The School of the Undead

by Michael Woods

  “On the odd occasion, just when the moment seems right.” Caroline smiled as concern and a small amount of confusion spread across Amanda’s face. “Don’t worry, as I said they never believe me.”

  “Well,” continued Caroline after watching Amanda consider her picture for what she believed to be long enough, “as much as I enjoy standing around in my hall reminiscing about old times, would you like to come through?”

  “Er, of course. Sorry.”

  Feeling more than a little unsettled by her initial impression of Caroline, Amanda sat herself down in the brown leather armchair opposite Caroline’s own. It was not just that she had never seen a vampire so willing to openly live among the living, it was also that this woman - who had apparently been able to survive for decades out in the world – was going against all of what Amanda had been taught at the school. One of the key pillars of the school’s teaching about surviving in the living world was that while it was acceptable to be seen now and then, it was necessary to keep your head down as much as you could.

  “You said you were expecting me,” said Amanda, finally putting aside her distracting thoughts about the life of the woman opposite and what it could mean for herself. “So you know that I’m here to talk about the attack that happened recently.”

  “Yes, I remember reading about the poor boy in the local paper. Terrible, just terrible. Then, later, a friend of mine at your school informed me that the little chap had ended up there. Alarming that such things still happen, the attack I mean, even when we have the ability to gain what we need to live on by other means. As soon as I heard this, I knew that Chester would send someone down. I still remember the last time that this sort of thing happened, when that poor Johann Milch was attacked on the outskirts of the town. The school had the same approach to such things all those years ago; just got someone to come and have a word with the four of us, as we were then.”

  “Four? But Milch wasn’t about then, was he?”

  “Oh yes of course. But we had another vampire around here back in those days, Jane South. Not that she’s been here for a while now though, mind.”

  “Why? What happened to her?”

  “Oh, you don’t want to hear an old vampire like me prattling on about something that happened so long ago. It’s all done now, and I think she was happy enough to go down into the Tunnels.”

  “Did she attack someone?”

  “Oh no, dear, nothing like that. It was something much more mundane. All to do with the trouble you can have with the local authorities if you’re not careful. You see, poor Jane had moved back into her old home after she’d died. And she lived there for some time, mind you. The problem arose when some developer determined that Jane’s house, which happened to have the sort of garden one would kill for if you had your heart set on a good plot of land, would be a great spot to construct a new housing estate. He approached Jane at the house, but she just told him to go away. Silly Jane had never taken the time to re-establish her ownership of the house, meaning that when the developer took his time to see who owned the place - as trying to get any information of Jane had been a dead end - he discovered that the last listed occupant was one Mrs South, a widower born in 1863.

  “Though I don’t know all the ins and outs of what happened, the important point was that the powers that be decided that the 30-odd-year-old looking woman who claimed to be Jane South, and who was living in the house, could not be the one who was listed on the deed of the building. As Jane had no documentary proof that she’d been living in the house for any length of time or that was who she said she was – something that could’ve caused quite a commotion if she had - she was turfed out of the home she’d been living in for over a hundred years and left with nothing.”

  “God, that’s terrible.”

  “Yes, it was awful. But, you know, it got even worse. I knew the poor dear – you don’t live in the same town with someone for several decades and not get to know them a little - and said that she could stay with me for a while. She was a wisp of a thing anyway, and the whole ordeal took quite a toll on her. For a while, she tried to continue to convince the council that she was the Jane South that owned the house and almost got herself in trouble; they thought that there were only two reasons that could be behind what she was saying, fraud or that she’s gone mad. I convinced her to drop it as it was clear that she would not win. She knew it too but didn’t know what else to do.

  “After that, she just spent most of her time wasting away in my spare room upstairs. I tried to get her involved in some of my little events, but she would always hide herself away whenever I invited anyone over. Well, this went on for a while, but one day while she was going through the Visiter - one of our local papers – she saw her address listed in the classified ads. However, the picture given was not of her old house, but one of the new builds that the developer had replaced it with. Good grief, she took it hard, she just couldn’t accept that the old place had gone. Indeed, in a way, it did for her in terms of any idea of staying around here. After that…

  “I have to admit, with quite a bit of guilt, I was starting to tire of having her around in the state she was in. Though I’m glad to say it never bothered me to share my blood supplies, eventually I got Nora Jacobs, the friend at the school I was talking about before, to send someone down and have a word with Jane.

  “After a rather lengthy chat, to which I was not privy, the young looking fellow that Nora had sent convinced Jane that it might be good for her to go to the Tunnels. So she did. Took quite a weight off her, I think. When she left, she looked like a new person; the baggage of the loss of her old home had gone.”

  “I’ve never heard anything like it,” said Amanda.

  “No dear, and hopefully you never will again. You know, since that happened, I make a point of making sure that everything I own is down in such a way that the same thing cannot happen to me. I’d advise you to do the same if you can. You never know otherwise. Anyway, enough about all that. Aren’t you here to ask me some questions?”

