"Sadly, nobody paid much attention to their deaths," Maggie told us. "They were just kids trying to make their way in the world. I’m ashamed to admit that even I brushed past their stories in the newspaper, given nothing more than a quiet prayer for their souls and for their families. It didn’t occur to me that there would be anything more to it than that. Then more bodies turned up; a teenage boy, a young student couple hitchhiking across Europe and an elderly gentleman, out walking his dog. They were all people who were vulnerable in one way or another, but nothing seemed to connect them."
"But I take it that someone did?" Mickey asked. This was getting exciting.
"We’ve been a popular bar for years, especially with tourists. A police detective came in here one day, asking me and Seamus about the young hitchhikers who were killed. Apparently they’d had one of our flyers on them when their bodies were found dumped in a few miles away. It was a routine enquiry and none of us remember seeing them here at all, maybe they had, maybe they’d just been given a flyer. The detective asked a few questions and that was that.
A few months later, the body of a pensioner turned, up. He was found dead on a bench near the Grote Market. His dog had been killed and he’d had his throat cut. They all seemed like separate incidents and although they’d made the local press, there was nothing to tie them all together. There wasn’t as much as a hint of a serial killer, let alone a vampire."
I wasn’t sure where the story was going, but it was intriguing.
"Well, I don’t know how big the local police force is, "Maggie continued," thankfully I haven’t had much call for them, but, guess who walks in through the door again, asking the same questions?"
"The police detective?" Mickey and I exclaimed in unison.
"It was, surely." Maggie paused to retrieve a towel and a jug of water from behind the bar. "The previous few months had not been kind to him. He had the look of a man who had seen more than any man should, and more than he could handle." She moistened the towel with the water and proceeded to dab the blood from Mickey’s neck and face. He didn’t flinch at the maternal gesture, although after a careful wipe of the cloth he gently took it from her and continued the work himself. The bite wounds had healed. Maggie retook her seat and continued.
"It turns out he’s been investigating all these murders, although it takes him a while to tell me. He's in the area and thought he'd make a few enquiries and blow off some steam at the same time. He and Seamus get talking, they both like whiskey and hunting, they get on well, he starts to become a regular. One afternoon, he comes in after his shift. Seamus is out on an errand, and this fella looks like he’s had one hell of a day. A couple of drinks later and a friendly ear, he’s telling me about these cases that he’s been working on, that he’s convinced are all connected. I ask him why and after some reluctance, he finally tells me it’s because of the injuries. It’s like each and every one of them has had their throats ripped out, at the very least chunks bitten out of their arms and legs."
"Vampires?" I asked.
"Of course it’s feckin' vampires," Mickey screeched, a little harsher than I think he'd intended.
"Now Mickey, mind your manners," Maggie said.” I felt like I’d been hit with a sledgehammer when he told me. I was right back in that phone box with that pig."
I asked Maggie if she’d told the policeman what she knew, that vampires existed and that they could be out there murdering all those people.
"I wanted to, but what good would that have done? His bosses didn't even want to believe they were connected, told him to drop it if he knew what was good for him. There were no leads, but no new bodies turning up either, the wounds could have been caused by rats or dogs or some other animal that came across the bodies. There was no hard evidence that a person had completed the crimes."
"So what happened?" I asked.
"Nothing, there were no more killings and I never saw the detective again. I imagine that the vampires just moved on. This is the first time I've seen one since then. Seamus and I kept our eyes peeled of course, checked the newspapers, paid closer attention to our customers, but as far as we could tell it was all over. A month later, the detective's body turns up in a burned out car in Belgium. He'd lost his job and killed himself by all accounts."
"Do you really think the deaths were caused by vampires," I asked, "particularly if the police were convinced? Besides, if their saliva or venom -whatever - heals you, how can they possibly kill you? Wouldn't you just keep healing?"
"I guess that if they go too far, there is no amount of magical mystery venom that's going to cure you," Mickey concluded.
