by Collins, Tim
He said that when they’d been in Edinburgh, they’d been invited to join a coven on the small Scottish island of Hirta. Dad said that he’d been tempted, but it would have meant registering with the Vampire Council again, and he was fifty years behind with his vampire council tax. However, in light of the current situation, he’d pay his bill and take the Scottish vampires up on their offer.
I’m not sure how I feel about joining a larger coven, but I suppose things could have been a lot worse. Moving is stressful, but it doesn’t really compare to battling your ex-girlfriend to the death.
My sister threw a fit when she found out that she was going to have to move again. She does it every time, so nobody took the blindest bit of notice.
She begged Mum and Dad to leave her here with her friends, although she clearly hadn’t thought it through. Does she want to stay ten years old while her friends grow up? I’m sure they’ll still be fascinated with her talk of pop idols and magical unicorns when they’re married with kids of their own.
MONDAY 2ND JANUARY
1PM
We’ve hired three large trucks for our journey to Scotland on Wednesday. Dad, Mum and Grandpa will drive one each, and I notice that Mum and Dad are packing their stuff in their own trucks as they don’t trust Grandpa’s driving.
I was annoyed that I’d only been allocated one third of the space in Grandpa’s truck for my possessions, but I’m not sure I really care. Let him destroy my things, I’m not a materialistic person. All I need is my diary, a pen, a PlayStation, an Xbox, a Wii, a laptop, a decent-sized HD telly, surround speakers, an iPod, an iPad and a decent phone and I’m happy. I wouldn’t mind getting one of those chairs that vibrates as you play games, now that I come to think of it.
Needless to say, my sister moaned that she couldn’t fit all her garish possessions in the truck. It’s fine, I’m sure they sell worthless tat in Scotland too.
5PM
Dad told me to pack all Grandpa’s suitcases into the truck this afternoon, as he wasn’t feeling up to doing it himself, surprise surprise.
Instead of thanking me, the ungrateful old fogey barked instructions into my ear the whole time. And to make things worse, he ranted on about how it was humiliating to move rather than battle the werewolves. He said that truces between werewolves and vampires were just supernatural correctness gone mad, and he wanted nothing more than a good old-fashioned scrap. I asked him if he was planning to join in with this battle personally or stand back and let everyone else do the work, as usual.
He got really angry and said that protecting the identity of werewolves was a very serious crime and if he had his way, I’d be excluded from vampire society for ever. And then he went right back to telling me how to pack his stuff! I couldn’t believe his cheek. In one breath he was arguing that I should be expelled from vampiredom for something I’ve already apologized about, and in the next he was ordering me about.
I couldn’t take any more, so I smashed one of his suitcases on the floor. It split open, sending ancient parchment and books flying in all directions. He started swearing and kicking me, and I realized it wasn’t a good time to get in further trouble with Mum and Dad, so I set about picking it all up. But as I was doing so, I noticed something strange. One of the documents was a letter summoning him to court for failing to pay gambling debts - and it was dated 1752, more than a century before he claimed Dad transformed him.
As I rifled through the rest of his papers, more peculiarities emerged. There were the deeds to a house on London’s Fleet Street, which were dated 1706. There was a first edition of Robinson Crusoe signed to him by Daniel Defoe. And most incriminating of all, there was a late eighteenth-century engraving depicting someone who looked exactly like him brawling inside a tavern.
I held out the engraving and asked if he’d like me to show it to Dad. Just like that time I told him I knew he had vampire strength, the anger drained from his face and he switched into false chumminess. He said that what my dad didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him and some things should stay between friends.
I was tempted to present the evidence right away and demand the freeloading old buffoon be excluded from our coven, but I didn’t have the heart. After all, it was one of my new year’s resolutions not to make any more enemies. I said I’d keep his secret on the conditions that he didn’t drink any more of my blood supplies, I didn’t have to do any more chores for him with immediate effect, and that I didn’t have to call him Grandpa any more, but my sister still did. He agreed and I left him to pack the rest of his cases into the truck.
11PM
My sister has got over her tantrums about moving and now seems to be looking forward to it. Life must be so easy when you’re shallow.
