“Do you think they were all sick with the same thing?” Amber asked.
Althea took another sip from her cup. “I’m sure I don’t know. But it would appear so, wouldn’t it? They were all complaining of weakness, and everyone who saw them remarked on how pale they looked. Then there were the …”
She trailed off.
“Then there were the what?” Milo prompted.
But Althea only smiled. “Nothing, dear. Worried people, that’s all it is.”
“You said something earlier about strange deaths?” Glen said.
“Oh heavens, no,” Althea responded, her small eyes glittering. “Such talk is nothing more than salacious gossip, and I for one do not partake. But we have had a very odd year, a very unsettling year. People have died in mysterious circumstances and others have claimed to see them days or even weeks later, walking the streets. Always at night, though. Always at night. And it all began with that poor family.”
“Tell us,” said Glen. “Please.”
The tip of Althea’s tongue popped out from between her lips as she considered the request, and then vanished. She put her cup and saucer on the coffee table and sat forward on the sofa. Milo and Glen leaned in. Amber perched on the arm of Milo’s chair and did the same.
“The Mastersons,” Althea said. “Lovely family. The mother was a lawyer, her husband was a teacher. Mathematics, I think. They had two beautiful children. The boy was the youngest. A prodigy, they said. Sit him at a piano and he could play like Mozart. Hand him a violin and he could play like Vivaldi. The daughter, though, Rosalie, she was the one you’d remember. I daresay you’d have fallen in love with her at first sight, Glen. Beautiful and kind, intelligent and funny. She was the flower of Cascade Falls. She had many would-be suitors and, from what I’ve heard, they were remarkably well-behaved around her. No inappropriateness of any sort. Until Caleb Tylk.
“Caleb was a troubled boy,” she went on. “Fights. Suspended from school three times. Vandalism. But, like every boy his age, he was in love with Rosalie Masterson. She was polite to him, which is testament enough to her character, wouldn’t you say? But that was Rosalie. A girl much too lovely for this world.”
“So I’m guessing something really bad happened,” said Amber.
Althea nodded gravely. She reached for her cup, took a sip, and replaced it on its saucer. “Caleb Tylk’s attentions were wildly, grotesquely inappropriate. He mistook her kindness for something more, and she was forced to reject his advances. He didn’t take it well. They said he hanged himself on the old tree beside the Varga Hotel.”
“They said?” Glen echoed. “They didn’t know for sure?”
“My friend, Sally-Ann Deaton, insists that she saw him hanging there, but, by the time the authorities came, the body was gone.”
“What happened to it?” asked Amber.
“Nobody knows,” said Althea. “But three nights later, cruel and bloody murder paid a visit to the Masterson house. The mother had her head cut off. The father had his heart ripped out. The son, that poor boy, was torn limb from limb. And Rosalie was taken.”
“You think Caleb did it,” said Milo.
“Oh yes,” said Althea. “Rosalie’s bedroom door had been broken down. On the wall beside the open window was Caleb Tylk loves Rosalie Masterson, written in Rosalie’s own blood.”
Silence followed her words. She took her saucer in her hand and had another sip of tea.
“Since then, things have gotten bad, and are getting worse. People are dying, and rising again. Oh, come now, wipe those looks off your faces. You know. I can tell. There’s something out there … something evil. You can feel it, too. He is not of this world.”
“He?”
“Varga,” she said. “It’s all centred around him.”
“Why don’t you leave?” Glen asked.
“I would’ve been out of here last week if my car hadn’t broken down,” Althea said with a chuckle. “At first, I was stubborn. I have lived in Cascade Falls my entire life and I was determined not to let any unholy creatures force me from my home. But then, well, my mind was changed. Vampires can do that to a person.”
Glen blinked. “Vampires?”
“Well, of course,” said Althea. “What did you think we were talking about?”
“I … have no idea,” said Glen. “But vampires? Really?”
