by Sam Short
“Just what are you saying, Florence?” said Fredrick, getting to his feet. “I know what happened. I’ve been a teacher here since the fifties, and I was present in nineteen-eighty-eight when the Board of Governors expelled Trevor Giles for bullying. Henry Pinkerton was livid with him, and warned him never to pass through the doors of this hall again.”
Florence dropped her eyes, briefly fading from sight before becoming visible again. “I’ve said too much,” she said. “Please forget I spoke out of turn, Fredrick.”
“I don’t think I can forget what was just spoken about,” said the vampire. “You insinuated that Trevor had done something terrible. What was it that you think happened? What are you insinuating that Trevor did?”
Florence shook her head. “I will not say another word on the matter,” she promised. “I can assure you of that, and if you wish to hear what I have to say about suspicious activity concerning Trevor Giles and the ghoul yesterday, then you shan’t attempt to cajole me into saying anymore about any incident that may, or may not, have occurred in nineteen-eighty-eight. If you do attempt to make me speak, I shall simply vanish and not make myself known again until Henry Pinkerton has returned from his trip.”
“She means it,” warned Edna, raising an eyebrow. “She’s very stubborn. A little like a mule.”
Fredrick sighed and lowered himself into his seat. “Very well, Florence, but I shall be bringing the subject up with Henry when he returns.” He rolled his shoulders. “Please, go ahead. Tell us about Trevor Giles. What suspicious activity did you witness?”
“I happened to be taking a stroll in the sunshine when Trevor Giles arrived yesterday,” said Florence. “I was enjoying watching the tents being erected in readiness for the fete, when a taxi pulled up and Trevor climbed out. It had been many years since I’d seen him, yet I recognised him immediately. I followed him into the hall and hid myself from him as he headed up the stairs.”
“On his way to my classroom,” added Millie. “To watch the children’s cooking display.”
“Indeed,” said Florence, giving Millie a smile. “And I observed in fascination as he was attacked by the ghoul I spoke of.”
“Yes,” said Millie. “Trevor barged into the classroom. The door slammed into the wall and frightened everybody -- even the ghost. It rushed towards the door and passed right through Trevor as it escaped.”
“Good gracious, no!” said Florence. “That’s not what happened at all!”
“What do you mean?” asked Millie.
Florence rose a few feet off the floor, before descending again and gliding towards the empty armchair in the corner. She settled into it, the leather visible through her torso and legs. “When a new ghost pops into this world from the invisible world of the wandering spirits, I am able to sense it. It’s akin to the sensation I recall experiencing when I was alive — the sensation one gets when they comment that somebody has walked over their grave. A tingling along the spine and a cold ball in one’s stomach.”
“I know it,” said Millie.
Florence gave a nod. “I experienced that very sensation yesterday, no sooner had Trevor Giles stepped out of the taxi. The precise second that his foot made contact with the ground, in fact.”
“Are you trying to say that the ghost coincidentally moved into our dimension at the exact moment that Trevor Giles stepped onto Spellbinder Hall property?” asked Fredrick.
“That is what I considered to have happened at the time,” said Florence. “Until I followed Trevor upstairs to the cookery classroom. It was then that I understood the spirt had made itself visible because Trevor Giles had stepped onto our land.”
“How could you possibly know that?” asked Judith. “If you can’t even converse with the apparition.”
“I sensed it,” said Florence. “The spiritual energy in Miss Thorn’s classroom was heavy with an emotion one doesn’t often sense in the presence of ghosts. You see, when a person dies it is normal for them to be relieved of all the burdens which life had bestowed upon them... a spirit should feel only peace in death. But not the new arrival... I could sense its rage as I followed Trevor towards the classroom, and when Trevor attempted to enter the room, the spirit’s anger blossomed into a anger so intense that even I was unnerved.”
“The ghost attacked Trevor?” asked Millie. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“Not simply attacked,” said Florence. “The spirit was able to make Trevor feel its presence, such was the strength of its malice.”
