“Make him listen,” she pleaded, before they were swept back into the flow of college well-wishers.
***
Three days after the fatal crash, Adelaide had turned up at Kate’s house to collect baby Harriet.
“But the police said you were dead,” her sister in law had cried.
Adelaide had somehow managed to convince her that there’d been a misunderstanding. The glimmer of hope in Kate’s eyes when she’d believed for a moment that reports of her beloved brother’s death had also been greatly exaggerated had faded to dull resentment at realising that Sam had died whilst Adelaide had lived.
She’d stayed at Kate’s for a week, sleeping for most of the day and blaming it on being weak from the accident. At night, she’d snuck out to bars, charmed sleazy men and taken them outside to drink their blood. Back at the house, she’d held Harriet tightly and fed her from her breasts as she always had. She’d worried about whether this was safe, but with every day that passed the baby had grown, looked stronger, seemed more alert.
On the seventh day, a by now almost openly hostile Kate had followed her out of the house and into the centre of town. When Kate had seen her bite down on the neck of the mesmerised bar patron, she hadn’t screamed, had just calmly called out her name.
Adelaide had spun round, shocked and trying to decide whether it would be better to put her sister-in-law in a trance and make her forget, or just kill her. Before she could act however, she’d heard crying and realised that Kate, smarter than she would have given her credit for, was holding Harriet tightly. Not wanting to risk making her drop the baby, Adelaide had frozen.
“I think I deserve an explanation,” Kate had said coldly. “I’ve known something hasn’t been quite right all week.”
Adelaide had wondered how to react and decided that some degree of honesty was probably the best policy. “The car crash. Sam was dead on impact, but I was just about conscious. My boss, Gus came to help and he did this to me. I’ll never die now, but there are these downsides.”
Kate had nodded. Adelaide had always regarded her as stolidly down to earth with no belief or interest in the supernatural, but it seemingly hadn’t crossed Kate’s mind to disbelieve her.
“Forget this,” Adelaide had pleaded. “I’ll take Harriet and I’ll leave your house. You’ll never have to see me again, never have to worry about all of this. No one will hurt you.”
It had been raining slightly, and Adelaide had revelled in the way she didn’t feel the cold, the way the rain didn’t touch her hair and makeup, how well she could see in the dark. Kate on the other hand was soaked and starting to shiver. It was clear where the balance of power laid and Adelaide had expected her to readily agree.
“Oh, you’ll go away and I’ll never see you again. I’ll even manage not to tell the police, I know they’d only think I was mad. But if you seriously think I’m letting my brother’s daughter be taken away by a monster like you then you must be stupider than you look.”
With that, she’d began to run, turning the corner and throwing herself into a taxi that had sped away. Adelaide was about to give chase (she hadn’t pushed her powers yet, but was sure she could keep up with a car if she needed to), when she felt a firm grip on her shoulder.
“Of course I could pursue them with ease. I could catch the car and kill the bitch and bring you your baby,” Augustine said, slowly and firmly. Adelaide wondered how long he’d been there.
“But strangely enough, I think she’s right in her way. I would love a stepdaughter, but our world is no place for a baby. She needs to grow in the sunlight; she needs the company of humans and a proper education. Let the aunt bring her up. We will arrange visiting rights, and when she is older we can claim her back.”
She’d cried then, in a way she hadn’t cried at Sam’s death or at the shock of the change. Gus had held her, and gradually she’d understood that he was right, but it hadn’t made letting her daughter go any easier.
PART THREE - FIRST YEAR, TRINITY TERM
Chapter Thirteen
The Easter Vacation was less restful than Christmas, as most of it was spent working at the Union - planning debates, inviting speakers and arranging sponsorship deals for the following term. Despite the stress, Harriet loved it. She was especially pleased that Tom had also decided to stay in Oxford for the Vac and they were able to spend every night together. Even more conveniently, George seemed to have left for the holidays, and Harriet was able to push him out of her mind. She spent the final week back at home, relaxing with her aunt, uncle and cousins.
Trinity term began in late April, and from the beginning, it was everything that Harriet had hoped for. The first week back was unseasonably warm and it was difficult to focus on revision for collections.
“Don’t worry,” Caroline told her. “Summer doesn’t really get going until May Eve. There’s an all night party, then in the morning the choir sing from the tower and we’re finally allowed to sit on the grass and use the punts. Plus there’s the ball at the end of term.”
“Of course that means that revision for prelims is going to be hell,” Josh added with a shrug, “but you win some, you lose some I guess.”
Harriet shuddered at the thought of prelims, the end of exams, but they were still weeks away.
Ben was smug. As a law student, he’d taken his first year exams at the end of the previous term so didn’t have to put up with collections or prelims. He was however already firmly back in training for Summer Eights, that term’s rowing competition.
Tom was sulking even more than the rest of them. In winter, he hadn’t missed out on much by only being able to come out at night, but he talked longingly of sunny days. Despite her horror at his revelations at the end of last term, Harriet felt herself growing closer to him than ever. They didn’t talk much about their intention to stop the summer party, but concern about it hung over them. They were still no closer to coming up with a viable solution.
