by Sam Short
“What do you mean?” asked Millie, perplexed.
Fredrick raised an eyebrow. “Simply look around and tell me what you see. With regard to the furnishings and interesting pieces of decor I have on display.”
If by pieces of interesting decor, Fredrick meant items such as the broken model of the galleon on an old wooden sideboard, boasting a snapped mast and rotting sails, then Millie could think of several words which might aptly describe the pieces... none of them complimentary, and none of them adjectives which would characterise them as interesting.
Her eyes fell on the dusty telephone hanging from a bracket on the wall, its earpiece dangling at the end of a worn-out cord, the drab colour matching that of the long curtains which hung limply at the tall windows. Millie frowned. “I’m not sure what you want me to say,” she admitted.
Fredrick leaned back in his seat and spread his arms wide, inviting Millie to look at her surroundings once more. “It’s simple. How would you describe my study, Miss Thorn?” he enquired. “Modern? Colourful? Lively? How would you describe your surroundings?”
Not sure of where the conversation was heading, and not sure she wished to offend the vampire with honesty, Millie spoke carefully. “Comfortable, I suppose, and a little... tired?”
Fredrick gave what appeared to be a nod of approval. “Tired. An astute observation. You could be describing my study, or you could be describing me, Miss Thorn.” He paused, before opening a drawer in his desk. He retrieved something from inside and passed it across the desk to Millie. “Take a look at this,” he offered.
Millie turned the square of card over, already guessing it was a photograph housed in an old cardboard frame.
The two faces that stared at Millie were easily recognisable, and the long sleek car parked alongside the two men helped her date the black and white image. An educated guess put the date as sometime during the nineteen-fifties, and the clothing worn by the two men helped confirm her assumption.
One of the men in the picture hadn’t changed in the slightest during the years since the photograph had been taken. Even his lacklustre hairstyle and uninspired choice of suits remained the same today as when the photograph had been taken. The other man, as handsome in the picture as he was in real life, had moved with the times. George’s hair was now much shorter, and he wore regular jeans and t-shirts most of the time, but in the photograph, standing alongside Fredrick, his thick black hair stood high on his head, presumably glued in place by whatever hair product it was that young men had used back then.
The tight checked shirt George wore in the picture had sleeves which had been rolled up past the first hard curve of his biceps, and the chunky boots paired with the jeans he wore gave him the appearance of a lumberjack who might be on the way to a disco, while still dressed in his work clothes. Millie looked up from the picture and placed it on the desk, sliding it towards Fredrick. “It’s a lovely picture,” she said. “Judith told me that you and George travelled after you’d turned him into a vampire during the war and that you’d moved here together in the fifties.”
“Yes,” said Fredrick. “We came to Spellbinder Bay together, but we soon drew apart. Travelling the world together had been an adventure, but when we began to put down roots in this paranormal town, our differences became apparent. I chose the profession of teaching, and George chose to accumulate wealth and spend it frivolously on motorbikes and fast cars.” He gave a low laugh. “As he still does, over sixty years later.”
“As is his right,” observed Millie.
“I would not suggest otherwise,” said Fredrick. “What George does with his immortality is up to him. I’ll always be concerned for him, of course, but I would not venture to change him or his ways. That’s not the point I’m trying to convey to you, Miss Thorn.”
“Then what is the point?” asked Millie.
“When I arrived in Spellbinder Bay and became a teacher here at the hall, I was given this study which we sit in today,” said Fredrick. “I decorated it in the way you see it now. Everything in this room was placed here by me in my first year in the job.” His eyes softened as he ran his gaze over his belongings as if experiencing nostalgia. “And look how old those things appear Miss Thorn. My belongings are old and worn, yet my body is exactly as it was when I first stepped into this room in nineteen-fifty-three. You saw the proof in the photograph I showed you. Neither George or I look a day older than the summer afternoon during which we posed for that photograph. Yet...”
“Yet...” said Millie. “Go on.”
