by Tara Moss
‘Oh, no, sweetheart, you did fine,’ Celia reassured me. ‘Like I said, the stakes are just to hold them while you do the decapitation. You’ll need an axe for that. The garlic part . . . oh, I think it’s overrated and unnecessary in most cases. I can’t stand the stuff.’
I had noticed.
‘The axe will do, I should think,’ Celia continued. ‘And don’t worry; once you’ve finished her off all that grisly mess will vaporise like magic. There won’t be a lot to clean up, I shouldn’t think.’
Like magic? Looking down at my clothes, I found that hard to believe.
‘Although, the silk dress may need a dry-clean,’ she added thoughtfully, bringing a fingertip to her chin.
So I have to cut off Athanasia’s head. And not so long ago she’d been cackling about having my head. Fantastic. What has my life become?
I dropped my blood-splattered satchel on the floor with a dejected thud, and tried to mentally prepare myself to head (ha, ha, ugh) downstairs to finish off the macabre business of killing a vampire.
‘What have you got in your satchel?’ Celia asked me cheerfully. I couldn’t believe she could change the subject so casually, especially when I was standing next to her drenched in blood.
‘Uh, the magazine,’ I replied. ‘It came out today.’
‘Let’s have a look then,’ she suggested.
In a bit of a daze, I leaned over, unclipped the satchel and pulled out the new issue of Pandora. I handed it to my great-aunt with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
There it was, my big story on the cover:
BLOODOFYOUTH: MIRACLE BEAUTY CREAM OR FRAUD?
The headline was bold across the stunning face of Athanasia – who was now dead in the lobby downstairs because I had staked her.
I sighed.
‘Oh dear,’ Celia said.
I’d already seen the issue. I already knew.
She was referring to the by-line, of course. An exposé by Pepper Smith. To Pepper’s, ahem, credit, she had told me she would take my notes and write her article, and she had done precisely that. She’d taken all the information I had gathered and written her own piece, and a watered-down one at that. It was a cover piece, and a real coup for the magazine. But it wasn’t my coup. In small letters, on the final page, it said: Additional research by Pandora English.
Gee, thanks. Additional research? Additional to what?
‘Don’t worry, darling. Your day will come,’ Celia said and handed the magazine back to me.
She spoke as if she had already known about the article. And she’d spoken as if she had already known that Athanasia would come after me, too, and that I would hold my own and do just fine. She’d known I would get the job at the magazine. If Celia knew all those things, perhaps that statement was one I could take to heart?
Your day will come.
‘This is just the beginning,’ she told me. ‘You know the industry will start questioning this product now, thanks to you. The FDA will doubtless re-evaluate it soon, and darling, when they discover the secret ingredient in BloodofYouth, well . . .’ She gave a small, wicked chuckle, clearly amused, and patted me on the arm in a more or less non-blood-soaked spot. ‘There will be hell to pay.’ Celia turned and made her way down the hallway, pulled open a closet door, leaned in and started searching for something.
‘Secret ingredient?’ I said.
‘Oh yes, darling,’ Celia replied casually. ‘And I don’t think the public will take it too well . . .’
I stood holding the magazine, marvelling at her calm. Was this why I’d had those strange feelings about the product? Because there really was some secret ingredient?
‘No false advertising there,’ Celia added cheerfully, and I frowned, confused.
And then my wise and beautiful Great-Aunt Celia walked over to me. She had something big in her hands. ‘Sweetheart, here’s the axe,’ she said, and handed it to me. ‘Have fun.’
I noticed that she was not offering to come downstairs with me. I was the one who had gone and upset a very nasty vampiric supermodel and then had to defend myself against her with a makeshift stake. This was my fight. I held the axe in both hands, and blinked. I was about to do something truly horrible.
Come on, Pandora.
‘Oh, and why don’t you take some rice with you, in case your friend has one of her moments?’ she suggested blithely, and handed me a small bag of plain white rice.
‘Good idea,’ I managed, and took the bag of rice.
