by Tim Collins
Mr. Dashwood gave us something he called a “science lesson” today. It was complete guff, although no one else seemed to mind. They all just copied down his notes, while I looked around in disbelief.
The lesson was about the origin of vampire life, and Mr. Dashwood gave us the same old story about how ancient gods married humans and created a new race with special powers. What evidence is there for this? Has Mr. Dashwood done a DNA test on himself and found he was 5 percent god? No, he’s just regurgitating the silly folk tales he’s been told.
Say what you like about humans, but at least they bothered to find out where they came from. It wasn’t good news, and had something to do with monkeys as far as I can remember, but full credit to them for working it out anyway.
5:00 p.m.
I just tasted the latest flask from Viktor’s squad and it was the best yet. It was a thin type AB- with a strong cinnamon flavor. Every time I think I’ve found my new favorite, they go ahead and find an even nicer one.
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 2
Lenora came over to my desk after school today.
“Rob, Mike, and Henry still haven’t heard anything from Viktor,” she said. “Any idea when he’s going to give them their jobs back?”
“I don’t think he’s going to,” I said. “He’s got those blond vampires to fetch blood now.”
Lenora took a handkerchief out of her sleeve and dabbed the corner of her eyes with it. “I’m sure Rob and Mike will be all right. But the job was really important for Henry’s self-esteem. Since he lost his role he’s been sitting around his room all day in his long johns. It’s terrible to see.”
“I bet it is,” I said.
“Why don’t you ask Viktor if those blond vampires could take him along next time they harvest blood?” she asked. “It would mean ever so much to him.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll try my best.”
Why did I promise to do that? Now I’ve got to grovel to that little snake again.
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 3
I knocked on Viktor’s door and one of the blond vampires showed me in. They’d made so many changes to the room, I was amazed they’d found the time to gather any blood at all.
The oak table had been chopped up and sculpted into two chairs, which Viktor and Svetlana were sitting on. Svetlana’s chair had a long, straight back and narrow armrests. Viktor’s had a wide seat and long wooden arms with tiny fang shapes carved in the ends. Whoever sculpted them must have been very brave. Carpentry is outlawed by the Health and Safety Division of the Vampire Council due to the risk of accidental staking. Most vampires feel humiliated and frustrated buying ready-to-assemble furniture, but it’s better than risking your life.
“What do you want?” asked Svetlana.
“Could you let Henry join those guys on the blood collection squad?” I asked. “It would give him a role and help with his self-esteem.”
Viktor scowled at me.
“The king can’t concern himself with the emotional well-being of every insignificant little serf in the coven,” said Svetlana. “His example should be enough to inspire them.”
Inspire them to do what? Throw tantrums? Sit on their mummy’s laps looking like a satanic ventriloquist’s dummy?
“And he does,” I said. “But there’s this girl I fancy, and I sort of promised her I’d sort it all out.”
Svetlana stood up. “What is our species coming to?” she yelled. “If you’re attracted to a girl you should stalk her like a normal vampire, not bother me with stupid requests.”
“Sorry,” I said. “Just thought I’d ask.”
“Well, don’t bother next time,” she said. “We’ve tried being nice. We’ve given you blood. We’ve given you a grave. But let me assure you of one thing. If the carrot doesn’t work, we shall not be afraid to use the stick.”
Svetlana nodded at one of the blond vampires. He opened the leather holster on his belt . . . and drew out a sharp wooden stake!
TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 4
My hands are shaking as I try to write this. I’ve been lurking in my coffin all day, with my chair shoved up against the door.
You’re not allowed to carry stakes! The Vampire Council strictly forbids it. It’s pretty much the worst thing you can do, short of vampicide.
I don’t even understand why anyone would risk carrying one. If you bumped into a vampire slayer all he’d have to do is overpower you and wallop the horrible thing into your chest.
Then you’d be actually, properly dead. Not dead in the sense of hanging around graveyards and drinking blood, but dead in the sense of never moving or thinking again. Doesn’t that frighten those blond bimbos?
It’s all well and good to be reckless if you’re a vampire. I once forgot to wear my seatbelt for an entire car journey, for example. But those guards are taking it too far.
I need to tell someone. My parents are drinking so much blood at the moment, they won’t care. Mr. Dashwood would probably crucifix me for lying. Lenora will think I’m a total loser if I go crying to her.
Maybe I should call a coven meeting and announce it to everyone at once. But what if Viktor stakes me to make an example?
11:00 p.m.
Okay. As far as I’m concerned, yesterday didn’t happen. I didn’t go to the discussion room, I didn’t argue with Svetlana, and I definitely didn’t see a stake. I’m just going to live my life and try to forget about those stupid guards.
I’d better keep my diary in my back pocket from now on.
The last thing I need is for those blond vampires to raid my room and find out I’ve been badmouthing Viktor.
Note to Viktor: If you have somehow managed to get hold of this diary, I would like to apologize for the offensive remarks in it. They were written in jest. The truth is, I think you’re an excellent king and I hope you rule us for centuries to come.
WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 5
Mr. Dashwood gave us a lesson about vampire reproduction today. The subject obviously embarrassed him, and I wondered why he attempted it at all.
I don’t know why vampires of Mr. Dashwood’s generation find reproduction so hard to talk about. None of us would be here if another vampire hadn’t mixed their blood with ours. It’s not very pleasant, but it’s how we all got here, so we might as well be open about it.
Mr. Dashwood drew a diagram of some fangs going into a neck on the blackboard, which set off a wave of giggles. Then he dragged a skeleton out of the cupboard and pointed out where all the best veins were. I noticed that Lenora and Seth were looking down at their books and trying not to laugh, so I thought I’d increase the awkwardness factor.
“Sir, can you show us how you’d go about transforming that skeleton if it were a human?” I said.
“Very well,” said Mr. Dashwood. “If it’s going to help you learn.”
Mr. Dashwood tiptoed up behind the skeleton and pretended to stick his fangs into its neck with a really serious expression on his face.
“Smooth!” I shouted. “Check out the moves!”
Everyone burst out laughing and Mr. Dashwood dragged the skeleton back to the cupboard.
“Right, that’s it for today,” he said. “You’re obviously too immature for this lesson. I’ll try again when you’re older.”
“But we won’t get any older,” I said, which made everyone laugh even more.
“I’ve had enough of your smart mouth,” said Mr. Dashwood.
I thought he might holy water me, but I think the embarrassment had exhausted him, as he just sat at the front while everyone filed out.
I wonder what Mr. Dashwood used to do for blood before he joined the coven. All vampires are meant to have supernatural beauty to lure prey. It would be an odd sort of human attracted to Mr. Dashwood. But odd people bleed too, I suppose.
THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 6
Small scrolls were left outside everyone’s doors this morning. They were sealed with red wax with the letter V stamped on top.
I thought the stuffy tone of the invite
might annoy some vampires, but as I wandered down to school this morning everyone seemed excited.
No wonder they’re all looking forward to it so much. They’ve still been drinking the remains of that blood Henry harvested a couple of weeks ago. Well, I say drinking. It’s probably so clotted now you need a spoon.
I’d better make a big show of feeling refreshed when I sip this new stuff. It won’t go down very well if everyone finds out I’ve been quaffing it for a whole week already.
FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 7
I joined the line outside the so-called throne room just before midnight last night. Even the vampires at the back of the line had their fangs extended, which shows how thirsty everyone was.
Things were pretty weird inside. I think everyone else was too thirsty to notice, but I felt really uncomfortable.
Viktor and Svetlana were sitting on their thrones at the end of the room, with the blond vampires lined up behind them. A huge oil painting of Viktor had been put up on the wall. Either one of those blond vampires is a talented artist, or they brought it with them in their boat. Both possibilities are disturbing.
At the front of the line everyone was ladling blood into their glasses, sipping it, and filing past Viktor to thank him. No one used to give me a word of thanks when I was in charge. Now they are all fawning over that little twerp. I couldn’t believe it.
Most vampires looked genuinely shocked by the quality of the blood. Ezekiel and Abraham pretty much begged Viktor for another helping, but he pointed them to the back of the line.
Arnaud was a couple of places in front of me. He did his usual thing of swishing the blood round in the glass and holding it up to the light, but when he tasted it, he was lost for words. He just stared at his empty glass with tears running down his face.
When I got to the front, I downed my blood and let out a long sigh of relief. I wasn’t even exaggerating that much. The blood was thin and bitter with a sort of citrus taste. It reminded me of the lemonade I used to drink when I was a human.
I thanked Viktor and went straight to the back of the line. This was partly so no one would suspect I had a private supply and partly because I was desperate for more of the delicious blood.
SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 8
According to a note in the kitchen, the rationing is still in place, but Viktor will hold blood feasts whenever he can to reward the coven for its patience. He’s only doing this so everyone associates him with the taste of that lovely blood. Vampires are as gullible as humans sometimes.
I went round to my parents’ room to see if they’d found the blood feast a bit weird too.
Dad and Cecil were sitting around their table and draining one of their barrels.
“Nothing wrong with blood feasts,” said Cecil. “That’s how we used to feed all the time when I was a young vampire. There was none of this hiding in your room and sipping your blood in front of the TV back then.”
I can’t believe he managed to turn it into an attack on me so quickly.
“That might be true,” I said. “But don’t you find it a little strange that he sits on a throne while we all file past and thank him?”
“It’s tradition,” said Cecil. “You young vampires would do well to learn about it.”
I realized I wasn’t going to get any sense out of them, so I went down to my sister’s room to see Mum.
Mum looks after my sister and her friends Amber and Ellie in the daytime when the rest of us are at school. Mr. Dashwood decided they were too young for his class, so Mum has to keep them amused with activities like drawing, reading, and gluing glitter on stuff.