“Yes,” said Millie, recalling Trevor swatting at the air around him. “Trevor said he’d felt it pass right through him.”
“That sprit meant to hurt Trevor Giles,” said Florence. “And even after expending so much energy in that attack on Trevor, it still managed to harness enough energy to make repeated attempts throughout the day. I followed it, concealing myself from view, attempting to understand why it harboured such anger.”
“And did you discover why?” asked Judith.
“I’m afraid not,” Florence replied. “The spirit dripped with anger, but had expended too much of its energy to either reveal itself to the living, or to make Trevor aware of its presence. I could not tell why it felt such rage, but I was aware of a peacefulness enveloping its aura when Cuthbert Campion and his daughter were present in your classroom, Miss Thorn. It even managed to make itself visible for a few more seconds.”
“Yes,” said Millie. “I saw it. It left the room at the same time Cuthbert and his daughter did, but it faded before it reached the doorway.”
“Indeed,” said Florence. “I was alongside it, hidden from the living, wishing to observe the new arrival without bringing attention to myself, and it was only during those brief seconds in which it made itself visible again, that I became aware its anger had been replaced briefly with a gentler energy.” Florence closed her eyes and sighed. “It was a beautiful energy... a tranquil energy which calmed even me.” She opened her eyes suddenly. “It was short lived, though! The spirit trailed Cuthbert Campion until he happened upon Trevor Giles in the refreshment tent, and then the spirit became angry again. So angry. It tried again and again to attack Trevor, to make itself felt, but it was too weak. It was forced to remain out of sight. It followed Trevor for the remainder of the day, anger fuelling it, until Sergeant Spencer arrested and took Trevor away, at which point the spirit vanished. Even I could not locate it. It wasn’t until this morning that I discovered it once more, travelling the corridors between Mister Huggins’s chemistry laboratory and the cookery classroom.”
Anticipation in her stomach. Millie leaned forward in her seat. “Florence, do you think it’s at all possible that a ghost could have manufactured a poison in Timothy’s laboratory and somehow administered it to Trevor Giles?” she asked the ghost. “If the ghost seemed to hate Trevor as much as you think it did, then maybe it hated him enough to want him dead.”
Florence rested her chin on a petite hand and looked upward as she pondered the question. After a few seconds she gave a nod. “It’s a possibility,” she said. “We spirits are capable of extraordinary tasks if our energy is powerful enough.”
“You said the ghost appeared to possess an extremely angry energy yesterday,” said Fredrick. “Enough to fuel such a task as mixing a poison and administering it to a man?”
“Maybe the poison was given to Trevor in the police cell,” said Judith. “A ghost could have easily sneaked past me and Dad and slipped into the cell with Trevor. What do you think, Florence? Could the mystery ghost be responsible for Trevor’s death?”
“Yes and no,” said Florence. “I would imagine its energy would have allowed it to manipulate objects quite easily. And I’m certain it is strong enough to mix a poison and transport said poison across town to the police station, but I’m not sure that the robed ghoul is responsible for the crime you accuse it of. After all, as I so diligently explained, I followed it yesterday and I did not witness it either mixing a poison, or pursuing Mister Giles to the police
station.”
“Also,” said Edna. “The poison contains not just herbs, but magic, too, and as we all know, especially considering the fact that witches cannot become spirits — a ghost can’t cast a spell.”
“Indeed we cannot,” agreed Florence. “We are capable of much, but magic is beyond the grasp of even the most powerful of spirits.”
“Very well,” said Fredrick, getting to his feet. “Thank you for your input, Florence. I’d be extremely grateful if you would continue your attempts at making contact with the spirit, and if you do manage to communicate with it, try and ascertain why it apparently harboured such anger towards the late Mister Giles.”
“I will do my best,” said Florence, floating from her seat and gliding gracefully across the room, passing from sight through the wall next to the tall bookcase.
“And I’d be extremely grateful if the rest of you would get on with the tasks at hand,” said Fredrick.
