Fangs a Lot

by Tim Collins

  If I’d known how unruly my sister and her friends had become when I was in power, I’d have been much stricter with them. They’ve been getting away with disrespecting their elders and betters for far too long.

  When I’m leader again, I’ll make an example of them by placing them in stocks outside the castle and letting everyone lob holy water at them. At least that gives me something to look forward to.

  SUNDAY, MARCH 2

  Henry knocked on my door early this morning to tell me he’d broken through to the archive room. His face was covered in dirt and he had a worm wriggling in his sideburn, but he seemed happy enough.

  He said he’d made a small hole in the ceiling at the far left corner of the room, which I should be able to squeeze through. I thanked him and told him I’d update him as soon as I’d been down there.

  11:00 a.m.

  The sun’s coming out now, which means the graveyard will be deserted. Time to head down and grab the evidence.

  4:00 p.m.

  I returned from the archive room three hours ago now. I’ve been staring at this diary ever since, trying to work out how to describe the horror I saw.

  I sneaked down to the graveyard straight after completing that last entry. The sun was rising over the crooked stones and everyone had gone indoors. I dashed over to my grave with my hands in my pockets and glanced up at the castle. No one seemed to be watching, so I leaped into the grave and swept the tarp aside.

  I threw myself down the narrow tunnel, bouncing off the wonky sides and shaking clumps of earth loose. I crashed down onto a bend at the bottom and a layer of fine soil sprinkled over me.

  I scrabbled forward on my hands and knees until I saw a faint flicker coming from a small hole ahead. I squeezed through the gap and found myself on a high, narrow wooden platform. It took me a minute to blink the soil out of my eyes and realize I was on top of the bookshelf against the rear wall of the archive room.

  I slipped down to the floor and got to my feet. The candelabras at the far end were burning, but the rest of the room was dark.

  I tiptoed down the central aisle to the shelf where Svetlana had been looking at the record book. She’d left it on the floor near where she’d been standing, which was surprisingly careless. I grabbed it, tucked it under my arm and started to make my way back to the tunnel.

  I heard shuffling from the front of the room. Was it possible that one of the blond vampires was in here with me? I hadn’t heard anyone come in.

  I peered into the gloom. The door was shut and I couldn’t see any movement.

  “Ooooooohh!”

  I froze as I heard a loud wail echo around the vault. I remembered my sister’s claim to have heard a ghost. She couldn’t have been right, could she?

  I turned back to the tunnel. I just needed to drink a pint of blood, have a nice lie-down in my coffin, and forget the whole thing.

  “Ooooooohh!”

  The sound rang out again. I made myself walk toward it. So what if it was a ghost? I’m already Facebook friends with two werewolves—I didn’t see why a silly specter was anything to be frightened of.

  What harm could a ghost do to me, anyway? You can’t hold a wooden stake if your hands pass through everything, and it would probably hate holy water even more than me.

  I forced my legs on toward the flickering candles at the front. I checked every murky shelf I passed for headless horsemen, angry wraiths, and screaming banshees, but all I could see were piles of folders and books.

  I approached the final shelf and peeked round it.

  I instantly wished I hadn’t. Why did I have to look? Why couldn’t I have just taken the record book back up to the others?

  Four men and four women were lying on hospital beds. Their legs and arms were tied with thick straps and their necks had plastic tubes sticking out of them. Blood was running down the tubes into wooden barrels on the floor.

  The man on the left of the aisle, who had brown hair in a ponytail and bloodshot eyes, looked at me and wailed, “Ooooooooh!”

  I tried to shush him, but I think my fangs must have been down, because his low wail turned into a scream of terror.

  This woke up a woman with red hair on the other side of the aisle. She stared at me with wide eyes and opened her mouth to scream, but all she could manage was a raspy exhale.