Harriet also wondered about Joe, the Cavaliers candidate who had lost Torpids. She hadn’t seen him since and the rumour was that he’d dropped out of Oxford. Whether he’d heeded Ben’s warning and fled, or whether the Cavaliers had killed him first, she didn’t know. She wished she could find out who they were going to reject next so she could help them.
Collections came and went without any real crisis. The night that they were over, Tom came to her room just before midnight and insisted that they were going to have a proper Trinity experience. He led her down to the river. At first, Harriet walked slowly and unsteadily, picking her way along the dark path, terrified of falling in. In the end, Tom, who could see perfectly, simply picked her up and carried her the rest of the way.
“What are we doing?” Harriet asked, laughing nervously.
“Going punting,” Tom replied with a smile. “Who says you can only have summer fun during the day?”
He placed her softly down by the riverbank and then she saw it. Tom had taken one of the college’s punts and covered it with fairy lights and a bright lantern. Peering closer, she saw that he’d also filled it with brightly patterned blankets and cushions, and placed a Fortnum and Mason’s hamper and his gramophone inside.
“Wow!” she exclaimed. Harriet had already been punting a few times with her friends on the hotter days. She couldn’t steer the boat herself at all, despite several attempts, but had enjoyed sitting there whilst someone else used the long pole to push it along. The fun had always been tinged with sadness whenever she’d seen a punt with a couple go past, knowing that she couldn’t do that with Tom. She hadn’t considered the possibility of a nighttime trip. It was strictly not allowed, but the college never seemed to apply the normal rules to Tom, though whether through an unspoken agreement or as a result of his mind control powers she was never sure.
Tom helped her into the boat and she settled down amongst the cushions. It had been an unusually hot day, and some warmth remained in the air despite the late hour.
“Do you like this?” Tom
asked. “I thought it would be fun. Can you see alright?”
Harriet smiled. “It’s amazing. And yes, I probably can’t see as well as you, but the lights certainly help.”
“I’m glad you approve. Open the hamper.”
Harriet did so, and found an entire picnic.
“We’ll have that when we reach the meadow,” Tom explained. “For now why don’t you open the champagne and raspberries?”
Harriet eagerly did so, admiring the Laurent Perrier art deco style champagne bottle decorated with little flowers. She wondered whether Tom had liked that style when he was human.
Tom jumped onto the pointed end of the punt and began to push it through the dark water. His movements were fluid and firm and he moved the punt faster than Harriet had ever seen a human manage. Harriet looked around her at the overhanging trees and the swans on the river and felt something approaching absolute happiness.
“We don’t need the sun,” she said. “This way is much more magical.”
She took another sip of champagne and lay down, looking up at Tom with total love. Harriet lost all track of time, but eventually Tom moored the punt and helped her out. Carrying the hamper and lantern, they walked through the dark meadow until they found the perfect spot, under an overhanging tree. They spread out a rug. Harriet poured herself and Tom another glass of champagne, dropped a raspberry into each glass, and investigated the other contents of the hamper. There was crusty bread and various things to dip it into. There was salami and Parma ham and smoked salmon and different kinds of olives. She ate hungrily, feeding Tom particularly delicious morsels and hoping that he was able to appreciate them. When she’d eaten her fill, she lay back on the blanket and drew Tom’s mouth to her neck, reasoning that he probably deserved to have his favourite food too.
He used just enough mind control that it was astonishingly pleasant rather than painful, but not so much that she wasn’t aware what he was doing. She closed her eyes and felt the warmth of the air and the contrasting cool of Tom’s body even through his pink and white striped cotton shirt. He only drank for a few moments before he licked her neck to close the wound and began to kiss her passionately. She ran one hand up and down his back and cradled his head with the other, drawing him ever closer. After a while, she drew her red polka dot dress up around her waist and guided one of his hands down.
The romance of the occasion had seized her and Tom’s cool fingertips had only been stroking her for a few moments before she was overcome. She took a few more sips of champagne to recover her composure then opened the fly of Tom’s jeans and on her knees on the soft blanket, got to work.
They lay on the rug for a while in their dishevelled clothes amidst the remains of the picnic, cuddled up to each other in blissful silence. Harriet felt that she could quite happily stay there forever but somehow managed to pull herself to her feet and they returned to the punt. She felt utterly relaxed on the return ride, slipping in and out of sleep as she looked at the stars and at Tom’s beautiful face. She wished it could always be this simple and that she could forget the objections to their relationship and the evil at the heart of the Cavaliers.
***
Harriet’s first essay of term was on the changing perceptions of women over time. Harriet intended to focus on the eighteenth century, but started with a book on women in ancient Rome. The book was surprisingly absorbing and she read quickly, letting her mind wander to daydream about what it must have been like to live then.
When Olamide came to meet her for lunch, they discussed their work on the essay. Olamide had been focussing on medieval women, both those who’d been lauded as saints and those who’d been killed as witches.
“I’m not sure which was worse when you look at what the saintly ones put themselves through,” she said. “Starvation, flagellation, praying for hours a day on bended knee. Catherine of Sienna was like a modern problem teenager. She was basically a self-harming, anorexic attention seeker.”
