by P. L. Kurup
“All train services in London have been cancelled because of a power cut,” stated an orange-suited staff member.
A flurry of moans and curses filled the air and Amelia let out a frustrated sigh. One by one the people separated and moved to the edge of the road. Amelia followed and while her fellow travellers got into taxis and overcrowded buses she struggled to secure a way to get home. The group dwindled until she and the lady with the dog were the only commuters left. A taxi stopped beside them and the lady opened the car door and drifted in before Amelia had a chance to step forward and the vehicle sped on leaving her behind.
“Just wonderful,” she groaned.
Her flat was two and a half miles away which she normally covered in less than an hour, but the blizzard stifled her progress. Snow bombarded her with every stride and the cold air impeded her breathing. There was no one about on the streets since everyone had barricaded themselves inside their homes and offices. In time she reached the street where she lived which was now covered in a thick blanket of snow. Her eyes squinted on seeing her Landlord’s red Honda parked opposite her block of flats. His presence was never appreciated since it always spelt trouble. She slid on the icy surface and fell twice before approaching her flat. Looking at the door she found a ‘Notice of eviction’ attached to it with red tape.
“You are two months late with your rent,” she heard a gruff voice say.
Spinning round, she saw the unwelcome sight of her landlord with an unhappy look on his face.
“I can find a job over Christmas and pay you in the New Year,” she bargained.
“Even if I gave you a whole year to pay off your debts you can’t pay me back,” the Landlord replied.
“But all my things are in there. My clothes, my laptop, even my mobile phone,” she stated glumly.
“I’m going to sell your things to recoup some of the money you owe me. I urge you to stay at a homeless shelter tonight. Don’t wander the streets, it’s not safe.”
The landlord got into his red car and drove off leaving Amelia in the sorriest of states.
With no money or place to live she searched for somewhere to spend the night. Every outlet was closed due to the harsh weather and the only place she could find was a bus station. It was a treacherous location full of unsavoury-looking people, and she didn’t sleep the whole night, and as dawn broke she was hungry and exhausted. She left the bus station and made her way to St Pancras train station some two miles away.
“Please let it be open,” she murmured.
Her face brightened when she noticed a flurry of passengers steaming in and out of the station. She weaved through the throng to reach the ticket counter.
“Can I help you?” asked a uniformed woman.
Amelia took out a travel card that was valid for six months and slid it under the counter window.
“I’d like a refund for the travel card if possible,” whispered Amelia.
The woman snatched the card, recorded a number of items on a form and threw £154 cash in the slot. Amelia grabbed the money and placed it hurriedly into her pocket. Turning round she was relieved to see no one noticed the transfer. Walking through the station, she spotted a shop selling sandwiches. She slammed down a £5 note and bought a lemon chicken baguette and a bottle of orange juice. She ate and drank like a person who hadn’t consumed food in weeks and afterwards felt so much better. The sustenance revived her and she strolled out of the station thinking deeply about her problems. The most important thing on her mind was paying her university fees. An endeavour she would sell her soul to accomplish. Her desperation led to Samuel, a wealthy mansion dweller, to be her salvation.
Amelia was left with the dilemma of getting to his house. Trains were useless since his home was nowhere near a station. Taxis were also pointless because no one would risk travelling on snow-covered roads. It meant the only person she could rely on was herself. She approached a place selling used cars and drifted passed an array of preowned models. Most were beyond her price range. She stopped by a blue-coloured Volkswagen Beetle that screamed at her to purchase it. However, it was £17 pounds more than the cash in her pocket.
“Beautiful isn’t she?” stated a well-dressed salesman.
“Can you lower it by £17?” she asked pleadingly.
“Seeing as it’s almost Christmas and I’m in an excellent mood you may have it for £17 less,” he said.
“Thank you, sir,” Amelia gushed, hugging him.
xxx
After handing over the bundle of cash from her pocket, and signing a few forms she got into the blue Volkswagen, and drove down Henly Lane to the outskirts of town.
Travelling to his isolated home, she ignored the danger of returning to a man she knew nothing about. The roads grew more desolate the closer she got to his mansion, but she didn’t slow down or have second thoughts about her decision. Somehow it seemed the most natural thing to do. Yet when the imposing edifice came into view her foot slammed on the brake bringing the car to a violent halt. Her startled eyes noted the heavy front door was wide open which seemed like a deliberate act. Gathering her strength, she drove into the courtyard and parked next to the mirrorless Mercedes.
Amelia stepped out of the car and walked into the house and entered the living room where a logwood fire burnt in the fireplace. Looking ahead, she saw a cup of hot chocolate resting on the mantelpiece. She picked up the cup and sniffed the drink prior to wolfing it down.
“Are you feeling better?” Samuel asked.
She dropped the cup and it shattered into a dozen pieces.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t worry about the cup,” he replied.
“Did you know I would turn up today?” she asked him.
“The hot chocolate was for me. I was about to come downstairs.”
“And the fire? And the front door?” she questioned suspiciously.
“You require my help, Miss Thorpe,” he said.
“Well, I was wondering if you were looking for a secretary. I have excellent typing and note taking skills and I’m very good at doing research.”
