Sleeping Angel (Ravenwood Series)

by Mia James

  ‘Is it something to do with you?’ said the woman. ‘I take it you didn’t notice the door? Take a look.’

  April opened the front door and gasped. There were deep gouges in the wood, as if a massive vicious animal had been trying to claw its way in. Scored into the frame were the words “witch” and “traitor”. She felt sick as the image of her father’s grave flashed into her mind.

  ‘I cleaned the rest off,’ said Jessica, as April stepped back inside and Jessica bolted the door behind her.

  ‘The rest?’

  ‘Blood. They’d smeared it on the step, the windows too. Similar words. Same sentiment, anyway.’

  ‘But who did it?’

  ‘Why don’t you tell me, April?’ she snapped. ‘You seem to be right at the centre of all this.’

  April began to object, but then stopped herself. It was true wasn’t it? ‘How can you leave, though?’ she said, ‘You can’t let them scare you away.’

  ‘Do you really think it’s that simple, April? Do you?’

  ‘Yes, I do! We have to fight back, Jessica. We can’t give in. I know you must be frightened, but it’s only a door.’

  ‘Only a door?’ muttered Jessica in a low voice. She grabbed April’s arm and pulled her across the shop, bumping into boxes and scattering books as she went.

  ‘That’s not just a door,’ she said, pushing April through a doorway into a small kitchen area. April let out a moan. There was a cat lying on the sink. Or rather, it had been a cat. Now, virtually torn in half, its entrails were spilling out like spaghetti, its grey fur stiff with blood, jaws open as if in a scream. And around its neck was a collar, one April had seen somewhere before.

  ‘Is that ...?’ said April, her hand over her mouth.

  ‘Recognise it?’ said Jessica. ‘I think we’re supposed to, April.’

  It was Jasper, Miss Holden’s Siamese cat, the one which April had stroked and petted while they had been cooking up the Dragon’s Breath. If the animal tongue had been a subtle – or not so subtle – hint, there was no doubt in this message. ‘Keep helping April Dunne and you will get exactly what Annabel Holden got.’

  Jessica turned and marched back to the front of the shop, angrily grabbing books and shoving them into cartons.

  ‘I know it’s horrible,’ said April, following her, ‘But do you really have to run away?’

  Jessica slammed a book down. ‘I’m not running away, April!’ she shouted. ‘You’re so naïve! Can’t you see that this is bigger than you and your father’s ham-fisted attempts to write a newspaper story?’

  April shook her head.

  ‘This is war, April, war! Not some stupid schoolgirl game creeping around in the bushes. Everything is at stake here, not just your bloody boyfriend.’

  ‘If it’s all so important, why are you going?’

  ‘I don’t have any choice. The vampires are coming for me.’

  ‘Look, I’m so sorry I brought all this down on you, but ...’

  Jessica laughed – a hollow, bitter laugh. ‘Not everything is about you, April. Don’t you see? I am a catalyst; not just a vampire.’

  April frowned. ‘You mean the witches?’

  ‘Finally, she gets it!’ said Jessica, throwing up her arms. ‘Yes, I mean the witches. The witches took me in, they helped me control my hunger, adopted me as one of their own. As far as the coven is concerned, I am a witch. So if the vampires kill me, the witches will have no choice but to retaliate, and they will be drawn into the war. That is what whoever sent this message wants.’

  April felt a an unexpected flash of hope. Maybe her little gang weren’t so alone after all, not if Jessica’s coven were prepared to stand up to the vampires too. She imagined fighting side by side with an army of witches equipped with powerful spells and potions – if they could make elixirs like the Dragon’s Breath, then there was no telling what else they could do. At the very least, they could make the vampires think twice, slow them up.

  ‘But that’s great,’ said April. ‘I mean, we can take them on together.’

  ‘No!’ yelled Jessica, ‘I am leaving the shop and I am leaving the witches and I am getting as far away from here as I can. I won’t have people I care about put in danger because of you, April. ’

  ‘Look, I’m sorry that you feel you have to go, but…’

  ‘You’re sorry? Is that it?’ said Jessica, narrowing her eyes. ‘You’re sorry? I have to leave the protection of the only people who ever cared about me. Because of you, I have put them in terrible danger. And you’re sorry.’