  Empty bottles of mineral water and protein shakes littered the floor. At the front of the vault, beneath one of the flickering candelabras, was a bizarre array of condiments and flavorings. There was salt, pepper, sugar, honey, some green leaves, some lemons, and a spice rack.

  My stomach felt like it was flipping round inside my body. I had to gulp to stop myself from spewing blood all over the humans. Then they’d really have had something to moan about.

  11:00 p.m.

  No wonder Viktor has been serving such fresh blood. He’s been keeping human cattle down there all along.

  I should have known. I’ve never tasted blood like that before. It can only have been produced by humans who are being force-fed the same flavor over and over again.

  Well, that’s it. I’m not touching another drop of Viktor’s hideous supply. From now on I drink free-range blood only.

  Time for a Liberation Front meeting now. I just hope I can put into words the obscenity I saw today.

  MONDAY, MARCH 3

  “I know why Viktor keeps the archive room locked,” I said when everyone had arrived on the beach. “He’s keeping human cattle!”

  I waited for the others to gasp, but they just kept staring at me. I wondered if they were too shocked to react.

  “There are eight living humans trapped down there,” I said. “He’s tied tubes to their necks to collect their blood. The very blood we’ve all been drinking!”

  Again, I waited. Again, no one said anything.

  “Don’t you think that’s terrible?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” said Henry. “It’s a shame. But at least it means we get nice fresh blood. That’s one thing the little twerp gets right.”

  The others nodded.

  “Right?” I asked. “What’s right about keeping those poor humans alive just for their blood? What kind of a life is that?”

  “At least they get fed,” said Henry. “And they’ve got a bed. I didn’t always have one when I was a human.”

  How bad must Henry’s life have been for him to regard torture and imprisonment as luxury?

  I turned to Mr. Dashwood. “Surely you don’t agree with all this?”

  “I admit there are ethical issues,” said Mr. Dashwood. “But it’s hardly the matter at hand. What did the record book say?”

  I hadn’t even bothered looking at it yet. I’d brought it, but I’d assumed everyone would be too horrified to be interested in it. I handed it to Mr. Dashwood and he started flipping through. I looked at Seth, hoping he’d back me up, but he just shrugged. “I know it’s bad, but I don’t really care. I’m not that much of a human lover.”

  Finally, I turned to Lenora. Surely she’d take my side?

  “I’m sorry it’s upset you, Nige,” said Lenora.

  “Maybe you can bring back the old blood-collecting method when you’re in charge again. But worrying about it now isn’t going to help us.”

  So even my beloved Lenora didn’t care about those poor humans. Maybe everyone else had their conscience removed when they transformed. Maybe I’m some sort of freak for considering the feelings of humans.

  Mr. Dashwood shut the book. “I’m afraid it’s bad news. Viktor’s name is mentioned in here as the rightful heir to the leadership of this coven. No rival claims are mentioned.”

  Henry sighed. “Looks like we’re back to square one.”

  TUESDAY, MARCH 4

  I tried to mope on my grave this morning, but all I could think about were those poor humans beneath me, so I came back to my room.

  My regular delivery of blood was waiting outside my door. I felt like opening it up and tipping it out of the window. But then I worried that I
might smell it and get thirsty.

  Instead, I’ve shoved it in the back of my underwear drawer. I shall now start a fast as a mark of respect for humans all around the world.

  11:00 p.m.

  I’ve decided to put off my fast. It’s probably best that I keep my strength after the shock I’ve had. But I’ll make a start on it tomorrow.

  It was that lemon blood today. There was a citrusy whiff around that woman with red hair. I wonder if it came from her?

  I don’t want to think about it. I drank the blood for sustenance, not for pleasure. If I made a loud Mmmmm noise as I was pouring it and muttered “That’s the stuff” after I finished, I was acting purely on instinct and cannot be blamed.

  WEDNESDAY, MARCH 5

  I was still worrying about the human cattle this morning, so I went up to see Mum and Dad. I found them sitting around their table, drinking blood and playing cards with Cecil.

