Sophie Morgan (Book 1): Relative Strangers (A Modern Vampire Story) (24 page)

"I occasionally travel for business, but I've been here exclusively for the past couple of decades... no, a little longer. You see, it's always been my home. Not Coventry, no, but not far from here. There's always been Ferrers in Warwickshire, in some shape or form. However, one must ensure that one sees the most of the world, and it may be time to take a grand tour again soon, show my children the world that they've so far missed."

"So why don’t you?" I asked, embarrassed my failed attempt at movement. I'd moved only a few inches. The knife and the door may as well have been miles away.

"You interest me. You’re different, but I can’t quite work out how yet. Don’t worry though, I will." Ferrers paused in consideration. "I'm not going to kill you though, I don't think so anyway, not yet, if that's what is concerning you. But you are interesting. You should take that as a compliment. It's not often that anyone. Indeed anything, intrigues me. It's a quality I can respect in a person. I usually only convert people who need it, and of course, who can provide me with a valuable skill. Their consent is a must. Of course, there's always an exception."

I was horrified and he smiled, he found me amusing. I pictured him turning me into a vampire, although I wasn't entirely sure what the process entailed. I couldn't picture him in a cape, taking me in his arms, feeding on me and then cutting his own bosom to feed me. For some reason, I imagined that he'd find the whole thing thoroughly distasteful. But I wasn't going to hang about and find out for sure, I decided to run for it. There would be no time to pick up the knife; it probably wouldn’t make any difference anyway. I'm sure that he could probably have ripped my head from my neck before I got as far as the door if he had wanted to.

Suddenly he was inches away from my face, I hadn’t even managed to clear one step. I had to crane my head forty-five degrees to meet his stare, he was so much taller than me.

Then light flashed in front of me. The steel blade was millimetres from my head, and then it was gone as he brought it down sharply down. It moved quickly, but it felt like slow motion as I watched it drop past my face and down towards my body.
I’m going to die, I’m going to die, die in this stranger’s house, nobody will ever know, Mum will be heartbroken, who will tell her? Oh God, who will look after Charlie?

For a moment, everything went black as I squeezed my eyelids shut and prayed that the end be quick.

Then I opened them.

The blade had come to a halt, resting between the fingers of my right hand and those of Ferrers. I thought I detected the faintest hint of a caress.

"Don’t forget your knife," he reminded me, releasing his hold on the handle. Ferrers stepped aside.

He didn’t need to tell me twice. I held the knife tightly and ran down the hallway and towards the door. Ferrers didn’t try to stop me, he was too busy enjoying this game of cat and mouse, but I wasn’t going to waste time analysing his behaviour. If he wanted to bring me over to the dark side, he clearly had no plans to do it in the next five seconds. A quick look over my shoulder confirmed that he wasn’t coming after me. I was only a few feet away from the door.

Run, Sophie, run
.

I swung back around towards the door, my arms reaching on in readiness for the handle, the knife gripped tight, poised for action
. Reach Sophie, reach for the door.
Taking the last few steps in one leap, I thrust my arms forward for the door handle. They were met with resistance. I looked at my arms, down the sleeves of my top to my fingers white with tension and then to the blade. But I could only see the handle. The rest was buried in a mass of fabric, and amongst those layers stood Richard.

Richard looked down at the blade in his chest and lifted both hands to grab the handle. I released my grip and jumped back in horror. The 'Theme from a Summer Place' was playing eerily in the background. "Sophie?" he asked with a look of confusion.

"Oh God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry," I spluttered, staring at the blade I'd embedded in his stomach.

Richard looked terribly ill, much worse than when I'd seen him last, his face pale and moist with sweat. His usually well-groomed hair was plastered to his scalp and his large pupils twitched as they attempted to focus. Although I could make out the points of his teeth, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity for him. He lurched forward, pulling the knife from this chest with both hands as he did so.

