The sound grew louder, turning from a buzz, to a hum, to a voice, to a scream and when he looked up he saw a beautiful, but terrible angel devil creature rushing towards him with a gleaming axe. Terror numbed his brain. He scrabbled to get away from the approaching demon, using his weakened limbs to try to escape.
It was difficult to gain any purchase on the smooth stone floor. He skittered backwards as far as he could go. Trapped against a wall. Cornered. He had to do something before the creature brought its axe down upon him. He begged for his life.
‘Non!’ he cried and then he realised the creature had not screamed at him in his mother tongue of French, but in another language. He recognised it. Not Latin or Greek. Not the language of the Gods, but ... English.
Her voice was rasping and guttural, not a dialect he was familiar with. She was enraged with him, but he had no idea why. Had he done something wrong? He did not know her, did he? He would never forget an encounter with such a magnificent creature and yet, there was something familiar he could not quite put his finger on.
Her legs were clad in black and she wore an indecently short dress with great leather buckled boots. She had dark hair in a plain style, but her pale eyes flashed like a she-wolf.
He thought quickly and amended his words, ‘No! Please … Je vous en supplie! I beg of you!’ His voice sounded strange to himself, weak and hoarse. He knew the essence of himself, but he had difficulty remembering who he actually was - his name, his status, his life.
Suddenly, he saw the glint of metal and heard the swish of the axe as it fell, but strangely he felt no fear, felt no pain. He caught the weapon easily and now held it in his hands. He had stopped it dead. It had not harmed him.
It was then he realised who she looked like. He remembered a name and a face from his past.
‘Leonora? Is it you? He shook his head. ‘Non, ce n’est pas toi.’
She looked at him with fear in her eyes, pulling desperately at the axe. But Alexandre did not need to exert himself at all in order to keep hold of it. She screamed something at him, but he could not make out the words.
‘Why did you attack me?’ he asked, starting to recover. He still felt weakened and in pain, but his body had stopped shuddering and jerking. He was more in control.
‘Why d’you think?’ she spat the words at him, still tugging uselessly at the axe.
He suddenly had a blinding flash of realisation and remembered. He was at the house of Harold Swinton. He was in England. And then, the true horror of what had happened hit like a sledgehammer all over again. He was no longer human. He was a vampire.
As soon as he remembered this, the thirst came upon him. The girl creature who stood above him, smelled like a heavenly angel and he would have to be strong to resist her. She spoke to him and he thought he heard her say that this was her house.
‘This is not your house!’ he exclaimed. Had something happened to Harold and to his family? His family! Where were his brother and sister? ‘Why are you here?’ he asked.
‘I don’t have to explain anything to you!’ she retorted. ‘You need to tell me who you are.’ She still tugged at the axe, staring at his face. He looked back at her in confusion but he was no longer afraid.
‘If I release this weapon, will you refrain from your attack? It is too exhausting to talk whilst you are trying to kill me.’
He saw her think for a moment. She nodded her head in assent and so he let go of the axe. He saw she still gripped it tightly, but she was true to her word and kept it lowered.
Alexandre sat up and put the palms of his hands together, interlocking his fingers and bowing his head.
‘I must think,’ he said to himself, dizzy with the scent of her. Then he looked up and stared into the girl creature’s eyes. ‘The others? They are …’
‘There are four others like you,’ she snapped. ‘They’re still down in the cellar.’
‘The cellar? Bien. This is good, I think. You are a strange girl, no?’
‘Strange! Me? Yeah, that’s a good one. What are you? What are you doing here?’
He smiled at her outrage. ‘Very well, I am tired, but we shall sit somewhere together and I will tell you about myself. Yes. I will tell you my story and you will tell me yours.’
He had to resist his thirst and speak to this girl to find out what had happened. For he realised she was no angel or demon, but merely a strange and beautiful human made of flesh and of … blood.