  “I’ve got something to tell you,” I said. “But you must promise to keep it to yourselves.”

  Mum put her cards down on the table and looked up at me. “You’re not bringing any more of those werewolves round, are you? I know it’s good for you to have friends, but they make the rest of us very uncomfortable.”

  “It’s not that,” I said. “Viktor has imprisoned eight humans downstairs and he’s using them for blood!”

  Cecil slapped his hand to his forehead and pretended to faint. This made Dad laugh so much he dropped his cards.

  “What other secrets are you going to share with us?” asked Cecil. “That grass is green? That the sky is blue? That your dad can’t beat me at cards?”

  “You mean you knew?” I asked.

  “Of course,” said Dad. “Viktor told us he was going to do it at the final Circle of Elders meeting. We told him it was a good idea.”

  “Don’t you care about the feelings of those poor humans?” I asked.

  “Let me think,” said Cecil. He poured himself a fresh glass and glugged it back. “No.”

  “It’s very sweet that you care about human welfare,” said Mum. “But this is the real world, and sometimes hard decisions have to be made.”

  That’s right, Mum. Patronize me when I’m angry. Big help.

  “I don’t think it’s sweet at all,” said Cecil. “I think it’s ridiculous. You’re not a carrot-munching social worker, Nigel. You’re a vampire. Grow up and accept what you are.”

  I looked to Dad, expecting him to step in.

  “He’s got a point,” said Dad, taking another swig of blood. “It’s not as though humans care about our welfare. If they have even the slightest suspicion that we’re near, they come for us with stakes and holy water. Is it any wonder we turn a blind eye to small things like this?”

  I could tell I wasn’t dealing with reasonable beings, so I ran out and slammed the door. I’m definitely going to start my fast now.

  11:00 p.m.

  Just drank again. Cinnamon today. I’m not proud.

  THURSDAY, MARCH 6

  Why am I the only one who cares about those poor humans?

  Maybe it’s because I’ve never been that badly treated by humans. One of them forced me to give him my lunch money once, and one of them refused to return my copy of Sonic the Hedgehog in 1991. But it’s hardly up there with getting chased by torch-wielding villagers.

  It might also be because I’ve had several human friends and even a human girlfriend. Most of this arrogant lot have probably only ever spoken to them as a prelude to popping their fangs in their necks. If they sat down and had a proper conversation with them, they might find we’re not so different really.

  Who knows? Maybe one day humans and vampires will live openly and peacefully together. They might even donate blood willingly if we put on a few vampire football matches for them. Who wouldn’t want to exchange a pint for the pleasure of seeing Hirta FC scoring three thousand goals against Manchester United?

  11:00 p.m.

  Yep, drank it again. Honey flavor tonight. How can something so wrong taste so right?

  FRIDAY, MARCH 7

  Mr. Dashwood gave us a lesson on blood harvesting today. He took us through the three main methods:

  1. Hypnosis and neck draining

  Pros: Traditional, no long-term harm to humans

  Cons: Blood can taste stale by the time it reaches a coven, high risk of getting caught, especially since the invention of CCTV and camera phones

  2. Keeping human cattle

  Pros: Steady supply of fresh blood, low risk of getting caught

  Cons: Minor ethical issues for those who believe in the fair treatment of humans

  3. Murder

  Pros: Instant supply of fresh blood, victims unlikely to tell anyone

  Cons: Limited supply, major ethical issues

  I think he chose the subject matter as a way of apologizing for not supporting me more the other night. He went on for ages about how keeping humans as cattle isn’t as bad as killing them, so I think he was also trying to bring me round to a more moderate point of view. He didn’t win me over, but it was an interesting topic for a lesson, which was a nice change.

  I’m not sure Mr. Dashwood should have taught the lesson while rationing was still on, though. By the end of the lesson, nearly everyone’s fangs had extended and you could hardly hear him over the rumbling of stomachs.

