by Mia James
‘You learn not to get too excited about screams living in this house,’ said Benjamin, peering over her shoulder. ‘There’s a lot of drama.’
Perhaps it was high spirits, but Ling did seem to be sitting rather close to Davina in the hot tub, although it was hard to see exactly what was going on under the bubbles.
‘The hot tub is a tradition at our parties,’ said Benjamin in a low voice. ‘Especially at the Winter Ball. Everyone gets in at midnight.’
She realised that Ben was standing very close, could feel his breath on her neck. Okay, so he’s a vampire, but he is so hot, said the rebellious voice in her head.
‘You are going to come, aren’t you?’ he asked. He was so close she could feel the warmth from his body now. If he’s that hot, he can’t really be a vampire, can he?
‘Yes, I ...’ she said, turning to face him.
Then there was another scream, a real scream - a long, wailing cry of grief from somewhere inside the house. With a concerned glance at April, Benjamin ran from the room and along the corridor. April followed close behind. At the top of the stairs, he stopped and bent over the banisters.
‘Mum! What is it?’ he called.
April got there just as Mrs Osbourne stepped into the hallway, a phone in her hand, her face white. She looked up at Benjamin and shook her head.
‘It’s Milo,’ she said. ‘He’s dead.’
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The whole school was in mourning. If Milo Asprey hadn’t been the most popular boy in school, he still appeared to have had a lot of friends. Certainly, if ‘Milo’s Wall’ was anything to go by, it looked like almost every Ravenwood student had been touched by his presence. The Wall was a long noticeboard just outside the refectory, usually only used for notes relating to the next meeting of the chess club or posters advertising a concert by the school band. But somehow, without any official assignment of the space required, by lunchtime on Friday, the wall had become a shrine to the boy’s memory. Pictures, cards, poems, even some elaborate and presumably time-consuming artworks had appeared, eulogising Milo’s humour, sensitivity and all-round brilliance. The school had caught on fast and announced that anything pinned up on the wall would later become part of a book of remembrance for Milo’s family. The wall also had the knock-on effect of making Layla hugely popular by proxy. Previously seen as Davina’s bitchy and cruel sidekick, her bedside vigil as Milo had fallen ill, slipped into a coma and died had transformed her into a tragic heroine with hitherto unseen depths. Even girls who had been on the receiving end of her sniping put-downs had been offering their condolences.
April had not been one of them. Leaving aside her feelings regarding Layla and her sharp nails, she was still finding Milo’s death very difficult to deal with. She had tried, time and again, to convince herself that it was pure coincidence, that Milo had caught some tropical disease just after their kiss, whatever Gabriel had claimed, but in her heart she knew it wasn’t true. She knew she was responsible. Of course, she hadn’t planned it, hadn’t known that she was anything special __ let alone a Fury - but she had caused Milo’s death nevertheless. It wasn’t murder, but it was manslaughter and April felt it deeply. She’d enjoyed their kiss and had been disappointed to be interrupted; after all, Milo had been about the only one at the party to be nice to her. And now she’d killed him. She walked around in a gloom, dragging a black cloud with her wherever she went. A casual onlooker would think that April Dunne had simply been moved by Milo’s passing, possibly feeling the tragedy more keenly because of her own recent loss, which was of course true. But April was also struggling with feelings of powerlessness. She had been moved down to London against her will, her father had been murdered and she was failing to find out who was responsible. And now, it seemed, she had another role thrust upon her, a role she had no stomach for. She felt even more isolated by Caro’s seemingly boundless enthusiasm for the ‘project’, as she insisted on calling it, not least because she thought catching William Dunne’s killer was a secondary goal, and because she had no one else but Fee to talk to - and she still wasn’t sure if she could even trust her best friend. She hadn’t heard from Gabriel since she’d thrown him out two days ago. Par for the course, she thought. But then April hadn’t tried to contact him either, and it wasn’t really because of their quarrel. After all, it wasn’t Gabriel’s fault she had the birthmark and, truthfully, Gabriel was probably the one person who would actually understand everything she was going through. But she still couldn’t call him. Not that I’ve even got his number. Maybe she was being too sensitive, maybe she was burying her head in the sand, maybe she simply didn’t want to face it; she didn’t want to be a Fury, whatever the hell that was. She fleetingly wondered if she should go to her mother or her grandfather and ask them point blank if they knew anything about it: it had crossed her mind that their whispering and bickering about her ‘heritage’ might have something to do with this Fury thing, but she had almost no expectation of getting a straight answer from either of them—they’ve kept it to themselves so far, so why would that change now I’ve accidentally killed someone? __ and besides, what if it wasn’t about her being a Fury? She didn’t want to open another can of worms if she didn’t have to, and either way, April didn’t need to bear that extra weight of responsibility on her shoulders at a time when she just wanted to curl up in bed and hide from everyone and everything.
April picked up her fork and stabbed it into her muffin. ‘I hate cake,’ she said.
Caro raised her eyebrows. She had brought April out to Americano on their way home from school in an effort to cheer her up.
