Ofelia (The Book of Davoth 1)

by Martyn Stanley

  He climbed into his car and the engine roared into life. Rita and Ofelia followed in the Audi. Sure enough, once they’d meandered through the graveyard and onto the main road they saw the pub in the distance. It was an old, red brick, roadside tavern. They followed Victor’s car and parked up. The pub was open, but quiet. There were a handful of regulars sat at tables; old men in checked shirts and flat caps, nursing their pints of bitter. By the time Rita and Ofelia caught up with him, Victor was already at the bar. He turned to them, ‘What would you like? I’ll buy.’

  ‘Vodka.’ Ofelia blurt out without thinking. She’d never been a heavy drinker, vampirism seemed to dull the effects of alcohol, so becoming inebriated required a concentrated spell of hard-core drinking. However, she liked the sharp taste and the sensation of strong liquor burning her tongue. Rita gawped at her - horrified. ‘Vodka? Ofelia, I don’t know how things are in Romania, but here in the UK it’s illegal for under eighteens to drink alcohol. As your social worker, I can’t-’

  ‘Fine, give me small lime and soda then.’ Ofelia muttered.

  Rita’s frown faded. ‘Great. A small red please Victor.’

  Something in the tone of Rita’s voice set alarm bells ringing for Ofelia. She sounded too familiar with Victor. Did they know each other? What conversations had they had prior to today? The way she looked at him and her tone of voice hinted that they were familiar and they were hiding something.

  Victor ordered their drinks and a small red wine for himself. After paying, he handed them out and raised his glass. ‘Stefan’.

  Glasses chinked and they stood at the bar in silence, looking morose. Ofelia kept glancing at Victor. He was tanned but didn’t look southern European. Perhaps he’d recently been on holiday? He had thick dark hair, with just a few greys appearing near the sideburns. The wrinkles around his eyes, suggested he’d enjoyed a happy life. Victor had claimed to be Romanian, but there was no hint of an accent in his voice. How long had he lived here? As they stood drinking in silence, Rita washed the last of her drink back and placed the glass on the bar. ‘I just need to nip to the loo. Won’t be a tick. Do you need it Ofelia?’

  Ofelia shook her head and watched Rita leave her alone with the tall, dark Romanian. As soon as Rita was out of sight, Victor leaned closer to her. ‘You think you’re the last of your kind, but you’re not.’

  Ofelia frowned at him, trying to feign innocence. ‘My kind?’

  ‘You’re a vampire!’

  He knew. How did he know?

  ‘So what if I am?’ she whispered.

  ‘Then you are not Ofelia, but you are Ilona Neamțu. You received the gift on the fourteenth of January fourteen fifty-two. Am I right?’

  He was looking smug now, but denying the truth seemed pointless.

  ‘How do you know-’

  ‘I saw the story about the crash in the newspaper. I made some enquiries with the police and the hospital. Don’t worry - they don’t suspect anything. The doctors are baffled and the police believe your story. Your secret is safe with me. How do I know who you are? There are records of vampire legacy. There was only one recorded occasion when a child received the gift. That means you must be Ilona Neamțu.’

  ‘I am, but I don’t use that name for long time. So you know I’m vampire. Where are you going with this?’

  ‘I want to help you. I’ve been discussing fostering or adopting you with Rita. I can get you out of the home once your case has been decided. You understand, Rita doesn’t know the truth? You’d be better off with me though, I can give you more freedom.’

  She locked her eyes on his now. ‘And what do you want in return? You know I can’t make you immortal. I’ve tried before. It never worked.’

  ‘I’m wealthy. I have an interest in science as well as history. I do want to help you, but I’d also like to get some of your blood, DNA and tissues samples. I want to understand vampirism.’

  ‘I don’t want to be lab rat.’ Ofelia spat.

  ‘You wouldn’t be. Why did you come to England by the way? You appeared to disappear off the face of the earth decades ago.’

  ‘I did. That was intentional. I came to England to try to stop being vampire. I’ve lived as a kid long enough. I want to grow up and have normal life.’

  ‘Hah! You’re kidding yourself. How is a five hundred-year-old ex-vampire with all that experience and knowledge going to live a normal life?’

  ‘It’ll be more normal than being stuck as a kid and drinking blood once a week for the rest of eternity.’