Althea nodded. “That’s why I carry a crucifix with me wherever I go, and it’s why I never invite anyone into my house after dark. Those people singing in church today were the vampires’ human familiars – people who have been enslaved, but who have not yet been drained completely. I know my stuff, you best believe it.”
“Are we seriously talking about Dracula-style vampires here?” asked Glen, an excited grin starting to spread.
“Of course we are,” said Althea. “If you’d looked close, you would have seen that they all share two puncture wounds on their necks.”
“Wow …” said Glen.
Althea looked at him sadly. “Just like yours.”
GLEN’S SMILE FADED. “I’m sorry?”
“Your bitemark, dear,” said Althea, tapping her collar.
Glen frowned, and his hand went to his own neck. His eyes widened. “What?”
He leaped to his feet, spinning so that Amber and Milo could see the puncture wounds.
Amber stood, almost stumbled. “Oh hell.”
“What does it mean? What does it mean?” Glen wailed. “Oh God, am I a vampire? Does this mean I’m a vampire?”
“You’re not a vampire,” said Milo. “But you are marked.”
“Not again! I can’t be! I’ve already been marked! I had the Deathmark! I can’t be marked again!”
“What does marked mean?” Amber asked.
“It means the vampire who bit Glen can find him anytime he or she wishes,” said Althea, and then shrugged. “I’ve done my homework.”
“I’m marked,” Glen breathed, his eyes wide.
“There’s no need to make a big deal out of it,” said Milo, but Glen was already moving towards the front door.
“I need to walk,” he said. “I need to … I need to be free!”
And then he was gone, the door swinging closed behind him.
“What a dramatic young man,” said Althea.
But, before the door had clicked shut, Glen was barging back through.
“They’re here!” he cried, slamming the door and scuttling to the window.
Amber frowned. “The vampires?”
Glen looked back at her, real fear on his face. “Your parents.”
She ran to the window before she knew what she was doing, in time to see her parents’ car vanish round the corner. She went cold.
“Did they see you?” Milo asked, hauling Glen up by his collar. “They know your face. Did they see you?”
“No,” Glen said. “No, they didn’t.”
Milo turned to Althea. “How many ways out of town?”
“Just two, I’m afraid,” she answered. “The road to the east and the bridge to the west.”
“They’ll have them covered. Two on each, and the last two searching the town. We have to move.”
“Wait,” said Amber. It was all too much. All too fast. She needed things to slow down; she needed to be able to think. “They … they don’t know why we’re here, do they? I mean, they may have tracked us to this town, but they clearly haven’t spoken to Shanks. They don’t know about Althea or her son, and they don’t know about the vampires. In a few hours, Cascade Falls will be crawling with the things, right, Althea?”
Althea nodded. “And every night it gets worse.”
“There you go,” said Amber. “That’ll keep them busy. All we have to do is lie low until morning, then we’ll just sneak past them. Althea, we’ll take you with us. We’ll pack your bags while we’re waiting.”
“That’s a plan,” said Milo. “But, if they’ve followed us this far, they know what kind of car we’re driving. I’ll have to hide it
.”
“There’s a small barn just before the bridge,” said Althea. “There’s nothing inside and it’s never locked.”
“That’s it, then,” said Milo. “I’ll get the car under cover and come back as soon as I can. Do not open the door to anyone. Vampires can’t enter a property unless they’re invited, am I right about that, Althea?”
“Yes, you are, Milo.”
Milo turned to Glen. “What about you? Can I trust you not to do anything stupid?”
“I am a creature of the night,” Glen whispered.
“That’ll have to do,” said Milo, and hurried out.
Amber locked the door behind him.
When Althea’s bags were packed and sitting in the hall, Amber took her upstairs so she could get some rest. When she was gently snoring, Amber came back down and found Glen standing at the window, looking out.
“Have you seen them again?” she asked. “Glen? Glen.”
He looked round, startled. “What? Sorry?”
“My parents,” she said. “Have you seen them again?”
