***
On Friday night, they got ready in Caroline’s room. Caroline chose a devil outfit, with red hotpants, crop top and fishnets. Harriet dressed as a witch, wearing a diaphanous gothic style dress, accessorised with a fancy dress shop pointy hat.
The dress had been in the sale, though still far too expensive to justify for fancy dress, but Caroline had made her try it on and complimented her so effusively that she’d cracked and bought it. After shopping, Caroline had gone on for her weekly spray tan, but Harriet had demurred. She looked a little pale, but that could only help the witchy look along.
Caroline did Harriet’s make-up – tons of eyeliner, green eye shadow, deep red lipstick. She glanced in Caroline’s mirror. It looked perfect - dramatic enough to make it seem like she’d made an effort for Halloween but still erring on the side of sexy rather than scary.
“Where’s your necklace?” Caroline asked.
“Oh, I’m not going to bother with it tonight. I always have it on, and it doesn’t really work with the outfit.”
Once they were ready, the two of them linked arms and almost skipped down the street.
Cobwebs and pumpkins hung from the Union’s ceiling and committee members served blood red cocktails and shots of something green and gooey. Harriet sampled them all enthusiastically; Caroline stuck to red wine.
Harry, a student on the committee, had organised the event. Harriet had heard that he planned to run for election to a higher position later that term. She noticed that he seemed to be everywhere, talking to everyone and subtly making clear that he’d both put a lot of effort into planning the event, and paid for the drinks bill out of his own (or at least his father’s) pocket.
Harriet found him slimy and unpleasant. She nodded politely when he talked to her and Caroline, but willed him to go away. Obviously keen to make sure everyone saw his face, he quickly obliged.
The party finished at midnight, at which point Harry made an announcement that he’d hired out a room in a club nearby.
“Do you want to go or shall we get back?” Harriet asked Caroline.
“I’ll come, but I’ve had enough of this avoidance tactic. I’m calling Ben and getting him out as well. Shall I try Josh too, or do you want to carry on trying to forget about Tom by yourself?”
Harriet shrugged, so Caroline called them both. Josh was busy with his music friends, but they arranged to meet Ben at the club. As usual, his eyes lit up on seeing Caroline, as usual, he did nothing about it.
Nearly everyone at the club had come from the party at the Union without changing. Ben, in jeans and a stripy shirt, stood out like a sore thumb amongst all the ghosts and wizards.
Harriet loved spending time with Caroline and Ben individually, but as a pair, their unresolved romantic tension exhausted her. She left them to it for a while and wandered around looking for anyone else she knew. She spied a table full of people from college, but that included Katie. Harriet wondered whether to sit with them anyway, but before she could decide, someone appeared behind her.
“I can’t believe that bastard Harry paid for all the champagne at the reception,” he sighed. “Trying to make everyone think he’s the richest person here.”
Harriet turned to see George. He’d come as a vampire, in a Victorian suit and waistcoat and a flowing black and red cape. The outfit looked astonishing on him, though she imagined everything probably did. He smiled, showing sharp fangs that looked much more realistic than the plastic, fancy dress shop versions she’d seen several people wearing. Presumably, like Katie, he got his outfits from theatre suppliers.
“You’re too blond to pull that look off you know,” she said, trying hard not to seem overawed by him.
“Really?” He strode to the bar, gesturing for Harriet to follow. “Ten bottles of Taittinger, please. Give me one bottle and two glasses and share the rest out between everyone here.”
He turned to a startled Harriet and pointed to the one empty table, tucked away in a slightly quieter spot.
Harriet followed him. She glanced around, noticed several people staring at her, and then took a deep breath and lowered herself onto a stool.
Without saying another word, George poured her a glass of the champagne.
“I told you last time we met that I don’t take drinks from guys like you,” Harriet said, but it seemed churlish to turn down this sort of gesture. She shrugged, lifted her glass and took a sip. “Thank you,” she managed.
From that moment on, she didn’t feel entirely in control of herself. Glass of champagne followed glass of champagne, and the conversation sped along. George told her about his family, who apparently had involvement at the highest level in politics, finance and journalism, amongst other things. She usually found bragging distasteful, but lulled by the alcohol and by George’s charm, she gave him her most impressed smile. The fact that he’d selected her to be the one and only person to join him at his table astonished her.