  Victor chuckled under his breath. ‘I take it your first week in England hasn’t been to your liking?’

  Ofelia folded her arms tight and scowled. ‘No. First, I’m stuck in hospital. Then taken into care, sent to school... They even make me go to dentist and they drill and fill my-’

  ‘Your fangs? Oh, I can understand why that might worry you. But you needn’t worry. The Immortal Paradox will repair any damage done to your teeth. Just give it time.’

  Ofelia looked up, ‘The Immortal Paradox?’

  ‘I came up with the name for the symbiote myself. Why? Because when an individual is infected they die, then they come back and can’t be killed. If you do a full body scan of a vampire, you can see the tendrils of the symbiote worming their way right through the body, from the brain to the toes, but concentrated around the heart. The Immortal Paradox has a hive mind and I think it’s intelligent. One question I haven’t answered, is once the initial infection has killed the host, does it really bring them back to life? Or does it invade their brain and manipulate them like a marionette? Am I talking to Ilona Neamțu, or the symbiote which believes it is Ilona Neamțu?’

  ‘I don’t know. You seem to have lot of information about vampire. Why do you need me?’

  ‘The other vampire I have studied is male. I believe you are the last female vampire. Why would you want to stop being a vampire and how did you plan to-’

  ‘I bought page containing one ritual from “In Libro De Davoth”.’

  This brought a look of both surprise and smug satisfaction from Victor. ‘You just had one page? You never had the whole book?’

  ‘No. Copies are rare. Pages are traded more often than books. The only copies I know of are the Vatican copy, the Lovecraft copy, the Aleister Crowley copy, the Fulcanelli copy, the Wenham copy and the Russian copy which I bought my page from.’

  Victor sighed and looked at her earnestly. ‘The doctors can’t help you. I can. I’m going to try and make the arrangements. If you refuse, you can probably stop it, but I can help you. I don’t want much in return-’

  The conversation had to end there - Rita returned. ‘Alright? Thanks again for this Vic, I’ll be in touch.’

  The three left their empty glasses on the bar and exited. As Ofelia climbed in the back of Rita’s Audi, Rita ventured. ‘He seems nice doesn’t he?’

  Ofelia said nothing. The car rolled off in the opposite direction to Victor’s Mercedes. Ofelia’s head was spinning. She suddenly had so much to think about. So much to talk about. But who to talk to? Her simple life was getting increasingly complex. Had she been too quick to dismiss Victor’s offer? There was something about him; a subtle air of familiarity? Had she met him years ago in Romania? Or perhaps one of his ancestors? She didn’t recall meeting any ‘Drakes’ but marriage meant family names could be lost in a generation. The question of who he was, was bugging her, and she knew it would continue to bug her as long as she thought about it. Best to try and think about something else. She’d got Ollie’s number today. She’d told him the truth, and she thought he believed her. If she wanted someone to talk to - he was the obvious choice.

  By the time they arrived back at Harper House, the sun had almost set. Dinner was already on the table, though Stoney, Lucy and Kerry had already eaten and retired to the lounge. Ofelia looked with dismay at the cold fish fingers, chips and peas waiting for her on a plate in the kitchen. Rita, retired to the office to talk to Molly behind closed doors - probably abou
t Ofelia and possibly about Victor. Most nights Ofelia had gone straight up to her room after dinner, done her homework, read and slept. It was probably time to face the others again.

  The living room was cluttered with the typical array of abandoned bags and school wear. Stoney was in his preferred spot, reclined on the big settee, headphones on and game controller in hand. Lucy and Kerry were sitting on the smaller sofa, laughing at some program on the iPad. They looked up when Ofelia entered. ‘How was the funeral?’ piped up Kerry.

  ‘Pretty grim - how they’re supposed to be.’ Ofelia admitted.

  Lucy smiled, ‘Hey Offers. Good first week funeral aside?’

  Ofelia sat down on the armchair. ‘Not bad; could have been worse.’

  Ofelia’s phone beeped at this point. She pulled it out and looked at the screen. It was a text message, from Ollie.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘Ollie. Boy I met at school.

  Kerry grinned at this. ‘Yerra fast worker aren’t yer?’ she mocked.

