by H. Y. Hanna
The beams of light swung wildly, raking over the bushes behind the body. There was a furtive movement, and, the next minute, a familiar figure was caught in the harsh glare. Caitlyn stiffened at the sight: it was Viktor. He was standing, hunched over, with his mouth smeared red and two long fangs protruding from his lips.
“It’s him!” somebody shrieked. “It’s the vampire!”
“SEIZE HIM!”
The crowd surged forwards. Caitlyn tried to protest but her voice was lost as she was jostled and pushed aside. She found herself shoved to the back of the circle as people began to shout and yell.
“We need to call the police!”
“No time for that—we have to seize him first!”
“Yes! A citizen’s arrest!”
“What if he attacks you?”
“Has anyone got garlic?"
“No, but I have some garlic bread—will that do?”
Two burly farmers grabbed Viktor by the shoulders and hauled the old man forwards to face the crowd.
The elderly vampire spluttered, trying to free himself. “What is the meaning of this? Unhand me at once, sir!"
“Not ’til the police get here, you murderer,” growled one of the farmers.
“Murderer? I have not murdered anyone.”
“You liar!” cried a woman, pointing at his mouth. “There’s blood on them fangs! You killed ’im and drank ’is blood!”
“Nonsense!” Viktor snapped. “I do not drink blood. I am a fruitarian. I have been feasting on some wild raspberries and—”
“Tie him up!”
“Gag him!”
“He’s a vampire—you’ve got to drive a stake through his heart—”
“NO!” Caitlyn gasped.
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This was the twenty-first century; surely people didn’t still believe in superstitions like that? But she knew that crowd mania could be a dangerous thing: people got hysterical and caught up in the emotion of the moment. She had read enough newspaper reports of terrible deaths when a mob got out of control—and that was before you added in the fear of the paranormal.
Caitlyn shoved herself against the circle, trying to squeeze between people and get to the front. “Stop! He’s not a murderer! Please… he’s just an old man—”
“Police! Let us through, please.”
Caitlyn sagged with relief as she saw the tall figure of James Fitzroy moving through the crowd, accompanied by several uniformed constables and a grizzled CID detective with a neat moustache and world-weary air: Detective Inspector Walsh. The crowd parted respectfully as the police approached the body.
Inspector Walsh’s face was grim as he looked down at the victim. “Who discovered the body?” he asked.
There was a murmur of confusion through the crowd.
“Dunno… it was here when I arrived…”
“…thought you found it—”
“No, I thought you did…”
“There was a scream. Did you hear it?”
“…and I told my missus, we ought to go and see what the fuss is about…”
“PLEASE!” Inspector Walsh held both hands up. “Can the person who found the body step forward?”
There was an expectant hush. Everyone looked around but nobody stepped out of the crowd.
“Somebody must have discovered the body,” said Inspector Walsh. “Otherwise, how did you all know to come over?”
“There was a scream,” a women piped up, and everyone around her nodded.
The inspector sighed. “Yes, and it stands to reason that the person who screamed was the one who found the body. So who screamed?”
Again, there was no movement from the crowd, other than people looking curiously around. Caitlyn shared the inspector’s growing exasperation. Had the person who’d found the body run away? Why weren’t they owning up?
Inspector Walsh looked around the circle. “All right, then… This scream—was it by a man or a woman?”
“A man!”
“No, a woman!”
“Definitely a woman.”
“I thought it was a man.”
Before Walsh could say anything else, the two burly farmers stepped forwards, thrusting Viktor in front of them.
“Here, sir. We’ve apprehended him for you.”
“That’s right. Caught ’im red-handed, we did.”
The inspector looked nonplussed. “I’m sorry… and this gentleman is?”
“The murderer!” said a woman, pointing at Viktor. “He’s the vampire!”
“The what?”
“Yes, sir—him’s the one who’s done it, sir,” another man spoke up. “Him’s the killer.”
“I did not kill anyone!” Viktor started spluttering again but he was cut off by several voices.