Harriet laughed. “I might have to have a quick read of your books. That sounds interesting.”
“So how was life for the women of Rome? I’m going to go out on a limb and guess grim. That seems to be the answer for practically every period of history.”
Harriet started to explain. “Not particularly great. A fight for survival if you were poor, like being trapped in a gilded cage if you were a noble woman.”
Suddenly her voice changed. “It was awful,” she said passionately. “Being married off to a much older man with no say in it myself. Being left alone for years on end whilst he was off fighting, never knowing if he’d make it back at all. Having no rights. I knew I risked both of our lives, but is it any wonder I had the affair?”
Olamide stared at her in astonishment. “Sorry who are you talking about now?”
“I don’t know,” Harriet said quietly. “I’m feeling a little odd. It was like I was there, looking out on Rome from someone’s eyes.”
“Let’s go and get lunch,” Ola said with concern in her voice. “That’ll make you feel better.”
They walked in silence. Olamide was awkward, clearly trying to find the right words. “I’m not trying to make a big deal of this, but Callum told me that you did something similar in a tute with him. Started talking about the Civil War as though you were there, taking things really personally.”
Harriet remembered it well, though she’d been hoping that Callum and her tutor had forgotten. I know exactly why that was though. George’s blood gave me his human memories and reading about the Civil War prompted them. But whose memories were those? I’ve never taken blood from anyone else. Besides, the only vampire old enough is Augustine and he’s definitely not a woman.
“All I’m trying to say is that maybe you’re overworking yourself,” Olamide continued. “Maybe you should try and see a counsellor.”
Great, she thinks I’m going mad. I wonder what she’d say if I claimed my boyfriend and half the government are vampires?
She was almost tempted to do it, but held her tongue. The others were in the bar for lunch, so Ola quickly dropped the issue, although she continued to look at Harriet with marked concern.
***
The following weekend was May Eve. The evening was going to begin with a pirate bop. Harriet fastened herself into the corset top she’d bought for the occasion and looked forward to the fun that would be occurring. She accompanied the top with a short, floaty black skirt and the fishnet tights that were an almost inevitable part of all the women’s bop costumes and half of the men’s. She threaded a ribbon printed with skull and crossbones through the laces of the corset and finished it all off with a pirate hat and sword she’d bought from the fancy dress shop. Having forced her hair into wild pre-Raphaelite curls and put on a ton of black eyeliner, she glanced in the mirror and was pleased with the result. She only wished she still had her necklace, both to complete the look and keep her protected.
She met Tom briefly when the sun first went down. He was spending the evening with the Cavaliers, who were holding a members’ only dinner in college. Since he’d defied George and the senior vampire hierarchy to be with her he’d been keeping his distance from the other Cavaliers, but in recent weeks appeared to have been drifting back into the fold.
“The May Eve Dinner is one of the most important events of the year,” he explained, “and there’s always fantastic food and drink.”
“And people to drink from,” Harriet added.
“Well yes, that. But I won’t if you don’t want me to.”
Harriet shook her head and mumbled something about it being okay. The thought of Tom drinking the blood of other people disturbed her from both a squeamish and a jealous perspective, but she didn’t want him looking weak in front of the others. Besides, although she allowed him to feed from her regularly, she alone couldn’t provide him with enough blood without seriously endangering herself.
“I’d be grateful if you can at least try and pick the ugliest girl there,” she added, only half joking
.
“Well, that’s usually exactly what I get, but no doubt this year George will take it upon himself to find me the most beautiful and delicious donor he can, in the hope of luring me away from you,” he replied, laughing.
As Harriet sulked, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hard.
“You don’t have to have any worries on that score,” he said. “I’d like to demonstrate that to you, but we should be off to our respective parties. You know what they say about the First of May though. Meet me after midnight.”
“What do they say?” Harriet asked.
“Oh, if you don’t know, you’ll have to wait and see.”
Reluctantly Harriet dragged herself out of Tom’s room, grabbed a bottle of wine she’d brought earlier and took it over to Ben’s room, where he was holding a pre bop party.
All the usual crowd was there, as well as Ben’s rowing team, some friends of Josh’s from the choir and several random people from the staircase. Maybe the theme had appealed or maybe the fact that it was a special occasion had spurred people on. Either way, almost everybody had made a real effort to dress as a pirate. The fancy dress shop had done a roaring trade in hats, swords and Jolly Roger flags and the charity shops and Primark had sold hundreds of stripy shirts. In one corner of the room, a group were trying to make their own swords with cardboard and silver foil. The tequila shots they were downing were not helping the process along, but they seemed to be having fun.
Harriet had several shots herself. After a while, a few of them settled down with their glasses to play Never Have I Ever. Each player took it in turns to announce something that they had never done, from cheating in an exam to having a threesome. Everyone in the circle who had done the thing had to down their shot.
The game wasn’t too embarrassing for her. Everyone knew Tom, so there was no speculation about who she was or wasn’t sleeping with, and as far as normal behaviour went, she’d done enough interesting/amusing/sexy things to sound fun, but not so many as to sound weird or overly slutty.
Oxford Blood Page 19