She wants to use the opportunity to change her name from Mavis. My parents promised she could do this when we moved, so they can hardly go back on it now. At first she wanted to be called something like Duchess Zaleska, Empress Kasadeja or High Priestess Ysandrov, but Dad explained that vampires don’t use these kinds of names any more, and that she’d only want to change it again as soon as we got to Hirta. In the end, they agreed on Daisy, which is apparently popular again, though it doesn’t sound much more modern than Mavis to me. She’s chosen Isabella as a middle name, so her full name is now Daisy Isabella Mullet. She hasn’t realized that her initials spell the word ‘dim’, and I’m certainly not going to point it out just yet. I’m going to wait until she’s told everyone her name and then write ‘DIM’ all over her stuff in the pretence of helping her write her initials on it.
I briefly considered changing my name from Nigel to something more macho like Chuck or Brad, but I don’t think I’ll bother. If those Hirta vampires don’t think Nigel is a cool name for an eternal prince of the night, I don’t want to be friends with them. It’s quite a good filter when you think about it.
TUESDAY 3RD JANUARY
I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone we were moving, but I didn’t feel like I could leave without saying goodbye to Chloe after all we’ve been through.
We arranged to meet on our favourite bench in the graveyard, as it holds many fond memories for us. Except for that time she tried to claw me to death.
I told her we were moving to avoid a vampire-werewolf battle. She said she was pleased she didn’t have to rip my parents’ throats out as they’d always been very pleasant to her.
I told her she could continue using our house on full moons, as I know Dad won’t get round to selling it for ages. She thanked me, but said she’d tell her parents everything before the next full moon, so they could restrain her in their own basement. Her parents are very understanding, so I expect they’ll be fine with it.
She’s a bit nervous about her next transformations because they’re going to occur just before her Business Studies exam, but she’s factored three nights of thinking about nothing but grisly murder into her revision timetable. You just have to be disciplined and plan ahead, like when you’ve got two exams on the same day.
She said she was sorry about the time she tried to force me to turn her into a vampire. I was going to commiserate with her for missing out on top prize in the supernatural lottery, but I thought I’d better not go there.
Instead I told her she had no reason to be sorry, and promised that if I ever bumped into her during any apocalyptic showdown between vampires and werewolves, I’d do my best to spare her.
She said she’d try to do the same, although she couldn’t promise she wouldn’t get carried away if she were in wolf form. I said I understood, and with that we parted.
5PM
I just asked Dad loads of questions about what it will be like in Scotland, but he told me to be patient. He said it was a much larger coven than he’d ever lived in before, with well over a hundred vampires. He also said that they have a school just for vampires. Even the teachers are undead! I’ll think twice before disrupting those lessons. I’ll be more likely to end up in a duel than detention.
It’ll be weird to be around
vampires my own age for once. I hope they’re sensitive and intelligent like me, and not just a mindless bunch of ghouls who boast about how many humans they’ve attacked. I’d better pack some good books just in case.
WEDNESDAY 4TH JANUARY
I am writing this from the passenger seat in Dad’s truck. I can tell it’s quite a struggle for him to drive slowly, but Mum has no sense of direction and Grandpa refuses to use SatNav, so it’s the only way our little convoy can stay together. Plus, I think it’s easier for him to drive cautiously when he has millions of pounds’ worth of antiques in the back.
I wanted to stop for a picnic in the Lake District, but Dad said we couldn’t drink any blood until after dark, as we have to be extra careful not to arouse any suspicion on our way to Hirta. He’s even wearing a fleece instead of a cape, which really isn’t his style at all.
I’m so glad I’m in a different truck from my sister. There’s nothing worse than listening to her moaning about how thirsty she is every time she spots some roadkill.
As I write this, we’ve just passed Stockfield Moor and joined the motorway. Goodbye streets, goodbye hills and goodbye Chloe. It was a shame our love couldn’t last, but I’ll never forget the time we spent together.
Goodbye Stockfield, goodbye England and goodbye wimpy Nigel. After more than a century, the time has finally come for me to leave my pathetic self behind and become the vampire I’ve always wanted to be.
Find Diary of a Wimpy Vampire on Facebook, and follow Nigel on Twitter (@NigelTheVampire).
