by Tim Collins
Mr. Dashwood is arranging the funeral for Tuesday, so the body can stay in his room until then.
My regular flask of blood was waiting for me when I got back. If Viktor thinks I’m going to accept his poisonous bribe this time, he can forget it.
10:00 p.m.
It was coconut flavor today. That’s a new one.
SATURDAY, MARCH 22
I spotted my sister throwing all her homemade Viktor merchandise into the sea today. She said she was getting rid of it as a protest against his behavior.
Well, thanks for that extraordinary sacrifice! As if she had any choice but to ditch the offensive rubbish!
I waited to see if she’d apologize for ignoring my warnings. Needless to say, she didn’t. She just turned back to the castle to get on with her shallow existence without learning a single thing. I despair.
I passed one of Viktor’s guards on my way back to my room. He had loads of weird protective gear on, including a gas mask and thick black gloves. He’s obviously expecting reprisals. Sadly, we still haven’t managed to get anything organized yet.
SUNDAY, MARCH 23
I went to Mum and Dad’s room today to ask what we should do. They were drinking blood as usual, though they were much less merry.
“It’s a terrible business,” said Mum. “Covens are supposed to be a haven from that sort of violence. It makes me wonder if we should ever have joined one.”
“I told you he was trouble,” said Cecil. “Why did no one listen?”
“For the same reason as usual,” I said. “Because you didn’t actually say it.”
Cecil just ladled himself another glass of blood. Even he wasn’t up for a row today.
I snatched his glass away. “Drinking won’t help. What are we going to do about that little weasel on the throne?”
Cecil hissed at me and grabbed his glass back.
I decided I was wasting my time, so I went out to the graveyard.
Mr. Dashwood was putting the finishing touches on Henry’s gravestone. He’d done a wonderful job of cracking the stone and adding moss and lichen. I’m sure Henry would have been proud.
MONDAY, MARCH 24
I leaped up to Seth’s room today to give him some more blood. He seemed upset when I told him Henry was dead, but he didn’t cry. I suppose you get used to vampires dying if you live to be three thousand. But I’m only 102, so I’ve never really gone through anything like it before.
I gave Seth a Tintin book, and he seemed to prefer it to the Garfield one. There’s a talking dog in it called Snowy, but he uses all four legs, so Seth’s unlikely to confuse him with the god Anubis and get a headache.
Instead of jumping back down to my room afterward, I leaped five ledges across to Lenora’s window. She was sobbing quietly on her coffin, but she smiled when she noticed me.
“Sorry,” she said, opening the window. “It’s all been a bit much for me.”
“Me too,” I said. We sat down on her coffin, which she covers with a really chintzy white tablecloth. I put my arm round her and she rested her head on my shoulder.
“We shouldn’t have let Henry challenge that monster to a duel.” She sniffed. “We should have stuck to your plan of reading the poem.”
“I agree,” I said, which was a massive lie. I’d have been the one with the wind instrument in my heart if I’d tried that.
TUESDAY, MARCH 25
We had Henry’s funeral today. Black clouds swept in from the sea as we wandered to the graveyard. We couldn’t have wished for a better day.
Everyone in the coven turned up except for Seth (obviously), Viktor, Svetlana, and the guards. Ezekiel and Abraham dug a grave at the edge of the cemetery while Mike and Rob carried his coffin out and lowered it down.
We threw his possessions on top of the coffin in the old vampire tradition. He didn’t have much. Just his shovel, a couple of spare suits, and a skull and femur from his grave-robbing days.
Ezekiel and Abraham filled the grave in again. It must be awkward if a vampire with loads of things dies. My sister has so much useless stuff we wouldn’t need to put any soil on top of the coffin. We’d have to stamp her glittery rubbish down just to get it all in.
Mr. Dashwood stood at the end of the grave and gave a speech about Henry’s life. It was mostly about his blood collecting and grave robbing. He didn’t even mention anything about Viktor killing him. It was probably just as well. Today was about celebrating Henry’s life, not about stirring up trouble.
After he’d finished, I read a poem I’d written especially for the occasion:
IN MEMORIAM HENRY
by Nigel Mullet, age 102
You used to steal bodies from graves
Now your life has been stolen
And you’re in the grave yourself
I think you’d have appreciated the irony
If you knew what irony was
But you were a very practical person
And weren’t interested in that sort of thing
Nonetheless, we’ll miss you.
I could tell that everyone found my poem very moving and thought-provoking. A few vampires were so upset they were openly cringing.
My sister must have been jealous, because she barged in front of me and tried to recite another funeral poem.
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” she said. She paused for a minute, then continued: “Sorry you’re dead, have a nice rest.”
She was lucky she couldn’t remember the real words, because they come from a prayer with loads of religious stuff in it. She’d have given us all a crushing headache if she’d got them right, and for what? So she could be the center of attention on a solemn occasion that had nothing to do with her. She wasn’t even friends with Henry.
For some reason, loads of vampires clapped and my mum wiped a tear from her eye. It was probably a delayed reaction to my poem.
