Hannah sets the ceramic pot down at the centre of the table, steam coming off the top, the sweet scent drifting around the kitchen.
“Smells delicious,” Rose says, perking up, rubbing her hands together in eagerness. “Better than anything we can rustle up in the kitchen.”
“Hey, speak for yourself,” I say, jokingly.
“Don’t speak too soon,” Hannah says, sitting opposite to a silent, hard-faced Neil. “You haven’t tried it yet.”
“I’m sure it’ll be lovely.” Using the ladle, Rose fills her bowl with the curry.
One by one we follow suit, leaving, as expected, Neil to scoop out his curry last.
Rose is the first to taste it. As soon as the spoon leaves her mouth, the stiffness in her body vanishes, replaced with a big grin. “Bloody hell, Hannah. That’s amazing.”
“You like it then?” Hannah asks, but she knows how good it is. Why else would she cook it? Offering to make beans on toast is hardly going to win over Neil.
I try a spoonful. “That is incredible!” I say as my mouth becomes laced with spice. Not too hot. Just perfect. “Where did you learn how to cook?”
“My grandmother,” Hannah replies. “She was a vegan. Always used to preach about eating meat.”
“Well,” Rose cuts in, “if this is what vegans eat, then I’m on board.”
“I’m not a vegan. My grandmother could never get me to give up meat. I like cheeseburgers too much.”
“We all might have to go vegan,” I point out, “if this carries on. Farm animals are the first to go when the vamps come out.”
What the hell are you doing, Freya?
No vampire talk!
Hannah peers nervously over to Neil as he swallows down his food. “How’s the curry?”
“It’s okay,” is all he can say.
“Don’t be an arse, Neil,” Rose says. “Hannah’s been slaving all afternoon on that.”
Neil doesn’t retort, just continues to slurp down the curry.
The kitchen falls silent again.
“Come on, Neil,” Rose says. “Tell us what’s on your mind.”
He snorts. “What’s the point?”
Hannah hasn’t touched her food, dragging her spoon around the bowl. “Maybe I should go.”
“Don’t be silly,” I say. “No one wants you to go.”
Neil’s spoon clinks aggressively against the side of his bowl. Once his curry is devoured, Neil takes a massive swig of beer, finishing most of it in one go.
“Look, it’s obviously a problem me being here,” Hannah says. “I’ll find somewhere else to stay in the morning.”
Rose reaches over and takes her hand. “Nonsense. I decide who stays and who goes. Not Neil, or anyone else for that matter.”
With a loud screeching sound, Neil pushes his chair back and stands. “So what the hell happens when the baby comes? Are we all going to help raise it? Play with it? Read it a bloody bedtime story?”
“Yes,” Rose says. “Of course we will. This’ll be its home.”
“And what happens when it gets bigger? When it starts to mature? Within days? It’ll be a teenager by the time it’s a few months old.” He glares at me. “Isn’t that right, Freya? Isn’t that what happened with your vampire brother?”
“Don’t say it like that!” I snap. “Ben is a good person.”
“A good person? Is he really?” he asks, pessimism oozing from each word. “And you can guarantee—one hundred percent—that my daughter will be completely safe living under the same roof as a vampire? Is that right?”
“If we raise it properly.”
“Bullshit.” Neil looks at me, and then at Rose. “What about the rest of you? Can you guarantee that Ellie won’t be ripped to shreds like her mother?” He slams his bottle of beer down on the table. “Can you?”
The silence makes an unwanted return.
“Instead of moaning,” Rose says, “what do you suggest we do? Kick a heavily pregnant woman out on the streets? Call the HCA so they can take her baby, and then throw her in jail.” She points at the TV. “Have you seen the news lately? It’s hell out here. Hardly any police, any hospitals. The world is falling apart. We have to help each other—because no one else will.”
“And where the hell are they supposed to sleep?” Neil asks, obviously clutching at straws. “It’s not fair that Ethan has to take the sofa. He’s been here since the start. Why should he be put out?”