"I think you're right Mickey" Maggie replied, "If I hadn't got to you when I did, I dread to think what would have happened to you two wains out there."
"But surely someone would have connected the dots. I can't imagine that Antwerp is the Mecca for criminal activity, how can someone else not have believed these were connected? Even if the police had reservations, surely someone in the press would have run with the story?"
Maggie looked into her whiskey, saying nothing. I looked at Mickey; he was slowly sipping his drink, studying Maggie.
"C'mon", I said, exasperated, "you can't possibly believe that this is some big conspiracy theory? The police must have known something, perhaps the detective just got carried away, couldn't see straight, made connections that weren't there. We don't have all the facts after all; we've only got your recollections of some news articles and the ravings of a drunk, emotionally broken policeman."
My drinking partners continued to say nothing. I felt like they were silently having a conversation which I wasn't party to.
"Perhaps, "I added hopefully," nobody believed him because the deaths were unconnected - an unusual trend admittedly, but unrelated." I wasn't convinced myself so I don't know why I should have convinced them.
"You're coming at this from a very naive place Sophie", Mickey sighed, studying the amber liquid roll around his glass as he swirled it. "The Man isn't always about protecting you, the police don't always work in your best interest and the authorities can lie."
He had a point, and it wasn't the first time he'd made it. Vampires wouldn't have survived for who knows how long without a few important people in their pockets. Plus, if vampires actually exist, is it such a stretch to believe that other people knew about it, perhaps even complicit in letting them go about their activities? I shuddered; I didn’t want to think about it.
"So I guess we shouldn’t phone the police then and tell them about what happened tonight?"
"No pet," Mickey said, "definitely not. I’m not telling them anything unless I have to, and I don’t think you should either. Besides, there’s no evidence, what would we tell them? You’re going to get on a plane, get yourself home and forget about it. The most that anyone needs to know is that you got attacked in the street trying to get your pal’s bag off a mugger."
"Don’t I get a say in this?" I asked indignantly. To be honest, I was flattered by his concern for my welfare and grateful for his strength. I wasn’t sure how indignant I really felt.
"I don’t think you do pet, "Maggie said, reaching across the table and patting my hand.” You’d do well to put this behind you and get on with your life now. No good will come of letting this play on your mind. "
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Was I the only person who thought that we should be doing something? Or was I secretly relieved that I wasn't expected to do anything at all? What was I meant to do with all this information, just go home and forget about it, chalk it up to experience like the time I got that perm and cried all the way home on the bus from the hairdressers?
I was unravelling, a million thoughts going through my brain and none of them making much sense at all. This was too much to process all in one go and I felt like I might implode. I had to do something, take some sort of action. I quickly released my hand from hers and stood up, as if to attention. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do or say, but doing so
mething seemed better than nothing. I immediately sat back down and tried to look like a sane person.
Maggie patted my hand again. Mickey looked confused and uncertain what he should do. I wasn't the only one feeling agitated and lost - three strangers sat in the bar wondering what the hell had happened to the world and feeling totally ill-equipped to do anything about it.
Over the next few minutes, Maggie locked the gun away and Mickey managed to gather the wherewithal to make us two mugs of tea. Maggie didn’t want one as she was going to bed and advised us both to do the same. Unnecessarily, she apologised again for causing me any distress, but she understood how I must feel. I don’t know how, I didn’t really know myself, but her words were kind and sincere. I felt guilty for snapping at her; after all she’d saved our lives. I wished in a way that she wasn’t heading up to bed, I wanted a bit more time to make up for my rude outburst.
"She’s right, you know", Mickey commented, handing me a mug of tea. "You’ll be okay, we both will. Well, apart from feeling like we’ve done ten rounds with Mike Tyson."
That was an understatement. Apart from the emotional thought gymnastics that were going on in my brain, I felt like I’d just played the roughest game of rugby imaginable. I lifted the hem of my top up a little to see abrasions across my whole torso. Heaven knows at what stage of the proceedings I’d gotten them.