‘Now that’s just silly,’ she said, enthusiastically biting into her pain au chocolat. ‘Cake is one of the greatest inventions of all time.’
It made April smile despite herself. She was very lucky to have such a good friend and, she supposed, the Milo business did have its positive side. By and large, people were leaving her alone, which was infinitely preferable to having them gossip about her, plus she had been able to dodge Miss Holden and her ‘little talk’ by claiming she was too upset. April wasn’t the only one benefiting from the situation either. Davina, predictably, had also made the most of events, coming in to school wearing a classic black Chanel sleeveless dress and dark glasses which she would periodically lift to dab at her eyes with a lace handkerchief - and where Davina led, the Faces and indeed the rest of the school were sure to follow; you would have been forgiven for thinking that Ravenwood had a strict uniform code, with the emphasis on black. The one flash of colour in all this gloom was, equally predictably, provided by Caro who maintained her status as the school rebel by wearing an ‘ironic’ purple hoody.
‘I thought we were supposed to be allowing ourselves to be recruited,’ said April moodily. ‘The Faces aren’t going to want anything to do with you if you keep this up.’
April was now slowly picking her muffin apart, leaving all the blueberries in a pile on the plate.
‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong,’ said Caro, pointing at her top with a fork. ‘This purple monstrosity is my ticket to the big time.’
April shook her head in confusion.
‘It’s basic psychology, m’dear. If I joined in with Milo-Fest and started going for manicures with Layla, the Suckers would smell a rat, wouldn’t they? By keeping up my outsider persona, I come across as more genuine and they’re more likely to want to draw me in.’
‘Hold up,’ said April. ‘Are we calling the vamps “Suckers” now?’
‘I thought it had a certain something.’ Caro grinned. ‘Plus if we’re overheard, we could be referring to anyone: teachers, boys, anyone.’
April nodded her approval. ‘I like it.’
‘Anyway, it’s worked,’ she said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a gold envelope. ‘One ticket to the Osbourne Winter Ball, hand-delivered by Head Sucker, Davina Osbourne.’
‘No way!’ April hugged her friend excitedly. This, at least, was some good news. She had been
dreading attending another posh party alone, where she would feel like an imposter, an outsider - and more than that, she would be an interloper, seeing what she could find out, what clues she could pick up, all the time putting herself in danger.
‘Oh Caro, that’s brilliant - how did you swing it?’
‘I casually dropped into conversation that I had already been offered places at Cambridge, John Hopkins and MIT. There was a slight pause while Davina went off to check that it was true, then all of a sudden she was eyeing up my jugular and discussing cocktail dresses.’
‘Well, that’s excellent work,’ said April. ‘Maybe we’re getting somewhere.’
‘Yes, and that’s not all,’ said Caro. ‘I spent last night trying to track down the Disappeared.’
‘The Disappeared’ were six Ravenwood pupils who had abruptly vanished over the past few years, some supposedly to go overseas, some to different schools.
‘I’ve tried all the schools you could think of and asked other people in their classes. So far, no one has actually heard from them. Not even a Christmas card.’
April sipped her coffee and tried not to despair. They had to catch a break soon. She’d got nowhere with her own research into her father’s death. The diary had yielded very little beyond her father’s appointment with Mr Gill and she still had no idea why he hadn’t turned up at the bookshop. Her mother had been out with Grandpa Thomas on the day of her dad’s death, so she was no help with information about his movements. The trail seemed to be going colder and colder. Even her research into the Vampire Regent and the Furies had barely got off the ground. Despite endless websites dedicated to vampire lore, she hadn’t come across a single mention of either an internal hierarchy or any sort of ancient nemesis. According to received wisdom, all vampires were rogue vampires, roaming about and killing at random, but that couldn’t be true otherwise the countryside would be littered with corpses. April felt like she was wading through treacle. Her resolve and enthusiasm of only a few days before had been sapped by Milo’s death. Every glimmer of a clue led to another dead end, as if someone had come and wiped everything clean.
‘Do you think we’ll learn anything at the party?’
‘Have faith,’ said Caro kindly. ‘You’ve got the A-team on it now.’
April wished she could take some comfort from that.
