then?”
“Eventually I had to move on—leave my new life behind.”
“Why?”
“Because of my age,” she says. “There’s a limit to how long someone can pass for twenty-five. Anti-aging creams can only do so much; eventually people will start asking questions—and questions can be very dangerous. So, like always, I’d move on, find another job, something low profile, somewhere I could work a nightshift.”
“How come you came back here?” I ask. “Aren’t you afraid the police will find you?”
Kate shakes her head. “No. No one’s looking for me anymore. Too much time has passed. Too many other vampires to catch.” Her eyes journey around the room, up and down the walls and ceiling. “I used to love this place when I was a kid. There was always so much to do. My cousins and I used to run around in the woods for hours playing hide and seek. Mum used to shout at us for going too deep, but we never listened, we always thought we knew better.”
I beam—but it’s laced with pity. “Your cousin sounds nice.”
Kate doesn’t answer.
“What’s wrong?” I ask with a slight frown.
“She u
sed to be nice. Her name was Ruby Hylands. She lived over in the village with our grandmother.”
“How come?”
“Her father ran off when she was a baby, and her mother died of cancer. It was horrible when my auntie died, but it brought Ruby and I so much closer. She was like a sister to me.”
I picture Ivy’s face. “Did you ever see her again?”
Kate nods slowly. She looks in pain, struggling to keep herself from welling up again. “Once—about a week or two after the attack. I came back here, hid in the woods, watching the police come and go, interrogating my family. It was torture. All I wanted to do was give them a kiss—tell them that I was all right. But I couldn’t risk it; I couldn’t put them in danger. I was still struggling with my blood cravings. I’d already killed God knows how many innocent people, so knocking on that front door was simply out of the question.” She puts a hand over her mouth and closes her eyes as a tear runs down her cheek. “But then I saw Ruby,” she continues, opening her eyes again. “She was out walking her dog, like she did every evening without fail. I’ll never forget that look in her eyes when she saw me. She was so afraid. Petrified. It was horrible—but who could blame her. My clothes, my mouth, they were covered in blood, and I was now a fully-fledged vampire. And hungry. She let go of the dog-leash and sprinted away from me. By the time she reached the stream, she was dead; the side of her neck tore completely off with one bite. My cousin, my best friend, drained of blood just metres from my house.” Kate sniffs loudly and wipes her eyes again. “That’s why I never came back. And that’s why you’re here, away from your friends, your family, away from anyone who’s ever known you.” She takes my hand again. “Until you’re ready. Do you understand?”
I dab my tear-filled eyes with my sleeve and nod. “Yeah. I do…and I’m sorry that I’m a bitch to you sometimes.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. I am a bitch sometimes. I should have never been so hard on you. You’re still so young. But I promise you one thing: your life will be better—better than mine—because we have each other. And God help anyone who tries to come here to hurt you. This is our home now. Our castle. It may be a stinking dump—”
Thea (Book 2): A Vampire Story Page 7
