Fangs a Lot

by Tim Collins

  FRIDAY, JANUARY 10

  I sat next to Lenora in class today, which was very distracting. Obviously, all vampires are meant to have supernatural beauty, as it helps us seduce prey. It doesn’t usually work on me, because I know it’s just a trick to get blood. But I think Lenora is gorgeous. She’s a total vamp, as we say. She has black hair, dark eyes, and thin lips that seem to be constantly turned into a cruel sneer. Or maybe that’s just when I’m around.

  I noticed she had a book with her, so I asked what it was. She said it was called ‘A Tale of Two Cities’, but I was probably too young to remember it.

  I wish she’d stop going on about my age. She was turned into a vampire at the same age as me. So what if it happened a few decades earlier? It’s the transformation age that counts. Everyone knows that.

  SATURDAY, JANUARY 11

  I tried reading ‘A Tale of Two Cities’ this morning so I could chat with Lenora about it. Unfortunately, there were lots of parts about guillotines, and it made me too thirsty to concentrate.

  I searched all around the castle for a book about the Victorian age, so I could impress her with my knowledge of her era. Eventually I found one in my sister’s room that was full of cartoons and quizzes.

  It didn’t make me wish I’d been born fifty years earlier. I thought I’d had it tough living through two world wars and fifty-seven Eurovision Song Contests, but things were even worse back then.

  Cecil came round tonight to moan about the lack of cobwebs on the stairwell. He said that spiderwebs are traditional and without them we might as well be walking around a shopping mall.

  “Uncleanliness is next to ungodliness,” he said, slamming the door.

  I don’t know why he was making such a fuss. The stairs still work, don’t they? They get him from one floor to another. What more does he want?

  I went down to Mrs. Dean’s room to pass on the comment. She said she was too busy to do the stairs, though I noticed she’d had plenty of time to do her own room. There were cobwebs dangling down from all the corners, and a thick layer of dust on the floorboards.

  Then Mrs. Dean accused me of trying to overwork her. I wasn’t trying to do anything. I was just relating Cecil’s complaint. I wish they’d shout at each other instead of going through me.

  SUNDAY, JANUARY 12

  I sat next to Lenora again today. While we were supposed to be copying notes from the blackboard, I told her some of the facts I’d learned about the filthy slums, stinky diseases, and overcrowded prisons of Victorian Britain.

  “What would you know about it?” she asked. “You weren’t even alive.”

  “I’ve read a book about it,” I said.

  “Well, doesn’t that just make you the expert?” she asked. “What would I know? I only lived through it.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I was just trying to take an interest.”

  “Well, don’t,” she said. “I’m sick and tired of everyone going on about how awful the nineteenth century was. I had a wonderful time, if you must know. I had a steady supply of fresh blood in the orphanage near where we lived . . .”

  She used to feed off the blood of orphans? That’s disgusting! She’s a fiend! She’s a monster! She’s a savage! She’s a . . .

  No, it’s no use. I still like her.

  MONDAY, JANUARY 13

  A mist drifted over the island early this morning, so I went down to the graveyard next to the castle for a brood. I was really looking forward to moping about my doomed love for Lenora. It’s been a couple of years since I’ve been able to wallow in romantic failure, and I couldn’t wait to get started.

  When I got to the graveyard, I found that it was already full. I should have known. You have to get there really early to get a spot on misty days. Contrary to popular misconceptions, vampires can go out in daylight, but we much prefer freezing, gloomy, damp, and drizzly conditions. If there’s a bitter wind too, that’s a bonus.

  I walked round for ages looking for a spare grave. I eventually spotted a nice crumbly stone with a towel stretched under it. I tried sitting there, but a vampire called Hans leaned across from the next grave.

  “Excuse me, but my good friend Eddie is sitting there,” he said in his thick Bavarian accent. “He shall return shortly.”

  I sighed and got back to my feet.