“Timothy and I will head straight to the chemistry laboratory,” said Edna, striding towards the door. “Between us, I’m sure we’ll discover any further secrets the poison may be hiding.” She paused as she reached the doorway, and stared over her shoulder. “Come along, Mister Huggins. Time is not a privilege afforded us so we may waste it.”
Rolling his eyes in Millie’s direction and then offering her a quick wink, Timothy clambered to his feet. “Don’t fret, Edna, I’m coming.”
As Timothy and Edna left the room, Judith placed the strap of her handbag around her neck. “I’ll hitch a lift home with you, Millie. If you don’t mind. You’ll be heading that way if you’re going to go and speak with some of the people on the list.”
“Sure thing,” said Millie, pushing herself from her seat. “Come on, let’s get going.”
Giving a low cough, Fredrick stepped from behind his desk. “I was going to ask Miss Thorn to remain behind for a few minutes,” he said. “There is a personal matter I would like to speak with her about.” He looked at Millie. “If you would do me the honour, of course.”
“Urm, yes, that’s fine,” said Millie, curious, and more than a little unnerved about what it was that Fredrick wanted to speak to her about. After a year in Spellbinder Bay she could hardly recall being alone in a room with the vampire for more than a minute at a time, and certainly not long enough to have had a conversation about a personal matter. She gave Judith a shrug and offered her the small bunch of keys which she took from her pocket. “Here, wait in my car if you like.”
“No,” said Judith. “Do you know what? I think I’ll walk home across the fields. I could do with some fresh air and I’d like some space to think. I’ll catch up with you later, Millie.”
“Please close the door after you, Miss Spencer,” said Fredrick, as Judith walked from the room. As the door clicked shut, he indicated the seat nearest his desk. “Please sit down, Miss Thorn,” he urged. “Some important things need to be said.”
Chapter 22
With nobody else in the room but herself and Fredrick, the study felt suddenly empty to Millie. Not empty of people, but empty of life. Empty of character. Devoid of even the possibility of joy or happiness.
Feeling a spring dig deep into her buttock, Millie winced with pain as she settled into the seat and gave Fredrick a smile. “How can I help you?” she asked.
Fredrick studied her for a moment or two, his gaze expressing an emotion Millie had never seen in the vampire’s eyes before. Something alien to the vampire’s usual demeanour. Something... warm. Something kind, maybe?
No sooner had it appeared, than it was gone, and Fredrick’s eyes became cold once more. “Miss Thorn,” he said. “I see the way you look at me, and I understand that you may think I have a dislike for you. I’m not blind to my own interactions with other people. I realise I can be... awkward. I completely comprehend that you may have an aversion towards me.”
If Fredrick realised he often came across as awkward, Millie wondered if he was aware of how uncomfortable he was currently making her feel. She bit her lip before speaking, squirming a little in her seat. “I don’t have an aversion towards you, Fredrick, but I have noticed that since George and I began dating, you appeared to have treated me differently than before.”
Tilting his head, Fredrick nodded. “As you know, Miss Thorn. I had the pleasure of saving George’s life on a battlefield during World War One. I was a German medic, he was a British soldier. When I saw him dying in the mud, surrounded by the bodies of both his comrades and his enemies, I saw something in him. Something that persuaded me to bite him and give him immortality. He reminded me of the son I’d once had, the son who died of old age, refusing to allow me to turn him into a vampire, afraid of the creature I had become after I was bitten by a vampire who had dragged me unconscious from a Berlin canal and saved me from death.
“Outliving one’s child is an awful experience for anybody, but not ageing as your son grows old and feeble, eventually withering away to nothing, is something entirely different. Something that will cast a person into their own living hell. A hell with no means of escape.”
The unimaginable horror of the experience Fredrick was describing surpassed a gentle tugging of Millie’s heartstrings — instead, it tore and ripped at them, twisting them in ways that made a tear bulge at the edge of her eye. Wiping a finger across her cheek, she allowed herself to look at the vampire. To really look at him, for once.
