“I still don’t understand how it happened,” Caroline said, pacing around her room. “How can two people just suddenly burn up?”
Despite everyone’s tiredness, no one could face going to bed knowing what had happened. Usually, the Cavaliers would have used their mind control tricks to erase everyone’s memory of the horrifying events and make them believe that Crispin and Peter had left the university or died in an unfortunate accident, but the sunlight made it impossible. By now, the story had spread around the University, and the press was starting to get involved. It didn’t help that both boys had been well known figures at Oxford. Crispin’s father had been dead for three hundred years, but Peter’s was a noted lawyer.
“Someone must have doused them in petrol or something whilst they were passed out,” Ben said. “Then tossed a lit match whilst everyone concentrated on the singing.”
“Who on earth would do something like that though?” Olamide said, shivering despite the morning’s warmth.
“Julia?” said Caroline, only half-joking. “She sounded furious after the election. If anyone’s got it in for the Cavaliers, it’s her.”
“Oh come on,” said Josh. “She had every right to be angry. Julia’s lovely though. You never hear her say anything bad about anyone, never mind decide to burn them to death.”
“Just because you’ve got a crush on the lovely Julia,” Caroline said, laughing. “I don’t really think she’s responsible, but you’ve got to admit, that wasn’t just normal annoyance about losing an election. She accused Edward of killing his sister in front of a hundred people.”
“What do you reckon then, Josh?” Ben asked, curious.
“I don’t know. Probably just some random psycho. Is Peter gay as well as Crispin? It could have been some sick homophobe.”
Harriet sat in silence. Whoever had killed them had to be the same person who had killed Charles. Their bodies were too burnt for anyone to tell whether they’d been drained, but she’d bet her life on it. At least Tom had been quite clearly out of action when it had happened, so George could no longer attempt to accuse him.
Despite the shock of the double murder, Tom’s condition topped Harriet’s worry list. Despite everyone’s assurances that he’d be fine given a few days, she found it difficult to believe. She’d promised she would do everything possible to help, but it the idea of taking her friends for Tom to use as blood donors left a bad taste in her mouth.
“Guys, we really don’t know and talking about it isn’t going to help anyone. I say we ought to go to bed, get a few hours sleep and then get on with the day,” Ola said.
Everyone reluctantly agreed, although Harriet doubted anyone would actually get to sleep with the images of the burning bodies
in their minds. Having drank George’s blood, she didn’t feel tired at all, so despite it being the last thing she felt like doing, she prepared for her tutorial instead, praying that she could avoid further flashbacks.
Somehow, she made it through the day. Every time she thought about the way she’d accepted the blood, a wave of self-loathing hit her, but it certainly made everything physically and mentally easier. With the lengthening days, it seemed to take forever for darkness to fall. The moment the sun went down, Harriet dashed to Tom’s room. To her relief, he had got out of the coffin and sat up in bed, although he looked even paler than usual and extremely frail. She slipped in beside him.
“How are you feeling, darling?” she asked. She’d already decided not to worry Tom more by mentioning the deaths.
Despite the weakness of Tom’s voice, he managed to sound cheerful. “I’m recovering,” he said. “Wounds like that are hideous, but at least they remind me of the benefits of being one of us. It’s humbling to think that an attack of that sort would have killed me if I’d still been human. How are you? I’m so sorry I took so much blood, especially as it didn’t work.”
She cuddled up to him and softly stroked the last traces of his scar, amazed by the speed of the healing process. “I’m fine,” she replied, desperate not to let him know she’d drank from George again. “I’m a little tired, but nothing some iron tablets and a few quiet days won’t fix. In fact, you should take more blood,” she said, tilting her head back to expose her neck.
“Not from you. It’s too risky. Are you still willing to bring your friends?”
“I’m not sure I can bring myself to do that,” she said.
“I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” Tom replied. “I can see how it might feel like a betrayal. All I can say is that it would help a lot, and I’d only take a little, it wouldn’t hurt them.”