  On my way back to the castle I spotted my sister leaning against one of the graves. I asked her what she was brooding about, and she said that Mum and Dad wouldn’t let her go to see Lady Gaga live on the mainland because it was too expensive.

  What a complete and utter waste of a brooding space. I was all set to torture myself with the inevitability of eternal loneliness, and she was wasting a spot fretting about excessive ticket prices.

  Mrs. Dean changed the soil in my coffin while I was out. She’s supposed to do it every couple of weeks, but she hasn’t done mine since last autumn. It looks much more inviting with all that fresh soil. I think I might get in right now and have a brood, in fact. Here goes . . .

  Why do the girls I like never like me?

  Why am I doomed to spend eternity alone? Why? Why? Why?

  10:00 p.m.

  I had a lovely brood, but now it’s time for me to stop moping and take charge of my life. Tomorrow I’m going to ask Lenora out. As long as I wear a nice cape and get down on one knee like vampires did in her day, there’s no way she’ll be able to refuse.

  11:00 p.m.

  Who am I kidding? She used to drink the blood of orphans. As if she’d have any qualms about breaking the heart of an undead dweeb like me.

  TUESDAY, JANUARY 14

  I finally got round to writing my report about the Seth incident tonight. I couldn’t go into much detail about how stupid Mum, Dad, and Cecil were, because it would mean I’d have to choose a new Circle of Elders. But I enjoyed describing how my quick thinking saved the day.

  I’m still over thirty reports behind, but at least that’s one I can check off my list.

  By the time I’d e-mailed it to the Vampire Council and made my way down to the kitchen, I’d missed all the blood. I had to scrape the congealed dregs from the bottom of the barrels and they were hard, clotted, and disgusting.

  I’m sick of this. I should have the thickest, tastiest type O- delivered to my room whenever I please. I should have the finest, crumbliest, mossiest grave reserved for me at all times. And I should be treated with respect by attractive female vampires. Maybe I’ll just quit.

  Mum, Dad, or Cecil can take over if they like. They’re incompetent, but how much harm can they really do? We’re on decent terms with the werewolf community now, so they’re unlikely to attack. The blood collection squad is good at keeping a low profile, so I doubt any vampire slayers’ll trace us.

  The Vampire Council will probably be unhappy if I resign so soon, but I don’t care. If they can’t be bothered replying to my e-mail, I don’t see why I should worry what they think.

  WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 15

  I had crèche duty today. The crèche is in a small room at the back of the minus third floor we set up for three babies called Nimrod, Nathaniel, and Zylphina.

  Vampire babies shouldn’t exist at all, of course. Humans are only transformed if we deliberately mix blood with them. Vampire blood has to flow into an open human vein for ages, so it’s unlikely to happen by accident.

  It’s also unlikely that anyone would transform a baby on purpose. They’re never going to grow up, so what’s the point? Nonetheless, every now and then some misguided fool creates one, and it’s up to covens to take them in.

  My sister was obsessed with the babies when we first got here, and even did some of my shifts for me. But all it took was Nathaniel burping blood down her pink dress and the novelty quickly wore off.

  CrèChe duty can be boring, but it’s not too difficult. All you have to do is fill their blood bottles from the barrel in the corner, make sure they don’t get out of their coffin-shaped cots, and pick them up if they start crying.

  They seem
ed quiet today, so I played Angry Birds on my phone to pass the time. When I looked up, Nimrod’s cot was empty.

  I sprang to my feet and searched the room. There was a basket of blood-stained onesies in the corner, but he wasn’t under those. The top of the barrel in the corner was missing, but he wasn’t bobbing around inside. It looked like he’d been in, though. There were tiny foot- and handprints all around it.

  I heard laughter above me and looked up to see Nimrod jumping down from the wardrobe with the lid of the barrel in his hand. He landed on my chest and banged the lid into my face over and over again.

  I couldn’t believe how much energy he had. No wonder you’re not supposed to feed them more than two bottles a day. Even when I’d thrown him to the floor, he crawled around my ankles, nipping at them with his tiny fangs.

