Oxford Blood (The Cavaliers: Book One)
Page 32
Harriet returned to Oxford on a grey, wintery day in early January. The rest of the Christmas holidays had been relaxing and uneventful, even if the confrontation with her mother had left her rather subdued. After over a month at home, she couldn’t wait to see her friends, to stimulate her mind, and to regain some independence.
She travelled by train, dragging her suitcases awkwardly along with her, and then jumped into a taxi on arrival at Oxford station. She smiled as the car drove through the city centre. When the car drew up in front of her college, she almost sighed out loud.
She paid the driver and stepped into the Porters’ Lodge to collect her keys. Within seconds, she saw people she knew, all of them asking how her holidays had been and seeming excited to begin the new term.
“New Quad, Staircase Six, Room 12. Here you go, Miss French. Did you have a good Christmas?”
She nodded at the porter. “Great thanks, Mike. I’m glad to be back though.”
“Where’s your necklace?” he said suddenly, staring hard at her neck. “You don’t want to be taking that off.”
Harriet gave a bemused frown. What did the porter know about it all?
“It was a gift from my mother, and for some reason she wanted it back. I’m wearing this instead,” she said, showing the porter her old crucifix necklace.
When she’d arrived back from London, close to tears and missing her pendant, her aunt hadn’t interrogated her, but had quietly asked if she’d like the crucifix back. Harriet had been amazed she’d kept it safe all that time, but had gratefully accepted.
“I see. You watch yourself then, Miss French. We’ll all be keeping an eye out for you, don’t you worry. Nobody gets into the college without us knowing about it, and I do mean nobody.”
Harriet headed for her room with his words running through her mind. Did the porters know about the existence of vampires? They certainly seemed to know about everything else that went on in the university.
Her room looked strange emptied of all her stuff, but walking into it filled her with a great sense of security. She made herself a cup of tea and unpacked the necessities, keen to get the place back to how it had been all of last term.
Once she’d taken care of the basics, she went to look for her friends. Josh didn’t seem to be around – the room next door remained locked, and the absence of piano music suggested that he wasn’t hiding inside. Tom would be asleep. Texts quickly established that Ben and Caroline wouldn’t be back until the following day but that Olamide had already arrived and would love to come over for a drink.
“Wow, this is the tidiest I’ve ever seen your room,” Olamide exclaimed as soon as she stepped through the door
“That’s because I’ve hardly unpacked anything yet. Don’t worry, it’ll soon be reassuringly messy.”
They settled down for a coffee and agreed that both their holidays had been fun but uneventful.
“Have you done any revision for Collections yet?” Olamide asked.
Collections were exams that took place at the beginning of each term to see how much of the previous term’s work students had learnt. Harriet hadn’t done any work for hers so far but had a sinking feeling that Ola would have put in several hours of revision every day of the holidays, Christmas included.
“No, I haven’t,” she replied, trying to keep her tone light. She’d managed not to think about the exam over the holidays, but now her nerves tingled.
“Oh I’m sure you’ll be fine. It’s not as if they count for much anyway,” Olamide said. Harriet noticed that she didn’t comment on her own revision levels, and shortly afterwards, Olamide made her excuses, clearly heading for the library.
In the evening, Tom appeared. They cooked a meal together and then went straight to bed.
“I’ve missed you,” she said. “Let me show you how much.” With that, she tilted her head back, exposing her delicate veins.
Tom shook his head, clearly fighting an internal battle.
“I want to, I swear. It feels so wrong that I’ve let George do it but never you. I want to feel that connection.”
Tom still made feeble protests as she drew his head down. She stroked his hair, holding him in place and finally, he could take no more and his fangs pierced her skin. Harriet gave a little cry and then settled down to the sensation and the feeling of closeness. After what felt like a blissful eternity but could only have been a few moments, Tom raised his head and kissed her passionately.
“Now is it my turn?” she asked coquettishly. “If this blood bond really means so much, let me taste yours.”
Tom shook his head again, more firmly than before. “I don’t want to seem selfish. I’d love to feed you in that way. But I’m not George. When we do it, I want us to have thought it through. I want it to mean something. Besides, I need George’s blood to have faded before I give you mine. I can’t risk you having too much.”
Harriet resisted the temptation to argue. Presumably, he knew best. After George and her mother’s scheming, his honesty made a pleasant change. Admitting defeat, she took a few spoonfuls of her iron tonic instead, then snuggled up to Tom and fell asleep.