Although he’d stopped ageing before he’d reached fifty, Fredrick appeared older than the age he was when he’d been bitten, in the way a child with wise eyes looks older then he really is. What was ageing Fredrick wasn’t wisdom, though, it was sadness. A terrible sadness abundantly displayed for all to see — if a person wanted to see it.
The sadness swam in his eyes, it moulded the set of his mouth, it traced the furrows in his brow, and was the puppeteer of his posture as he sat looking at Millie, his shoulders tense and hunched. With a sorrowful realisation, Millie saw Fredrick for who he really was. Not a stern schoolmaster or a scary vampire, but a man. A broken man. She spoke quietly. “That sounds awful,” she said.
His face crumpling, Fredrick looked away before nodding and fixing Millie in a hardened stare. “I don’t expect your sympathy,” he said. “I tell you these things so you may understand why George’s wellbeing is of such great importance to me.” He picked up a quill from his desk and studied it as he spoke, rotating it in his fingers. “We vampires are not as humans have described us over the centuries,” he said.
“We are not bloodthirsty tyrants who murder innocents in the search for fresh blood. We do not, in fact, even require blood to exist. We simply require more iron than a typical human, and that can be sourced from animal meat and vegetables, or even tablets bought at the supermarket.” He gave Millie a thin smile. “Would it surprise you to learn that our fangs are not intended to wound or kill, but are for the purpose of healing a person?” He shook his head. “No, not healing a person — saving a person from certain death.”
“I knew vampires didn’t require blood to live,” explained Millie. “George has told me a lot about vampires. He also told me that there are vampires who have murdered humans for the sheer fun of it.”
“Yes,” said Fredrick. “There have always been rogue vampires, and I’m sure there always will be, but unfortunately, it is those vampires whom the stories are written about. The vast majority of us are not like that, and most of us have only ever bitten a human to save them from certain death — in fact, it is quite rare even to find a vampire who has turned a human into one of us. If you do meet a vampire who has bitten a human, you’ll discover that they are very attached to the vampire they created, as I am to George. It’s almost like being a parent to them. The bond is very strong. Stronger than any other bond a vampire will have experienced since leaving their humanity behind.”
“That’s why you seem so unhappy about me dating George,” said Millie. “Because you think of him as your child?” She paused and frowned. “Although if Geor
ge was your child, I don’t see what’s so wrong with me that you’d not want a son of yours dating me.” She gave a sigh. “Anyway, we’ve split up. We’re not dating anymore.”
Fredrick nodded. “I know, and George is very upset by it all, but you have misperceived my intentions,” he added, replacing the quill on its stand. “I don’t dislike the thought of you dating George. I believe you are good for George. George likes you, and I’m glad that you make him happy.”
“Then what is it you dislike about the situation?” asked Millie, choosing not to question Fredrick about whether or not he was aware of the mystery woman who was living in George’s home with him. “George told me that you even attempted to persuade him into splitting up with me when we first got together. What’s so wrong with me? Is it because I’m a witch?”
“Goodness gracious, no,” said Fredrick. “I’m far too long in the fang to be judging people by their intrinsic qualities. I’ve been a vampire for a very long time, long enough to know that beneath the skin, all human and paranormal people are motivated by the same set of values. There is little difference between the values of a witch living in Spellbinder Bay or a human trawler-man living in Canada. Both want to love and be loved, and in my experience, those are the only two ambitions, which when achieved, make anybody genuinely happy.”
“Then what didn’t you like about George and I dating each other?” asked Millie. “If love is so important to somebody’s happiness, why did you try and prevent it from blossoming between us? Don’t you want George to be happy?”
Tapping a finger on the desktop, Fredrick studied Millie with cold eyes. “I didn’t want you and George to find love or happiness with one another, Miss Thorn. That much is true.”
Millie narrowed her eyes, refusing to look away from the vampire’s hard stare. “But why?” she demanded.
Indicating his surroundings with a wave of a bony hand, Fredrick looked away. “Take a look around my study and tell me what you see, Miss Thorn.”