  “Yes, sure,” said Amanda a little disappointed. After her previous interviews, she was pretty sure that Caroline would have no real information on Brenden’s attack, but she supposed it was best to get the task over and done with.

  “My only real question is whether you have any information on Brenden’s attack; for example, whether you heard about or saw any other vampires about in the area around the time of the event.”

  “From your tone, I get the impression that you don’t think I’m going to have any information to give you.”

  “Am I wrong?”

  “Unfortunately, you’re quite right. I’d love to help you, but just like after the attack on Johann, I don’t think I can give you anything that could help track down the culprit.”

  “What did happen to Johann?”

  “Haven’t you already spoken to him?”

  “Yes, but it would be good to hear the story from someone else who was here at the time.”

  “You think there might be a link?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, from what I’ve heard, these investigations into attacks almost never end up with the perpetrators being caught. And I’ve so few leads that I might as well try and gather whatever information I can. It’s probably not going to lead anywhere anyway.”

  “Well, I’m not sure how much I can tell you. I think that the attack happened out on Old East Lane, near a number of out of use farmhouses that have, in the time since, been converted into a rather expensive looking home. In fact, I think it’s pretty much the only thing out there.”

  “Old East Lane, where is that?”

  “It’s on the other side of town, I can get you a map if you wish.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’m sure I’ll be able to find it. Thanks. Is there anything else you can tell me?”

  “Well, just that it was a savage attack. I remember our Mr Packard having a little moan about it all once; how uncivilised it all was and how it drew attention to the tow
n and to him, as if he’s the centre of everything.”

  Amanda laughed, as even though she had only met Packard once, she got the impression that Caroline’s description of the arrogance of the man was quite accurate. As the moment ended, she was disappointed to discover that the conversation appeared to have come to a natural end.

  “Well, unless there’s anything else that you can think of, I guess that’s all that I have to ask.”

  “I wish I could, but I don’t think there is. Tell you what, though, leave your number with me and, if anything crops up, I’ll give you a call.”

  “Great,” replied Amanda, immediately thinking of the call she had had from Mary only the day before. She retrieved her phone from her pocket and checked the time. There were still enough hours in the day; enough to go pay another visit to Balfour Lane.

  ***

  Amanda had hummed and hawed over whether to phone Mary before turning up at the vampire’s street. In the end, she came to the conclusion that though there was a small chance that Mary might not be at home and that she might just end up visiting the woman’s house for nothing, it was best not to contact her due to the reason that the woman may have changed her mind about wanting to provide Amanda with the information she claimed she had over the phone. Indeed, Mary had already had one change of heart in deciding to call Amanda back after having brushed her off so curtly only a couple of days before, meaning there was no reason why the woman would not just end up giving into her fear and altering her position again. So, after leaving Caroline’s behind, Amanda just jumped back in her Clio and headed straight over to Mary’s.

  Balfour Lane seemed as if it were abandoned when Amanda arrived as not only was there no one in sight, but it was also the case that almost all the windows of the houses around and most of the streetlamps were producing no light. As soon as Amanda stepped out of her car, it became apparent to her that the streetlights were out as someone had taken the time to throw stones at the lamps: the evidence was all around her in the form of broken glass and the pebbles - taken from a nearby drive - that were strewn across the pavement. All of this concerned Amanda that perhaps something had happened to Mary. As quickly as she could, she removed her phone from her pocket, turned on its torch and navigated her way around the glass on the street and up Mary’s drive.

  To Amanda’s relief, her knocking on Mary’s door drew an almost immediate response: the light came on in the hall. Just like on Amanda’s previous visit, a shadow then appeared in the door’s window.

  “Mary,” shouted Amanda, “Is that you? It’s me, Amanda, from the school. You gave me a call…”

  The door swung open to reveal Mary wearing a light blue dressing gown and a face that betrayed that she was both a little perplexed and annoyed by Amanda’s unannounced appearance at her door.

  “What do you think you are doing…” spluttered Mary, who did not go on as her words were interrupted by a loud crashing sound emanating from the back of the house.

  Fear froze Mary for the briefest of moments before she catapulted herself back down the hall towards the kitchen. So distracted was Mary by the noise, and whatever it meant to her, that she completely forgot about Amanda and her still open front door. With concern more than curiosity in mind, Amanda stepped into the hall, only to be greeted by the smell of cigarettes and the colours she associated with her own grandmother’s flat. After closing the front door behind her, with a steady step, Amanda made her way towards the kitchen door, which was gradually closing itself and which had already hidden Mary and whatever had happened in the kitchen from view.

  When she entered the kitchen, Amanda found Mary with alarm in her eyes and with her back to the door of another room that she assumed must have been at the very back of the house.

  “What’s happened?” asked Amanda.

  For a moment, Mary did not respond. Indeed, she had not even really noticed that Amanda had entered her kitchen and it was only after Amanda repeated the question that she came to recognise the presence of the school investigator.

  “What, oh nothing,” replied Mary, who was clearly more than a little bewildered.

  “Well, if it’s nothing…” said Amanda as she took a couple of steps forward.