  ‘It’s not like that.’ Ofelia rebuked.

  ‘I know. I’m pulling your leg. S’just a bit o’ craic.’

  At this point Molly entered. ‘Ofelia, could we have a word in the office?’

  Groaning under her breath she rose and followed Molly through the house to the office where Rita was waiting. The office was a clutter shop of files stacked in disorganized heaps on every shelf and window sill. Every visible space was being used to store paperwork - even the top of the desk, leaving no actual free space to work. Rita sat at the desk, with a file opened up over the top layer of paperwork. Molly gestured towards one of the cheap plastic chairs lined up below the window. ‘Have a seat.’

  Ofelia sat, trying but failing to sneak a peek at what she suspected was her file. Molly sat in another chair by the door facing her. Rita spoke. ‘Ofelia. How has your first week at school been? Your teachers have been really pleased.’

  ‘It’s been fine. Not as bad as I expected.’ Ofelia muttered.

  Molly joined in now. ‘The only concern we have is this incident with an Imelda Fransen. There’s some confusion as to what-’

  ‘She tried to hit me. I stop her. That’s all that happened.’ Ofelia blurted out.

  Rita nodded, smiling sympathetically and scribbling on a notepad. ‘Good, good. Well, try to avoid getting in trouble. Your hearing was this morning. The court has ruled that you are British and should be treated as such. This being the case you’ll remain in our care for the time being. At least until such a time as we can find you a better alternative. How do you feel about that?’

  Ofelia grimaced for a moment. She wasn’t sure how she felt. Being allowed to stay in England had been part of the plan, and she’d succeeded at that. However, that plan had been to recover her page from ‘The Book of Davoth’, find the Blood Stone and complete the ritual of cleansing. Now her fangs had been filled, meaning unless she could find an alternative means of feeding she’d suffer madness and death in days. Though Victor had suggested this wouldn’t be a problem. She also worried about Victor and what his real plans were. Then there was her appointment at the hospital. Doctor Sterling wanted to try a treatment for her vampirism. Except the good doctor had no idea what she was treating. The future looked more uncertain now than ever, everything was a mess. The bit that caused her the most anxiety was; ‘You’ll remain in our care for the time being’. It sounded like a kindness and indeed it was, however, it also hinted at a loss of freedom. Even if she could feed, she still faced the problem of people eventually realising she wasn’t aging. All in all, her best chance of winning more freedom was to at least feign acceptance.

  ‘It’s good. I’m pleased.’

  Rita and Molly seemed to accept this as sincere. Rita scribbled in her file and talked at the same time. ‘Now the school and your carers here have reported no attempts to abscond. Are you happy? If we give you some more freedom, can you promise you won’t try to run away?’

  Ofelia doubled up on her sincerity. ‘Yes. I’m sorry I tried to run before. I was just scared, I don’t want to run. In fact, I meet a boy at school. He asked me to meet up this weekend. Can I go to his house tomorrow?’

  Rita and Molly exchanged a glance. Rita spoke. ‘What boy? What year is he in?’

  ‘We’re just friends. He’s in my class.’

  Molly and Rita seemed to relax a little. Rita smiled though, ‘Alright, where does he live? If you get me his address and home phone number, I’ll drop you off. Don’t let us down, if you try to abscond, you will be brought back and we won’t be able to allow you out unsupervised again for a long time.’

  ‘I know. Thank you. I won’t run. Let me text him for his address.’

  Rita and Molly watched Ofelia tapping away on her screen. A moment later Ofelia’s phone pinged again.

  Ofelia looked up to Molly. ‘What time can I go?’

  ‘I’ll tell you what. I’m due to swap over with Nina tomorrow morning: I could drop you off around ten AM? I know Barley Crescent.’

  Ofelia looked to Rita who nodded and smiled.

  It was done. She’d arranged it. Her self-restraint had paid off sooner than she’d expected. It did suggest she’d be better off trying to hold off for a while longer to build their trust more. She stood up. ‘Thank you for this. One question, did any news of my bag turn up? It was in the car when it crashed, then the bag and my stuff vanish while I was in hospital.’

  Rita shook her head. ‘Sorry Ofelia. Nothing’s turned up. The car was probably left unattended for a while at the scrap yard. Certainly none of the reports mention a bag or any valuables.’

