by Amy Cross
Epilogue
Chloe
Many years from now...
I sat in silence, waiting for Harriet to say something, but she simply stared at me with a rather bemused expression.
“It's okay,” I said finally, with a knowing smile, “you don't believe a word of anything I just told you, and I'm not surprised. It must sound like an old woman's fantasy.” I took a deep breath and reached for a glass of water. “It's getting late and I'm starting to feel tired.”
I began to arrange my pillows.
“Forget everything I told you,” I continued. “Put the fire out as you go, please. And close the window. It's clear that he's not coming tonight.”
I forced another smile, trying to hide my disappointment.
“I believe you,” Harriet said suddenly.
I furrowed my brow.
“I do,” she continued. “You're not a liar, Gran, and I've always known that you went through some crazy stuff. Just because Mum thinks you're nuts, that doesn't mean I'm the same.” She paused. “So you went back in time and got accused of being a witch. By a Nazi. In occupied France. What happened next?”
I opened my mouth to tell her not to humor me, but at the last moment I realized that she was serious. My smart, funny, intelligent grand-daughter actually believed what I'd told her. I was so used to people dismissing my claims, it took a moment to realize that she truly wanted to know the rest.
“I mean,” she added, “obviously you survived, because you're here now. But how did you survive?”
“You really want to know?” I replied.
“Are you kidding? I'm into family history anyway, and this is like family history on steroids.” She pauses. “Wait, I have so many questions. Did you end up traveling back to the future quickly, or were you stuck there for ages? How did you save Matthias? How did you know his thoughts? It's like I was really seeing the story through your eyes, but then sometimes I was seeing it through his too, which doesn't make sense! But he's alive now, isn't he? Somehow? And why was he dying in the first place? What was that tramp all about? What did she put in your pocket? Did you fight any Nazis? Did you change history?” She leaned toward me. “What about that white robe? Why was a future version of you wearing something like that?”
I couldn't help but smile.
“It's complicated,” I explained. “I have to tell you the story in the proper order.”
I waited for a reply, but now she seemed troubled by something.
“Gran,” she said finally, sounding worried, “what about that Judith woman? It's not true, what Hugo said, is it? I know you, you're a good person. You didn't kill her.” She paused. “Did you?”
I opened my mouth to say something, but the words stuck in my throat. How could I give her so many answers, all at once? How could I even begin to tell her about Judith?
“To tell you the truth,” I replied finally, trying to be a little evasive, “that's a lot of questions all at one go.”
I hesitated for a moment, before realizing just how much I still had to tell her. All about Matthias and Hugo, and about Zieghoff, and about so many other people.
“Would you mind terribly if I resumed the story tomorrow night?” I ask finally. “I really am tired, and I simply don't have the energy to go through it all right now.”
“You can't expect me to sleep after what you just told me!” she exclaimed. “I've got school tomorrow! How can I focus on anything if you don't tell me how it all ended?”
“You'll be fine,” I replied. “When you get home tomorrow, come up here and I'll pick up the story. I'll also have a root around in some boxes and see if I can find any of the little items that I saved.”
Sighing, she got to her feet.
“I'm going to go and do some research online,” she told me. “I'm going to find out as much as I can about that Zieghoff guy. He sounds like a real nutcase.”
“Be careful,” I replied, feeling a flicker of anger at the thought of everything that man did. “Some of the stories you uncover might upset you. Some of the photos, too. You're a smart girl, Harriet, but I don't think you comprehend the depths of the evil in this world.”
“I'll be fine,” she said, as she helped me get settled for the night. Once she was done, she stepped back and stared at me for a moment, with a hint of tears in her eyes. “I can't believe all the things that happened to you. I mean, I do believe it. I'm not like Mum, I believe every word. But the fact that you survived, and you made it to today, just seems insane.”
“It does, doesn't it?” I replied. “Now go and get some sleep. Don't stay up too late on that computer.”
She turned and headed to the door, but then – as she was about to pull it shut and leave me alone with my thoughts for the night – she hesitated.
“Wait,” she said cautiously, “I just realized... When you sit up waiting at the window each night, it is Matthias you're waiting for, isn't it? It's not that Hugo creep, is it?”
“We'll talk some more tomorrow.”
“But it's definitely Matthias, right? Please, Gran, you have to at least tell me that. Promise me that it's Matthias you're waiting for.”
“All will become clear,” I told her. “We'll talk again tomorrow. Now go to bed. Please. I have no easy answers for you. I have to tell you what happened in the proper order, and that's going to take time.”
“Man, this is so not fair,” she muttered as she shut the door, and I could hear her grumbling to herself as she headed to her room.
Leaning back on the bed, I had reason to be thankful that Harriet actually accepted that my claims were true. My own daughter had always been resistant to the idea, refusing to listen, and I'd come to the conclusion that I would never get to tell anybody what really happened. Now, out of nowhere, Harriet had asked to hear it all, and I could only pray that I'd be able tell her before I ran out of time. As I lay on the bed, I turned and looked toward the window, and I once again felt absolutely certain that he would be coming soon. I could feel it in my bones, and in my heart.