“Oh, for crying out loud, Neil,” Rose replies with a theatrical sigh. “Don’t be so childish. Ethan can handle the sofa. And if he can’t, then I’ll gladly sleep on the bloody thing.”
Neil groans, running his fingers through his hair. “Look, I’m not the bad guy here. I just want what’s best for everyone. Especially Ellie. That’s’ all. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her—even if that means being an arsehole.”
Hannah stokes her stomach and looks over at Neil. “What if I stayed until the baby was born?”
“You don’t have to do that, Hannah,” Rose says. “This is your home now.”
“It’s not fair on any of you if I stay. And if something happened to Ellie—because of me—then I’d never forgive myself.”
“This is silly,” Rose points out. “We’ll figure something out. I’m sure of it.”
Hannah shakes her head. “I’ve made up my mind. This is the only way.”
Rose shoots a piercing set of eyes at Neil. “Do you know what, Neil—you can be a really dickhead sometimes. This girl has lost everything, and all you can do is—”
Suddenly, Ethan bursts into the kitchen through the back door.
“What’s wrong?” Neil asks, whipping his head ‘round.
With a horrified expression, his meat cleaver firmly in his grasp, Ethan takes a deep breath, and then speaks. “There’s a vampire outside!”
34
“I see him,” Neil says, peering through the binoculars at the field, his body pressed against the garden fence.
The sky is clear tonight, with a full moon lighting the surrounding land. In the distance, perhaps a half a mile from the apple trees, I see the faint silhouette of a figure. “Are you sure it’s a vampire?”
“Yes,” Ethan says, standing on the first runner of the fence. “He’s a skinny little prick—like one of those purebreds.”
I snatch the binoculars from Neil and take a look for myself. Through the lens, even with the low light, I can make out a bald head, but it’s too dark to tell if the skin is blue or not. “I think it’s a vampire.”
Neil snatches the binoculars back. “Of course it’s a vampire. Who else could it be?”
“I don’t know. Someone looking for a place to stay. Someone from a nearby farm.”
“There aren’t any farms for miles. It’s just us.”
Brandishing his baseball bat, Sean climbs up onto the fence for a better look. “He’s not doing much. He’s just staring up at the house. Do you think we should go down there?”
“And do what?” I ask. “Kill it?”
“Or scare it away at least,” Sean replies. “It might just be lost. Got separated from its pack.”
Neil hooks the strap of the binoculars around his neck, and picks up his iron bar. “I say we go down there and kill it.”
“Why?” I ask. “It hasn’t done anything.”
“So what?” Neil replies with a confused grimace. “We can’t have a vampire on our land.”
“Maybe we could throw something at it,” I suggest.
“No,” Neil replies. “We need to kill it, and that’s that.”
Sean steps down off the fence, grabs the binoculars, and scans the area. “I don’t see anymore out there. I think he’s alone.”
“Look, Freya,” Neil says, “I know it must be hard for you killing vampires, especially with your brother, but—”
“It should be hard for you, too. Vampires aren’t all monsters. What if it was a man down there? Would you kill him first and ask questions later?”
&nbs
p; “If I thought the human was a potential threat then, yeah, I’d treat it just the same.”
“Exactly!” I snap. “We don’t know if this vampire is a threat. It could just be a—”
“It’s gone!” Ethan announces.
“What do you mean ‘it’s gone’?” Neil snatches the binoculars. “Gone where?”
“I don’t know. It just ran off.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, climbing up on the fence. “Maybe it’s hiding.”
“Okay, I want us all on the nightshift tonight,” Neil orders. “No arguments. Sean and Freya, take the back of the house. Ethan and I will take the front.” As he makes his way towards the house, he shoots me a firm pair of eyes. “And if that thing shows up again, we kill it. No questions asked.”
