Sophie Morgan (Book 1): Relative Strangers (A Modern Vampire Story) (22 page)

"I don’t see what I’ve done at all." The whole conversation was surreal and nestled amongst my fear was growing an increasing sense of, well, being incensed. "You’re the ones who have been running around attacking me and killing people. With respect, I think I’ve done pretty bloody well to mind my own business."

"That would be a matter of opinion. I am prepared to admit that it isn’t common practice for us to be so public with us..." he paused to search for the right word, "practices. We’ve done well at keeping ourselves from the limelight for many hundreds of years, feeding when necessary and clearing up our own messes. It’s rare that our activities are detected, at least by anyone who is in a position to tell."

I knew my shudder was visible. He smiled at me again. His politeness was more unsettling than the words leaving his mouth. He continued speaking nonetheless.

"This may all seem uncivilised to you, but really, what is the difference between me relieving my hunger, and perhaps even the suffering of some poor unfortunate soul who is frankly better off dead, than you eating a chicken that’s been cooped up and starved in a cage? Of course, that happens so infrequently it's not something you should worry about. So, what if one of
your
kind takes pleasure in allowing one of mine to feed on them, to experience what can be a beautiful exchange, what business is it of yours? If those two parties decide consent to the experience and move on the better for it, what concern is it of yours?"

"I didn’t consent," I replied. "People are dead who didn’t ask for it, people who had families and people who loved them."

"Yes, that is unfortunate," he replied, adjusting his cufflinks. "Regrettably, some of our newer recruits do have some issues with self-control. It’s rare, but it does happen. Sadly, restraint isn’t always a gift that our way of life provides them with. It takes time and commitment to acquire."

"Gift? You think this is a gift, the ability to kill without remorse, the desire to murder and maim? I’m really sorry, but I don’t know what you think you are going to get out of this. I don’t know why the hell you are here. If you want me to keep all this to myself, I’m inclined to. But it won’t be for your benefit, it’s so I don’t get carried away by the men in white coats. But if you push me, I will. I’m not going to let innocent people get murdered because you’re bloody peckish."

I was hot and agitated. I looked out through the glass walls to see if anyone was looking. The receptionist was watching me over her computer screen. I smiled at her and she settled back down to her work.

"Right, what the hell is it that you want exactly Mr Ferrers?"

"Please my dear, call me Charles." He cocked his head slightly to one side as if studying me for a moment. He returned to his previous position before answering. "Frankly, I want nothing more from you than your discretion. It serves neither of us to publicise our private lives. I will make sure that my children remain in line and observe the code of practice which we have carefully crafted for centuries. We will cause you no further trouble, and you will cause no further trouble for us."

"And what if I don’t? What if I decided to tell the police about you and what you’ve been doing?"

"That wouldn’t be the best for you my dear. I'm assuming from your awareness of our kind, and your tone, that you’ve met those of us who at best could be called feral." The disdain in his voice was palpable and I couldn't tell if he knew about my experience in Antwerp or if he was just fishing for information. Richard could have told him anything about me- neighbours talk after all. Maybe this vampire even knows vampires over there, I wondered. Perhaps they'll come looking for me.

"That’s no way to talk about your family," I snorted sarcastically.

"You can’t always pick your family. Some are created without proper training and care. They are left to their own devices and it’s up to the rest of us to clean up their mess and put them out of their misery. Thankfully, it doesn't happen very often."

"I thought you were responsible for that poor sod who was killed on my doorstep, are you telling me that's beneath you?" I met his steely gaze with difficulty and tried not to flinch away. I couldn’t be sure whether he knew about Antwerp, but the thought that he might, terrified me.

"Not me, but yes, it was one of my children. You may recall meeting her the other evening? Terribly sorry about that. I would have to admit that she did try to kill you, but the important thing that you remember is that she didn't. But that doesn’t matter now," he continued, "I’m prepared to chalk that up to some sort of childlike misadventure on both your parts. If you don’t bother us again, we won’t bother you."

He stood up, signalling the end of our parlay, buttoned his suit jacket and softly placed his hand on the door handle. He was slim and imposing, perhaps a foot taller than me, maybe more. Turning back, he looked at me and smiled again. If it had been from anyone else, it would have seemed friendly. I pushed my chair back from the table and stood up.

"Do we have an understanding?" He enquired.

I wanted to go to the police, I wanted them to swoop down and pick all these vile creatures up and hold them to account. But I knew that they’d get to me first. They knew where I lived and where I worked. They’d hurt me before I even called for help. And who would believe me anyway?

Judging from Mr Ferrers’ appearance and demeanour, vamps could be walking about all over the place; they could be in the police, government, hospitals. And what about Richard and his obvious collaboration? There were clearly people who sympathised.

He’d implied that some people were willingly donating blood or did he mean something else. And what else was there, something about putting people out of their misery? Okay, if he meant wiping out the homeless or the unwanted, he was practically talking genocide, but what about people who were suffering from illness and wanted to go quickly? Is that what he meant?

Hell, this was a lot to take in. I didn’t know the answers. Maybe he was right; maybe I should just leave it all alone. If they left me alone, maybe I’d move on eventually.

"I guess," I replied, defeated.

"I thought so."

I followed him out of the glass box to the reception area, where Tracy was waiting. She beamed at me and rushed across the room shake my Ferrer's hand.

"So nice to meet you, Mr Ferrers", she declared enthusiastically. She took his hand and shook it vigorously. He looked amused, if not a little stunned. "As Sophie has probably explained, she’ll be leaving us shortly, but I’ll be handling your case. I’m confident that with your skills and experience, we‘ll be able to secure you a new opportunity quickly."