They’d almost finished the bottle when George apologised and said that he had to make a call, but would be back in a moment.
In his absence, Harriet calmed down. She thought back over some of the things he’d said, and it struck her just how arrogant and indeed unpleasant George could be. Despite this, she couldn’t entirely shake off an irrational flood of excitement and a crazy hope that he’d try to take things further.
Robert, a PPE-ist she vaguely knew, staggered drunkenly over and interrupted her thoughts. “Woo, Harriet, good work on pulling the millionaire,” he shouted, then immediately dashed off to dance, giving her no chance to answer.
Before she’d had the chance to recover from that intrusion, Katie wandered across to her, clutching her glass of champagne. She also wore a witch’s outfit, albeit one that looked as though she’s liberated it from the set of Wicked.
“This is probably none of my business, but seriously, I’ve heard some dodgy stuff about George. Okay, so he’s hot and he’s rich, but watch out.”
“What are you trying to say? That he’s a bit of a player? I think I already worked that one out. I’m hardly thinking he’s potential marriage material.”
Katie paused, and when she answered, she sounded hesitant. “Well, that, obviously. A different girl every night sort of player, but there are plenty of people I could say the same about around here. If that was it, I’d leave you to get heartbroken.”
“Well, what else then?” She disliked Katie and suspected the feeling was mutual, but her words heightened the niggling doubt about George that she’d felt since the first time she’d seen him.
“It’s friends of friends type stuff. But I keep hearing the same rumours. Girls who swear they weren’t that drunk but have no memories of the night before other than leaving a bar with George. Girls feeling completely out of it for days. Cuts and bruises way beyond what mere over-enthusiastic sex would cause. I’m thinking date rape drugs at the very least. Then God knows what he does to them.”
Harriet’s mouth fell open and Katie smiled as though pleased to get a reaction out of her. “So why has no one confronted him? Or gone to the police?”
“In a way that’s the worst bit. From what I hear, whatever state they’re in, they all stay besotted with him. There’ll be no contact for weeks. They’ll see him in the Bridge or somewhere, and he’ll blank them. Out of the blue, he’ll text and they’ll come running. Then the same thing happens again. The memory loss. The cuts and bruises, a few days in bed. He basically has this army of fuck buddies he can do whatever he wants with.”
Katie paused for dramatic effect. “And of course, he’s in the inner circle of the Cavaliers and that’s not something you want to be getting messed up with.”
Harriet tried desperately to think of a way of asking about the Cavaliers without sounding clueless - did the posh girls get a guide to this sort of thing? - when she noticed George coming back into the club.
Katie gave her an urgent look. “We’re not exactly best mates, but I don’t think you
should be getting yourself into all that. Make your excuses and come over to our table.”
Before Harriet could move or reply, George arrived at the table. How had he got there so fast? She didn’t know what to think. Katie could be talking nonsense, but whilst she had probably exaggerated the stories, something told her they had at least a ring of truth to them.
“Sorry about that, my dear. Long, complicated phone call from my uncle. He’s always doing that.” He stared at Katie with narrowed eyes, maintaining eye contact for longer than was remotely polite or normal.
Katie glanced at Harriet, her face screwed up in confusion. “Well, I’m off to dance. Have a fun night,” she muttered.
“Wait,” Harriet began, but George turned to look at her, and her panic disappeared. He looked arrogant, yes, but not at all capable of the sorts of sordid behaviour that Katie had suggested.
She allowed him to refill her glass and the conversation resumed. She told him about her plans to stand for election at the Union, and he leaned in as though genuinely interested. His stories about a recent holiday to Eastern Europe made her laugh. Within minutes, she could barely remember what Katie had been talking about.
“It’s getting late,” George said. “Your friends don’t look ready to move. Perhaps I should take you back to college.”
Harriet hesitated for a moment, but she couldn’t resist spending some time alone with George.
She spotted Caroline and Ben across the room, sitting alone and staring into each other’s eyes, but making no moves to take thing further. She explained the situation and Caroline gave her a quick thumbs up.