Chapter Twenty One
*
‘Two thousand and eleven? Two thousand and eleven! But that is more than a century.’ He choked out the words. ‘I have been asleep for one hundred and … one hundred and thirty years.’
Madison watched as several emotions disrupted his perfect face. He seemed pretty gutted, but she still didn’t trust him.
‘What of you?’ he continued, his voice stilted with emotion. ‘Does this house now belong to you and your family? Harold must be dead of course. Poor dear Harold. What a sad and wretchedly lonely life he must have led.’
‘I’ll listen to your story and then you and your vampire family need to get out of my house.’
They stared at each other for a moment.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I will tell you my story and if you then still wish me to leave, I will abide by your decision.’
Madison nodded, briefly. She found it hard to look at him without catching her breath at his beauty.
He said his name was Alexandre Chevalier. He told her a condensed version of his life and how he had come to be asleep in her house and, despite herself, she listened in fascination. If he was to be believed, he deserved her sympathy, not her fear and anger. Her emotions skittered all over the place. Could she really kick him out if he’d suffered all that? But then again, he could just be a really good liar.
‘And now you have heard how I came to be here in this place, in this time, won’t you please tell me a little of your own life.’
She paused. She knew she should just tell him to leave, but part of her wanted him to stay. His voice, his face … He was mesmerising. Alright. She’d just talk to him for a while longer. She needed more time to make up her mind.
‘My name’s Madison Greene. I live here with my brother, Ben and I’m pretty sure the Harold you told me about, is Harold Swinton, my ancestor.’
‘But that is incredible! You are Harold’s relative? A descendant. This means you are related to Leonora and Freddie. So that is why I thought you were she. You look so alike.’
‘Leonora,’ she repeated the name. ‘Yeah. Ben, my brother, he said she looked like me.’
‘Well, he is correct. You have the same beautiful pale blue eyes.’
She was annoyed to find herself blushing. He really was exquisite. Broad-shouldered and tall, his black hair swept back in dishevelled waves from his aristocratic face. Now his skin wasn’t so pale, he looked almost completely human.
‘What are you gonna do? I mean, now you’re awake and everything. I guess you can stay here for a bit, if you want to.’
‘You are sure? You will allow me to stay?’
‘Yeah, you can stay. For now. What about the others? Are you going to wake them up too?’
‘The others,’ Alexandre said suddenly. ‘Please. Will you excuse me for a few moments? I must go and see the others. I can feel them, but I have to look upon them with my own two eyes. They are down in the cellar?’
‘You were all in there before ... before you woke up.’
‘I must see them!’ He stood up, suddenly agitated. ‘And I must confess I feel somewhat strange at discovering I have slept for so long. I need some time to …’
‘… to get your head around it. Yeah, I can relate to that.’
‘Your language is strange. It is ‘modern’ I suppose. It is hard for me to follow. Forgive me, I must go.’
He left.
Madison sat on the sofa, her tiny frame unmoving. The clock ticked. The room was dark and still. She pushed her hair a
way from her face. She was scared. Terrified to be honest. She must be crazy to be so drawn to him, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.
He hadn’t felt threatening when he spoke to her, but now he had gone … well, now she could see the true enormity of what had happened tonight.
It was all completely insane. And what on earth would she tell Ben? How would he react? Oh, by the way Ben, you know those statues? Well they’re not statues, they’re vampires, but they’re really friendly once you get to know them. He’d need therapy. Come to think of it, she could probably do with some too. Only they’d both get shoved in the nut house if they started saying anything remotely near the truth.
The darkness in the lounge felt all consuming. Her body had grown numb and cold. She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there. She got up and switched on the main light and a couple of lamps. But even that didn’t make things any more normal; if anything, it felt weirder to see all the usual stuff in its usual places, when everything was so un-usual.
She wondered when and if Alexandre would return and what would happen when he did. He was so beautiful and she couldn’t seem to act normally around him. She had been either completely tongue tied, babbling inanely or really rude.