Instinctively, I stepped back, dropping my weight onto my back foot. Richard steadied himself, blood pumping from the wound. He looked incredibly pathetic, a pale imitation of a human being. I lightly pushed him back with both hands, but he remained upright. He was weak and disorientated, but I couldn't be certain how long my advantage would last. Within a split second Ferrers was behind me and I was trapped. The wound in Rich’s chest quickly healed under the globules of blood caked to his tee shirt. I was surely going to die, die in a vampire sandwich.

"Go back to bed Richard, there’s a dear boy," Ferrers cooed. Swaying slightly, Richard did as he was told and went back into his bed. I saw him collapse back into it and close his eyes. "He’ll need to eat later," Ferrers told me. "I’ll make sure he doesn’t come for you."

"Thank you." It was half manners, half question on my part.

"I’m sure you will," he replied, smiling.

As I dead bolted the door to my flat, and rammed a dining chair under the handle as an additional protection, my mind raced to determine what Ferrers had meant. What could I possibly thank him for, for saving my life, for allowing me to live on in absolute terror, for turning me into one of those things? Admittedly, this was no way to live, but I wasn’t going to let some creature of the night control my fate, able to decide if and how I should live or die. No, something had to be done.

I didn't like the odds of two against one, so snuffing out their existence wasn't going to be an easy option. Even if I managed it, I'd still run the risk of the female vampire looking for them; she clearly had ideas on chowing down on me as it was. I wasn't going to add fuel to the fire there. And if I did manage to dispatch them, what would I do with the bodies? Slaying vampires isn't like in the movies. I have no preternatural strength or skill and it’s bloody hard work. Dumping a corpse? Even harder.

I didn’t feel proud about what I decided to do, but trust me, in this type of situation, noble intentions go right out of the window.

First of all, I rang my boss and told her that I wouldn't be coming back to work. I felt too sick, and what with me leaving anyway, I may as well leave with immediate effect. I'd already typed up handover notes, so Tracy could easily handle all my vacancies, and potentially make herself a little more money in the process. I decided I'd phone Tracy in the next couple of days and speak to her personally; I didn't want any further drama to delay the adoption of my plan. I also needed time to formulate a reason why she shouldn't bother working with Charles Ferrers, although I suspected that the contact information he had provided was probably bogus anyway. A coward I may be, but I wasn't going to throw her to the lions without some sort of heads up. I'd have to come up with some kind of official line in the event she mentioned him.

Once I’d got that call out of the way, I pulled out a copy of the Yellow Pages and made calls to a couple of removal companies. I hit pay dirt on the third call. A father and son team who specialised in small moves and was prepared to make the journey to Wales for two hundred and fifty pound, which seemed fair. All in all, it would take them a five to six-hour round trip, plus time to load and unload their van.

It seemed remarkably cheap, but I wasn’t going to argue. I didn’t have much of value so as long as they got me out of dodge quickly and with everything intact, I’d be happy - and they could. They'd had a job fall through at the last minute and were free from 3 pm onwards. I couldn't believe my luck. It was the first good thing that had happened to me in months.

I pulled out every suitcase, bag and holdall I had and dumped them in a pile in the middle of my lounge. I'd asked 'Len's Load' to give me till four to finish packing and get ready, which he was happy with as it gave them time for a break and fill up on fuel.

Charlie wasn't much help with packing up, being mostly focused on sleeping in my largest suitcase. Nevertheless, it didn't take long to get everything done. I threw my clothes, linens and non-breakables in bags. It didn't constitute much. Nearly all my DVDs, CDs and kitchenware had been packed already. I sped through the remaining bits and taped up the boxes. I cleared everything out of the fridge, the little that there was, bagged it up and ran out to the refuse bins with it. Charlie's cat carrier was clean, but I placed a soft, clean towel in the bottom for his comfort. I left the flap open so he could wander in and out at his leisure, getting used to its confines again before he’d have to make the long journey back to Wales.

What I didn't value, or didn't want, I left for the landlord. He could either pass it on to tenants or keep it. The prospect of taking apart my IKEA bookcase and reassembling it somewhere else seemed an unnecessary one. Besides, things like furniture didn't matter anymore. As long as I had Charlie and clothes on my back, I was good.