Nodding slowly, Fredrick leaned forward in his seat. “Yet George and I have been surrounded by objects which have aged. Rotted away to nothing, even.” He raised an eyebrow. “And we’ve been surrounded by people who have aged and...”
“Rotted away to nothing,” finished Millie.
“Precisely,” said Fredrick. “It is an awful thing to see a loved one pacing time’s cruel path as you remain static, unable to accompany or even follow them.” He sighed. “The memories of watching my beautiful son grow old and die will never leave me. They will remain with me until the day I’m finally released from this immortality.”
“And you don’t want George to fall in love with somebody,” said Millie, finally understanding Fredrick’s message to her. “Somebody he will have to watch growing old and eventually dying.”
“Yes,” said Fredrick, softly. “I installed that lesson into George as soon as I had turned him into a vampire. He listened to me, and as he had been brought up as an orphan, he had no family to watch growing old. He was free from the awful burden of a mortal family, and he never fell in love with a woman, Miss Thorn — neither a vampire female or a fully human woman.”
“George told me that it’s rare for a vampire to fall in love with another vampire,” said Millie.
“It is,” agreed Fredrick. “It seems that spending immortality with one person is perhaps worse than falling in love with a person and losing them to old age. Both circumstances have drawbacks, it seems, and the chance of a vampire falling in love with another vampire becomes even rarer when you consider that the majority of vampires are men.”
“Why is that?” asked Millie.
“Because men have traditionally taken the most hazardous jobs, such as mining or construction,” said Fredrick. “And men account for the vast majority of wartime deaths, especially in times gone by. It is while doing these jobs that most men are saved from death by another vampire, as George was by me, on a battlefield.”
“So there’s a disproportionate amount of Male vampires compared to female vampires,” said Millie. “That makes sense.”
“It does,” said Fredrick. “But when two vampires do manage to fall in love with one another, beautiful things can sometimes happen. If they are perfectly suited to each other. Children can be born, and happiness can thrive within their family forever.”
“Yes,” said Millie. “There are a few vampire children who attend this school. They seem very happy.”
“It’s not surprising,” said Fredrick. “They have a happy life in front of them. They have never been fully human — all they’ve ever known is how to live as a vampire, and then, unlike people such as myself, they get to choose when they will stop ageing.”
“The biting ceremony?” said Millie. “I’ve heard some of the children talking about it.”
“The most important day in a born vampire’s life,” said Fredrick. “The day on which they choose to cease the ageing process and begin their immortality. Most vampires choose their twenties or thirties as the optimum age — a sensible age, in my opinion.”
“Their mother bites them, doesn’t she?” asked Mille, recalling snippets of the conversations she’d heard between children.
“Yes,” said Fredrick. “A celebration is arranged, and the young adult is bitten by his or her mother, stopping the ageing process. It’s a beautiful thing to witness, or so I’ve been told.” He glanced at the grandfather clock and smiled. “I’ve allowed myself to
become distracted from what I was telling you about George,” he said.
Millie smiled. “You were telling me that he’s never fallen in love with either a vampire or a human,” she said.
“Yes, I was,” said Fredrick. “For all those years he managed to keep love at arm’s length... he managed to keep the inevitable hurt which would accompany love at arm’s length. He kept himself safe from heartbreak and the sort of hell I’ve lived in since my son’s death.”
“Until I came along,” said Millie, quietly.
“Indeed,” said Fredrick. “Until you came along, Miss Thorn.”
“And you asked me to stay behind so you could warn me away from him, like an over-protective mother?” asked Millie, scornfully. She gasped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so rude.”
“No apology is necessary,” said Fredrick. “However, I did not intend to portray myself as an over concerned mother when I asked you to stay behind. I asked you to stay behind so we could clear the stale air between us, Miss Thorn. I do not, as many falsely claim, enjoy conflict.”
“So, you’re not asking me never to date George again… if I wanted to?” asked Millie.