Outside, darkness had fallen and the pale stones of the city’s ancient buildings glowed in the moonlight. Harriet stood for a moment, enjoying the magical atmosphere that Oxford cast over the most ordinary evening, and especially over a night on which seduction seemed on the cards.
Even her appreciation of both George and the city couldn’t take her mind off the night’s coldness, but as though he’d read her mind, George slipped off his jacket and helped her into it.
“Won’t you be cold?” she asked, the gesture having left him wearing only his old-fashioned shirt.
He smiled. “I don’t tend to feel it.”
They walked towards her college. Harriet’s heart raced at the thought of what might happen when they arrived.
The fifteen-minute walk seemed to take more like five. The Porters’ Lodge had closed for the night, so they walked along by the college’s high stone wall until they reached the late gate, a smaller entrance which students had their own keys for. George helped her push the heavy wooden door open, but he froze at the entrance.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he said.
“Well I thought that went without saying, but I’m touched that you’ve decided to be so polite.”
George made the usual comments about the loveliness of the college, whilst Harriet desperately tried to reach a decision on whether or not to ask him up to her room. The charged atmosphere made it quite clear what would happen if she did. Did she want that?
Suddenly, an idea struck her. “There’s all this woodland that goes around the outside of the college, by the river. It’s called the Steele Walk. How about we have a little stroll around that? It’s really cool at this time of night.”
George gave her an intrigued smile, so Harriet continued.
“Wait there and I’ll dash to my room. I can get a picnic blanket and some wine and crisps, and then we can wander. There’s a bridge over the river that’s an amazing picnic spot day or night.”
“Midnight picnics. I can see you’re a girl after my own heart. I’ll come with you to your room first though.”
Harriet laughed and shook her head. “Very persuasive. But honestly, I’ll be five minutes. Go and sit on that bench and wait.”
“Are you sure?” George sounded puzzled.
“Quite sure,” she replied, enjoying the gentle power struggle. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”
She entered the staircase and heard the inevitable sound of a party coming from Tom’s room. Another of her favourite songs blasted out of his sound system. She sang along to herself. She couldn’t hold a tune to save her life, but right now, she didn’t care. She bounced up the first flight of stairs, and then froze as Tom appeared in the hallway.
“Hey you, having a party?” she asked, too happy about the evening’s events to stick to her usual plan of ignoring him. Even amidst her excitement at meeting George, she couldn’t help noticing Tom’s perfection, from his tight jeans to his perfect sculpted face, all cheekbones and full lips.
“Yes. I ought to be getting back to it,” he replied, and immediately disappeared into his room. She wondered again just what she had done to upset him. His behaviour seemed to go beyond indifference to outright dislike and avoidance of her.
“I ought to have taken a chance on inviting George in here, just to show him,” she muttered under her breath.
Still fuming, she climbed the dramatic staircase to her room, marvelling once more at the scale and the grandeur. It only took a few seconds to grab her blue woollen picnic blanket from the top of her wardrobe and a bottle of Chardonnay from her tiny fridge. Once she’d sorted everything, she raced back down the stairs.
Her slight concern that George might have disappeared vanished when she spotted him sitting exactly where she had left him. He stared into the distance with a slight frown, as though thinking something over that he couldn’t quite understand.
“Are you okay?” Harriet asked, concerned.
Her words made him snap out of whatever strange mood he had been in. He took the blanket and wine from her, and offered her his free hand. Harriet’s blood rushed to her head as she realised she hadn’t misread his signals. She took his hand, and he gripped hers firmly.
The Steele Walk’s overhanging trees and rushing water made it quite an eerie place even in the daylight, but Harriet loved it. Despite being only minutes away from the college and the town centre, the Steele Walk had an almost magical way of making people feel that they were in the middle of nowhere, lost in some rural idyll.
Harriet took out her key and used it to open the huge cast iron gate, emblazoned with the college crest, which led to the Walk. The lights of the college disappeared from view, and the only illumination came from the moon and its reflection on the river.