The whole process should have been tiring, but I was surprisingly invigorated. I was finally regaining some control over something and it felt magnificent. Despite the November chill, I was forced to open the French doors in the lounge to let some air in, I had built up quite a sweat. The colour in my cheeks made me look the healthiest and happiest I had in a long time.

By the time it got dark, I’d completed most of my work and was tired and hungry. I couldn’t risk sleeping though, not when I knew that Richard was still upstairs and a risk. No, no time to rest. Besides, I was getting out of there. I was leaving it all behind me - for good.

It was a little after five when I hurled the last of my possessions into the boot of my car and began my journey. I was followed by the very helpful Len in his white transit van that contained what was left of my life in England. He hadn't once asked why I needed to move so urgently, or why I insisted on driving with my kitchen knives on the passenger seat of my car. I guess you see a lot of weird shit moving people around.

Within a few hours I was standing on my mother’s doorstep, carrying a cat carrier and crying hysterically with relief. Mum had every right to be cross at me for arriving so unexpectedly, and for my outburst on her front step. But she didn't question it; she was just thrilled.

"I'm just so glad to be home Mum," I admitted through sobs. "I just couldn't wait, I'm sorry." I felt a pang of embarrassment when I realised Len was stood behind me sheepishly, a little uncomfortable and also in desperate need of the loo. "I thought I'd surprise you... surprise!" I added a little too late, grinning awkwardly.

She put her arms around me and ushered me into the house. Charlie made himself straight at home, marching into the kitchen on the hunt for food while Len relieved himself in the cloakroom by the front door. Once he was finished, he took my crates, coffee table, chair and lamps and stacked them in my mother's garage for me.

While my mother made us tea, and Len some sandwiches for his drive back, Len took my remaining bags and cases upstairs. He was very grateful for the refreshments, and once I'd given him the final half of his payment, he trotted off back to his van and back up to the Midlands. His wallet and stomach were both full. I even think he was a little in love with my mother at that point. Who could blame him - but then I am biased?

Once we were alone, Mum and I enjoyed the silence together. She went about washing up mugs and plates, and I sat at the kitchen counter flicking through the late edition of the local newspaper.

There was something very comforting about the stillness and peace of my mother's company. She knew I wasn't someone to make rash decisions, and that something had to be wrong, seriously wrong, for me to turn up on her doorstep unannounced. But she also knew not to force the issue. I'd tell her when the time was right.

After the kitchen chores were done and I had unpacked the essentials from my overnight bag, Charlie, Mum and I curled up on the sofa and watched TV. We chatted about the shows, Mum explaining the plot of a series I'd not seen before, and flicked through the TV guide planning what films we wanted to record for future viewing. Energy for our activity was provided via copious mugs of tea and ginger biscuits.

During a break in a show about a group of midwives and another about two elderly pen pals, my Mum gently stroked my hair and told me how glad she was to have me home.

"Me too Mum, me too," I sighed as she twirled sections of my hair into curls with her fingertips. I meant every word, vampires or no vampires, I can't believe I'd stayed away when being there felt so right. "Sorry, it's taken me so long to get back here."

"You've got nothing to apologise for. Sometimes life just gets in the way of things, and that's not always a bad thing. It's important to live a life Sophie, make the most of it when you can."

"I intend to Mum, I really do. I want to live."

She pulled me into her so my head rested lightly on her shoulder and for the first time in days I closed my eyes and properly slept. When I opened them again, I was in bed and daylight had arrived to greet me.

It felt amazing to be home and in many ways the previous few months seemed like a distant memory. Mum and I enjoyed the first few weeks without any particular routine. We spent much of our time figuring out which of our rental properties would make a suitable home for me. Not that Mum wanted me to move out of course, and while I loved us living together, I wasn't sure that was something I wanted long term. It's true that I didn't want us irritating each other, which I'd heard could happen when you live and work together. I hadn't known it happen between her and my grandparents, but you never know, sometimes people can be good at hiding things. But in the main, I was still conscious of my habit of attracting vampires. Living with her would put her at risk. I wasn't in a rush to move out, far from it, but it would be safer for her in the long run.