“No,” said Fredrick. “I’m warning you that following such a path could lead to terrible heartache for both George and you, and that’s not something I wish for either of you. I’m asking you to be careful, Miss Thorn, and consider the feelings of both yourself and George. Should you choose to pursue a romantic relationship with George Brown, then you have my blessing, Miss Thorn… if such a thing means anything to you.”
It did mean something to her. Not the fact that Fredrick had given Millie his blessing – she would have dated George without his blessing if she so wished. It was the fact that the vampire had opened his heart to her and showed her his soft side which meant something to her. Anybody willing to display their vulnerabilities as Fredrick had, was worthy of respect in Millie’s estimation. She gave the vampire a sincere smile. “It does mean something to me, Fredrick. It means a lot to me. Thank you.”
Fredrick gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Then let no more be said on the matter, and however you decipher my intentions in the future, please don’t consider me hostile towards you. I’m not.”
“I won’t,” said Millie, noticing the faint laughter lines long ago lost in the deep frowning wrinkles around the vampire’s eyes. “I promise.”
“Good,” said Fredrick. “And I’d also ask that you never read my thoughts again, as you did during the autopsy of Trevor Giles. It’s rude to trespass in a person’s thoughts without their permission.”
Acting on instinct, Millie babbled. “I didn’t!” she lied. “And if I had done, you couldn’t possibly have known. You can’t feel your thoughts being read!”
Fredrick lifted one eyebrow and stared down his nose at Millie. “Please afford me the courtesy of speaking the truth to me, Miss Thorn. I didn’t feel you reading my mind… as you said, that would be impossible, but I know you did. Didn’t you?”
Taken aback by the sudden change of direction the conversation had taken, and with guilt spiralling in her stomach, Millie’s cheeks burned hot. She opened her mouth, and then closed it, before dropping her eyes to her lap. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “Yes. I did. I read your thoughts when I saw you looking at Judith. When I saw you looking at her as if you thought she might have been guilty of poisoning Trevor. I had to know if you suspected her.”
Fredrick’s lips tightened. “I knew you were reading my thoughts by the way you looked at me, Miss Thorn,” he said. “You thought you were hiding your actions, but they were scrawled across your face. It took a mere second and a single glance at your expression to understand what you were doing.”
“I’m sorry,” reiterated Millie. “But I had to know if you suspected Judith or her father of such an awful crime.”
“Of course I suspected them,” said Fredrick. “The thoughts of mine which you may have read were entirely rational. Trevor died in Sergeant Spencer’s cell, and Judith had been present. Yes, I suspected them, but you could have asked me, Miss Thorn, instead of encroaching on my thoughts. I would have been honest with you.”
“Okay,” said Millie, rising to Fredrick’s challenge. “Do you still think Judith or her father had anything to do with Trevor Giles’s death?”
“Are you completely certain that they are not guilty?” asked Fredrick, capturing Millie in an unwavering stare.
Millie dropped her eyes, fighting off the guilt which washed over her like a wave. She knew in her heart that neither Judith or Sergeant Spencer had poisoned Trevor, but that one little voice in her head wouldn’t stop making itself heard from the sidelines. It wouldn’t stop insisting that perhaps, just perhaps, it was possible that even the people you thought you knew well, were capable of things you could never imagine.
“I’d be a fool if I didn’t consider them suspects,” said Fredrick, choosing not to press Millie any further on the issue. “Wouldn’t I? Especially now we have learned that Trevor laid his hands on Miss Spencer last week. And not forgetting that Edna Brockett has discovered lunar magic in the poison — the very magic which Miss Spencer excels at.”
“Edna discovered water magic, too,” Millie reminded him. “Judith doesn’t practice much water magic.”
“Of course,” said Fredrick, diplomatically. “We should bear that in mind.”
“Surely you know neither of them is capable of murder, Fredrick?” asked Millie. “Deep down, surely you know that.”