With every grain of courage I possessed – and few grains of rice besides – I left the safety of Celia’s apartment and got into the tiny gothic elevator, carrying Celia’s axe and rice. I pressed the button for the ground floor. Truthfully, it was the last place I wanted to go.
The little lift fired up, and the doors rattled closed. Slowly, I began my descent. I watched the third floor go by. Samantha might be back there by now. Would it be traumatic for a Fledgling to stand around next to a staked vampire? I wasn’t sure. Samantha had a few issues (fangs, Fledgling blood thirst) but she was a nice girl. It seemed to me that not all vampires were bad. There was no sign of her as the landing passed and the old lift continued its descent. I bit my lip as I passed the second floor. Here, for the first time, I caught movement from the corner of my eye. By the time I did my double take there was nothing to see, and the elevator was slipping through the floor and into the lobby.
There sure was a sight waiting for me there.
‘No!’ I said aloud. I covered my face with my hand. ‘No . . .’
I stepped out of the elevator and observed the lobby through the laced fingers of my hand. This was bad. This was very, very bad.
Athanasia was gone.
I stared at the streaks of blood across the tiles, my worst fears realised. She wasn’t ‘resting’ anymore, was she? Someone had pulled the stake out of her back – or maybe she had done it herself? Was such a thing possible? In any event, I’d made a very powerful enemy. There was one seriously annoyed vampire supermodel after my blood. She’d already tried to kill me once. I had little doubt she’d have another go.
‘Why didn’t you stop her?’ I asked Samantha in frustration.
‘I couldn’t,’ Samantha said sheepishly, her arms crossed and her voice low. ‘She’s my mother now.’
I gaped. ‘She’s not your mother . . .’ Was Athanasia her mother? ‘But, Samantha, she killed you and then abandoned you!’
‘I guess she’s a bad mother,’ Samantha said quietly, and I felt so bad for her I didn’t have the heart to protest. ‘Anyway she didn’t really abandon me,’ she said defensively. ‘She lives downstairs.’
I gaped again. I hoped I hadn’t heard that right.
‘Well, downstairs from me,’ she corrected herself. ‘You know, on the second floor.’
The boarded-up second floor.
Any remaining blood drained from my face. Oh great. Athanasia had taken up residence here in Spektor, in Celia’s vampire-free-for-all building? But of course she had. She was a visiting vampire. That was why Samantha was here. Athanasia had taken her home, had her ‘meal’ and just left her. Perhaps she’d taken her clothes out of greed? Or perhaps they were already gone, for some sinister reason? Perhaps Athanasia hadn’t even intended on turning Samantha? Perhaps she was new enough to make a ‘child’ by accident? Perhaps she was only a Fledgling herself? Everything about this was bad.
I heard the elevator come to life. It moved up through its iron cage and disappeared above the lobby ceiling. Had Athanasia called it? I stood to the side of the lift door, gripping the axe in both hands. Samantha stole her way up the stairwell and crouched down, covering her eyes.
After several long minutes, the elevator reappeared through the iron lacework.
It held my Great-Aunt Celia. I breathed a sigh of relief and closed my eyes for a moment. The doors opened and she stepped out.
‘Oh, dear,’ she said on seeing the blood streaks across the tiles of the lobby. ‘’Tis a bit of a mess, hmm?’
I nodded.
‘Don’t worry, darling, you’ll get her another time.’
At seeing my elderly aunt in her ruined lobby, a wave of guilt rushed in on me. ‘I’ll clean this up, I promise, Great-Aunt Celia. And I’ll clean those cobwebs up.’ My mother may have denied my ‘gift’ but she raised me right, darn it.
‘You are a dear,’ she told me.
It was the least I could do.
Without another word, we stepped into the elevator together and Celia pressed the button for her floor. It was going to be a long, ugly night. I’d need rubber gloves, buckets, scrubbing brushes. Ugh.
‘I guess you’ll have to meet Deus after all,’ my great-aunt mused.
My eyes widened. I turned to her. ‘Deus?’
‘Yes. This is tricky, you see. Your purpose as the seventh; it looks like it may have already begun.’ The corners of her mouth turned down. She didn’t seem pleased.
The seventh? My purpose?
