Before Harriet could get away, a red faced Callum stormed from the room. He gave Harriet an angry glance. “Go on then, go and tell her how she did the right thing. This is all your fault, you and Caroline and your frivolous ways.”
Harriet didn’t reply. Instead, she took a deep breath and walked into her friend’s room. Ola was sobbing quietly. Harriet sat down and put her arm around her, remembering how many times the steady, sensible girl had comforted her in the middle of one crisis or another.
It took an hour to calm her down. Harriet had summoned Caroline, who appeared with chocolate and a bottle of wine. For all that she’d vowed to be ruthless in helping Tom, Harriet realised she just wasn’t cold enough to allow Olamide to be fed off whilst she was in this state. She could barely bring herself to leave the room.
“Ola, I’m so sorry to leave you love, but Tom is really ill,” she said. “That’s what I was originally coming over to tell you. I’d better check on him. I’ll come back and see how you’re doing later.”
It was going to have to be Ben she decided. As luck would have it, she bumped onto him in the main quad, just heading back from a training session at the gym.
“Are you alright Harriet?” he asked. “You look pretty stressed.”
“Ola and Callum have broken up, and Tom is massively ill,” she replied breathlessly, not having to fake the panic in her voice. “Caroline’s with Olamide, I don’t think she wants to deal with anyone male at the moment. Will you come with me to Tom’s room? It’ll do him good to have someone other than me to chat to.”
Ben looked suitably shocked at both her announcements. “What do you mean he’s ill? What’s wrong?”
“He was in a fight,” she said, sticking as close to the truth as possible. “He got really badly beaten up.”
“He’s so strong though. I’d have thought he’d be able to take anyone. Who beat him up? And why? And when did this happen?”
“It was George. Cavaliers George. It happened late last night. I didn’t want to worry everyone any more this morning. As for why, I don’t really know.”
To her relief, Ben didn’t ask any more awkward questions. He hurried after Harriet, back to her and Tom’s staircase.
“Wow, you look like shit mate,” he said, walking in and staring at Tom. “What the hell happened?”
“Come here,” Tom said. He was struggling with every word, but his voice retained at least some of its commanding edge.
Wide-eyed, Ben obeyed, perching himself on the edge of the bed. Tom reached out his arm, causing the covers to fall down, exposing his chest. Ben immediately noticed the scar.
“No seriously, what happened? Don’t tell me you got stabbed!”
Instead of replying, Tom placed his hands on Ben’s shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. “I’m sorry to have to do this,” he said quietly. Within seconds, Ben’s expression became blank.
“Ben, can you hear me?” Harriet asked. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified when he didn’t answer.
“Would you feel more comfortable if you watched or if you left the room?” Tom asked in the same strained voice.
“I’ll stay. I think I owe him that much.”
She closed her eyes however as Tom took hold of their friend, tilted his head back and bit down. He only drank for a minute or two before licking the wound closed and calling Harriet over.
“Take him back to his room. If all’s gone to plan, he won’t remember coming to see me at all. I didn’t take much and he’s fit enough that it shouldn’t have too much effect on him. Maybe try and feed him some of your iron tonic though.”
Harriet nodded. She couldn’t quite bring herself to speak. “I’ll come back once I’ve got him settled.”
As Tom had promised, Ben had suffered no obvious mental or physical ill effects. She got him to his room before the lingering effects of the mind control wore off. Initially, he seemed puzzled, but quickly launched into a discussion of what had gone wrong with Olamide and Callum. It seemed as though her telling him about the break up was the last thing he remembered.
After she’d checked that Tom was alright, (he was already looking healthier), Harriet made her way to the Union. She wasn’t in the mood for it to say the least, but as a Secretary’s Committee member she was expected to help out at all the events and that night there was to be a strawberries, champagne and chamber music party. If she kept missing events she’d be putting herself in a bad position for running for Standing Committee at the end of that term, and for all the problems with the Union, she couldn’t quite resist the lure of doing so.
Pouring endless glasses of champagne was oddly therapeutic. With half an eye on the election, she smiled and chatted to all the party guests. Everyone was discussing the boys who’d died, various theories floating around. Despite his position as President-Elect, there was no sign of Edward, who was utterly distraught at Crispin’s death.
“What do you think?” Catherine asked her during a rare quiet moment. As Secretary, she was rushed off her feet, but her general cheeriness wasn’t slipping at all.
Harriet shrugged. She didn’t want to get drawn into the discussion. She changed the topic in the most effective way she knew, asking Catherine how her election plans were going. She was intending to run for President from the position of Secretary, relatively unusual when the contest was normally fought between the Treasurer and Librarian, but not unheard of, especially for someone as popular as Catherine.
“Really well actually. I definitely think I’m in with a chance of making President. Our events are great this term – thanks for all the help with that by the way. And Joanne’s an absolute sweetheart, but I don’t think she’s really leadership material if you know what I mean.”