“If you really think it’s necessary, I guess I could do it this once. Are you strong enough to mesmerise them or do you want me to try to explain?”
Tom frowned. “I’m not sure. We could perhaps tell Ben as he’s a potential inductee, but explaining to anyone else is a bad idea. I’m definitely going to struggle to put anyone under though.”
Harriet couldn’t see this ending well whatever they did, but she couldn’t bear to see Tom in that state either. “I’ll go and get Olamide. You’ve got to promise me you’ll be careful not to take too much though.”
“I’ll be careful. Other than when you drain someone, taking a little from a lot of people gives more power than taking a lot from one person. Remember your stepfather at the Christmas party when he had just a taste of everyone’s guest?”
Harriet shuddered at the memory. She hadn’t seen Gus since, and wasn’t sure she could face seeing him again. Before she could change her mind about feeding Tom, she got up and dressed, and then went off to find Olamide. The whole plan still made her slightly sick – how could she put a friend in that position? – but the frailty evident on Tom’s face had convinced her that she had no choice. She’d just have to make it up to them all somehow.
Olamide lived in the very centre of the college, in the attic above the cloisters. The room’s sloping ceilings and heavy beams made it atmospheric but cramped. When Harriet reached the long corridor outside Olamide’s room, she heard the shouting and froze. She knew she ought to leave and come back later, but she couldn’t resist the temptation to listen.
Olamide and Callum, two of the quietest and calmest people that she knew, were screaming at each other. She accused him of working too hard and never having time for her or for fun of any kind. He gave as good as he got, saying she’d changed and that her lazy friends had led her astray.
“Well, maybe it’d be easier for you to concentrate on getting your top first if I was out of the picture,” Olamide shouted. “I like to study too, but I can’t live with this pressure from you. I think we should call it a day.”
Before Harriet could get away, a red faced Callum stormed from the room. He gave Harriet the sort of glare that suggested she’d murdered his entire family. “Go on then, go and tell her how she did the right thing. This is all your fault, you and Caroline and your frivolous ways.”
Harriet didn’t reply. Instead, she took a deep breath and walked into her friend’s room. Ola sobbed quietly. Harriet sat down and put her arm around her, remembering how many times the steady, sensible girl had comforted her in the middle of one crisis or another.
It took an hour to calm her down. Harriet summoned Caroline, who appeared with chocolate and a bottle of wine. For all that she’d vowed to be ruthless in helping Tom, Harriet realised she simply couldn’t allow Olamide to be fed off whilst she in this state. She could barely bring herself to leave the room.
“Ola, I’m so sorry to leave you, love, but Tom is really ill,” she said. “That’s what I originally came over to tell you. I’d better check on him. I’ll come back and see how you’re doing later.”
It would have to be Ben. As luck would have it, she bumped onto him in the main quad, just heading back from a training session at the gym.
“Are you all right, Harriet?” he asked. “You look pretty stressed.”
“Ola and Callum have broken up, and Tom
is massively ill,” she replied breathlessly, not having to fake the panic in her voice. “Caroline’s with Olamide. I don’t think she wants to deal with anyone male at the moment. Will you come with me to Tom’s room? It’ll do him good to have someone other than me to chat to.”
Ben looked suitably shocked at both her announcements. “What do you mean he’s ill? What’s wrong?”
“He got in a fight,” she said, sticking as close to the truth as possible. “He got really badly beaten up.”
“He’s so strong though. I’d have thought he’d be able to take anyone. Who beat him up? And why? And when did this happen?”
“It was George. Cavaliers George. It happened late last night. I didn’t want to worry everyone any more this morning. As for why, I don’t really know.”
To her relief, Ben didn’t ask any more awkward questions. He hurried after Harriet, back to her and Tom’s staircase.
“Wow, you look like shit, mate,” he said, walking in and staring at Tom. “What the hell happened?”