“He’s lyin’, sir!” a woman yelled. “He did it!”
Her friend nodded vehemently. “Attacked that poor chap and sucked the blood right out o’ him!”
A man pointed at the body. “See them marks on his neck? Those are fang marks, sir!”
“What nonsense is this?” asked Inspector Walsh irritably.
“It’s not nonsense, sir! This man’s a vampire.”
“Yeah, he said so himself!” cried a new voice.
Caitlyn turned to see a young man pushing his way to the front of the crowd. Her heart sank as she recognised the teenage usher from earlier. He was practically dancing with excitement as he jabbed a finger at Viktor. “I know him! He was givin’ me grief earlier, insistin’ that I take down the poster for the movie… an’ he said he was a vampire.”
Several people gasped. “So he confessed?”
“Confess? Why would I confess?” asked Viktor. “I am not ashamed of what I am! I belong to a noble order—”
“You see! He’s admittin’ it!”
“Did you hear that? Proud of being a killer, he is!”
“PLEASE!” The inspector put his hands up again. “I must ask you all to move back—this is a crime scene now. If you could stand back and wait for one of the constables to come and take your statement, I’d be much obliged.” He glanced at the two farmers. “And you may release this gentleman. I will take responsibility for him now.”
Reluctantly, the crowd began following his instructions. Caitlyn, however, ignored the police officers. Instead, she pushed her way through until she reached Inspector Walsh’s side. He was now questioning Viktor, with James watching silently.
“…may I ask where you were when you heard the scream?”
“I was in the woods, there—” Viktor pointed at the bushes behind them. “I was hurrying through the trees, thinking someone may need my assistance, and unfortunately collided with one in my haste, then—”
“Was anyone with you?”
“No, but—”
“So no one can vouch for your whereabouts at the time of the murder?”
Viktor bridled with offended dignity. “Are you implying that I am lying?”
“I am suggesting, sir, that we only have your word that you were moving towards the body when the others saw you. For all we know, you could have actually been running away from the body.” Inspector Walsh paused significantly. “In other words, fleeing the scene of the crime after committing the murder.” His eyes flickered over Viktor’s appearance, taking in the red-stained mouth. “I’m afraid, Mr… er…?”
“Dracul. Count Viktor Dracul is my proper name.” Viktor swept him a bow.
Inspector Walsh looked slightly taken aback. “Er… right. Mr… er… Dracul… well, given the circumstances, I’m afraid I will have to take you in for questioning. If you will be kind enough to accompany me down to the police station—”
“You’re not arresting him?” gasped Caitlyn. “No, no… there’s been a misunderstanding.” She looked frantically at James. “You met Viktor earlier—you know he’s not a murderer.”
“Caitlyn…” James looked uncomfortable. “I don’t really know this gentleman at all.”
The
inspector frowned at her. “I am not arresting anyone… yet. However, as Lord Fitzroy knows, the police have the right to detain any suspect in a murder investigation. Mr Dracul himself has no objection to being questioned. Now, Miss Le Fey, I’d appreciate if you’d stand back and let the police do their job.”
He turned to go, then paused to have a brief word with James. Caitlyn took the opportunity to grab Viktor’s arm and pull him slightly aside.
“Viktor—you can change!” she whispered in his ear. “Shift into your bat form. Then you can escape.”
“I am not running away like a coward. I have committed no crime and I am not afraid to face questioning. It is the right and honourable thing to do to remain and assist the police in their investigation. I am sure once they have heard my side of the story, they will see that I am innocent and—”
Caitlyn groaned. “Viktor, you don’t understand! It doesn’t always work like that. Innocent people get arrested and charged for crimes they didn’t commit, especially when all the circumstantial evidence points towards them and there’s no other suspect. Look, it’ll be much simpler if you just… disappeared.”
“No.” He shook his head firmly. “It is a matter of honour. I will not slink away like a guilty criminal when I have done nothing to be ashamed of.”