She was restless. She needed to do something, but what? She knew there was no way she’d be able to concentrate on anything as mundane as watching television and anyway, she was feeling a bit creeped-out being downstairs on her own, not knowing whether or not he would reappear at any moment.
She made the decision to go upstairs. She wasn’t going to sit around waiting for him to return. No. She walked up the wooden staircase and went in to see Ben, who was snoring lightly.
She turned on his bedside light and sat beside him. Then she lay down next to him on top of the bedclothes, closing her eyes and letting her mind focus on normal things, plans she had for the future. Maybe one day she and Ben would go on holiday, somewhere warm and exotic - a beach holiday with lots of water sports. Or perhaps she could get a horse and learn to ride – that was something she’d always dreamed of doing.
She tried not to let any of her thoughts veer down dark paths. She really did not want to think about Alexandre; it was too terrifying and her mind was in turmoil. She turned onto her side and drew her knees up towards her stomach, listening to Ben’s slow rhythmical breathing. She tried to let her mind think nice thoughts: holidays … warm beaches … a horse … a vampire. She fell asleep.
*
Once in the cellar, Alexandre opened up the crates and gazed at the sleeping forms of Isobel and Jacques with their cherubic faces and blonde curls. The twins’ hair was as fair and blonde as his was dark. He smiled at the thought of his lively brother and over-dramatic sister, but the smile left his lips as quickly as it had formed.
How was he to revive them? Would he ever hold a conversation with them again? Why had he awoken, but not them? What had happened to him to jolt him from his slumber? Would they wake next? Alexandre looked across at Freddie, who appeared happy even in sleep. He walked to the next crate and stared down at Leonora, her porcelain face framed with a dark glossy mane of hair. Yes, she was still beautiful, but she left him strangely cold now.
Of course he still cared for her, but she was such hard work, so serious and judgemental. He needed … Well, he did not really know what he needed. It was all just too bad. What had happened to them all? Why had they changed into these strange creatures, so powerful, but so trapped and alone?
He walked back to the crates where his siblings lay, side-by-side.
‘Little sister. My brother. Why do you still sleep? Why won’t you wake? It is I, Alexandre.’
He picked up his brother by the shoulders and shook him lightly. ‘Wake up, Jacques. Wake up!’ He shook him harder and then lay him back down. It was useless. They were hard and unreachable. What was he to do?
Alexandre sat on the floor and wept. He cried blood tears into his arms. He wept for his dead parents and his sleeping siblings, for his lost century, his old life, his country, his friends - all those things he had once complained about.
He had called his old life boring. Well, he would take back that old life now in a heartbeat. He would never complain again. He would appreciate everything he used to have if only he could reclaim it. But it was all gone. Lost to history. Alexandre felt scared. He felt weak and alone in this cold damp cellar with his unreachable family. He had become a creature not of this world. A vampire. And there was only one thing that could soothe him now.
In the darkness, in his fear and confusion, Alexandre headed outside. The air helped to stem his rising panic. He needed to get to grips with what had happened. He was living in the future. His century had disappeared, his family and friends either long since dead, or in an unreachable sleep. He moved beyond the grounds of Marchwood, shocked at the similarities and the changes.
Reaching the outskirts of the local town, he saw that it had not changed too much - the same public houses, one of the same name, some different. Furniture stores, selling antiques but most of the merchandise looked modern to Alexandre’s nineteenth century eyes.
He saw the blurred shapes of frighteningly modern automobiles in metallic futuristic colours with bright beams of white lights and unfathomable speed. They contained harsh looking people with unnatural hair and faces. There were no horses on the streets and the people all dressed in shockingly indecent attire. Shiny black roads were covered in painted lines and bright lights shone everywhere. Even the air smelled different. Not so earthy, more industrial.
No time to ponder all this; he had to drink. He found a drunken old sot in a dim alleyway, who most would’ve found repulsive. But the stale odours and the tattered clothes were not repugnant to Alexandre. The fragrant blood called out above all else. Alexandre saw only the helplessness and harmlessness in this lost soul, and the sweetness ... He would take from him what he so desperately craved.
