Ellie’s self-satisfied face drops to the floor.
Thirty-seconds pass. Still no answer.
“Just have a guess,” Sean says. “It’s only a game.”
Ignoring him, she clenches her fists and stares off into the corner of the room, clearly hoping the answer will just pop up.
Neil puts the soaked baking tray down on the sink drainer, wipes his hands with the tea towel, walks past Ellie, and whispers: “South America.”
The table erupts with a murmur of disapproval.
“We heard that Neil,” Rose says. “No cheating.”
“What are you talking about?” he asks with an actual smile on his face. Bloody hell, I didn’t know he had teeth!
“Ummm, I think I remember this from school,” Ellie says. “Is the answer: South America?”
Everyone laughs.
Even Neil.
Miracles can happen.
“Hey, Neil,” I ask, pulling out the empty chair next to me, “why don’t you have a game with us?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t. My shift’s about to start.”
“Oh, come on, Dad,” Ellie pleads. “Just a little while. It’s not dark yet.”
Neil glances at the window, the sun still lighting up the kitchen.
Ellie grabs his hand. “Please?”
“Go on, Neil,” Sean says. “One game.”
Neil falls silent. Is he thinking about it?
Please play with us. Have a little fun for Christ’s sake. I want to see those pearly whites again.
He checks his watch, then the window, and then sits next to Sean. “One quick game and that’s it.”
Everybody claps.
“How about we make it interesting?” Sean suggests.
“No gambling,” Neil says.
“No. I’m meant, how about two teams? Boys verses girls.”
Neil grabs a bottle of beer from the centre of the table, pops the cap off, and then smiles for the second time in his life. “Now we’re talking.” He turns to Ellie. “You’re going down, little lady.”
“I don’t think so.” Elle picks up her Polaroid camera and holds it up to her eye. “How about a photo of all the boys? We can stick it up on the fridge to remember how badly you all lost tonight.”
“Fine with us,” Ethan says, sure of himself, huddling up tight to Sean and Neil. “We’ll be the one’s laughing when we kick your butts.”
“Say: losers.” Ellie pushes the button on the camera, and the flash lights up the table, just as Rose leans in front of Neil, poking her tongue out.
“LOSERS!”
Part V
SEAN RICHARDS
22
There’s a massive cobweb stretching from the workbench to the steering wheel. I karate-chop it, wipe it on my jeans, and stare at the ride-on lawnmower in awe.
This takes me back to Solace Park in the spring. I used to watch the council workers ride their mowers across the grass. I was so jealous. It must have been like driving a go-kart for a living.
Imagine that!
I pull down the handbrake and push it out of the shed.
As the morning sun blinds me, I hop onto the seat, twist the key in the ignition, and the engine comes to life with a rattle. There’s a strange mixture of nerves and excitement as the mower vibrates my entire body, forcing me to tighten my grip on the steering wheel. But I’m ready. Ready to take on this gigantic field. I press my foot on the pedal—and I’m away.
Instantly, the grass-cuttings spray out of the back, dusting the field like green snow. Dad’s lawnmower had a box at the back for collecting the cuttings, but our garden was tiny. You could trim it in about five minutes, easily. Only Dad ever bothered with the garden. Stuff like that never interested me. Time spent landscaping was time away from playing video games and dreaming about Freya. Jesus, it feels like an eternity’s passed since then. Now I can see what Mum got out of keeping the house clean, and Dad got out of maintenance. There’s something satisfying about doing things for yourself. It makes you feel like you’re not useless or lazy. You can actually survive when you need to. It’s taken the apocalypse for me to see it, but it’s better late than never.
Bloody hell, if they saw me right now, taking great pleasure in mowing a field, they’d have a fit.
I smile.
It feels good—and strange—to think about them and not get upset. That morning, lying there on the hospital bed, my head spinning with anger, with grief, I thought I’d never feel anything else. I thought I wasn’t allowed to. A lifetime of hatred. A lifetime of tears. Just a future of pain and suffering ahead.