  SATURDAY, MARCH 8

  Lenora called round this afternoon.

  “Just checking how you’re getting on,” she said.

  “If you could have seen them . . .” I said. “The thin faces . . . the frightened eyes . . .”

  “I know it was hard for you,” she said, sitting on my coffin. “But you’ve got to move on.”

  I sat down and flopped my head on her shoulder.

  “The only way you can save those humans is by overthrowing Viktor,” she said. “Then you can bring your old system back.”

  “I suppose so,” I said, wiping the corner of my eye. I admit I was hamming it up to get sympathy, but I am genuinely upset about the humans, so it’s allowed.

  “We’re meeting again at midnight on Sunday,” said Lenora. “Do you think you’ll be able to make it?”

  I looked up at her and nodded. She leaned forward and gave me a brief kiss on the lips.

  She left and closed the door.

  I got up, punched the air, and poured myself a glass of blood in celebration. I now realize that this was an inappropriate thing to do. I was overwhelmed with emotion and didn’t stop to remind myself where the blood came from. It’s not a mistake I want to make again.

  Still, a kiss on the lips, eh? It all goes to show that sensitivity pays.

  SUNDAY, MARCH 9

  I’ve decided to focus my efforts on the Liberation Front again. But the least I can do for those poor humans is pay them one more visit and let them know someone’s fighting for them. I’m sure that a few reassuring, friendly words will be a great comfort in their suffering.

  7:00 p.m.

  That didn’t go very well.

  I had to hang around for ages this afternoon, waiting for Hans and Eddie to leave the graves next to mine. It was reasonably sunny, so they shouldn’t have been out at all. I think they just wanted to be sure they had good places in case it started raining. They gave up after about an hour and packed away their towels.

  The coast was clear, so I dragged the tarp back and jumped down the tunnel.

  When I got into the vault, I slid down to the floor and listened for footsteps. It was just me and the human cows in there. I reckon the blond vampires only go down there in the mornings to collect the full barrels.

  The cows were all asleep this time. I wondered if I should rouse them for my reassuring speech, but I decided to give it a few minutes to see if they woke naturally.

  As I was waiting, a strong smell wafted up to me. I looked across at a woman with brown hair on the far end of the row. There were crushed green leaves around her mouth.

  I wandered over to her barrel and sniff
ed. It was mint! They were making mint blood! Mmmmmmmm.

  I felt my fangs extend behind my lip. I used to love mint when I was a human. Tasting it again was going to be fantastic.

  But I could wait. I was here to support these poor humans, not to satisfy my monstrous urges.

  On the other hand, I had to pass the time somehow.

  I lifted the barrel to my mouth and took a sip. It was more delicious than I could ever have imagined. I found myself lifting up the bottom and glugging more and more. It spilled down my T-shirt, but I didn’t care. I had to have more.

  A loud scream rang out right in front of me, and I slammed the barrel back. The woman with red hair was glaring at me and shrieking.

  “Whoops,” I said, wiping the blood from the sides of my mouth. “ ’Scuse the mess. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you . . .”

  “Ooooooohh!”

  Great. Now ponytail man was wailing away too. I turned to him and tried to smile, but I ended up burping blood through my fangs. His low moan turned into a loud yelp.

  The other humans woke up and joined in the chorus of screams. I thought they might attract the blond vampires, so I shouted, “Everything’s going to be okay!” and ran back to the tunnel.

  I’m not proud of how I behaved today. I wanted to give them hope, but instead I drove them into a frenzy of terror. But I swear I’ll make it up to them. Next time they see me I’ll be setting them free.

  MONDAY, MARCH 10

  I must have had too much of that minty blood yesterday, because I had a really bad headache in the evening. It was just wearing off as I made my way to the beach for the Liberation Front meeting.

  “I know we’ve hit a snag,” said Lenora. “But there must be some other way of ousting Viktor.”

  “Let’s start a revolt against him,” said Henry.