Before a snappy retort forms in my mind, he’s already too far to hear me, so I zip my jacket up, grab my machete, and pray to God that the blade stays clean.
35
Ethan and I are watching a movie. Kingpin. It’s one of my favourite movies, and as it turns out, it’s one of his, too. The floor sweep is leaning against the sofa because I’m meant to be sweeping while the others are outside in the garden. It’s been raining hard for over a week, so opting to clean the house was definitely the smart option.
Our vampire friend hasn’t come back, so things are a little less tense in the house. We’re back on two-person nightshifts, which means we’re all rested again. Tired people stuck all cooped up together is never a good idea.
Ethan’s eyes look heavy, inflamed. I don’t think he’s been sleeping all that well. He says he is, but he’d never admit it. I think seeing that vampire outside, on his shift, has got him panicking, tense. I think we’ve all been feeling it. We’ve been so cut off from the world since being up here, it’s easy to forget how bad things are. Most of the TV channels have disappeared, leaving just a few news channels, and we gave up on those weeks ago.
“Bubblegum?” Ethan asks, pointing the red packet at me. Bloody hell, I haven’t had bubblegum in years. And strawberry, too. My favourite.
“Thanks,” I say, taking out a square, and then stuffing it in my mouth. “Where did you get this?”
“On last month’s supply run. Found them under the shelf. Been saving them.”
I chuckle. “Saving them for what?”
He nods at the TV. “For this. Do you know how many times I’ve asked Neil and Rose to watch this before you and Sean came? No one’ll watch it. They said it looks too childish. And when I asked Ellie to watch it, Neil said it’s too rude.” He scoffs. “I can’t win.”
“Well, you’ve got me to watch it with now. I’m a Farrelly Brothers addict. The dumber the better. No pun intended.”
Ethan grins. “Nice.”
With very little effort, I blow a massive pink bubble. Like riding a bike, it’s a skill that you never forget.
I grab my glass of water from the coffee table, and secretly wish it was a gin and tonic. That would make this afternoon even more perfect.
Swinging my legs up on the sofa, I hear something coming from upstairs. Crying? Shouting? Too hard to tell from here.
I pause the movie.
“What’s wrong?” Ethan asks.
I shush him. “Thought I heard something.”
The sound of retching arrives in the living room.
Hannah!
I leap off the sofa. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Okay,” he says as I reach the stairs.
I follow the noise to the bathroom. “Hannah? Are you okay in there?” I ask, gently tapping on the door.
No response, just more retching.
I give the door another tap, and gingerly prod it open. Hannah is kneeling in front of the toilet, her long brown hair draped over the seat. I race over to her, take hold of her hair and lift it while she vomits into the bowl.
Normally, just the smell of sick is enough to turn my stomach, but right now, all I want to do is help her.
After another wave of vomit, she pulls her head out of the toilet, and sits up against the base of the sink, sweating, gasping for air.
“Are you okay?” I ask, but it’s a stupid question. Of course she’s not okay.
I hand her a piece of toilet paper and she wipes her mouth.
“I’m okay,” she replies, exhausted. But then a flood of tears surges from her eyes.
“Oh, Hannah,” I say, sitting next to her, holding her hand. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
“No, it’s not,” she sobs. “And it never will be. In a few weeks, this baby will be born. And I have no clue what I’m going to do.”
“I’ll help. We all will.”
“I won’t be here, Freya.”
“Don’t worry about Neil. He’ll come ‘round. He always does.”
Hannah dabs her streaming eyes with the tissue. “I miss Gregg so much.”
“I know you do,” I say, welling up. “But you don’t have to do this alone. If Neil doesn’t come round, then...then Sean and I will leave with you.”
“Don’t be silly, Freya. I can’t ask you to do that.”
I pull her in for a hug. “You’re not asking. I’m telling you. Sean and I will help you through this. I promise.”
My shoulder catches each tear as Hannah weeps, her words muffled by my shirt.