Finally, realizing that I had no chance of sleeping, I rose awkwardly and with pain from the bed, and I shuffled across the room. Reaching the window, I drew the latch across. I hesitated for a moment and then I pulled the window open, and I immediately felt the wind ruffling my hair and my night-dress. As I looked out across the streets of Paris, I saw the beautiful glittering lights beneath a magnificent, starry sky. I saw the city that I have loved all these years, ever since I moved here. I saw love and hope, but after a moment I also saw darkness. I felt him watching me. I felt him coming closer. I felt him preparing for the moment. Not tonight. Perhaps tomorrow, or the next day. Definitely soon.
And I knew that, when he arrived, I would draw my final breath.
Book Two
The Vampire Burns
Prologue
Many years from now...
“Gran? Are you ready?”
Startled, I turned to see Harriet standing in the doorway. She was carrying a pile of books that almost reached above her head, and she struggled with the weight as she made her way into the room.
“I've been doing some research,” she said breathlessly, “and from what I can tell, most vampires come from one of two places. There are hot-blooded vampires, the ones who basically look like normal people, and they're mostly from, like, southern Europe. You know how people say Dracula was from Transylvania? There might be some truth in all of that, even if Dracula himself probably wasn't real. And then you've got cold-blooded vampires, who -”
“Harriet...”
“Cold-bloodied vampires seem to come from somewhere else entirely,” she continued as she set the books on my dressing table and turned to me. “They're the ones that look freaky, and they seem to be -”
“Harriet.”
“So I did some really major digging, Gran, and I found these texts that talk about vampire history. There are all these names, like Gothos and Patrick and someone called Abby Hart, and events like a battle in th
e -”
“Harriet.”
“What?”
I hesitated for a moment, before sighing.
“You're a smart, level-headed girl,” I explained finally. “You're wise beyond your years, and you keep your feet on the ground.”
“Thanks,” she replied. “I think. But what's your point?”
“My point,” I said, “is that last night I told you the start of a story that most people would consider to be... implausible, to say the least. I told you about vampires, and about mysterious prophecies, and about time travel! And don't get me wrong, I'm flattered that you believed me, but I can't help wondering why you believed me. And so readily, too. I was fully prepared for you to humor me and for you to dismiss the whole thing as the ravings of a mad old woman.” I paused, waiting for her to respond, but she seemed somewhat lost for words. “I suppose what I'm saying,” I continued, “is that I don't understand why you believe me. Your mother certainly never did.”
I waited again, but she said nothing and then – after a moment – she took a step toward me.
“You are so not a mad old woman,” she said firmly. “The truth is, I've picked up on hints over the years, little things that you've mentioned. Little things that Mum refuses to mention, things that freak her out. I've known for a while that something pretty crazy once happened to you, Gran. Something that no-one else in the family really wants to talk about or even acknowledge. It's like our family has this weird, dark secret at its heart. I've asked people before, and they've never explained it to me. I've even asked you in the past, and you just smiled and shook your head. So when you opened up to me last night, it was as if all the pieces were finally falling into place.” She paused. “And Gran,” she added after a moment, “there's also the fact that...”
I waited.
“I just believe you,” she continued, with a faint shrug. “I listened to you and I believe you. I could tell you weren't lying, if that makes sense.”
“Thank you,” I replied, and I could feel tears welling in my eyes.
She hesitated, before coming over and sitting on the bed next to me. There was a momentary pause, and then we both turned and looked at the open window, where the curtains were billowing in a late-night London breeze. Beyond the window, the lights of London could be seen in the darkness.
“Do you think he'll come tonight?” Harriet asked finally, echoing the question that had been filling my own thoughts.
“He's so close,” I replied. “I can feel it.”
That was the truth. There was a sense of great anticipation in my chest, a knot that was being twisted tighter and tighter with each and every passing second; a knot that felt so tight now, I could scarcely understand how I was still breathing. And yet I knew that I would live long enough to see him again. I knew that somehow I would cling to life until his return.
“And Gran,” Harriet said cautiously, “who are you waiting for?”
I turned to her.
“At first I assumed that it must be Matthias,” she continued, “but then I started to wonder whether it might be Hugo. After all, Matthias seemed to die, but I figure that might have been a fake-out. And why would you wait for Hugo? You wouldn't tell me last night. I get it, maybe you don't know or -”
“Oh, I know,” I told her, interrupting her. “There's only one of them that it can be.”
“Then -”
“Take a look at this,” I continued, hoping to distract her for a moment. I reached into my pocket and took out the blue ring that I'd been keeping hidden away for so many years. “It's beautiful, don't you think? I promised that I'd try to dig out some items for you, and... Well, this is one of my oldest possessions in the whole world. Before you ask, I don't even know what type of stone it contains. I took it to a jeweler once, just to see if he could tell me, and he was absolutely flummoxed. He said he'd never seen anything like it before.”