“Oh,” he said. “No. Haven’t seen them.”
She nodded, and stood beside him. His gaze was once again on the town beyond the glass. He looked tired. Worn out. First the Deathmark and now this … Despite how much he annoyed her, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.
“There,” he said. “Did you hear it?”
She pushed down her worries about her parents, shoved them deep into a dark, dark hole, and made a big show of listening. “Uh no. I don’t think so. Hear what?”
He frowned. “Nothing. Never mind.”
“How are you feeling?” she asked gently.
He didn’t look at her. “Feeling is something only the living do.”
“Oh yeah?” Amber said, and punched his shoulder. “Feel that?”
“Ow!” He rubbed his arm. “How can you hit so hard with such small hands? God!”
She gave him a grin. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
“I think I’m entitled to be dramatic, actually,” he said, glaring. “I’m the one bitten. I’m the one with the mark of the vampire upon his skin.”
“Upon his skin?” she mocked.
He looked out of the window again. “You don’t know what it’s like for people like me.”
“What, the Irish?”
“The damned. The doomed. Those with the vampire’s kiss upon our lips.”
“The vampire kissed you?”
“It’s a metaphor.”
“Barely.”
His eyes widened. “There it is again!”
Amber frowned. “There what is?”
“A whisper,” he said. “Or a … not a whisper, a call. But it’s … it’s soft. You’re sure you don’t hear it?”
“I’m pretty sure. Where’s it coming from?”
“Out there,” he said. He bit his lip. “Amber, would you promise me something?”
“Depends …”
“You … you won’t let me die alone, will you?”
He looked at her, and all the pain he had ever felt was right there in his eyes.
“You’re not going to die,” she said. “You’ve been bitten. That means a vampire fed on you. You haven’t been turned.”
“I know, I know that, but … but you wouldn’t let me die alone, right? We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“Yeah. I guess. Sort of.”
“Well, even sort-of friends don’t let each die alone, do they?”
She sighed, and took his hand. “No, they don’t. You’re going to be fine, Glen. We’re going to wait till morning, and then we’re going to leave. Easy as pie.”
“Yeah,” said Glen. “Yeah. Sorry. I’ve never really had much of a family before, except for my dad. He was like me, y’know? Sensitive. My mam, she used to slag him about it. Make fun of him, like. Then he lost his job and it was like all she ever did was slag him.”
“How did he die?” Amber asked softly.
Glen hesitated. “Alone,” he said.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“A brother. He’s a dick.”
“I had a brother,” said Amber. “A long, long time ago. A sister, too. Never knew them. I always wanted a brother when I was growing up. A brother would beat up anyone who laughed at me or called me names.”
“My brother was the one who laughed at me,” said Glen. “He was the one who called me names.”
“I don’t think my brother would have been like that,” Amber said. “I think he would have been nice. So you wouldn’t go back to Ireland? Back to your mom?”
He smiled sadly. “She doesn’t want me. Never did, I suppose. I wasn’t the happiest kid growing up so I kind of … pretended I was? I got on her nerves a lot. Were you happy as a kid?”
“I thought I was,” said Amber. “I mean, I knew my parents were different. They didn’t hold my hand, they didn’t play with me … I thought it was something I’d done, maybe something I was doing wrong. So I tried to act more like the other kids, but that didn’t work, so I tried to act more like my parents, but that didn’t work, either … It’s only now that I can look back and realise they never noticed. All of my little efforts to please them or make them proud, anytime I changed my behaviour to get some kind of reaction out of them, they just … never noticed. Because they didn’t care.”
“So we were both sad kids,” said Glen.
“I guess. The more I think about these things, the clearer I see what my life was really like.”
“Scary, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
They smiled at each other, and she gave his hand a squeeze and went to let go, but he held on. His eyes found hers, and they softened, and he leaned in.
“I swear to God,” she said, “do not try to kiss me.”
He faltered. A moment passed, and then he hugged her arm and let it drop.