  I don’t know what good he thought that would do. Vampires can’t survive on vampire blood. Our lives would be much, much simpler if we could.

  By the time my shift ended, Nimrod was still leaping around, and Nathaniel and Zylphina were bawling their eyes out. Luckily, it was Cecil’s shift next. I couldn’t have wished it on a nicer vampire.

  THURSDAY, JANUARY 16

  Sometimes problems work themselves out. This morning I went down to the archive room to file a meeting report.

  The archive room is a dusty vault at the end of the minus fourth floor. To get there, you have to walk down a corridor lit by flickering torches and creak open a steel door. It seems a waste to use such a brilliant room for musty old files and books. Most vampires would bite your neck off for a room like that.

  When I got there today I heard shuffling from behind one of the tall wooden shelves.

  “Out!” I shouted. “I shouldn’t have to keep telling you.”

  I’d caught my sister and her friends Amber and Ellie practicing a dance routine down there a few months ago, and I assumed they were at it again.

  I walked over to the shelf, expecting to see the girls flailing around. Instead I found Svetlana holding the leather-bound coven record book while Viktor peered over her arm.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “You should be,” said Svetlana, scowling at me. “You can’t just overthrow the head of a coven and put yourself in their place.”

  “I didn’t overthrow anyone,” I said. “Someone suggested I take over and I agreed.”

  “A likely story,” she said, tapping the book. “And I suppose you’ve never read your own record book. And you’ve no idea this coven should be rightfully ruled by the Carpathian family. And that the natural heir is not you but my son Viktor!”

  Viktor jumped out, holding up his fists and skipping back and forth. “I hereby challenge you to a duel in accordance with ancient vampire law!” he shouted.

  I wouldn’t have minded fighting a duel against him. Of all the vampires in the coven, he’s the one I’d be most likely to beat. And that would make me look pretty cool in front of Lenora. But what would be the point of battling for something I didn’t even want?

  “Hang on a minute,” I said. “How do you know I’m not prepared to negotiate?”

  “My son will never share power!” said Svetlana.

  “He might not have to,” I said. “Maybe if you agree to my terms I’d let you take over right away. For example, you could make sure a thermos of fresh blood is left outside my room every morning so I don’t have to line up with the others. And you could make sure one of the best graves is reserved for me.”

  “Really?” she asked. “That’s all you want to hand over power?”

  I probably should have held out for two flasks a day.

  FRIDAY, JANUARY 17

  I arranged a meeting between Viktor, Svetlana, and the Circle of Elders this evening. Mum, Dad, and Cecil were furious when I announced I was handing over power. But when Svetlana assured them their positions were safe, they seemed to calm down.

  Cecil pretended he’d wanted to track down the rightful leader of the coven all along, which I took as my cue to leave.

  I told Viktor he was responsible for writing meeting reports and left them to their pointless discussions.

  I can’t believe I’m finally free! No more paperwork about petty squabbles for me!

  I found a really nice thermos of blood waiting outside my room, just as requested. Even better, dark storm clouds were looming over the island. I rushed outside and saw that one of the graves at the front had a new stone. . . .

  I leaned against it and opened my thermos. I couldn’t believe I had my own private grave. Now I could finally rest in peace, aptly enough. The only other vampire with a reserved plot is Seth, who’s built a pyramid on the edge of the graveyard. Apparently that’s how they used to bury people back in his day, so it makes him feel at home.

  “Reserving graves is unfair!” shouted Hans from a few graves back.

  I didn’t even bother pointing out the hypocrisy of this. I just stared out at the sea as the clouds broke and icy rain pelted down. It was perfect. The only problem was I was so happy I couldn’t brood properly.

  SATURDAY, JANUARY 18

  Word must have spread about Viktor taking over because everyone keeps asking me about him. Rob, Mike, and Henry even said they wished I’d stayed in charge. I didn’t notice any of them congratulating me on doing a good job while I was leader.