It grew steadily colder. Harriet’s relief that George had given her his jacket turned to concern that he must be freezing. He certainly didn’t show it, cracking jokes and pulling her closer into him with each step. The narrow irregular riverside path forced them to stand close together and hold onto each other so as not to fall into the water or trip on an unseen obstacle.
Eventually, they reached Harriet’s favourite place. The path opened out slightly, to reveal a small, rickety looking bridge over the water. She dashed onto it and beckoned to George to follow.
He shook his head. “Come down. Let’s spread out the blanket here and have a drink and a rest. You can’t do that on a bridge.”
Harriet had been creating a grand fantasy in which they kissed on the bridge, high above the river. She could hardly think of a more romantic scenario. She considered arguing the point but her legs moved almost of their own volition, and she returned to stand beside George on the path.
That’s better,” he said, with evident relief. He took a few steps off the path into the trees and beckoned Harriet to follow.
“George, let’s not go so far. It’s really dark away from the path, and we don’t know what’s in those trees.”
George laughed. “It’s perfectly safe. We’re basically five minutes away from your bedroom, and I have excellent night vision.”
And I’ve just remembered that I’ve only met you once before in my life, the only report I’ve had on you was highly negative, and now we’re alone in a dark wood. The college might only be a few minutes away, but that was too far for anyone to hear her scream.
/>
Calm down. He’s just a student. At worst, he might be a little sleazy; he’s hardly going to be a rapist or a murderer. Whatever Katie was trying to imply.
“Come and sit down.”
Once again, her mind and body seemed entirely at odds with each other. She sat down on the blanket, right by George. He put his right arm around her and her tense muscles relaxed. Why on earth had she panicked so much?
“This is a beautiful spot,” George said. “I’m tempted to say something cheesy like ‘nearly as beautiful as you’”
Harriet laughed. “Go ahead. I’m all for cheesy romance. When it’s coming from the right person at least.”
“The right people being arrogant, entitled toffs, clearly.” With that, he drew her even closer and kissed her.
Harriet closed her eyes and kissed him back. A feeling of warmth spread all through her body despite the evening’s coldness.
After a few glorious minutes of this, George pushed her back onto the rug. Harriet briefly considered resisting, before giving up and deciding to go with the flow. His kisses became harder and more urgent, and he pressed down on her, pushing her into the woodland floor. One hand cradled her head whilst the other ran up and down her body. She shivered slightly as a hand slipped under her dress and began to stroke her thighs.
One tiny, conscious part of Harriet’s brain couldn’t believe that she was allowing someone she’d met only a few hours previously to do this, but the rest of her mind was a blur of excitement and arousal. She ran one hand under his shirt to feel the muscles in his back, and twisted his pale hair around the fingers of the other. She couldn’t see herself making a move to stop things any time soon.
George’s touch reduced Harriet to nothing but a pile of nerve endings. She longed for him to stop toying with her and move his delicate fingers a little higher up her leg.
Instead, George lifted himself onto his elbows and looked down at her. Keeping himself propped up on one arm, he stroked her face with his free hand and stared into her eyes.
The woods spun and Katie’s warning about girls with no memories fought their way back into Harriet’s mind. It only took a few second before all her worries stopped. A feeling of safety and calm overwhelmed her. Thoughts of George filled her mind to the exclusion of everything else. She wanted George more than she’d ever wanted anything.
Without breaking eye contact, he tilted her head back and stroked her neck. The strange sense of detachment lingered as he felt for a pulse and ran his fingers up and down the vein. The incredibly relaxing movement caused her eyes to fall closed.
A second later, a sharp pain in her neck replaced his soothing touch. The pain quickly faded. A pleasant pressure built up in the same place and an intense feeling of pleasure spread through her whole body. For a few moments, she didn’t dare open her eyes, but eventually she forced them open and confirmed what she’d suspected but hadn’t believed could be real.
George’s mouth suckled at her neck. He was drinking her blood. At first, the absolute terror fought with the incredible sensations. Then common sense prevailed over enchantment and she screamed.
“Get off me. Stop it. What the hell are you doing?” she shouted, grabbing hold of George’s head and trying to pull his head away. Instantly, the enchantment broke, and the pain hit. She couldn’t move him physically, but as she continued to shout, he sat up in shock.