  Ofelia’s heart sank. ‘Oh. Thanks anyway. Can I go now?’

  Molly and Rita agreed and Ofelia left the office, again trying, but failing to sneak a peek at her file. She wanted to know what they really believed, and the answer was probably in that folder. She’d have to pick a time to break into the office to read it, but then she’d have to find it. She cast the thought aside for now. The others were still in the living room. She considered joining them, but thought better of it. A good book and an early night were waiting for her. Wearily she trudged up the two flights of stairs and entered her room, slamming the door behind her.

  Chapter 11 - Tempest House

  Ofelia read, then fell into a troubled sleep. She dreamt she was back in Medieval Brasov. She’d climbed the scaffolding with her friend Albrecht. They were at the top of the wall and Albrecht was teasing the stonemasons, in Romanian. [Hey! The wall isn’t straight! It has a lean on it. You have to knock it down and start again!]

  Ofelia laughed at this, the bearded labourer, a Bulgarian by the sound of him, scowled. [Stupid kid! Get off the scaffolding before I throw you off!]

  When the man put down his trowel and stood, Albrecht darted off towards the ladder, laughing as he went. Ofelia chased after him, smirking as she dived onto the ladder and climbed down as fast as she could. The builder stayed at the top and shook his fist at them, shouting and cursing until they ran away from the site. Horses and horse-drawn carts were running both ways up the main road, churning up the dirt and splattering the road with manure. They ran across when a gap appeared to the alley opposite. Albrecht turned to her. He sounded serious now. [Ilona, I forgot to tell you. Some men were asking after you and your father. They looked rich and important. They were wearing fine clothes. I told them I’d heard you’d moved to Budapest.]

  As he spoke he faded into thin air, then Ofelia heard a scream in the distance, followed by a hollow thud.

  She opened her eyes. Rain was beating against the window and pale moonlight spilled into her room. For a moment she could have sworn Victor was standing in the corner - staring at her. She rubbed her eyes, and he was gone. She slept better for the rest of the night and woke up feeling more refreshed than she’d done all week. It helped not to have to get up so early for school. Despite the nocturnal downpour, the clouds had gone, and it looked like being a bright and sunny day. She changed quickly into t
he jeans, black top and red fleece she’d worn out of the hospital. Then she slipped into her converse pumps, plastered on the factor 50 and headed downstairs. The others were sleeping in or were just in their rooms, so she poured herself a bowl of cereal and made herself a coffee. Molly must have heard the kettle boiling, because she entered soon after. She paused at the door for a moment, staring at the jet-black contents of Ofelia’s mug. ‘Ah. Gavin told me about the coffee. It’s not good for you, you know.’

  Ofelia shrugged. ‘Gavin said. I try to cut down. Are you ready to take me?’

  ‘Nina’s not here yet. But as soon as she is, I could do with five minutes with her for hand over, then- Oh, this might be her now.’

  The sound of the front door slamming shut had interrupted her. Sure enough, a slim thirty-something who looked to be of African descent entered the kitchen. Her hair was full of colourful braids, and she was wearing casual clothes - jeans and T-shirt. She smiled when she saw Ofelia. ‘Hi, you must be Ofelia. My name’s Nina Brown.’

  Ofelia took the offered hand and greeted her. ‘Pleased to meet you. Have they told you I’m going out for the day?’

  Nina frowned at this. ‘No,’ then she turned to Molly. ‘A quick word please?’

  Ofelia watched them walk into the corridor then listened at the door. Soon, she heard raised voices. They were trying to argue quietly, but Ofelia heard every word. The basic gist of the discussion was that Nina had been told Ofelia was at high risk of absconding and wasn’t to be allowed to leave the home unsupervised. Molly’s point was that she’d shown no interest in running off during the week and seemed to have worked hard at school - so should be trusted. Nina’s counter-argument to this was that the decision had been made without her, but now Ofelia would be out for the day while she was Nina’s responsibility. Ofelia finished her cereal and coffee while the argument raged on. Afterwards she scraped the chair back and stormed into the corridor, confronting both of them. ‘Look! I promise not to run away. Nina, if it make you feel better, you can ring me at any time and ask where I am and what I’m doing. I think you have my number on file?’