“How are you at reading aloud?” he asked.
“I love reading aloud.”
“Then I would like you to read aloud a novel of my choice for the entire Christmas holidays.”
“My time is very precious so I would like £9000 for the duration,” Amelia declared.
“I won’t pay more than £1000,” he countered.
“Fine £1000,” she agreed grudgingly.
“For that price you’ll have to stay in the house the entire time and can’t leave without my permission,” Amelia balked at his statement. “My intentions are entirely honourable.”
“Deal.” She held out her hand.
He shook it and she shuddered at his skin’s iciness once again. She let go of his hand and meandered out of the room harnessing a relieved look. When she returned to her former bedroom she found a bundle of clothes, a toothbrush and a hairbrush piled neatly on the bed.
Chapter 11
In the seconds following Samuel’s attack on him, the damaged tendons on Claude’s ankle regained their flexibility, and the broken bone in his arm fused showing no signs of a fracture. The bruises on his face and body healed leaving no trace, yet he staggered not having had the full six pints of blood he needed daily to function properly.
Out of nowhere, a grey hatchback screeched down the road and stopped beside him. Claude opened the car door and got into the back seat and the car drove off down the road. The vehicle travelled far away from the cafe and arrived in a part of London that had been uninhabited for years. Here, the once lavish houses were overrun with rats and weeds sprouted from every crevice. The car parked haphazardly on a kerb and Claude got out of the vehicle and looked up at a glowing light shining from a dilapidated window. He muttered softly and his already pale face turned more pallid.
Strolling into the building, he smelt the scent of blood emanating from the top of the stairs. The a
roma made his mouth water. He slogged up a set of broken steps and came to a closed door.
“I know you’re lurking outside. You may come in if you wish,” a voice yelled from within.
Claude pushed open the door, and stepped into a room lit by half a dozen candles. The only piece of furniture was a leather armchair in the corner and sitting on it was a man steeped in shadow, a glass full of fresh blood near his feet.
“Well?” the stranger asked.
“It was definitely Samuel,” Claude revealed. “He butchered my two friends and rescued her.”
“You are certain it was him?” the stranger asked eagerly.
“Without doubt it was the man you changed two centuries ago in the prison. I recognised him from your description,” explained Claude.
The man stood up and revealed himself to be none other than Lucas Renard; a ruthless immortal who despised Samuel with every fibre of his being. The tall, slender vampire was no more than thirty years of age, with an intelligent face that hadn’t changed in the four centuries he was transformed.
Lucas sniffed the air and caught Amelia’s scent on Claude’s clothes. It was as unmistakable as the markings of a snowflake.
“Did he behave awkwardly on seeing her?” Lucas queried.
“In the short time that I observed him, I would say that he loved her more than any person on earth,” Claude revealed.
Lucas crossed to the window and looked out at the dismal landscape. “I must find a way to destroy them both.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, why don’t you let him live? He hasn’t done anything to you.”
Lucas turned to Claude with widening eyes and explained, “He is a vampire who would destroy his own kind in order to save a mortal. As far as I’m concerned that is the worst betrayal. Also, as long as he’s alive I’m never truly safe.”
Chapter 12
Amelia stood on a scaffold with her hands bound and wore a plain white dress. The wind wafted her hair onto her face and obstructed her sight. Her breath quickened knowing that her life was about to end. In front of her were scores of people in nineteenth century clothes. They watched her without emotion and she gathered that they looked forward to her fate. Soon, a noose was placed around her neck and tightened to within a millimetre of choking her. It’s coarseness chaffing her skin. Her heart thumped inside her chest and she realised no one would come to her aid.
Subsequently, a trapdoor opened and she plummeted to an unavoidable end – but just then, someone clasped their arm around her waist and stopped the fall. She looked sideways and glimpsed a man in aristocratic garb.
xxx
Amelia woke with a jolt and touched her neck realising that it was another nightmare. Her third in as many weeks. The doctor in her deemed that it was a mental manifestation brought on by extreme stress. Regardless, it was severe enough to stop her from going back to sleep.
She searched the room slowly remembering where she was. Sitting up, her body ached from the ridiculous number of miles she covered in the snow storm. However, what infuriated her more was the utter disregard that Adrian showed her in her time of need. The rage made her fling the bedclothes off herself and stand up all at once. She had barely recovered, when she caught sight of her suitcase and laptop leaning against the wall. They weren’t there the night before meaning Samuel had put them there while she was asleep, a gesture that made her a tad uncomfortable.
She opened the suitcase and frowned at the familiarity of its contents. A washbag, medical textbooks, and all her clothes were found inside. Amelia freed her most unflattering grey dress and some underwear from the tangle of clothes, and marched into the bathroom.
She filled the bath with warm water and slid into the tub. Taking a lingering bath allowed her to think about her failed medical career and the identity of her employer. Both of which tormented her. The water was getting cold so she stepped out of the bath and got dressed.