  Gabriel is in danger too, Jessica,’ said April desperately. ‘He certainly cared about you once. I thought you cared about him too.’

  ‘I do. I did. But ...’

  ‘No, Jessica,’ said April fiercely, ‘Either you care about him or you don’t. He needs help, he’s having more and more of the dreams – he’s convinced that the killer he sees in these nightmares is him. He thinks he’s remembering some horrible slaughter from his past.’

  ‘Maybe not just his past,’ said Jessica.

  ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ said April, ‘What do you know about this, Jessica? Why can’t you just tell me the truth?’

  Jessica closed her eyes and turned away.

  ‘Christ!’ shouted April, sweeping a pile of books off a stool. ‘It’s like you’re all playing some stupid game! Everyone I speak to says “Ooh April, you wouldn’t understand”, “Ooh April, if I told you the truth it’d blow your mind!” – like I’m too stupid to grasp the rules of your secret little club. Maybe the truth is you don’t want your little cold war to come to an end because then you’d have to stop pretending you’re all so important.’

  Jessica glared at her. ‘You want to know what’s eating Gabriel?’ she said, walking over to a box and pulling out a book. ‘Here, read this.’

  She shoved the book into April’s hands. It was a hardback with a picture of a spooky Dickensian back-street under the title: The Ripper’s East End.

  ‘Here’s another one. Take it – they’re no use to me anymore.’ Jessica held out a paperback. ‘And this one; you’ll like this one too.’

  Jessica was throwing books at her now and April had to duck to avoid them.

  April looked down at the book she had managed to catch: Jack The Ripper: The Face Behind The Cloak.

  ‘What are you trying to tell me? That Gabriel was Jack the Ripper?’

  ‘Work it out for yourself, April!’ she shouted. ‘I think I’ve wasted enough time on you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have my own mess to clean up.’

  April stood in the doorway, wondering what had just happened, what had made her anger this woman, wishing she could turn back the clock and start again. But she couldn’t, could she?

  April turned and held up the book. ‘I’m not going to like it, am I?’ she said.

  The anger on Jessica’s face faded, replaced by what looked like sadness. ‘That’s the trouble with the truth, April. Everyone thinks they want it, but no one is ever prepared when it comes.’

  April stood in the street, just breathing in the night air. Funny how quiet it could be right in the heart of London, she thought. But then, if you listened hard enough you could always hear it: the low hum of traffic, of chatter, of life. It was always there.

  Maybe it was the same with secrets, thought April, glancing down at the book with its artist’s impression of the Ripper in his clichéd top hat and cloak. Maybe they just sit there waiting for you to find them. And maybe it would be better not to. She walked from the shop, remembering the claw-marks in the woodwork. She didn’t want to wait around for the modern equivalent of Jack the Ripper, whoever that might be. Gabriel? She almost laughed. Okay, so he was a vampire and he was certainly capable of violence – she had seen that tonight – but Gabriel was fundamentally... gentle – that was the word. Decent, too. And sensitive, so very sensitive, that the doubts filling his mind were literally tearing him apart.

  April opened her bag and pulled out her phon
e, scrolling to Gabriel’s number.

  She wasn’t surprised when it went straight to voicemail. ‘Hi, it’s me,’ she said after the beep. ‘I’m sorry for whatever I said. Just give me a call, okay? I love you.’

  Then she scrolled straight to Fiona’s number and pressed call. ‘Pick up, Fee, pick up,’ she whispered.

  ‘Hey, beautiful.’ Fiona sounded groggy and a bit muffled.

  ‘I didn’t wake you, did I?’

  ‘Little bit. I must have dozed off.’

  ‘Sorry, honey, just needed to hear your voice. Things have got a bit strange.’

  Instantly Fiona’s voice was more alert. ‘What’s up? Where are you?’

  ‘Cov Garden, just walking home, but it’s a bit spooky right now.’

  She quickly filled Fiona in on the events at the party.

  ‘Bummer. So where’s your knight in shining armour?’

  ‘He ran off.’

  ‘Oh. Not good. Lover’s tiff?’