WEDNESDAY, MARCH 26
Crèche duty again tonight. The babies were much rowdier this time.
Zylphina was making an awful racket, so I picked her up and rocked her. While I was doing this, Nimrod managed to jump into Nathaniel’s cot. I watched him sneak up on Nathaniel with his tiny arms held up and his fangs drawn. Nathaniel turned around, jumped in the air, and smacked his foot into Nimrod’s chest. I had to put Zylphina back in her cot to split them up.
It made me wonder about the nature of my race. Here were two vampires too young to understand speech. No one can have told them about vampire kung fu or neck feeding. And yet they were battling away like trained warriors.
Is this conflict part of our nature? Are we doomed to fight? It’s quite a depressing thought. I must remember to brood about it next time I’m in the graveyard.
At least there wasn’t a werewolf puppy in there with them. Then I’d have seen some carnage.
THURSDAY, MARCH 27
I could hear chattering as I made my way over the hill to the Liberation Front meeting last night. When I got down to the beach, I saw a huge crowd had gathered. I’m pretty sure everyone was there, even my sister. She always has to copy the things I like.
“Thank you all for coming,” said Lenora. “And welcome to the Hirta Liberation Front.”
“Can’t hear you!” shouted Cecil. Maybe the old duffer could have got a better position if he hadn’t waited until the last minute to jump on the bandwagon.
“Sorry,” said Lenora. She cupped her hands to her mouth. “As you know, the aim of this organization is to kick Viktor off the throne and restore our rightful leader, Nigel Mullet!”
Mum and Mr. Dashwood clapped. It wasn’t exactly the response I was hoping for.
“Who wants to get rid of Viktor?” I asked.
There was a bigger cheer this time.
“Of course we do!” shouted Cecil. “But how do you propose we do it?”
Trust him to spoil my big moment.
“We’re looking at options,” I said. “I’ve already informed the Vampire Council, for example.”
“Those pen pushers won’t do
anything!” shouted Rob. “You think they’re gonna send someone all the way from Alaska to rescue us?”
“Let’s go round to Viktor’s room right now,” said Mike. “There are sixty of us and nine of them. We can take them.”
“But they’ve got stakes!” shouted Hans.
“Then we’ll make some of our own!” shouted Rob. “We could have a hundred stakes each if we smashed our coffins up!”
A couple of vampires at the back applauded this.
“We can’t fight a monster by becoming monsters ourselves!” shouted Mr. Dashwood.
“But we’re already monsters, technically speaking,” said Hans.
This is why you shouldn’t let everyone have their say. You get unhelpful contributions like that.
“So what do you want to do?” asked Rob.
“Let’s just tell him we want him to go,” said Mr. Dashwood. “He doesn’t even know that yet. There’s no point in resorting to violence before we’ve even had a rational discussion.”
“Let’s have a show of hands for rational discussion,” said Lenora.
Most vampires put their hands up, though I noticed that Rob and Mike made a big deal of folding their arms and scowling.
“All right,” said Lenora. “Discussion it is, then.”
“I agree,” I said. As resistance leader, I thought it was important to say something, even though most of the vampires had already started their own conversations by that point.
FRIDAY, MARCH 28
When I opened my door to get my blood delivery this morning, another of those small scrolls had been placed outside. I broke the red wax seal and opened it.
Looks like we’ll all get the chance to tell Viktor how we feel about him tonight.
I’m not looking forward to it. As soon as anyone mentions they want me back in charge, I’ll be an obvious target. Maybe I should say I’m ill and stay in my room. Or I could steal one of the fishing boats and get out of here. I could change my name, get a job in a hospital, and survive on blood bags. As long as I don’t have to work with any nurses with especially attractive necks, I should be fine.
6:00 p.m.
Rob and Mike just came round to ask what they should do about the blood feast. Why were they asking me? I’m not in charge.
“Let’s just have a discussion with Viktor,” I said. “He might accept our point of view and leave.”
“We reckon we should go tooled up,” said Mike. “In case things turn nasty.”
They pulled their jackets open to reveal crude homemade stakes tucked into their inside pockets.
I found myself jumping back from the horrible weapons.
“No,” I said. “I shouldn’t need to remind you those things are illegal. We’re vampires, not smelly werewolves. So let’s start acting like ones.”
I don’t really think that werewolves are smelly, I was just pandering to their prejudices to get them on my side.
“All right,” said Rob. “But don’t come crying to me if his little lordship goes postal and we’ve got no way of defending ourselves.”
I won’t be able to go crying to anyone, because I’ll be the first one to get staked.
7:00 p.m.
Seth just called round! Apparently Svetlana said he’d served his punishment and set him free this afternoon. Maybe Viktor’s mellowing. It’s far too late, of course. He can mellow all he likes but he needs to get off the throne and go and report himself to the Vampire Council.
11:00 p.m.
Time for the feast now. Here’s hoping my heart remains unstaked . . .
???
I’ve just woken up. How is that even possible? Everyone knows vampires don’t sleep.
It’s dawn. I’m on the beach. I’ve got a massive headache. The beach is full of bodies. Waves are lapping against our legs.