That’s not what they’d want for me.
Not in a million years.
It takes me about an hour to cut the area surrounding the house, front and back. The field is too big to go too far down, so Ethan told me not to cut any further than the apple trees. It’ll take forever and we need to conserve the fuel. But the grass is so long around the first row of trees, and there’s plenty of room between them to manoeuvre. One quick ride through shouldn’t make much of a difference. After all, it is my first time.
Fallen apples get churned up and spat out as I circle the first tree, being careful not to hit the trunk. By the time I reach the third tree, I’ve mastered the art of whizzing in and out, around and through each one, tearing up more and more apples.
So satisfying.
Beyond the apple trees, there’s a patch of grass before the next clump of trees. I shouldn’t cut it, but the grass is so long, maybe a metre high, and I’m already a full-blown addict. I can’t help it. One ride on this baby and I’m hooked.
Ethan and Neil will have to drag me kicking and screaming from the seat.
I move forward and that wonderful sputtering sound of minced grass and apple leaves the back. Two minutes pass, then another. At the ten-minute mark, I notice the fuel gauge. Shit! There’s hardly enough left in the tank to get back to the shed. Neil really will kill me this time. But what’s worse: he’ll ban me from using the mower again.
I’ve gone power mad!
Just another few metres left before the next set of trees, then I’m really done. If I run out of petrol, I can always—
“Oh, fuck!” I shriek, slamming my foot hard on the brake.
The lawnmower slams to a halt, the force throwing my chest into the steering wheel.
Heart racing, I leap off the seat and race over to the woman. She’s lying, motionless, just inches from the front wheels. I kneel beside her and check her neck for a pulse.
She’s alive.
“Hello?” I say, gently shaking her shoulders. “Can you hear me?”
And that’s when I notice the swell in her stomach.
She’s pregnant.
Part VI
FREYA LAWSON
23
Like nearly every morning since we got here, the sun blinds me the moment I open my eyes. I fling the quilt over my face as a shield, and then reach over to Sean’s side of the sofa-bed. An empty space. Squinting, I retract my head and face the light. The clock on the wall reads: 7:37 a.m. It’s still early.
Where the hell is he?
And then it comes to me. Today is grass-cutting day. Sean wouldn’t miss that for the world.
With a loud, arm-stretching yawn, I climb out of bed, ready to face another day of cleaning, gardening, and watching TV.
Is this what retirement feels like?
At the sink, I give my face a swill, scrub my teeth, and brush my hair. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are looking a little puffy. Maybe I should give myself another couple of hours. Tonight is our third stint at the night-shift and it’s starting to show. Although, I shouldn’t complain. At least Neil went with Sean’s suggestion for us to watch the house in twos. And so far, it’s going well. No one’s died. No one’s fallen asleep. And more importantly, we’ve had no vampire attacks. But it’s still the most mind-numbingly boring job in history. How shop security guards don’t die of boredom, I’ll never know.
I grab my red top from the chair, slip it on, and then search the floor for my jeans. We’ve only been up here a few weeks and already the room is a mess. The first week, the place was spotless. Make a good impression or make a sharp exit. But now, there are stray socks scattered around the place, mainly mine, a plate and two empty mugs by the side of the bed, and there’s dried toothpaste on the sink and taps.
That’s complacency for you.
I notice my jeans in a ball between the box of old records and the chair. Reaching down to get it, the sound of arguing reaches my ear. It’s coming from downstairs.
I slide my jeans on and climb down the attic steps. As soon as I’m on the landing, another angry sentence hits me, the voice clearly belonging to Neil. What the hell is going on down there? Rose’s bedroom door is ajar. Her face appears in the gap. Before I can ask her to fill me in on the drama, she quietly closes the door. Confused, I float outside the room for a moment, tempted to knock on it. But what if she’s pissed off with me about something? What if Sean and I have outstayed our welcome?