  ‘No, more like he’s ...’ April was turning into her grandfather’s road now. The terrace was lit by those old-style gas-lamp streetlights the tourists so loved – and there was a man standing there, right in front of Grampa Thomas’s house.

  ‘April?’ said Fiona, ‘What’s going on? Have you seen something?’

  ‘There’s some bloke waiting outside Gramps’ place,’ whispered April, pulling back behind a wall.

  ‘Who? Gabriel?’ asked Fiona.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Her grandfather’s house was surrounded by black iron railings and there was a tall gate you had to open to get to the front door. She squinted, trying to see in the darkness. The man seemed to be standing at the gate, peering through the bars.

  What the hell was he doing?

  She took a few steps forward. ‘Gabriel?’ she called softly, her phone still to her ear.

  ‘You’re not going over there,’ said Fiona. ‘April, do not go over there. I forbid it!’

  But April was already crossing the road. She could now see that the man was holding onto the bars high up, either shaking them or preparing to climb over. Had Gabriel come to find her?

  ‘Gabriel?’ she repeated, ‘Is that you?’

  But now she could see it wasn’t him – not tall enough, wrong hair. And the man didn’t turn as she approached.

  ‘Hello? What are you doing? Excuse me?’ April was only two paces away now. She reached out to touch the man on the shoulder – and the gate swung inwards.

  It was then April screamed. Because now she could see. His hands were impaled on the spikes at the top of the gate, a dark bloody hole gouged in his neck. Blood was forming a puddle at his feet. And she recognised him – Calvin, the boy from the party.

  April screamed again.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘Look, Mr Reece, I don’t know where he is. I wish I did.’

  April pushed her hair out of her face and looked up at the policeman. This seems familiar, she thought. Her grandfather’s front room was a new venue, but the setup was the same: tepid tea in front of her, policeman asking questions. Another murder.

  Another murder. And no ordinary murder either. Her mind flashed back to the previous night, the snapshot frozen in the streetlight, that boy left hanging on the gate – left there, for her to see, blood pooling around her party shoes.

  ‘All right,’ said Detective Inspector Reece, pushing himself up from his chair and walking over to the window. ‘Let’s go back to the party. You say Gabriel and this boy Calvin had a bit of a fight – some pushing and shoving – is that how you’d describe it?’

  ‘Well ... Calvin was threatening me and Gabriel tried to protect me – give Calvin a bit of a scare, so he’d back off.’

  Reece sighed. ‘But April, I have a dozen witnesses who say that Gabriel threw Calvin to the ground, then proceeded to try to drown him. They thought Gabriel meant to go through with it.’

  ‘He’d never have taken it that far ...’

  ‘April,’ said Reece, turning to face her, ‘Stop lying to me. I’m starting to get very tired of it.’

  April started to object, but then thought better of it. She had never seen DI Reece angry like this.

  ‘I think I’ve been very tolerant of you and your friends, April,’ he continued. ‘Especially after your father died – I could see how hard you were taking it, so I was prepared to cut you some slack.’

  ‘Listen, Mr Reece—’

  ‘No, April, you listen!’ he said sharply. ‘I am sick of you taking advantage of my good nature. I have protected you, I have given you information I shouldn’t have – and I’ve always tried my best to be straight with you. But it’s a one-way street, isn’t it? You haven’t got the decency to cooperate and give me a straight answer.’

  April was taken aback. Mr Reece had always been so gentle and understanding with her; clearly this had pushed him over the edge. And she could hardly be surprised – April had spent the entire time she had known him telling him half truths, obscuring the facts and, yes, lying to his face. It was less than he deserved, much less.

  ‘All right,’ she said quietly. ‘What do you want to know? Ask me anything you like, and I promise I will tell you all I know.’

  Reece looked at her, his eyebrows raised.

  ‘Seriously, Mr Reece, I’ll tell you everything. But I can’t guarantee you’re going to like what you hear.’

  Reece pouted doubtfully, then nodded. ‘Okay, let’s start from the top. Did Gabriel kill Calvin Temple?’

  ‘No,’ said April. ‘He was with me till shortly before I found Calvin.’

  ‘But you don’t know for sure.’