“You’re awake? How?”
“What do you mean how? What kind of psycho are you? Let me go George!”
George still straddled her and kept his arms either side of her body so that she couldn’t move, but his drawling voice remained gentle. “Calm down, Harriet. I don’t want to hurt you. I just need to feed. Now I’ve started, I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to stop.”
Harriet fell quiet, and he went back to stroking her face.
“Now, either you continue to struggle and it will hurt worse than anything, or you can relax and let me work my magic, and it’ll be better than the best sex you’ve ever had. After which, we can actually have the best sex you’ve ever had, or you can wander back to your room. You’ll be a bit dazed and confused and feel a bit weak for a few days, but it won’t do you any real harm. Now what do you say?”
Harriet couldn’t formulate a rational answer. If only things could go back to how they’d been ten minutes previously.
Before she could speak, someone dragged George off her. “What the fuck are you doing?” shouted his assailant.
Harriet tried to take advantage of the moment to get up and run, but her legs couldn’t support her weight. She must have lost more blood than she’d thought.
She turned instead to watch the confrontation. To her amazement, her rescuer was Tom.
He gripped George and screamed at him, “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
George appeared shocked, as though Tom had been entirely unreasonable in stopping his attack.
“What the hell? Since when were you all ‘let’s not hurt anyone’? I’m just minding my own business here. Pretty, willing girl. Feeling hungry, feeling horny, what do you expect me to do?”
Tom responded by pushing George into a tree and pinning him against it. “Seriously George, you don’t want to be doing this with Harriet. Go and find one of your little fan club if you’re feeling the need.”
George lounged against the tree. “Tom. We both know you only have me pinned because you caught me by surprise and if this comes to a fight I’d totally take you. But you know, I’ve had a fun evening, and I’m not really in the mood for violence. So how about you just explain what your problem is, and we can move on. If you want to bite her or fuck her, I’m willing to be reasonable. She’s at your college after all.”
Harriet listened in complete horror. Relief at Tom’s surprise appearance turned back to panic. She longed to run back to her room and leave them to it, but her body still wouldn’t obey her mind.
“Well, of course you can usually take me in a fight. You’re much older than I am. But I’m really quite angry right now, so who knows.” Tom let go of George. “I’d rather not say too much in front of her, but have you ever looked closely at her necklace?”
“What are you talking about?” George sounded genuinely puzzled.
Tom turned to Harriet. “Show him your locket!” he ordered.
Harriet could barely speak, but finally managed to get the words out. “It’s in my room. It didn’t go with my dress.”
With that explained, her voice became louder and faster. “Tom, what’s going on? This is a nightmare. I want you to take me back to my room. Now.”
Instead of immediately responding to her, Tom turned to George. “Oh. So she wasn’t wearing it tonight. That explains a lot. Nonetheless, does the Piso Balla sound familiar to you?”
“But that belongs to...”
“Exactly.” Tom gave George a hard look. “It was given to her. Now do you see where I’m coming from?”
George ignored him and turned back to Harriet. “My apologies. You should have said something.” He gave an ironic bow.
“Wake her up properly,” Tom hissed at him. “I think she’s still partly under and you know full well that one of us can’t break another’s mind control.”
George nodded, touched her lightly on the forehead and then disappeared from view.
Tom sat down beside Harriet.
“You need to explain,” she whimpered, shaking.
Tom took her arm and helped her to her feet. “Later. First, I must get you back to your room. Can you walk?”
“I’m not sure,” she answered. “He attacked me. He bit my neck. He drank some of my blood. I’m not even sure how much I lost; I felt so out of it. What the hell was he playing at?”
Before Tom could respond, the events of the last few minutes caught up with Harriet and she collapsed, sobbing hysterically.
Immediately, Tom picked her up. “It’s complicated,” he said. “I’ll carry you back, and then we can talk.”
He ran towards the college, holding her in his arms.
“Be careful,” Harriet said through her tears. “You could trip or fall in the river.”
“Trust me, I won’t. Just relax. Close your eyes and we’ll be at our staircase before you know what’s happening.”
Chapter Five
Oxford Blood (The Cavaliers: Book One) Page 14