Chapter Forty
The house looked wonderful. Snow had fallen overnight and created the perfect setting for the Osbournes’ Winter Ball. Only two days earlier, when April had visited Davina after school, the mansion had been a towering, intimidating fortress, but as the taxi drove through the open gates the snow on the hedges and lawns sparkled in the light of burning torches lining the drive, while the windows of the house glowed orange like a cat’s eyes in the dark. At first, April had been dismayed to discover that her mother had also been invited to the Osbournes’ ball, but now she was glad that she was acting as chaperone. There were security guards in black suits checking invitations at the entrance and party guests in sleek dinner jackets and white furs milling around, shouting hellos and laughing, their jewels glittering in the light of the smiling half-moon. The Winter Ball seemed so big, so important, she was glad to have her mum there. Not that she had been much use for the last week or so, lying in bed and complaining of headaches, but something - perhaps the prospect of tonight’s party - had finally lifted her spirits. When April had got up, her mother had gone out, leaving a note reading ‘Gone shopping’ and when she had arrived home that afternoon she seemed utterly transformed. Her skin had its colour back, her hair was blow-dried and glossy and her eyes were bright. ‘Been up West,’ she said, dumping half a dozen shopping bags on April’s bed. ‘I did a little shopping for you too.’ Which was why April was wearing an off-the-shoulder McQueen ball gown and Gucci heels and her mother was wearing an Ossie Clark column of sheer silk and her mother’s diamonds. ‘You can’t take it with you, baby,’ she’d replied to April’s objections and she set about doing April’s hair and make-up. She hated to admit it, but the makeover had done wonders for April’s mood, too. She still didn’t feel right about Milo and Gabriel and her new unofficial status as the Nancy Drew of the underworld, but, for once, it was nice to get dressed up and forget all about it. Well, she was sure that Caro would be snooping around, but April had resolved to have a good time tonight. Especially if Benjamin invited her to jump into the hot tub.
‘Now, are you going to behave yourselves tonight?’ asked Silvia, as if she was reading April’s thoughts.
‘Yes, Mrs Dunne,’ sang Caro. ‘We’ll be very, very good.’
‘I’m glad to hear it, because I will be drinking champagne and whirling around the dance floor enough for all of us.’
‘Mum!’ said April.
Silvia gave her a warm smile and tapped her knee. ‘I’m joking. I shall be the picture of elegance all night.’
April leant over and kissed her cheek.
‘What’s that for?’
‘For being you again.’
The taxi let them out among the Bentleys and Porsches and they made their way to the entrance where they were waved through, but not before they were politely asked to surrender their cameras and mobile phones.
‘Security, miss,’ was the only explanation offered by the guard when Caro had indignantly asked what it was ‘all in aid of. They exchanged disappointed looks, but had no choice but to comply.
‘Check it out!’ said Caro as they stepped into the entrance hall. The interior designers had gone to town on the winter theme. Ivy and lush green pine boughs had been woven through the banisters of the staircase and red church candles placed on each of the steps, while strings of tiny fairy lights trailed down every wall, giving the impression of shimmering ice.
‘Silvia! So glad you could come.’
Barbara Osbourne came over to greet them, embracing April’s mother warmly. She was wearing a silver ball gown with a plunging neckline.
‘So nice to see you out among us again,’ she said. ‘And April - oh, you’re looking lovelier each time I see you.’
Well, I was at my father’s funeral the first time, thought April cynically, but she smiled politely.
‘And this is Caro Jackson,’ said Silvia.
Caro gave a sort of curtsey and mumbled a greeting, but her attention seemed to be elsewhere. April followed her gaze and saw the source of her distraction. Over on the other side of the room Simon was sitting at a piano, singing loudly with Benjamin, Marcus and the rest of the rugby boys.
‘Sorry, just going to the bar,’ said Caro vaguely and promptly disappeared into the crowd. Mrs Osbourne also made her excuses and left, waving to someone across the room.
‘Quite good-looking, isn’t he?’ said Silvia, nodding towards Simon.
‘Yes, but I think Caro might be out of luck,’ said April. ‘He plays for the other side.’
‘Does he?’ said Silvia sceptically, gazing at him. ‘I wouldn’t have thought it.’
A waiter approached and served Silvia with a glass of champagne - ‘Just one,’ she said with a wicked smile - and April with an orange juice. April had no intention of getting herself into the same state she had at Milo’s party.
‘Honestly though, Mum, it’s great to see you looking happy again. Well, I don’t mean happy, that wouldn’t be right, but—’
Silvia put a hand on April’s arm. ‘I know what you mean, honey. Don’t worry, I’m not going to run off with any men any time soon. In fact, I’m not going to run off full stop. I know this will be strange to hear, but your dad was the only man for me from the moment I met him. Yes, we had some hard times, things we had to work through, and I’m sorry you had to be in the middle of that sometimes, but I loved that man so much.’ Her eyes began to sparkle and she stopped, pressing a hand to her lips.
‘Oh, Mum,’ said April sadly. She’d always had a spiky relationship with her mother - she was distant and hands-off compared to her dad, at least - but she felt for her now. April was hurting, but
she really couldn’t imagine the pain of losing your one true love, especially if you’d spent years giving him a hard time.
‘No, it’s okay,’ said Silvia, taking a deep breath. ‘The thing you need to remember is that your dad loved us very, very much. Too much sometimes. But he also loved life, he valued it and if he was here now, he would already have had two brandies and dragged me onto the dance floor.’
April laughed. It was true, he was always the life and soul of the party, always at the centre of things, laughing and playing jokes. If William had been here, she was sure she would have been mortified by his behaviour as he made a complete spectacle of himself. She wished more than anything she could see that now.
‘I think that’s how we should remember him,’ said Silvia. ‘Take a leaf out of his book and throw ourselves in feet first.’ She raised her glass and clinked it against April’s. ‘To him,’ she said.
‘To him.’ April smiled.