  April looked down at her tea cup. ‘Honestly? No.’

  ‘Do think Gabriel is capable of killing?’

  April looked up at him. ‘I think everyone is capable of killing, given the right circumstances. Isn’t that what people say?’

  ‘No, April,’ said Reece impatiently, ‘They do not. I happen to know a bit about this subject, so I’d ask you not to be so flippant. This was not some boys’ scuffle, however much you might like to portray it as such. This was a cold-blooded, vicious murder carried out by somebody pretty bloody unbalanced, in my professional opinion.’ He paused. ‘Okay, next question: if Gabriel didn’t kill Calvin, do you have any idea who might have done?’

  ‘I don’t know. Honestly, I would tell you if I did.’

  Reece shook his head with some exasperation. ‘This new open policy of yours doesn’t seem to be bearing much fruit, does it?’

  ‘I’m sorry Mr Reece. I just don’t know.’

  ‘Maybe you know the answer to this one: why you? Why was Calvin left hanging on your grandfather’s gate? If it was just a fight in the street that got out of hand, we would have found him where he fell, but this was clearly pre-meditated, deliberate. Why leave him for you to find?’

  April swallowed. Did he really want to hear the truth? Having promised to tell the truth, did she now have any choice?

  ‘I think it was a message.’

  Reece frowned. ‘A message? What sort of message?’

  ‘Someone’s trying to scare me, showing they can get to me any time they like.’

  ‘But who? Who would send such a message?’

  She closed her eyes. ‘The vampires,’ she said quietly.

  ‘The vampires,’ he repeated. ‘You’re telling me that a vampire did this.’

  April looked at him. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh Jesus Christ, April!’ Reece yelled, making April jerk backwards in surprise. ‘Is that the best you can do? I ask you to be honest with me – after all I’ve done for you – and that’s what you give me? Vampires?’

  ‘Mr Reece, I’ve wanted to tell you all along. I just didn’t think ...’

  ‘Maybe you didn’t think I’d believe you? Is that what you were going to say? Well, guess what – I don’t. Forgive me, April, but I really don’t think I can take that one to the Crown Prosecution Service with much hope of starting a prosecution. He banged his
hand against the window frame in frustration. ‘And I suppose you want me to believe that Isabelle, Layla and Benjamin were all killed by Dracula and his pals, too?’

  ‘No, Benjamin was a vampire himself,’ muttered April, looking down at her hands.

  ‘What was that?’ said Reece, bending over and cupping his hand behind his ear. ‘Because I don’t think I heard it properly. Are you telling me that Benjamin Osbourne killed Annabel Holden because he wanted to drink her blood?’

  He turned his face towards the ceiling and barked out an ironic laugh. ‘And there I was thinking we had built up some sort of relationship, April. I thought there was some sort of mutual respect between us. Stupid of me really, wasn’t it? All along, you’ve just been taking the mickey, haven’t you?’

  ‘No, Mr Reece, honestly. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.’

  ‘I’d have to agree with you on that one, April.’

  Just then there was a gentle knock on the door and Stanton appeared, clearing his throat. ‘Sorry to interrupt, sir. Telephone call for you – said it was urgent.’

  Reece sighed deeply, then nodded wearily. ‘Wait here,’ he said pointing at April as he followed Stanton out, ‘I haven’t finished with you. Not by a long chalk.’

  April slumped forward, her head in her hands. ‘What have you done now, April?’ she moaned to herself. ‘Stupid, so very, very stupid.’

  She couldn’t blame the policeman for his reaction, not one little bit. What had she expected him to do? Say “Really? Vampires? Of course! It’s the breakthrough I’ve been waiting for. Now the whole case makes sense.” Why had she been so naive? All she had done was to undermine her relationship with the policeman, alienating one of the few people she had been able to rely on. And for what? So she could feel better about herself because she had told the truth for once. Well, she didn’t feel better, she felt sick.

  Reece walked back in. ‘I have some good news and some bad news. The good news – from your point of view, anyway – is that we have CCTV footage from Covent Garden tube station. Seems Gabriel left you and shot off in the opposite direction. There’s no evidence he went anywhere near this house.’