‘You are the seventh Lucasta, darling,’ she explained. ‘The seventh has a very special purpose. I’d hoped we’d have more time for you to settle in before all this began.’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I protested. ‘I’ve heard of the seventh son of a seventh son and all that, but I can’t see how that would—’
‘Oh, darling,’ she said, and patted my arm. ‘That seventh son stuff is child’s play. Boys! You are the seventh Lucasta daughter. Much more important.’
I was riveted by what I was being told, but then I saw something that stunned me so completely, I couldn’t think. We watched the second floor go by, and the second floor watched us – or, more specifically, me. Three women stood near the lift cage as we passed, each more beautiful than the next. They were slim, tall and dressed like fashion models, swathed in barely-there designer couture, despite the winter chill in the old building. One was blonde, one brunette and the other ginger-haired.
They all had fangs extending from beneath their lips.
My god!
I recoiled against the back of the lift and clenched my axe with white knuckles. ‘Did you see that? Did you see those women?’ I cried as the elevator slipped through the second floor ceiling and the nightmarish women disappeared from view. My heart was thumping wildly.
‘Oh yes,’ my great-aunt replied, unperturbed. ‘Athanasia’s friends are angry, I suspect. Quite unfair, mind. I mean she was the one who started it, wasn’t she? Of course, there was that article you ‘helped’ Pepper with, but that’s fair play . . .’
Athanasia’s friends!
‘She’ll take a few days to recover from her little staking,’ Celia said thoughtfully. ‘Those vampire supermodels are all the rage at the moment,’ she continued. ‘Makes them arrogant, if you ask me. In my day, we preferred a woman with curves. And we preferred them living.’ She sighed. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll call a meeting with Deus.’
Don’t worry?
I fell silent. The third floor passed. No seething Sanguine supermodels. No Samantha.
My wise great-aunt cast her eyes my way. ‘I guess that dress is ruined after all. Never mind . . .’
‘Miss Pandora?’
I woke, disoriented, at the sound of my name. The room was dark, and I was clearly not alone. I reached across the sheets and my fingers ran over something soft and warm. I was startled until I realised it was Freyja, curled into a ball asleep on my bedclothes. Funny kitty. My eyes flashed over the glowing hands of the bedside clock. It was very early, nearly seven. I rolled onto my back and propped myself up on my elbows. My door was open a crack, I noticed. That was how Freyja had snuck in. But there was a third presence in the room, and he didn’t need an open door to enter.
Luke.
As my eyes adjusted to the low light I saw that Lieutenant Luke was indeed standing near the wardrobe, resplendent in his officer’s uniform, the brass buttons shining. I was happy to see him, but I did have something to get off my chest.
‘Luke, I was wondering if we could, I don’t know, schedule our visits or something? So I know when to expect you?’ Not that he wasn’t pleasant to wake up to, but it was a bit creepy being watched while I slept.
‘I’m sorry,’ Lieutenant Luke said. ‘Because I do not exist in the physical world, I can’t read time,’ he explained.
Oh.
I rubbed my eyes. Luke, with his unchanging ‘physical’ appearance – the sandy hair long around the ears, that strong, chiselled jaw and those striking blue eyes – looked as appealing as ever, but his handsome face was tinged with sadness I noticed. A moment of panic pulled me out of my dreaminess. ‘Oh, Luke, I didn’t mean to insult you. Of course you can’t read time. Is everything okay?’
‘You didn’t call for me but . . . Miss Pandora, I just had to let you know before the sun comes up that I am sorry.’ His voice was full of regret. He bowed his head a little and such was his sorrow that he actually got down on one knee next to the bed. It was a touching, if old-fashioned, gesture. His cap was in his strong hands, and he gripped it with tension.
‘You’re sorry?’ I swung my legs out of bed, felt the cool floor beneath my feet, and cool air around my ankles. Freyja lifted her head, looked at me and then at Luke with her dazzling pink eyes, before snuggling back into the covers contentedly, evidently unfazed by my ghostly guest. Was that right? Could she see Luke? Though I was only in my white nightie and not exactly dressed for visitors, I got up and stood next to the bed. It seemed awkward and perhaps rude to remain in bed during a visit – of any kind.