  “No, stop!” cried Mary, who then pressed her back to the still shut door and curled her hand around its handle. “You can’t go in there. It’s just, the glass! It’s the children, those nasty kids from up the street!”

  “Sorry?”

  “Didn’t you see the glass on the pavement?” said Mary, who, as odd as it seemed to Amanda, visibly relaxed as soon as she said this. After a moment's pause, the hostile demeanour Amanda had come to expect from Mary returned; in a way, after the woman started, Amada was glad to discover that the discontent was not directed at her. “It’s those terrible children of that young Ms Sawyer at the end of the road. She doesn’t know what she’s doing and she’s got no control over the little brats. What’s the result of this for me? Well, the little fools have just gone and broken my bathroom window. So, I don’t want you going in there, there’s glass everywhere. If you were to get cut, well, I’m sorry to say that I just don’t have the blood to spare.”

  “Are you sure it was these children? Do you think they’re still there?” said Amanda going over to the window, only to look out into an impenetrable darkness.

  “No, no. They’ll be long gone. You know what they’re like. They’ll have run off as soon as they heard the sound of breaking glass. It doesn’t matter to them that they’ve left a mess behind, and a bill, as long as they have their fun.”

  “Don’t you think that you should say something to the parents? I mean, you can’t let the kids get away with this, they’ll just do it again.”

  “No, that would be a terrible mistake. That’s just the sort of thing that gets you caught! Someone would probably call the police, next thing you know they’re asking questions about me. Soon enough, I’d have to pack myself off to join poor old Jane South in the Tunnels. So, can’t you see! It’d be just all for the best if I just clear the mess away and forget about the whole thing.”

  “I can give you a hand clearing up if you want.”

  “No, please. I think it’ll just be best if you leave.”

  “What about what you said in the call?”

  “The call?” said Mary, looking a little confused and with her back still pressed against the door. “Oh yes, the call. Well, not now. Please, just come back tomorrow.”

  “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

  “No, I’m fine. Just let me deal with this mess and come back tomorrow.”

  After making it clear that she would return the next day, Amanda made to leave. All the while her unwanted guest remained in the kitchen, Mary continued her guard of her bathroom. It was only when she heard Amanda reach the front door that she relaxed. She then cautiously made her way to the end of the hall to ensure that the woman was indeed leaving the house and not taking the opportunity to snoop around.

  ***

  While nervously tapping her fingers on the top of the steering wheel, Amanda exhaled sharply through her teeth in frustration. While she knew that Mary was hiding something from her, she was also convinced that the woman would just turn her away if she were to return to the house and attempt to ask any questions. It also irked her that she just did not know what it was that Mary was hiding from her. The only thing she was fairly certain of was that it had not been a group of children who had caused the commotion at the back of the O’Hare residence. But if it were not a group of children, then who had broken the window or did whatever it was that caused the noise?

  What the hell could she be hiding in that bathroom? thought Amanda.

  Once again, the idea flared up in the back of her mind that perhaps, all this time, Mary was somehow involved with the man who had killed Brenden. This could, of course, explain why she had been so reluctant to let her in the first time she called. Perhaps this elusive vampire had some sort of hold over Mary, that he wa
s somehow keeping her a hostage in her own home, and that it was only when she was free enough to do so that she had called Amanda to try and get some help. This would all explain why she was so reluctant to talk, and why she had claimed she was afraid on the phone.

  But of course, that made no sense. If she were in need of help, why once Amanda was there would Mary have continued to attempt to keep the presence of the man a secret? Why would Mary not have just asked Amanda to take her away when they were both standing at the front door? When Mary heard the noise from the back of the house, she ran straight towards it, not away.

  As this thread of thought seemed to be leading her nowhere, Amanda gave it up and put her hand on the ignition key. Despite her intention to just go back to her hotel, the nagging part of her that usually told her to just get on with whatever task was at hand held her back from starting the car; instead, she pulled the key from the cylinder and got back out onto the street. She returned to the end of Mary’s darkened driveway and pulled out her phone to call the deputy. Though she was sure she was just being foolish, she wanted to inform someone of where she was.

  “You have reached deputy Martin Chester’s office,” came the familiar voice after the ringing tone had sounded several times. “I’m not here at the moment. Please leave a message.”

  “It’s Amanda,” she said, after hearing the bleep of the answering machine. “I’m at Mary O’Hare’s house. Seems like someone broke her back window just now. Something’s not quite right here. Call me back when you can.”

  Except for the dim light emanating from Mary’s kitchen, the house before Amanda seemed dead and still; nothing but a mix of dark greys below the orange sky glow of town’s light pollution. Amanda closed her eyes and focused on what she could hear around her: the rustle of her jacket, the sound of a bird in the distance, the low hum of a car on a nearby road. Although she knew that Mary was only a hundred or so feet from where she was standing and that some of the other homes around her where surely occupied, her senses suggested that the street around her was completely empty; that for all intents and purposes, she should feel quite alone. However, something in the pit of her stomach suggested that all was not quite how it seemed.