Another moment passed.
“That was so awkward,” said Amber.
“I was just about to say that.”
“That was weird and unsettling.”
He nodded. “It was an ill-advised move, it’s true.”
“Were you seriously going to kiss me?”
“Apparently.”
“Your eyes went funny.”
“I’ve been told that happens.”
“I thought you only liked me when I was all demony.”
“You really think I’m that superficial?”
“Yes.”
“You could be right,” said Glen. “But isn’t it possible that I might have grown as a person in the last few days? After all my brushes with death and everything?”
“I guess,” she said.
“I think I might have,” he went on. “I’m probably realising that, when it comes to beauty, it’s what’s inside that counts. Or maybe beauty is what my eye, y’know, beholds it to be? I think I might have turned a significant corner in, like, sorting out what’s hot and what’s not. This is a big moment for me. But I didn’t mean to make things awkward between us. I just think you’re really awesome and I thought we were having a moment and I made a mistake. I’m sorry.”
“Listen, Glen, I want you to know—”
“I value your friendship, too.”
“—that I am in no way attracted to you at all in the slightest.”
He blinked. “I’m sorry?”
She winced. “I should have said what you said, about the valuing friendship stuff. Dammit. Can I go back and change my answer?”
“You don’t think I’m cute?”
“I think you’re reasonably good-looking, sure. But that doesn’t mean I’m attracted to you.”
“Why not?”
“It just doesn’t.”
“Are you sure that makes sense, though?”
She patted his shoulder. “I’m going to check on Althea. Maybe she’ll be ready to talk about her son now. When I come back, we can hopefully pretend this never happened.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Okay
.”
She walked upstairs, feeling weird.
Althea was sitting up in bed. “Is Milo back yet?” she asked.
“No. But don’t worry about him,” said Amber. “Milo can take care of himself. How are you doing?”
Althea smiled. “I’m old, and I need a lot of rest, but apart from that I am as fine as I ever was. Or so I like to think.” She chuckled. “Old age has a tendency to creep up on a person when they’re not looking. It’s sneaky like that.” She sat back, folding her hands over her belly. “You wanted to know about Gregory, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” said Amber. “If you’ll tell me. He’s still alive, isn’t he?”
Althea smiled sadly. “As far as I know. I don’t know where he is, but maybe I can help you find him. How much do you know already?”
“We know he made a deal with the Devil.”
“A lot of people would have trouble even uttering those words, but I think you’ve seen more of the truth of this world than you’d like. Would I be right?”
“I guess so.”
“Figured,” said Althea. “Gregory … Well. I understand why he did what he did, but that does not make it right. Not in the eyes of the Lord.”
“Why did he do it?”
“Oh, it wasn’t about greed or lust or power, if that’s what you’re thinking. My son isn’t perfect, but he’s a good man. It was because of my grandson, you see. Gregory made that deal out of love. And love is God’s weapon. It’s because of this that I pray, every night, that he finds his way back to the Lord, and I pray the Lord is willing to receive him. I’ll add you to my prayers, if you like.”
“Thank you,” said Amber, oddly touched. “It’d be nice to have someone praying for me. What’s your grandson’s name?”
“Jacob,” said Althea. “He had the cancer from a young age. By the time he was ten, his home was a hospital bed. He had tubes coming out of him and tubes going into him and then he needed help to breathe and then he couldn’t see … Science failed him. It did its best, but it wasn’t up to the job. I was praying, every day I was praying, but it seemed likely that God’s plan was to kill that little boy and take his soul up to heaven. A fine plan, I supposed, in the overall scheme, though I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why God was putting him through so much pain. I couldn’t really see the point of that, to torture a little boy who’d never done nothing to nobody. If God had felt the need to torture, why not torture those folks who were just scraping into heaven, just barely? Maybe by making them suffer, they’d actually prove worthy of an afterlife? But by putting all that cancer into such a small boy, well … It just seemed cruel.