No, that’s ridiculous. We’ve been getting along with everyone. Even Neil.
I make my way downstairs.
“Be quiet,” I hear Ethan say, his voice low. “She’ll hear you.”
“I don’t give a shit,” I hear Neil reply, his quiet words much sharper. “I want her out of this house right now.”
I burst into the living room, seething, ready to defend myself. “If you want me to go, then just say it to my face!”
Ethan shushes me as he sits at the kitchen table, opposite to Sean.
“Don’t shush me!” I snap, glaring at Neil as he leans against the fridge. “I can hear you all talking about me.”
“Frey, we’re not talking about you,” Sean says, and points up at the staircase. “I found a woman passed out by the trees.”
“Oh, my God!” I say. “What happened to her?”
“I don’t know. She’s upstairs with Rose. I think she’s been attacked.”
Neil snorts. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Calm down, Neil,” Ethan cuts in. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” Neil asks with a fake laugh. “The woman’s pregnant for fuck’s sake.”
I glance up at the ceiling. “Pregnant?”
Neil nods. “Yeah. Very pregnant.”
“So, what was I supposed to do, Neil?” Sean barks. “Leave her out there? Mowed over her?”
“I don’t give a shit what happens to her,” he replies. “That woman is not staying under the same roof as Ellie.”
“She may not want to stay here,” Ethan adds. “For all you know, she’s just passing through. She probably has family out there somewhere.”
“If anything,” Sean says, “we should be getting her to the hospital.”
“What hospital?” Neil asks. “There aren’t any for miles. I say we get her to the nearest police station. Let the HCA deal with her.”
I shake my head in disgust. “No chance! You’re not letting those animals near her! They’ll take her baby, and then throw her in jail!”
“So, what?” Neil asks. “That’s what the HCA are for.” He looks at Sean. “Isn’t that right?”
Sean doesn’t answer.
“Look, Neil,” I say as calmly as I can, “something’s happened to her, and we need to help her. Being pregnant shouldn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters! In a few weeks, that thing will be born—and then we’ll have a blood-sucking vampire in our house!”
“Even if she does stay with us,” I say, “that doesn’t mean we’re not safe.”
“What the hell are you talking about? It’s a vampire. Of course we won’t be safe.”
“Not if we look after it properly.”
Neil laughs in disbelief. “You’re an idiot. Vampire’s can’t be tamed. They can’t be reasoned with. They’re monsters. My wife made that mistake. She let a shark into our house, and—surprise, surprise—it killed her. Do you really think I’d allow that to happen to Ellie? Or any of us? Do you?”
“They’re not all monsters. They can be tamed.”
“And how the hell would you know?”
“Because my brother is a vampire!” I blurt out, without any control whatsoever.
Oh, shit.
What have you done, Freya?
Sean’s skin turns pale. Ethan’s jaw drops with astonishment.
You’ve fucked up yet again.
“You have a vampire brother?” Neil asks with a bulging stare.
I brace, unable to retract the announcement. “Yes. His name is Ben. And I love him. And he loves me, too.”
“Then why didn’t you tell us?” he asks, taking a step towards me. “Why the fuck did you lie?”
Sean springs up from his chair. “Why don’t we all just calm down. This is getting out of hand.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Neil snaps, taking another step closer. “This is my home and I’ll—”
“No,” Rose says from the stairs, “this is my home. So, why don’t you all keep your mouths zipped?”
With burning red checks, Neil backs off silently and his eyes drop to the floor.
“That’s more like it.” Rose taps me on the arm. “Freya. Would you come upstairs with me, please?”
“Why?” Neil fires at her.
Rose shoots back a wicked glare. “Because our visitor is awake.”
24
The young woman is sitting up on Rose’s bed, specks of dirt and small bloodied scratches on her face, and her brown hair is matted, resting on her grass-stained top.
“How are you feeling?” Rose asks softly as she sits on the edge of the bed.