Before she could say anything else, he lifted his chin and walked away from her to join the inspector. Caitlyn could only stand and watch helplessly as the old vampire was led away by the police.
CHAPTER FOUR
The movie was cancelled, of course, although most of the crowd lingered, hoping to catch a glimpse of the “vampire murderer” or pick up some gossip. The forensics team arrived, as well as an ambulance to remove the body, and Caitlyn found herself being shepherded, along with the people who had found Rochat, into the Library at the Manor to await questioning. James had organised for hot drinks and food to be brought, and there was plenty of comfortable seating—not to mention shelves of books to browse. Soon the group became quite jolly, speculating and exchanging wild theories about the “vampire murderer”. But Caitlyn sat to one side, trying not to listen and wishing she could get the questioning over with.
It was a long night. By the time she had given her statement to a harassed-looking constable, it was nearly midnight. Caitlyn walked wearily out of the Library to find Pomona and James standing outside. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought that James might have been waiting especially to make sure that she was all right.
“Omigod, Caitlyn—I thought you were never gonna get out!” said Pomona.
“You look tired,” said James gently. “I was just suggesting to Pomona that perhaps you’d like to stay the night?”
“And I’ve accepted!” added Pomona, before Caitlyn could answer.
Caitlyn gave James a wan smile. “Thanks, but I’m sure things are chaotic enough with the murder. I don’t want to give you any more trouble—”
“Not at all. I’d been meaning to invite you and Pomona to come and stay at the Manor for a few days, anyway. I have a group of friends arriving from London the day after tomorrow and would be delighted if you could join us. It would be a small country house party of sorts—”
“That sounds awesome!” Pomona said before Caitlyn could reply again.
“What about the Widow Mags?” asked Caitlyn. “We’ve been helping her in the chocolate shop—”
“Oh, she can spare us for a few days,” said Pomona, waving a hand.
“I’ve already sent a message to let her know that you won’t be returning tonight,” said James. “And I’m sure Pomona is right. The Widow Mags won’t mind you staying at the Manor for a few days. You can always pop back to the village during the day if you’re needed.”
Caitlyn gave in, and a few minutes later they were shown to a large suite with twin beds and sumptuous cream and gold furnishings. Pomona flopped onto one of the beds as soon as the door shut behind them and bounced up and down like a little girl.
“Omigod, this is awesome! Just like when we were kids and had those sleepovers together! Well, except this is a lot more impressive than your mom’s trailer or even our house in Beverley Hills,” she said, looking around at the period furniture and elegant upholstery. “We used to stay up all night and talk—and then when your Nanny came to check on us, we’d hide under the covers—remember?”
Caitlyn smiled, feeling her mood lighten. Yes, she did remember. As the daughter of a world-famous singer with itchy feet, Caitlyn had practically grown up on the road. Even when they hadn’t been on tour or visiting music festivals, her adoptive mother, Barbara Le Fey, had preferred to live in various “holiday homes” around the world, rather than her house in L.A. She felt that she wrote her best music when she was always on the move. It might have seemed like a glamorous lifestyle, but it had also been a lonely one for Caitlyn, who had never got the chance to put down roots or make any real friends. Barbara herself had been a kind but distant mother, too wrapped up in her career to pay more than cursory attention to the little girl she had adopted on a whim.
But the one constant in Caitlyn’s life had been her cousin, Pomona—Barbara’s sister’s daughter. With her big blonde hair, long tanned limbs, and bubbly personality, Pomona was everything that the shy, bookish Caitlyn was not… and yet the two girls had quickly become best friends. Those times when Pomona came to visit had been the highlights of her childhood. Now Caitlyn flashed back to the nights she and Pomona had spent giggling together in the darkness, and the enthusiastic pillow fights they used to have.
As if reading her thoughts, Pomona suddenly grabbed one of the pillows and squealed with delight as she squeezed it. “Man! These are serious feather pillows!” She laughed. “Remember how I used to beat you at all the pillow fights?”