  Mr. Dashwood gave us a lesson about the Vampire-Werewolf War at school this morning. I’ve seen a battle between vampires and werewolves, and it was pretty exciting, so you’d think an entire war would be the most awesome thing ever. But you wouldn’t know from Mr. Dashwood’s lesson. All he did was point out places on an ancient yellow map and make us write down the names of the most famous battles. He might as well have been talking about the history of the sewage system for all the drama he injected into it.

  Halfway through he went out to collect another map from his study and Seth ran over to my desk to ask what was going on with Viktor. I was about to tell him I’d handed over power because I couldn’t be bothered leading the coven, when I noticed Lenora coming over too.

  She seemed interested in what I had to say for once, so I thought I’d make myself sound more heroic. I said I’d fought fang and nail to stop Viktor from taking over my beloved coven, but I was overruled by the Circle of Elders.

  The whole class was gathered around my desk by the time Mr. Dashwood came in clutching a faded map. I tried to explain that it wasn’t my fault, but that didn’t stop him from calling me up to the front.

  When he started fumbling around in his drawer, I thought he was looking for his holy water, but he went straight for the punishment box! I can’t believe I got crucifixed just because everyone was talking to me.

  I tried really hard not to react as he opened the box. But it only took a glimpse of the tiny silver Jesus hanging from the cross to send me howling to the floor with my head in my hands. I rolled around and sobbed, desperate for the sharp ache behind my eyes to die down.

  I can’t believe I did that in front of Lenora. She must think I’m such a loser.

  SUNDAY, JANUARY 19

  Seth came round to my room tonight to apologize. I told him it was Mr. Dashwood’s fault for overreacting, and invited him in to play Need for Speed to show there were no hard feelings.

  Driving games are usually much better with two players, but I don’t think Seth really understood what was going on. He kept crashing into barriers and driving the wrong way. It’s not surprising, really. He’s been in this coven for over a hundred years. He’s probably never even seen a car. I told him to imagine he was driving a chariot, but he just lifted his hand in the air and did a whipping mime.

  After a while he ran off to fetch a game from his room. I was hoping it might be the new Call of Duty, but it turned out to be an ancient board game where you had to throw sticks and move counters around.

  It was pretty dull. I couldn’t really see the point in messing around with a three-thousand-year-old game when I had a pile of new video games and an HDTV in fron
t of me, but I tried my best.

  It was a great example of vampire tolerance when you think about it. Most humans can’t even get on with people from other nations, yet there I was making friends with someone from another era. If I didn’t need to drain the blood of innocent humans to survive, I’d be a model of understanding and decency.

  MONDAY, JANUARY 20

  It was raining heavily tonight, so I popped down to my grave for a good mope. When I got there, I found Cecil sitting in my spot and staring out at the sea.

  I coughed and pointed to the headstone.

  He said that my sister had been using the grave this evening when she’d heard ghostly wailing voices, so she’d sent him out to investigate. He hadn’t discovered anything yet, but was hanging around to make sure.

  Well, excuse me. I thought the stone said RESERVED FOR NIGEL MULLET. I didn’t realize it actually said RESERVED FOR NIGEL MULLET AND ANY FREELOADING HANGERS-ON WHO WANT TO SIT HERE.

  Cecil wouldn’t budge so I had to traipse around looking for another spot. The only free grave was right at the back. There was no lichen or moss on the stone, you couldn’t see the ocean, and Hans was on the grave next to it playing soft rock on his old-fashioned cassette player. I wouldn’t have minded if he’d been playing funeral dirges or Radiohead, but how are you supposed to brood to Bon Jovi?

  After a few minutes I gave up and went back to my room.

  TUESDAY, JANUARY 21

  Everyone is on strict rations of half a pint a day because Viktor has fallen out with Mike and Rob. Apparently he called them “a pair of smelly peasants who need to learn their place.” Now they’re refusing to harvest any blood until he apologizes and we’re all going to have to make do with the stuff Henry collects.