The woman doesn’t answer, clearly still shaken up, disorientated.
“I’m Rose.” She motions over to me as I hover by the door, my stare on the bulge of her abdomen. The sight whisks me back to Mum when she was pregnant with Ben. “And this is Freya.”
“Hello,” I say, noticing the thick veins on the woman’s neck.
Full of blood. Ready for feeding.
“What’s your name, my lovely?” Rose asks.
The woman’s bottom lip quivers, her green, bloodshot eyes welling up.
Rose hands the woman a tissue. “Don’t cry, sweetie. You’re safe now. Nothing bad is going to happen.”
The woman tries to speak, but her words are muffled.
“What was that?” Rose asks.
With her hand over her stomach, the woman takes a breath.
“Take your time,” Rose says. “There’s no rush.”
There’s a glass of water on the bedside cabinet. “Here,” I say delicately as I pass it over to her. With a trembling hand, she takes the drink and swallows it in two gulps.
“They killed him,” the woman says, struggling to contain her anguish. “They ripped my husband to pieces.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say, sitting next to Rose. “Vampires?”
She nods.
“We ran out of petrol, so we had to walk.” Another surge of tears floods from her eyes. “There were so many of them. They keep coming, and coming...”
“That’s awful,” Rose says with tears of her own.
Sniffing, the woman sets the glass down on the bedside table, and wipes her eyes with her sleeve. “I thought they were going to kill me, too.” She pauses. “But they let me go.”
“Let you go?” I ask, confused.
With scuffed up hands, and dirty fingernails, the woman strokes her swollen belly. “Because of the baby.”
For a moment, the room falls silent as we stare at her unborn baby. In my head, I see its tiny features. Eyes closed. A ball of blue skin. Vulnerable. Desperate for its mother’s love. Protection.
“What’s your name, my lovely?” Rose asks once again.
Through the woman’s turmoil, a thin, quaking smile of gratitude tries to breaks through. “It’s Hannah.”
“Hello, Hannah.” Rose reaches over the b
ed and takes her hand. “You and your baby are welcome to stay here as long as you need.”
“Thank you,” she says.
There’s a tiny judder of movement coming from her stomach. She’s getting close. A month, perhaps. The memory of Ben’s horrifying birth fills my mind. So shocking. So unexpected. But through the madness, through the pain, comes life. And vampire or not, it’s a still baby. It’s still family.
And family is everything.
25
The sound of my toast popping shocks me out of a trance.
I place the two slices on a plate and butter them. The kitchen is deserted. Neil is outside somewhere, probably avoiding the house, and everyone else is still asleep.
I touch the side of the coffee jug. It’s still warm, so I pour myself another cup, hoping to rinse off this exhaustion. There was barely a minute that passed last night that I didn’t think about Hannah. Imagining how she must have felt witnessing her husband getting murdered like that.
It’s unsettling.
Sometimes I wonder if Ben is capable of something that brutal, but then I remind myself that, like all of us, vampire or not, there are always good and bad. It’s nature and nurture, and it always will be.
Should I have kept my mouth shut about Ben? Neil’s not exactly the easiest man to get along with. Having a vampire brother—a secret, vampire brother—might have lost me my place in the house. Maybe I should have been upfront with him from day one. No surprises. Just honesty. Told him that Sean and I spent months searching for him. Creeping through nests. Stepping over blood and bone. Only to give up. Abandon him.
Abandon my only brother.
Just like that.
At a moment’s notice.
Some fucking sister.
Guilt gnaws at my stomach.
Biting into my toast, my eyes catch the muted TV. All there is to watch now is the news. Once you’ve seen one report about how shitty things are, you’ve seen them all. One day soon, they’ll stop broadcasting completely. Not even repeats of old comedy shows and reality TV. It’ll just be one of those Technical Difficulties messages. Maybe not even that. Just a screen filled with static.
Blue Skin (Book 4): Blue Skin Page 9