“Wow,” she said, reaching out and taking the ring from me, before holding it up to get a better look at it in the room's low light, “it's...”
Her voice trailed off for a moment.
“Where did you get it?” she asked.
“I'm going to tell you,” I replied. “If you want to hear the rest of my story, that is.”
“Are you kidding?” She turned to me, her eyes filled with a sense of wonder and excitement. “I want to know everything, Gran. You mustn't leave anything out, not even the tiniest detail!” She looked back at the ring for a moment. “Did you get this when you went back in time? That's it, isn't it? You got this when you went back to the Second World War and fought the Nazis!”
“That's not quite what happened,” I told her.
“And it's some kind of special vampire ring, isn't it?” she continued, clearly letting her imagination run wild. “I bet Matthias got it from somewhere that only vampires can go, and he gave it to you. It symbolizes some kind of eternal link between the two of you, a link that can never be broken.” She stared at the ring for a moment, before suddenly starting to slip it onto her finger. “And -”
“No!”
Panicking for a moment, I grabbed the ring away from her before she could do anything foolish.
“What's wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing, I just...”
I took a deep breath and waited for my heart to calm a little. I'd been very wary about showing the ring to Harriet, and I realized now that I should have warned her about its power. Then again, even though she'd been very quick to believe my story up to that point, I wasn't sure how to explain the ring to her. Even for Harriet, that might have been too much to accept, at least without first understanding everything else that had happened.
Staring at the ring for a moment, I thought back to the very first moment I'd seen it. Or rather, to the first moment I'd been aware of it. After all, its journey into my possession had been rather complicated.
“Did he know,” I whispered under my breath, “all that time ago? Did he foresee everything? Even this moment?”
“What do you mean?” Harriet asked.
“You believed the first part of my story,” I replied, “and I'm grateful to you for that. But what I'm about to tell you, Harriet, might simply be too much. This time you really might think that I'm a mad old woman. In fact, sometimes I even doubt myself.” Still staring down at the ring, I momentarily allowed all the doubts to rush back in. Was I, in fact, just an old fool who'd allowed herself to believe a series of crazy ideas? Out of all the people in the world, why should I have experienced all these incredible things?
Suddenly, feeling Harriet's hand on my shoulder, I turned to see her watching me.
“So Matthias exploded,” she said calmly, “or whatever. And you got sent back to the Second World War, where a Nazi guy named Zieghoff assumed you were a witch. Then what?”
I stared at her for a moment, and after a few seconds my doubts and fears began to recede. I opened my mouth to speak, but then I turned and looked at the open window. The windows were still fluttering, framing the empty space where soon he would stand. He was coming, of that I was certain, but perhaps there was time to tell the rest of my story.
I swallowed hard.
“As I looked up into Zieghoff's face,” I said finally, “I somehow felt pure evil emanating from every fiber in his body. And I felt a level of fear that I'd never felt before in all my life.”
Chapter One
Chloe
Paris, 1942...
As I looked up into Zieghoff's face, I somehow felt pure evil emanating from every fiber in his body. And I felt a level of fear that I'd never felt before in all my life. It was as if I'd found myself facing the Devil himself.
“A witch,” he said again, letting the word purr a little as his smile grew. “Ladies and gentlemen, fortune favors us on this day. We stand on the brink of the possession of a great weapon. One that will win this war for us forever.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but no words came out. I remained frozen in place, not daring to
move, not wanting to accept that any of this was really happening. One moment I'd been running for my life in the mansion, and the next I was surrounded by robed figures.
“Well?” Zieghoff continued. “Are you not going to say anything, witch? There's no point denying what you are. You appeared to us in a blinding flash, conjured up as if from nowhere. There is no rational explanation for your sudden appearance. Your clothing is unusual, it marks you out. And I see the fear in your eyes. So tell me, witch...”
He leaned closer.
“Are you going to cooperate?”
Nearby, somebody said something in German.
Zieghoff turned and replied to the robed man, and then he turned back to me.
“My associate speculates that you don't fully understand English,” he explained, “but I think that you do. You have that gaunt, unhealthy, ugly English quality to your features.” He tilted his head slightly. “I'm not wrong, am I”
“Where...”
I hesitated for a moment, before realizing that I had to figure out what was happening.
“Where am I?” I stammered finally.
“You're at my home, of course,” he replied. “This is Paris, under the benevolent rule of the German army. It is most fortunate that you have materialized here. For all of us. If you had instead materialized in England, you would no doubt have suffered a terrible fate. As things stand, our research has worked. We tried many times to summon one such as yourself, and now here you are. God is most certainly on our side.”
“What?” I asked.
“You are confused,” he continued. “I see that. Perhaps you need to rest before you are put to work.”