"They look sore", Mickey said, stretching out his fingers to touch them. I flinched. He apologised and quickly withdrew his hand.
"It’s okay," I replied, "they’re tender that's all. Actually, now I’ve stopped moving, everything is really starting to bloody hurt".
He gave me a look of sympathy and I asked how his neck was doing. He turned his head to show me. It looked pretty good. There was a criss-cross of scarring, but the gash had sealed completely. It looked pink, but like most scars, that would heal given time. I suspected that the biggest scars we would have from that night would be invisible, on the inside. The deepest always are aren't they?
As he brought his head back to face me, our eyes met and we both smiled.
"Some first date, eh?" he chuckled. Sometimes you've just got to laugh.
"Is that what this was?" I asked grinning.
"You tell me."
I answered him with a kiss. It wasn’t one of those romantic kisses like in the movies; it involved me putting my mug down, him grimacing with pain as he moved closer to me, and me wincing as he draped his arm around me. But it was honest and it was lovely.
When we eventually released each other, we looked knowingly into one another’s eyes, each understanding what needed to happen next. He wrapped his bruised fingers around mine and led me around to the stairs behind the bar.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Yeah, I’m sure."
With that, he took me up the stairs to the small flat he occupied with his brother. Rather than take me into the bedroom, he led me into the open living area that hosted the smallest kitchenette imaginable, a TV and a large sofa.
Without speaking, he gently walked me over to the worn sofa and sat down. I took my position, gently placing my head onto his lap, curling my legs under a throw blanket. I turned my face up to look at him and gently smiled before we both closed our eyes and fell asleep.
CHAPTER 10
I woke up to find Tracy shouting and a very unattractive trail of saliva running down my chin. As I was still half asleep, it took a moment to deduce that she was in fact yelling at me, although I couldn’t quite fathom if was for not coming back to the hotel or for not phoning her to say I wasn’t, or that I was just generally ignoring her. Maybe she was offended because I’d done all three.
I yawned and tried to stretch, which was difficult now that every muscle in my aching body was beginning to seize up. Mickey and I had managed to lay out flat on the sofa at some point during the evening – okay, well, he was laid out on the sofa and I collapsed on top of him, dribbling onto his chest. It wasn't a good look for either of us, but at least we were both dressed.
"Whoa, sweet child of mine," Mickey retorted with a startle. His hair was sticking up at the back and his puffy eyes had retreated practically to the back of his head. He pushed his dark mop of hair back from his face with both hands before rubbing his face with them. "Where’s the fire, and how did you get in here?"
"Sean let me in," she huffed. "Are you alright Sophie? I’ve been phoning you all night. Why didn’t you answer your phone? "
Not so worried that you came straight over here. Chill Sophie; don’t get on the defensive just because you’re tired.
Shifting along the sofa, I reached down to my handbag, which lay at my feet, and rummaged around in it for my mobile phone. I eventually found it and discovered that the battery was flat. That was not really an excuse, I should have found a way to telephone her and let her know that I had decided to stay at the pub. It was bad form on my part, although I’m sure understandable given the circumstances. Understandable that is if I had actually shared the previous night’s events with her. No wonder she was pissed off at me. For all she knew, I could have been lying dead in a gutter somewhere.
Should I just tell her? No, we agreed not to. Anyway, what would I achieve by telling her? It would just worry and upset her. She'd probably think I was bonkers- that we all were - me, Mickey and Maggie. Either that or she'd believe us and then she'd be worrying about the prospect of being killed by a vampire as well. What sort of life would that be? Odds on we'd never come across another vampire again. No, telling her would just cause unnecessary panic and trauma. After all, we’ve only one more day to get through, then we'll be back home-nice, safe home where there are no vampires and everything is lovely and normal.