There was some flats which had just been leased, so would be available in six months. That wasn't ideal as I wanted a garden for Charlie and I wanted to be out sooner than that. Then the perfect opportunity arose. A house in Bethesda came free. The young couple had been living there for a while but were now in the final stages of buying their own home. They'd be leaving in about six weeks. It needed a little freshening up, and I'd need to buy some furniture, but it was only about ten minutes away from Mum's by car and less than half an hour into Bethel. Woo-Hoo!

The next major thing was to sort out what I was going to do money-wise. We made a decent income from the rental properties, that side of the business being jointly owned. But I had never extracted any of the profits or taken any sort of salary from it. It had never seemed right, especially as I was never actively doing anything to run it. However, I felt my Mum's proposal was fair.

But I'd still need to pay bills and so on. We agreed that from the rents we received, I'd pay myself the amount which was currently going to the letting agent who managed them. We'd terminate his contract, which we did. That gave me around a thousand pound a month, not accounting for the tax man. It would be more than enough to cover my expenses, especially as I didn't have to pay rent, as well as leave a hefty chunk of our monthly revenue intact. We agreed to monitor it carefully to make sure it was sufficient, but I really didn't think I'd need anymore. I rather hoped we could bank as much money as possible in the business and buy up some properties to flip.

I surprised myself at how quickly I slipped into my new role. Granddad would have been proud. Indeed, everyone was a winner - except the letting agent that is. He didn't look pleased when I went in and told him.

Of course, it wasn't all business - Mum was still eager to know more about my last few months in Coventry, especially as she had seen so little of me since the summer, Naturally, I omitted a few key points, so it didn’t take long to catch up from my side.

It wasn't all sweetness and light though.There were a few apologetic phone calls for me to make, most importantly to Tracy, who was at a complete loss as to why I had taken off so suddenly. I told her that I'd simply had enough of work, didn’t think that I’d be well enough to return to work anyway, and reiterated the same fiction about the removal company. I made sure I grovelled appropriately and suggested that she come and visit me soon, perhaps after Christmas when I'd be settled into my own place. She was, of course, welcome to come earlier, but Mum and I would be pretty busy sorting out business things and that would make for a pretty boring trip for her.

Another important call was to my landlord. He had no issue with me leaving early as I’d paid my rent up to mid-December anyway, but he did need a forwarding address for mail and to return my security deposit. I mentioned that I'd left a few bits there, and he was welcome to them if he wanted them. If not, he could deduct any removal charges from the bond. I also rang the Post Office and gave them my mother's address and set up a redirection on my mail. It would take up to five working days to come into effect, which irritated me a little, but it was my own fault.

Out of courtesy, I phoned my old neighbour Roy. He often took parcels and post in for me if I wasn't home, and besides, I hadn't had a chance to say goodbye to him. With Christmas just around the corner, it was entirely possible that my postal redirection would take longer than I anticipated, and he might have to take in a few bits for me. The absence of a farewell was also bad form on my part, not least because I could have given him a heads up about a vampire living above him. I felt guilt for that, but as it transpired I didn't have to.

Diplomatic as always, he tiptoed around the subject of my sudden departure, only commenting that he was sorry that he had missed me. He had thought I wasn't moving out for another month or so. Otherwise, he would have come and said goodbye. He was such a gent.

Roy also told me that our other neighbour, Richard, had moved out too, within a day or two of me leaving. He hadn't told him either. Roy had only noticed because his car had gone, then he saw another man moving his things out of his apartment. Roy wondered if it was something he'd said.

Roy was a decent guy and I hoped that he got a couple of nice, new, non-murderous neighbours. I gave him my email address if he wanted to stay in touch, which he thanked me for, and my mother's address so he could forward any mail on to me if necessary.

Once the practicalities of phone calls, bills and sorting out my future living arrangements were done, I started to lay the foundations for a new life. I sketched out plans for my life in my head, old friends to catch up with, places to visit, new restaurants in Bethel and Cardiff to try out. Life was going to be better, and I felt healthier, stronger and sane again.