“What I believe I know, and the facts laid before us, are two very different things,” said Fredrick. “But if you are asking what my heart tells me, instead of the analytical conclusion my brain has reached, then I would say that of course the good sergeant and his lovely daughter didn’t kill Trevor Giles, and to embellish that statement further — I don’t really care if they did.”
“You don’t care?” asked Millie. “What exactly don’t you care about?”
Fredrick stayed silent for a few moments, before relaxing in his seat. He unfastened the top button of his shirt and blew out a long breath. “It’s refreshing to be able to speak so freely with somebody, Miss Thorn,” he said. “You’re still relatively new to the town, so you’re not stifled by tradition and politics like many of the paranormal residents are. It’s unusual that I feel relaxed enough in the company of others to speak so candidly, and without reservation.”
More tension visibly left his body, and his mouth formed a dry smile. “I’ll be honest with you. I’ve lived long enough to have seen hundreds of innocent people die in numerous vile ways. Wars, famines, natural disasters… I’ve seen a lot in my long existence, so another death – the death of Mister Giles in this instance, barely elicits an emotional response within me, especially as Mister Giles was such a nasty piece of work. When I say I do not care, I mean that I possess no urgent desire to discover who it was that administered the poison to him. I am happy to await Henry’s return and allow him to take charge of the incident.”
Millie frowned. “If you don’t care, why are you sending us all off on errands? Why did you ask Timothy to compile a list of suspects, and why are he and Edna examining the poison? You must care if you’re trying to find the killer,” she said.
“I’m only doing what I have to do to keep up appearances,” said Fredrick. “I’m certain that when you speak to some of the people on that list of suspects, you will not discover any information which will lead you to the killer – it will be a waste of your time, and I’m equally sure that Edna’s examination of the poison will be in vain. We are dealing with the paranormal murder of a werewolf, not the murder of a human by another human. We require paranormal methods to solve a crime such as this – techniques that only Henry Pinkerton is capable of.”
“Then why are we bothering?” asked Millie. “Why not just wait until Henry returns? He’ll be back soon enough.”
Fredrick gave another smile. “Because of politics, Miss Thorn. All is not what it seems in Spel
lbinder Hall. I’m content in the job I perform here in the hall, I like teaching the children… it is the one joy in my existence, and I’m content with being on The Board of Governors, but to retain the positions I hold, I must keep on proving my competence. Henry left me in charge, and if I did nothing in the wake of a murder committed during his absence, other people who hold a dislike for me, or who covet my position on the Board, would speak against me, perhaps persuading Henry to remove me from my responsibilities. And I happen to enjoy my responsibilities.”
“I had no idea that there are people like that here at the hall,” said Millie. “There are people here who would tell tales about you? Get you removed from your job, even?”
Giving a low laugh, Fredrick nodded. “Indeed, there are,” he said. “This school is ancient, and some of the people and spirits who work or live here, have been here for a very long time. Rifts between people are commonplace, and secrets are kept within cliques. You were witness to such a secret being almost accidentally revealed today, Miss Thorn.”
“I was?” asked Millie.
“Yes,” said Fredrick. “Florence almost revealed a secret about Trevor Giles. I’ve always been under the impression that Trevor was expelled from this school for bullying, but it seems that the wool has been drawn over my eyes… Trevor was expelled for another reason, and Florence almost gave that secret away today. You witnessed how she reacted when I asked her about it… she became quite angry.”
“Oh yes,” said Millie. “And that reminds me of something Helen Giles mentioned this morning. Her son had hinted to me that something bad had happened in Trevor’s life. Something that may have contributed to the way he’s acted over the years. When I asked Helen about it, she said she didn’t know what had happened, but whatever it was, it had happened here at Spellbinder Hall when Trevor was a pupil. Helen said that Trevor was told he was never welcome here again because of it.”
Fredrick sighed. “As far as I’ve always been aware, Trevor was expelled from this school because of bullying. It seems, according to Florence, that I may be misguided in that conclusion. If something else did happen which involved Trevor Giles, I have no idea what it might have been.”