Harriet did know. Catherine had an aura about her that drew people in and made them love her. Joanne, the current Treasurer, was probably more organised but tended to stay in the background. For personal reasons, the Librarian had decided not to stand. Furthermore, the Cavaliers, rather unusually, weren’t putting up an official Presidential candidate that term, but they were nominally supporting Catherine, which could only help.
“So are you definitely going to go for Standing?” Catherine asked, affecting nonchalance but clearly desperate for an answer. “I’d love you on my slate, but positions are filling up fast so I need to know. We’re really strong, and I think you’d be in with a chance of topping the Committee.”
Harriet didn’t want to think about that right now. She wanted to clear away the last glasses then go home to Tom to sleep. On the other hand, she didn’t want to mess Catherine around, so took a deep breath and nodded.
“I’d love to. I think you’d be a great Pres, and I’ll definitely put in the effort for you.”
Catherine squealed and hugged her.
***
By the end of the week, the deaths of the two Cavaliers had been oddly hushed up. Since the initial flurry of police and press activity on May Day, there’d been no obvious legal investigation and no further news. People even stopped talking about it. It was the first real taste of the Cavalier’s power and influence that she’d seen.
Each night that week, she brought another friend to Tom - first Caroline, then a much cheered up Olamide, and finally Josh. Conscious of the latter’s dislike of her boyfriend she’d hesitated before involving him, but had ultimately decided it was necessary. After Josh, she’d insisted that she was strong enough to for him to feed from her again. Tom had agreed.
“It’s so good to taste you again, and to have someone who’s conscious after all the mind control and random donors,” he said, coming up for air momentarily before suckling gently at her neck once again.
By the end of that night, he seemed entirely recovered. All trace of a scar had disappeared, and once again, he was able to pick her up as though she weighed nothing. He was spoiling to for revenge on George, but Harriet begged him to be careful.
“You’ve got me,” she said. “You know that means you
’re already the real winner in his eyes.”
***
“Good news,” said Caroline, cheerfully walking into Harriet’s room without preamble the next morning. “Ben got the card this morning. He’s invited to the summer party, which I guess must mean he’s made it to the final ten. He’s going to be made a Cavalier, I just know it.”
Harriet had been expecting this. After all, Ben had had some successes and no major slips ups, and his connection to her could hardly have hurt his campaign. Nonetheless, hearing the news made her sick to her stomach. At best, Ben was going to become a vampire; at worst, he’d just be killed. Or maybe it was the other way round.
As for Caroline, if the Cavaliers turned Ben, he’d be made to drain her to the death. Some of the committee would be delighted with that she was sure. There seemed to be a belief, presumably originating with her stepfather, that it was good luck for a vampire’s first transforming kill to be someone they loved.
“You can’t let him go,” Harriet said, more sharply than she’d intended. “And you certainly can’t be his guest.”
“What do you mean I can’t?” said Caroline. “I thought you’d be pleased. Surely you’re going. I thought we could go shopping and get ready together.”
She still thinks of the Cavaliers as a normal dining society. She thinks that the party is going to be a bit of a laugh and something she can brag about. She wants Ben to be selected for the prestige, but has no idea what that means.
Harriet considered telling Caroline the whole truth, but quickly realised that there was no way on earth she’d believe her. She’d struggled to comprehend it herself even though Tom had told her about vampires in the aftermath of George’s attack, with his fangs showing.
“It’s too dangerous,” she said, after a moment’s hesitation.
“Dangerous? What do you mean dangerous?” Caroline asked suspiciously.
“I’m sorry, I really can’t say any more than that.” Harriet wished she could, but couldn’t think of any sensible and believable way to warn her friend off.
“Do you know what I think?” Caroline said, angry now. “I think you love having a Cavalier boyfriend. I think it makes you feel all cool and important. And I think you don’t want anyone else, not even your best friend, muscling in on your territory.” She glared at Harriet and turned to leave.
“Caroline, wait!” Harriet shouted after her. “It’s not like that I swear. Surely you know me better than that. I’m not that much of a bitch.”
Caroline turned back around. “Well no, but what do you expect me to think? Ben’s been given a great opportunity and you’re making weird comments about mysterious dangers and begging me not to go. Now, I realise you know more about the society than me, so if you know something, tell me about it properly, otherwise just leave it and I’ll see you there.”
Harriet took a deep breath. “People die Caroline. Every year at those parties, people die.”
Caroline walked back into her room and closed the door. “People die. What do you mean? Do they overdose or something.”
Harriet wished it were that simple. “For goodness sake Caroline, if it were just that sort of thing do you really think I’d be making such a fuss? I trust you and Ben to look after yourselves. What I’m saying is that people are killed.”
Caroline burst into laughter. “Killed? That’s ridiculous. Are you winding me up or has someone actually tricked you into believing this?”
“It’s not a joke Caroline. They kill the unsuccessful candidates and they kill most of the female guests. I know it sounds crazy but I swear to you that it’s absolutely true.”
“Okay, Harriet darling, just calm down. I can tell from the way you’re shaking that you totally believe this but it can’t be true. We’re talking about a student dining society, not MI6 or a crazy cult or something.”