“Come here,” Tom said. He struggled with every word, but his voice retained at least some of its commanding edge.
Wide-eyed, Ben obeyed, perching himself on the edge of the bed. Tom reached out his arm, causing the covers to fall down, exposing his chest. Ben immediately noticed the scar.
“No, seriously, what happened? Don’t tell me you got stabbed!”
Instead of replying, Tom placed his hands on Ben’s shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. “I’m sorry to have to do this,” he said. Within seconds, Ben’s expression became blank.
“Ben, can you hear me?” Harriet asked. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified when he didn’t answer.
“Would you feel more comfortable if you watched or if you left the room?” Tom asked in the same strained voice.
“I’ll stay. I think I owe him that much.”
She closed her eyes as Tom took hold of their friend, tilted his head back and bit down. He only drank for a minute or two before licking the wound closed and calling Harriet over.
“Take him back to his room. If all’s gone to plan, he won’t remember coming to see me at all. I didn’t take much, and he’s fit enough that it shouldn’t have too much effect on him. Maybe try and feed him some of your iron tonic though.”
Harriet nodded. She couldn’t quite bring herself to speak. “I’ll come back once I’ve got him settled.”
She got Ben to his room before the lingering effects of the mind control wore off. Just as Tom had promised, Ben had suffered no obvious mental or physical ill effects. Initially, he seemed puzzled, but quickly launched into a discussion of what had gone wrong with Olamide and Callum. It seemed as though her telling him about the break up was the last thing he remembered.
After she’d checked on Tom, (he already looked healthier), Harriet made her way to the Union. She wasn’t in the mood for it, to say the least, but as a Secretary's Committee member, the President expected her to help out at all the events, and that night, he’d scheduled a strawberries, champagne and chamber music party. If she kept missing events she’d be putting herself in a bad position for running for Standing Committee at the end of that term, and for all the problems with the Union, she couldn’t quite resist the lure of doing so.
Pouring endless glasses of champagne soothed her more than she’d expected. With half an eye on the election, she smiled and chatted to all the party guests. Everyone discussed the boys who’d died, various theories floating around. Despite his position as President-Elect, she saw no sign of Edward. People at his college spoke of how distraught Crispin’s death had left him.
“What do you think?” Catherine asked her during a rare quiet moment. As Secretary, she was rushed off her feet, but her general cheeriness didn’t slip at all.
Harriet shrugged. Getting drawn into the discussion seemed far too risky. She changed the topic in the most effective way she knew, asking Catherine how her election plans were going. She intended to run for President from the position of Secretary, relatively unusual when the contest was normally fought between the Treasurer and Librarian, but not unheard of, especially for someone as popular as Catherine.
“Really well actually. I definitely think I’m in with a chance of making President. Our events are great this term – thanks for all the help with that. And Joanne’s an absolute sweetheart, but I don’t think she’s really leadership material, if you know what I mean.”
Harriet did know. Catherine had an aura about her that drew people in and made them love her. Joanne, the current Treasurer, seemed more organised but tended to stay in the background. For personal reasons, the Librarian had decided not to stand. Furthermore, the Cavaliers, rather unusually, hadn’t selected an official Presidential candidate that term, but they nominally supported Catherine, which could only help.
“So are you definitely going to go for Standing?” Catherine asked, affecting nonchalance but clearly desperate for an answer. “I’d love you on my slate, but positions are filling up fast, so I need to know. We’re really strong, and I think you’d be in with a chance of topping the Committee.”
After all the stress of the night before, thoughts moved through Harriet’s mind at a glacial pace. She wanted to clear away the last glasses then go home to Tom to sleep. On the other hand, she didn’t want to mess Catherine around, so took a deep breath and nodded.
“I’d love to. I think you’d be a great Pres, and I’ll definitely put in the effort for you.”
Catherine squealed and hugged her.
Oxford Blood (The Cavaliers: Book One) Page 46