He had paused before he spoke which unsettled her, so she grinned at him some more.

"Sophie didn’t mention that," he replied with warmth to his voice which seemed at odds with his true nature, "but thank you so much for telling me. I do believe that there will indeed be a perfect opportunity for me to exploit at the right time." His words sent a chill down my spine.

Tracy took that as a positive sign, said her goodbyes and bounced back to the main office. It was a small open plan area, surrounded by glass walls so I could see the cheery beat in her step. I remembered when I used to have that.

The moment of wistfulness came to an abrupt halt as Ferrers took my hand in his and shook it. His skin was soft, but his hold firm. He held my hand in his for a little longer than was comfortable, both physically and psychologically.

"You’re different from most people Miss Morgan," he whispered, audible only to me. "As I've said, it really is quite intriguing. Soon I will figure out why and when I do, I may want to talk to you again. "

"Surely you wouldn’t go back on your word. I thought we had an understanding. You don’t kill me and I don’t kill you," I whispered. Why, I don’t know. There was nobody at reception, but we.

"Kill you?" he replied dryly. "That’s not what I mean at all."

Before I had time to ask him what he meant, the door had shut behind him. He had vanished before I even made it to the stairwell.

I was shaking as I returned to my desk, and I must have looked really ill as everyone huddled around me and asked if I was okay. Tracy rushed over with a glass of water and someone else brought me a bin, I don’t remember who, but someone must have as I was cradling one in my lap. My attempts to assure everyone about my well-being were quickly dismissed when I projectile vomited, missing the bin entirely and covering a large part of my desk.

Tracy was kind enough to drive my car home for me and helped me up the stairs into my flat. I spent the entire journey thanking her, over and over again, genuinely grateful for her assistance, but also drowning in embarrassment. I drew the line at her offer to help me undress and shower. I just needed to get some sleep. I wasn’t sure how, now I knew that I vampires could walk about in daylight, I wasn't sure if I’d ever be able to close my eyes or feel safe again. Nowhere, not time, would be safe.

After thanking her again for getting me home and offering to book and pay for a taxi back to work, Tracy left me to recover on my own. She didn’t take my money or the taxi.

Once she’d left I had a hot shower, popped some bread into the toaster and set up my laptop on my small dining table. I wanted to see if Richard and his "friends" had been up to anything they shouldn’t have - any incident which may seem insignificant to someone else might strike a chord with me. As I ate my dried toast and started on a fresh mug of tea, I remembered the posters I had seen for missing cats in the high street. Perhaps Richard had been right and he had chowed down on a dog for his first kill. I punched a few keywords into a search engine: 'cat… dog… missing…killed…pet', and a string of names for nearby suburbs and towns.

It took me going through the first three pages of results to find a tiny article in one of the local newspapers about a spate of missing dogs in another part of the city and a blog from someone who had lost their cat. Although there seemed nothing particularly unusual, these incidents could have easily been related.

I wondered if vampires could survive long term feeding on animals, but Richard had mentioned needing to feed on human blood to transform completely. Mr Ferrers had been sketchy, but I had come away from our meeting with the feeling that while animals might be a source of nutrition when desperate, there were plenty of willing victims happy to sacrifice a pint or two on demand. I couldn't shake the feeling that, when it came to Mr Ferrers, there could be more to it than that, perhaps he had other gifts. For all I knew, he had some sort of mind control which would mean I’d offer myself up on a plate if he willed it. I shuddered at the thought.

Going back to the local newspaper for evidence, I searched their online pages for news of any violent crimes. There was nothing particularly out of the ordinary, but that didn’t mean anything - I was confident that they could easily dispose of a body if they needed to. Wishing that I’d bought a newspaper over the last couple of days, I scanned the screen up and down until my eyes were sore.

Perhaps the body in the car park was collateral damage, a newbie run amok. Perhaps Mr Ferrers was right and they could function easily without anyone having to get killed, this was just an unfortunate but isolated incident. On one hand, that should have been reassuring, but on the other, that meant there could have been lots of vampire happy meals, wandering around never having known they were attacked or at risk.

It also meant that Richard could easily have partaken of human blood and his conversion would have been complete. I hadn't seen him since the incident outside; perhaps he'd managed to escape, just taken his fill of human blood and moved on. The thought that he hadn't left and that he had just gone upstairs and died, also crossed my mind. For some reason, that felt like the worst outcome, as I couldn't imagine what that would have been like for him. Okay, he had bitten me, he was clearly a bit misguided, but he was still human when I saw him last, at least partially.

A noise from upstairs stirred me into action. I listened for a while. After a short silence, there was another noise. This time it was louder, like someone moving furniture. Perhaps Rich was moving out? A quick look out of the kitchen window showed there were no moving vans outside, although his car was still in its parking space. Whatever he was doing, he clearly hadn’t left. But what could I do? If I challenged him, I was pretty certain that I’d be dead by morning. Rich looked like a pretty hapless vampire, but my work visitor had made it quite clear that I was considered an inconvenience, one which could be easily dispatched if needed.

The solution was clear, even if a little cowardly; I couldn’t stay there any longer; I needed to get away. Staying there and trying to live a normal life until my planned departure wasn’t an option. I couldn’t pretend that I didn’t know what I did, to live below a potentially murderous neighbour and be constantly looking over my shoulder. No, this situation was impossible. I was going to move back to Wales anyway, why not go sooner? There wasn’t anything stopping me.

But first I had to do something. If Richard was up there, if he hadn’t gone, I had to make sure that he didn’t have anyone up there with him, someone that he could hurt. Perhaps I couldn’t go to the police, but I could certainly try to ensure that something wasn’t going to happen again on my front doorstep. That’s the least I could do before I did a runner.