Luke got to his feet. ‘Will you accept my apology?’
‘Luke, what are you sorry for?’ I asked.
‘Miss Pandora, I deeply regret what happened this evening. I should have assisted you when you were in danger, but—’
‘Oh, Luke. It’s okay. I understand.’ Well, actually, I didn’t understand at all, but I did know that he would have helped me if he could have. That much was clear.
‘That lady hexed me in some way. It was a very strange happening,’ he continued.
I let out a little snort. Calling Athanasia a ‘lady’ was probably being more polite than was necessary.
‘What? Did I speak oddly?’ he replied.
‘No, not at all.’ I shook my head and moved a step closer. His nearness made my skin come over in goose pimples for a moment, and I felt my cheeks grow warm. ‘Luke, I’ve heard that vampires can hypnotise people,’ I managed to say, to make him feel better. I’d heard a lot of things about vampires that weren’t true, of course, but that wasn’t the point. Nor was it important to think about how Luke might not really be described as a person.
Luke nodded in response, and then frowned. ‘I should have protected you. I have disappointed you.’
‘No, Luke. It’s not your fault,’ I said, and brushed my hand across his arm. It felt cool and misty, and now the goose pimples rose up all over my body. It was an oddly pleasant sensation, and I found my gaze wandering over his clothed form – the strange ‘realness’ of it. He had almost a hyperreal quality when he was like this. I looked up into his blue eyes and saw that we were closer than I’d thought. Our gaze locked. I don’t know how long we stood that way, with my body covered in goose pimples, our lips only inches apart.
‘I should leave you now, Miss Pandora,’ he said. ‘I hope you will call for me.’
And then he vanished from my room just as the first rays of sunlight began to filter in.
I know it’s wrong to wish for the demise of another being just so I won’t have to clean up their blood. Still, I found myself wishing Athanasia’s blood had vanished ‘like magic’, as it supposedly would have had I finished the grisly task of offing her.
Maybe I am not as nice a person as I thought?
Cleaning Celia’s entryway was most unpleasant. Being daytime, Celia was nowhere to be found. Not even Samantha had been able to help clean it the night before, because of her reaction to the blood. Sure, she had wanted to help, but the blood made her a little crazy and she�
�d had to keep her distance. On Celia’s advice, I’d waited till morning to start cleaning on my own, though that meant I’d have no help, and by then the blood had dried adamantine on the tiles and hardened in every minute crevice.
It took me an hour to clean and scrub the floor to my satisfaction. I’d also cleaned up some of the cobwebs and dust, as I’d promised I would, and in the end I’d felt utterly drained both physically and emotionally. Celia had assured me that I was totally safe from Athanasia and her fanged friends in the daytime, as vamps can only walk by night and are cursed to sleep while the sun is out, or some such thing, but I’d still felt the edge of fear every moment I’d been down there. Besides, from time to time I thought I heard something move beneath the floor.
I was freaked out and exhausted now. The entryway, at least, shone.
Soon it would be time for me to get ready for my date with Jay, though to be honest I felt somewhat less enthusiastic about it than I had when I’d accepted his invitation. I felt bone tired, for one thing, and I hadn’t fully recovered from my ordeal the night before. Nor could I tell my date about what had happened right after we’d kissed goodnight. (Imagine how that conversation would go!)
Also, I felt close to Luke after his last visit, even closer than I had before, and it felt somehow like a betrayal to go on a date with someone else. That wasn’t fair, of course, considering most people would not regard Luke as even real, but still, it was there pressing at my heart.
He was ever more real to me.
I took a nap and bathed, and when the time came I emerged in the stunning red dress I’d worn to the launch of BloodofYouth.
Celia was waiting for me in the lounge room.
‘Ta-da,’ I said.
My great-aunt frowned and shook her head gently.
‘What’s wrong? I thought you said this dress looked good?’ I protested. ‘Jay likes it.’
‘Darling, it does look wonderful on you, but you wore it very recently to an event where you spent time with the same man. And there was a red carpet, was there not?’