“You did not! I remember you running away, squealing like a pig—”
“No way! You were the one who used to squeal—”
“I never squealed!
“Oh yeah? We’ll see about that!”
Pomona tossed the pillow across the room. Caitlyn barely had time to catch it before her cousin had sprung off the bed with another pillow and rushed towards her, waving it over her head.
“Yeeeeaaahh!”
“Wait! Stop, Pomie—we can’t! We shouldn’t—we’re going to mess up the room—”
Caitlyn said, trying not to laugh as she ducked from her cousin.
“Aww, c’mon! Where’s your sense of fun?” cried Pomona and smacked the pillow against Caitlyn’s head.
Caitlyn staggered back, and then, before she realised what she was doing, she’d retaliated by flinging her own pillow at Pomona.
“Whoopee!” Pomona yelled, ducking away.
Caitlyn chased after her, forgetting all about her own protests. A feeling of carefree recklessness filled her. They ran around the room, laughing and pummelling each other with their pillows, and Caitlyn couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun.
“Na-na-na-na-na… you can’t get me!” sang Pomona, pausing in front of the bedroom door and taunting Caitlyn with rude faces.
“Oh yeah? Watch this!” Caitlyn rushed towards her cousin, swinging her pillow in a wide arc overhead.
Pomona darted sideways at the last minute, just as the door swung open. Caitlyn gasped but it was too late—she couldn’t stop the pillow as it smacked James Fitzroy straight in the face.
Whumph!
He reeled backwards as the pillow bounced off his head, and feathers drifted everywhere.
“Oh!” Caitlyn froze, horrified. Behind her, she could hear peals of laughter from Pomona. “I… I… I’m so sorry…”
She squirmed. Why couldn’t she ever meet James in a graceful, sophisticated manner?
James blinked a few times. Then he cleared his throat and said, “I was heading to my own room and heard some cries… I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
Caitlyn flushed, wondering what he was thinking as he looked at the state of the room. “Um… yes, we’re fin
e. Sorry, we got a bit carried away—”
James broke into a smile, his grey eyes twinkling. “I used to have pillow fights with my sister when we were children,” he said with a chuckle. “She was only half my size but she still used to wallop me!”
Caitlyn returned his smile, grateful for his understanding. Then she sobered. “Have… have you heard anything more from the police?” she asked. “What’s happening to Viktor?”
“They’re keeping him in custody overnight. I believe Inspector Walsh wants to question him again tomorrow, after he has spoken to some other witnesses.”
“You can’t let them charge Viktor for murder,” Caitlyn pleaded. “He had nothing to do with it. He’s just a harmless old man.”
“Inspector Walsh is a good detective,” said James gently. “I’m sure he will consider all the evidence carefully without jumping to any conclusions. In the meantime, do you know if Viktor has any family or friends who need to be notified? I assume he will be contacting his solicitor from the police station.”
“Um… I… er… I’m not sure. I don’t really know that much about his private life.”
James said nothing, but it was obvious from his look that he thought it very odd she should be concerned about an old man she seemed to know so little about. Pomona clearly thought the same. When James bid them goodnight and left, she turned to Caitlyn and demanded:
“Why are you so worried about this Viktor guy? I mean, he’s just, like, some random old dude who came to the Open-Air Cinema… Why do you care if he gets arrested?”
Caitlyn hesitated. “He’s not just some ‘random old dude’… He’s… um… a friend.”
“A friend?” Pomona looked at her in disbelief. “Since when did you make friends with a nutty old geriatric?”
“Well, actually, Viktor is more like… er… family, really…”
“Family?”
“Yes, he’s… well… Viktor is my uncle. My vampire uncle.”
“Your what?” Pomona’s mouth fell open.
“Look, it’s a bit hard to explain… I met him when I first arrived in England—in fact, the day I was driving out to Tillyhenge. He was waiting by my rented car and he told me that he was my vampire uncle.”