“You don’t have to be alone.” I pull out of the hug and hand her another tissue. “You have us. And we won’t let you down.”
Through the turmoil, a tiny smile fights its way onto Hannah’s lips. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Part IX
SEAN RICHARDS
36
“Why did you tell her that?” I snap at Freya as she brushes her teeth.
She turns to me with a mouthful of foam. “What was I supposed to tell her? She was terrified.” She spits into the sink. “And she was crying her eyes out.”
I sit up on the sofa bed, trying with every ounce of strength I have not to shout at her, not to tell her that she’s mad to promise a stranger that we’ll run away with her, that we’ll help raise her unborn vampire child, that we’ll ditch our friends just like that. You’d think she’d run something like that by me first. “You should have discussed it with me. Have you forgotten how bad it is out there?”
“Of course I haven’t.”
“So, you’re okay going back to living in squalor? Living off scraps of food? Putting up with maniac looters?”
“Don’t be a dick, Sean,” she retorts, wiping her mouth with the towel. “You know that’s not what I want.”
“But that’s what’ll happen. But this time we’ll be stuck with a vampire baby.” I snort. “If you thought things were tough before...”
Freya runs the brush through her hair, each stroke much slower than normal, allowing a cold silence to shroud the attic.
Through the frustration, the disbelief, I fight hard to stay calm. I mean, what does she think I am? Someone who’ll just bow down and accept whatever decision she throws at me? Maybe the old Sean would have. But not now. Not after all the crap I’ve been through.
She slips her pyjamas on, unable to look me in the eye.
And right on cue, guilt settles in my stomach.
I sigh. “Look, I know you meant well. And I know she needs our help, but I just don’t want to leave the house. I like living here. I thought you did, too.”
“I do,” she says, finally able to look at me. “But what’s the alternative? Let her venture off on her own with a baby?” She climbs onto the bed next to me. “I’m sorry, Sean, but that’s not happening.”
I rub my eyes, imagining being back at that awful hotel, only this time, sharing the room with a stranger and a vampire baby.
Ice-cold goosebumps perch on my arms and neck.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” she continues. Of course it matters. “It won’t come to that. Neil will change his mind. He’s bound to. He may be a prick sometimes, but he’s not a total monster.”
&nb
sp; “I don’t think he’ll change his mind. Right now, Hannah just looks like any other pregnant woman. But once that baby comes, once there’s a vampire in the house, and just a wall between it and Ellie, the shit will hit the fan.” I glide down onto my pillow, facing her. “What else is he meant to do? He’s just thinking of his daughter. Do you really think he gives a shit about some woman who’s just landed on the doorstep?”
She doesn’t retort, her eyes glistering in the light of the bedside lamp. She’s going to cry.
Nice one, Sean.
Under the quilt, Freya takes my hand. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” I say, kissing her on the lips. “Don’t upset yourself.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything to her. I should have kept my big mouth shut.”
I chuckle. “Well, we know that’ll never happen.”
A smile creeps onto her face. “I just feel so bad for her. She’s got no one. When Ben was born, it was hell. But I had Mum and you to help me through it. Mum wasn’t always the best at coping, but she was better than being alone.” A tear slides down her cheek. “She’ll die out there on her own. No one’s going to take in a woman and vampire baby. Not anymore. Not when resources are so low.” She wipes her eyes with the quilt. “She’s screwed.”
“Then we’ll leave with her,” I quickly say before I can talk myself out of it. “At least until she finds a safe place to live. Maybe there’s a refuge out there somewhere. And if there is—we’ll find it.”
“Really? You’re not just saying that ‘cause I’m crying?”
I shake my head. “No. You’re right. We don’t leave people out to dry. We help people. There’s enough suffering out there already. Imagine if we hadn’t helped Ethan at the supermarket. Those lunatics would have killed him, and we would’ve never ended up here.”
Blue Skin (Book 4): Blue Skin Page 11