They’re so stupid she could probably keep them entertained by waving a piece of tinsel up and down all day, but it’s good that she makes the effort.
I thought I was imagining things when I opened the door today. My sister had taken down all her pop star and animals posters and replaced them with crudely drawn pictures of Viktor. She was sitting at the table with Amber and Ellie, and Mum was helping them trace big red hearts around more scrawled portraits.
“What do you think?” asked Mum.
I turned around and walked straight out again. I didn’t want to waste any time engaging with my brainless little sister. Viktor is a dangerous, psychopathic little runt, not a TV talent contest winner. If she had even the slightest bit of intelligence, she’d be working out how to stop him, not creating inept sparkly tributes.
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 9
It wasn’t just me. I spoke to Lenora after school and she found the blood feast weird too. That proves we’ve got loads in common.
Lenora said she’d been in the line when Svetlana had insisted everyone thank Viktor. Cecil had been at the front, and he’d got the ball rolling with flowery praise.
I can’t believe everyone agreed so readily. The whole point of a vampire coven is that we’re all equal. We’re all strong, we’re all fast, and we all have supernatural beauty (except perhaps Mr. Dashwood). We don’t need a king because we’re all kings.
I told Lenora I’d have a word with Viktor about the feasts. Then I remembered the stake and wished I hadn’t said anything.
Lenora said it would also be great if I could think of a new job for Henry. At least that won’t involve the stress of visiting Viktor.
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 10
This afternoon I stole the skeleton from Mr. Dashwood’s room and told Henry to bury it in my grave. When he was done, I told him to dig it up again. Now all I have to do is keep repeating this and I’ve created a job and done my bit for the vampire economy.
Henry seems to be enjoying himself so far. No doubt it takes him back to his old body-snatching days. I might even make some fake money to pay him with.
It means I won’t be able to use my spot in the graveyard anymore, but I don’t mind. At least my freeloading family won’t be able to use it either.
TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 11
Lenora caught up with me after school today.
“Thanks for finding a job for Henry,” she said. “You’ve really given him his dignity back.”
“Brilliant,” I said. I wasn’t sure how much dignity he’d get from burying and digging up the same skeleton over and over again, but I was happy to have helped.
“How did your chat with Viktor go?” she asked. I was hoping she’d forgotten about that.
“It was all right,” I said. “But he wants to keep the blood feasts the same for the time being. He says it’s the way he’s always done things, and you know how vampires are about tradition.”
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s have a think about our next move.”
I have no idea what she meant by “next move.” If it involves her coming round to my room and hanging out, I’m all for it. But if it involves me confronting some armed and dangerous vampires, I’m not so keen. I think I can guess which it’s going to be.
WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 12
My sister was wandering around with the word VIKTIE scrawled on her shirt in pen today. I asked her what it meant and she said that the Vikties are a fan group she’s formed with Amber and Ellie. Apparently, they meet up every day and talk about their love for Viktor.
“It must be so exciting for you,” I said. “I wonder what sort of sigh he’s going to do next? How do you think he’s going to slouch this time?”
“You’re just jealous because he got voted in and you got voted out,” said my sister.
Voted out of what? Nobody voted for anything. I handed over power.
Before I could say anything, my sister skipped away, chanting: “No votes for Nigel! Victory for Viktor!”
This is what she does. She says things that are so wrong I don’t know where to start, and then she wanders away as if she’s won. I’ll have no sympathy at all if she gets staked by Viktor’s guards.
THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 13
We had a math lesson today. Mr. Dashwood wrote a list of long division questions on the blackboard and told us to work through them. I soon found myself staring out the window.
I turned back to the blackboard and sighed.
“I’m sorry to see this is all such an effort for you,” said Mr. Dashwood. “Perhaps you think you don’t need this lesson.”
“I don’t, as a matter of fact,” I said. “I can understand why we need to know history and geography and reproduction, but what use is math?”
Mr. Dashwood smirked. He obviously thought he had a killer comeback lined up.
“Well, let me ask you this,” he said. “If you had a barrel of blood with a diameter of two feet and a height of three feet, and you had ten vampires to feed, how much would you give each of them?”
“I’d probably just give them half a pint each and keep the rest for myself like Viktor does,” I said.
There was a gasp from the other pupils. Mr. Dashwood stared at me for a moment. I wondered if he was going to crucifix me, but for once he didn’t seem very angry.
“That may be,” he said. “But this is a math lesson, not a politics one.”
I can’t believe I got away with that. I was expecting to get holy watered at the very least.
FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 14
Lenora came over to my desk today and whispered, “Meet me on the beach at midnight.” She walked out of the room without saying anything more.
I was supposed to do my math homework this afternoon, but all I could think about was Lenora’s mysterious invitation. The beach is on the east of the island at the bottom of a hill, so no one will be able to see us there. Could it be that Lenora wants to snog me, but needs to be sure her Victorian friends like Ezekiel and Abraham won’t see?