She cautiously walked out in search of Samuel. The house was cold enough to make her breath curl into mist and was swathed in an eerie silence. She walked into the dining room and drew back because sitting on an elongated wooden table was enough food to feed five people. She was so ravenous that she sat at the table and picked up a piece of toast and bit into it. Next she gobbled a large bowl of cereal and drank a mug full of tea. The delicious food allowed her to think about her circumstance more clearly and she wondered why he didn’t join her for breakfast, eventually putting it down it his aloofness.
She trudged out of the room and up a staircase that ascended into a never-ending spiral. On the way she noticed rooms filled with memorabilia from all over the world. Dragon sculptures from China, a brass bell from India, and a tourzas instrument from Greece. She presumed he’d either travelled a great deal in his young life or that he was a voracious internet shopper. Amelia surveyed room after room, floor after floor, until there was one floor left. She took the final few steps to the top floor and gazed at the closed attic door. It was the only one that was shut and therefore implied a secret. Clasping her hand around the doorknob, she opened the door a crack, when a draught ruffled her clothes and the door slammed shut.
Looking up, she shuddered at Samuel standing opposite her. Her gaze settled on several spots of blood on his shirt, the pattern suggesting they had gushed from the source. She peeked behind him and saw the window closest to her was open. Since she didn’t hear him coming up the stairs, she deduced that he came in through a window that was a hundred feet from the ground. Samuel shifted while she weaved the ludicrous.
“You are not permitted to go inside that room. Is that clear?” he said.
Amelia nodded. “Anywhere else I can’t go?”
“You’re allowed to go anywhere else you want. I want you to read to me for an hour. Feel free to take some time to ready yourself.”
“Of course,” she hissed.
She walked off not wanting to read anything aloud. Arriving in the drawing room, she slumped on one of the sofas and waited for him. An hour went by and she drummed her fingers on the armrest debating whether to go to her room. Turning sideways, she screamed when she saw him leaning against the door. He’d changed his shirt, combed his hair, and looked altogether more relaxed.
“You have to stop appearing out of nowhere, Mr d’Orleans,” she said.
“You look tired. Was your sleep disturbed?” he enquired, taking the seat opposite.
“I had a nightmare last night,” she mumbled.
“My wife used to say once you feel safe you’ll never have a nightmare again.”
“You’re wife sounds like a clever woman. By the way, how did you persuade my landlord to give you back my things?”
“I offered him a reasonable reward,” he said.
“You paid him? Mr d’Orleans I dislike charity.”
“Then bear in mind that without my intervention you would have nothing to wear, resulting in my purchasing a new wardrobe at great expense.”
Amelia stifled her protests and asked, “How about I read Les Miserables? I’ve read it a number of times and it’s very good.”
“That would be perfect,” he replied.
Amelia leaned over, picked up the leather bound novel from the bookshelf, and opened it.
Clearing her throat, she read aloud the first chapter from Victor Hugo’s masterwork.
Chapter 13
While Amelia read the chapters, Samuel noticed that her voice quivered and sensed that she feared him.
“Stop,” he shouted.
Amelia halted her reading and looked up at him with trembling lips. He shook his head as he never intended to make her feel uneasy.
“You don’t have to read to me anymore,” he said.
“I’m not very good at reading aloud, sir,” Amelia replied.
“I’m going to make a very important rule. From now on you call me Samuel. Not sir or Mr d’Orleans or anything else.”
“Yes, Samuel,” Amelia said with a broadening smile.
“Let’
s go for a walk,” he suggested.
“It’s freezing outside.”
“Then I urge you to dress warmly.”
“Alright, I’ll be back in a sec,” she replied.
She ran out of the room with the enthusiasm of a child and bounded upstairs.
Samuel put on his coat, even though his kind didn’t feel the cold, and wrapped a scarf around his neck. She arrived soon after wearing her coat and they stepped into the garden via the French doors.
A sheath of frost covered the ground and the trees. Her breath curled from her mouth and spiralled out in front of her. Her hands and face numbed. They walked through the garden which spanned many acres with neither saying anything.
“Do you have family here?” she asked, desperate to fill the silence.
“There may be a few stragglers here and but no one I would call close,” he said. “And you?”
“I’m an orphan. My mother died when I was six month old and my father died of cancer when I was ten months old. So I’m completely alone.”
“Then we have something in common.”
“How long have you lived at the manor?” she enquired.
“A few years.”
“Can I ask what you do for a living? Because it’s impossible to own a house like this unless you’re wealthy.”
“I’m in real estate. I own properties all over the world.”
“Do you have properties in France too?” she continued.
“So many questions? You’re not a reporter are you?”
“I’m just curious about you.”
She looked ahead, chuckled at the frozen lake in front of her, and dashed to it without another thought. Samuel saw her staring at her reflection in the water, but consoled himself that he could reach her in a flash should she get into trouble.
Then, a sense of fear convulsed through his body. It made him grimace as the anguish was unbearable. In his mind’s eye he observed a woman with raven hair feeding on a young child who had wandered into the woods surrounding the manor. When she finished he saw her face was smeared with the blood of her victim and that her black eyes returned to their shimmering blue. Staring in Amelia’s direction, the lady elicited a sinister grin before vanishing from sight.