Harriet couldn’t think what else to say. She looked around her room, stalling for time. Suddenly, a photograph caught her eye. It was her and Caroline in their Halloween outfits. She had a flash of inspiration.
“Don’t you remember what happened the first time I met George?”
“Not really. You bumped into him in a club and then brought him back with you.”
Harriet stared at her. Had she really forgotten the rest of it?
“No, wait, I remember now,” Caroline said suddenly, her voice strained and odd. “You told me that he attacked you with a knife. That’s so weird, why would I forget that?”
“That’s right,” Harriet said, lifting up her hair to show what appeared to be a scar from the attack. In actual fact, it was marks from Tom’s recent feeding, but it had the required effect on Caroline, who looked utterly horrified. “If he did that, is it really much more of a stretch of the imagination to believe that they’re all a bunch of maniacs?”
“I suppose not, but surely they wouldn’t be able to keep it secret. All the candidates are popular and successful. Most of them have powerful families. If they kept dying questions would be asked.”
“I don’t know how to explain it, but I know it’s true. You and Ben need to stay away. If I’m wrong, the worst that happens is you miss a fun party. If I’m right, you’ll avoid being killed. It’s hardly a difficult decision.”
“This is all too strange,” said Caroline, opening the door to leave again. “I need to talk to Ben about it. We’ll both see you for dinner. If you can think of anything else to prove all of this, that’d be helpful. Right now I’m off to rehearsals.”
With that, she walked out. Harriet hoped that Caroline had taken her message to heart and would avoid the party, along with Ben. That would be two less people to worry about, but it didn’t bring her any closer to a solution regarding how to stop the whole thing.
***
The next week brought the election. There was less controversy than the term before. Catherine won President easily and Harriet topped Standing, with a little help from the vampire vote. By the time the campaigning had finished, all of the first years had began to tone down the summer fun and make at least a token effort to begin revising for prelims, the end of year exams that would test everything they’d studied since October. It was hot and crowded in the library, and every time Harriet tried to remind herself of the finer points of the Reformation or women throughout history, her mind would wander back to the Cavaliers’ party and how to stop it. She had no viable ideas, and despite his promises, Tom wasn’t being much use. It was even worse when she tried to revise the first term’s Civil War work, as she couldn’t stop the flashbacks.
Caroline wasn’t being openly hostile but was quite clearly avoiding her. Olamide had practically doubled the amount of time she spent studying, something that Harriet could barely believe was possible. She appeared to be channelling all of her hurt over the breakup with Callum into her work. As a law student, Ben was free of prelims. He’d done well in the Summer Eights rowing competition and was now spending most of his time lounging around in the sun and going to parties, to the envy of everyone else.
It was almost a relief when the exams actually started. It was rather surreal to dress up in sub fusc, the required outfit – white shirt tied with a ribbon, black skirt, black tights and shoes and of course the gown.
It was traditional to wear a white carnation for the first exam, a red one for the last one and pink ones in the middle, all purchased by friends and given as a sort of good luck gift. Josh brought her a white one, Olamide a pink and Tom gave her a deep red carnation.
The sense of oddness wasn’t helped by the fact that the exams took place in huge rooms in exam schools, a suitably grand building full of oil portraits of Victorian aristocrats which overlooked the nervous students. Harriet wondered whether any of them were paintings of anyone she knew.
Somehow, Harriet managed to push her worries about everything else out of her mind for the duration of the four three hour exams. Her answers were far from being the best essays she’d ever written, but in the circumstances, she was extremely proud of hersel
f.
The sense of joy and freedom when the exams were over was palatable. All of the history students went for drinks still wearing their gowns. In her excitement and relief, Caroline even forgot she was avoiding Harriet and they had a civil if rather drunken conversation in the Grand Cafe. She wouldn’t be swayed on the subject of the party however.
“We shouldn’t fight,” Caroline concluded. “Let’s just forget we had this argument. I accept that you weren’t trying to stop me going out of spite, but I’m going and that’s that. Are you going to go or shall I see you the night after at the ball?”
Feeling slightly sick, Harriet nodded and hugged her. Afterwards, Caroline made her excuses and went off to her rehearsal of a Streetcar Named Desire.
The party was the next night, Midsummer’s Eve, and it seemed it was going to go ahead as planned.
Chapter Fifteen
Harriet waited in the porters’ lodge, her mind whirling. With only hours to go before the ceremony began, she had no idea of how to stop the deaths and the transformations. It was looking increasingly likely that she’d just have to stand there whilst her stepfather orchestrated a massacre of the year’s most beautiful and successful students.
Harriet was desperately missing her necklace. She’d never needed protection from enchantment as much in her life. As a compromise, she’d put on the old crucifix that her aunt had given her so long ago. She remembered Tom saying that its effect on different vampires would vary – she hoped that most of the leading Cavaliers were the superstitious type.
Caroline was also standing in the porters lodge, looking fantastic in a short, fitted red dress. The time to stop her from going to the party was long past, and Harriet remembered that she had promised to drop the subject.
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