He drank greedily, the anger and grief still coursing through his body. As he took his fill, his emotions steadied and he felt himself calming and steadying. His equilibrium returned. Alexandre realised he had taken too much from this poor human and he laid the tramp down on the alleyway floor.
He now felt regret at the way he had taken his fill. He had fed selfishly without thinking about the man, only about easing his own pain and ridding himself of his misery. The man still lived, but had drifted into unconsciousness, hopefully dreaming beautiful thoughts of better days.
Zinging energy surged through Alexandre’s body and he remembered what it was to be a vampire. He had not fully realised how weak he had been. He would be able to speak to Madison properly now, give her his full concentration without the distraction of her … human-ness.
He left the alleyway and looked around properly. This was a disturbing era he had woken up to. He could not believe his own world had passed into history, never to be lived through again. He would have to learn all that he could about this … twenty first century. Twenty first century!
His clothing would have to change, but from what he had briefly seen before, the fashions today left much to be desired. Everybody looked bedraggled, dull and half-dressed. Isobel would have a fit. He thought about how outraged she would be at having to go out in this bizarre modern clothing and then he remembered she would not be going out anywhere.
He made his way back to Marchwood House and it only took him a few moments. To those who saw him, he appeared to be just a fleeting shadow on the wall or a half-glimpsed figure in the distance. A long-forgotten memory of someone or something.
*
The following morning dawned clear and cold. Madison had fallen asleep in her clothes, on top of Ben’s covers. She was freezing and rubbed her arms quickly to try to get the circulation going, but she still felt numb. She really would have to sort out the heating in this house. She realised Ben was no longer in bed and she shouted out his name, but her voice sounded hoarse and all she could manage was a quiet croak.
&nbs
p; ‘Ben!’ She ran out of the room in a panic and clattered down the staircase in her boots that she still wore from yesterday. ‘Ben! Where are you? You okay?’
The events of yesterday evening flooded into her brain. Had she really tried and failed to kill a vampire? Where was he now? Was he still in the house? And where was her brother? ‘Ben!’ she shouted really loudly this time as she approached the kitchen. He had been unconscious for days and now he was missing. ‘God,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Let him be alright. Please. He’s just a boy.’ She shouted again, ‘Ben!’
‘God help us, child,’ Esther said to Madison as she walked into the kitchen. ‘Do you have to shout so loudly?’
Ben was there, sitting in the kitchen opposite Esther.
‘Ben! You’re okay!’ Madison ignored Esther.
‘Yeah, sis.’ He smiled up at her worried face. ‘I’m great. Feel fine.’
‘I didn’t know where you were.’
‘What?’ he said. ‘Do I have you let you know every time I go into a different room now?’ He raised his eyebrows and looked at Esther who had stood up and began busying herself with the kettle, refusing to be drawn into their conversation.
‘You know what I mean, Ben,’ Maddy retorted. ‘You were unconscious for days and then you weren’t there anymore.’
‘I was sleeping and then I got up to have breakfast,’ he replied. ‘And anyway, why were you sleeping in my room last night?’
‘Just wanted to make sure you were okay. Have you seen anyone else since you’ve been up?’
‘Like who?’
‘I dunno. Anyone.’
‘No, I haven’t seen anyone except Esther. Why? Should I have?’
‘No.’ Maddy thought quickly. ‘The doctor. I meant have you seen the doctor?’
‘He’s on his way,’ Esther said. ‘Be here any minute. But this lad looks right as rain now. Doctor Wilson asked me to ring him as soon as he woke up.’
‘Great,’ Madison said. ‘Well, little bro, I’m really glad you’re feeling better.’
‘I can’t believe I missed Christmas. I mean, why did I have to get ill then? Our first Christmas in our own place.’
‘I know. It’s a bummer but don’t worry. We’ll have a belated one with all the trimmings and presents and everything.’