Maybe Viktor staked us all last night. Maybe I’m a ghost now. I can’t even remember if vampires can have ghosts. That’s how confused I am.
I’ve just seen Cecil and Mr. Dashwood sit up and look around. Now Hans and Ron are getting up too. So the rest of them aren’t dead. They were just sleeping too. But how???
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 2
I found out the date by looking on my phone. It took me a while to focus on it because of my thumping headache. I’m not the only one who feels rough, judging by the groans and spews I can hear. How much did we have to drink? Is it possible to drink so much blood that you black out for days?
3:00 p.m.
My headache is fading now, and by talking to some of the others I’m starting to remember what happened.
We went up to the throne room just before midnight, and the blond vampires ladled out some blood for us.
No one thanked Viktor this time, not even Cecil. I thought Viktor looked even unhealthier than usual, and the bags under his eyes had deepened. I hoped this was a sign that his conscience had been troubling him.
The blood smelled really weird, but I glugged it back anyway. So did everyone. Viktor was relying on our greed, and we didn’t let him down.
It was disgusting compared to the other stuff. All around the room, vampires were wincing at the taste.
Svetlana stood up and struck the side of her glass with a knife.
“My son is very sorry about what happened at the last feast,” she said. “These last few days have been just as hard for him as they’ve been for you. He was in tears for a whole night after the incident, especially when I told him he wasn’t getting a new recorder.”
Mike and Rob were standing at the front of the crowd and glaring at Svetlana. I was glad I’d told them not to bring their stakes, because they looked like they’d have used them.
“But the time has come for us to forgive and move on,” said Svetlana. “What do you say?”
I looked over to Rob and Mike. I was expecting them to still be scowling, but they were clasping their temples and staggering from side to side. They looked like they were trying to walk down the aisle on a turbulent flight.
Rob screamed and dropped to the floor. Hans did the same, followed by Mike, followed by Mr. Dashwood.
“It’s working!” shouted Viktor. He leaped from his throne and shouted, “I’m not sorry I killed your horrid friend! I’m glad! I’d do it again in an instant!”
I was starting to wonder what was going on when it hit me.
Bright white light flared into my field of vision and my legs flopped down to the floor. Stinging hurt spread through my body, freezing my limbs.
Next thing I remember, I was here.
4:00 p.m.
I just left the others, walked along the beach and up the hill. As soon as I got to the top, I saw that a circle of high wooden boards had been erected, surrounding the castle and the graveyard. They were completely covered in religious symbols. There was the Christian cross, the Jewish Star of David, the Islamic star and crescent, and a squiggly bit of writing that I think is something to do with the Hindus.
The combined effect was like getting struck by a frying pan on both sides of the head at once. I threw myself down and waited for the thudding ache to go.
I didn’t want to look at the barrier again, but I didn’t want to turn back.
I closed my eyes and shuffled forward a couple of paces. I heard a twang and something sprayed up into my face. Holy water. My skin felt like it was on fire and I sank straight back down to the floor.
When this pain had worn off, I covered up the sight of the barrier with my arm and peered over at the castle.
A few feet beyond the barricade was a deep trench filled with wooden stakes. Some were long, some were short, some were sticking straight up, and some had been planted diagonally. But all were very, very sharp.
I started to think turning back might be a pretty good option after all.
THURSDAY, APRIL 3
Mr. Dashwood has worked out what’s going on. Viktor served us garlic blood at that last feast! Ewwww!
One of those human cows must have been fed garlic cloves. It explains why
the guard needed all that protective gear. Vampires aren’t supposed to go anywhere near garlic.
The idea that we swallowed blood infected by it is just gross. No wonder we all blacked out. I’m more amazed we woke up after just a few days.
The symbols barricade and the holy water traps are werewolf weapons. Mr. Dashwood reckons Viktor must have nicked them from a pack he defeated in battle. They’re incredibly dangerous things for vampires to handle. If the blond fiends had so much as glanced at the wrong side of that barrier when they’d been putting it up, they’d have done themselves a lot of damage.
It shows how serious Viktor is about wanting us to leave the island. We can’t get past his traps and he isn’t going to give us any more blood. We need to take the fishing boats to the mainland while we’ve still got the energy.
And then what?
We split up and try to live in human society again, I suppose. Aarrghhh! That means I’ll have to go back to a normal human school!
9:00 p.m.
Viktor’s evil knows no bounds. I can’t believe he drugged us so much we missed four days. Even worse, he did it over April Fool’s Day, which I was really looking forward to. I was going to tell my sister that a vampire slayer was on his way to the island to kill her. I even mocked up a fake Wanted poster with a picture of Van Helsing on it.
I bet she would have fallen for it.
Oh, well. I suppose I can try again next year in the unlikely event that we’re both still alive and a visit from a vampire slayer is still something we want to avoid rather than a blessed relief from our miserable existences.
11:00 p.m.
Mr. Dashwood, Seth, and Lenora just came over to ask me what human life is like now. They’ve all been in the coven for over a hundred years, and they’re worried they might be out of touch with popular culture.