"Sorry", I murmured, hopefully conveying a suitable degree of guilt and chastisement. Every word which was coming out of her mouth was true, of course, but deep down I knew I deserved a free pass. I took my verbal punishment with dignity.
Despite the truth in her words, I noticed that Tracy couldn't have spent the entire night worrying about me. A hideous-looking love bite decorated her neck. She clearly hadn't been that worried - she hadn't been motivated enough to leave Kieran's arms and come looking for me.
"I was really worried about you when I woke up this morning and you hadn’t come home. I’ve been trying to get through to you since eight; I gave up eventually and thought I’d better come around here." It was as if she'd read my mind.
Mickey interrupted the exchange by asking for the time, and Tracy responded by telling him that it was almost eleven and surely he should be at work.
We’d missed most of the morning and now I just felt groggy and dehydrated. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes with one hand and covering a yawn with the other, I shuffled into the corner of the sofa, propping myself against the armrest and the back for support. Everything ached and I knew I needed more sleep.
Mickey forced himself up off the sofa and declared he was going to put the kettle on. His bare feet made a pleasant tapping sound as he crossed the tile floor to the corner of the room. Tracy took his seat while he pottered about in the tiny kitchenette, filling the kettle from the small sink and dropping in a couple of tea bags into two mismatched cups from a mug tree. Tracy told him that she’d like one too, although he hadn’t asked her. He silently picked up another mug from the drainer and wiped it dry.
"You look like shit," she told me.
"Thanks." And I bloody feel like it as well, thanks for asking.
"So what happened after I left last night?"
I could have told her the truth, but the consensus between Mickey, Maggie and I was that we should keep our lips firmly sealed.
Mickey returned with a tray of three steaming mugs of tea, which he placed down on the low coffee table in front of the sofa. Tracy immediately noticed the lack of skin on his knuckles when he reached across her to hand me one. She arched an eyebrow in his direction and gave a look that exuded, if you’ve hurt her, I’ll kill you.
"I took a fall when I f
ound her last night," he replied to the unanswered question. "I guess it's taken a while for the bruises to come out eh?"
"You didn’t mention that last night," she noted suspiciously. Although somewhat rested, he still looked a mess - torn, dirty clothes, bruises. I also looked in a considerably worse state that the one she'd left me in the previous night. I hoped she didn't probe much further and that I could perhaps keep her occupied with girly chat and the gossip from her night with Kieran.
"I was more worried about our girl here," he added. "It looks worse that it is. I could fall over my own feet if I wasn’t looking."
Tracy didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue. Rapidly changing the conversation, I asked how her own night had been and if she’d slept okay. As she blushed, she explained that she’d had a very good night’s sleep, thank you very much and that she’d tell me about it on the way back to the hotel. No offence, but I looked like I needed a hot bath and a change of clothes. She had a point.
Mickey offered to phone a taxi for us, but I insisted on walking. I was looking forward to some fresh air and I hoped that getting my limbs moving might help with the emerging aches and pains.
He followed us both downstairs to the bar area where Maggie and Sean were getting ready to open. A woman was there whom I didn’t recognise, but Mickey replied that she was a local lady who came in at lunchtime to help Maggie with making the soup and sandwiches for their limited food menu. Sean flashed us a smile over the pumps which he was wiping down, and Maggie just acknowledged me with a nod of her head. She looked tired and I wondered if she’d managed to get any sleep.
"I’ll come back later," I told Mickey. It was part question, part statement.
"Great, that would be good."
I wasn’t sure if I should kiss him. I wanted to, but was uncertain about how much of our single kiss the night before was the result of attraction on his part or just sheer relief that we were alive. I decided that a peck on the cheek was a safe option, but as I moved in he came in for my lips. An embarrassing moment happened when we both had to rethink our position and ended up air kissing instead. He blushed, which was charming.
Sophie Morgan (Book 1): Relative Strangers (A Modern Vampire Story) Page 10
