Suddenly, Tom had his sword to George’s neck, and everyone fell silent. Whilst she would rather it was George than Tom, Harriet could still hardly bear to see his throat slit. She closed her eyes involuntarily. It took all her strength to open them again, and when she did, she was horrified to see Tom on the floor. Somehow, George had dodged the sword and knocked Tom off balance.
Get up, she willed silently. She wanted to shout encouragement, but couldn’t find the strength. Before she knew what was happening, George had thrown Tom’s sword across the meadow. He leaned over him and thrust his sword down hard. She screamed as it pierced her boyfriend’s heart. Blood went everywhere. My blood mainly, she thought, before passing out.
***
Harriet came round in Tom’s room, lying on his bed. A few of the Cavaliers were there. She tried to stand, but felt too weak. Instead, she glanced wearily around her, looking for Tom. He was lying in his coffin, absolutely dead to the world. Someone had removed his shirt and waistcoat, so she could see that a scar had already formed where George’s sword had penetrated. It looked as though he’d sustained the injury years rather than minutes before.
“He’ll be okay, I promise,” Rupert said. “The wound has already healed as you can see. He’ll take a few days to recover from the blood loss and the trauma, but there won’t be any long term effects.”
“How did we get back here?” she asked weakly.
“The few of us who could flew,” he replied calmly. “I carried an unconscious Tom, George took you. I didn’t think you’d entirely approve, but you have the blood bond, so he did have the right.”
“Okay, but I want you to leave now,” she said, as firmly as she could through her weakness. “I think your little society has caused enough trouble for one night, and I need some time alone with Tom.”
Rupert nodded and quickly led the other members out, until the only one remaining was George.
“Please leave George,” she said. “Can’t you see that I don’t want you here?”
“Can’t you see that you’ve lost so much blood you can hardly function? And it still didn’t do any good. Putting the best oil in an old Ford won’t make it drive like a Ferrari.”
“I don’t want to hear this. I’m not in the mood for one of our little conversations. You’ve as good as killed him.”
“Oh he’ll be fine,” George said, sitting down on the bed beside her. “I’m not sure I can say the same for you though. He’s going to be in no state to replace all that blood for the next few weeks. Let me give you some of mine to help you rebuild your strength.”
“George, no. I don’t need your blood. I don’t need anything from you except for you to leave me alone.”
“Oh come on,” he said, leaning in slightly. “You’ve had it before. We already have our little blood bond. A few drops more won’t make any difference. Consider it my apology for getting your boyfriend into that state. Although I’d be lying if I said I regretted it.”
Harriet wanted to resist, but she did feel incredibly frail and ill. She remembered how great she’d felt the last time she’d taken his blood. How could she help Tom if she had no strength herself?
“Alright, I’ll do this for the good of my health,” she said at last. “But don’t you dare try to make anything of it. A starving man would accept food from his worst enemy I suppose.”
“Let’s get started then,” George said, grinning. Harriet wished he would at least pretend not to be delighted about the whole situation.
“Not here. I’m not having Tom wake up to see us doing that.”
“Where then? Your room?”
Harriet wondered whether she dared invite him in. If she did the last bit of protection remaining to her would vanish, but she couldn’t do it in public, and there wasn’t time to get anywhere else that was even vaguely private.
“Alright. Take me up there and I’ll let you in.” Harriet couldn’t shake off the feeling that she was about to make the stupidest decision of her life, but it was hard to think clearly through the blood loss, hard to keep things in perspective when she’d seen her boyfriend stabbed.
Gently he picked her up and began to climb the stairs. “I’ll carry you normally this time,” he said soothingly. “Flying is pointless indoors.”
Harriet didn’t think anything else could shock her, but decided not to argue. She paused once they reached her door and looked at his flashing emerald eyes. “I suppose you’d better come in,” she said nervously.
George laid her softly on her bed, and closed the door. “I like it,” he said. “Nice posters. Lovely rug.”
“Well that’s a relief. You being a bloodthirsty monster is one thing, but I don’t think I’d have coped if you didn’t appreciate my decor.”
He smiled at that, but quickly became all business. “It’s almost dawn. Drink now, before I have to seek shelter.” With that, he lay down next to her on the bed, drew his wrist to his mouth and ripped open the vein.
Harriet shuddered, but didn’t require any further encouragement to put her mouth to his hand. The blood tasted as good as she’d remembered and within seconds, she began to feel her strength returning. She tried her best to focus and stay matter of fact about the feeding, to regard it as purely about nourishment and healing and not let herself treat it as an emotional bonding experience. On the whole, she succeeded, but it was difficult to keep George at arms’ length and not snuggle into him.
After a while, he lifted her head up. “Better?” he asked.
“Much,” she said, climbing to her feet with ease. “Thank you for that, but now you really had better go. I won’t have you make anything of that. Besides, I need to check on Tom.”
“Just give me one kiss as a little thank you,” he said, lounging back on the bed.
Harriet didn’t feel like fighting one of her endless battle with him. She leaned over, kissed him hard but dispassionately on the lips. He tried to put an arm around her and soften the kiss, but she held firm. She kept this up for a few moments and then broke away.
“There you are. I hope you enjoyed it. Now please leave. I suppose I’ll see you at the summer party.”
“As you wish Harriet. See you soon.” Obviously tired of any pretence of normality, he disappeared in front of her.
Harriet quickly splashed water on her face and brushed her teeth to take away the taste of both the blood and George’s lips. Glancing in the mirror, she saw she was still wearing her pirate outfit. Never had something looked more inappropriate. She felt as though she’d been wearing it for a lifetime. She tore off the skirt and laboriously untied the corset, and then slipped on a pink polka dot dress in honour of it nominally being the first day of summer, even if the weather seemed unlikely to have noticed.
As soon as she was ready, she rushed down to Tom’s room. He was as she’d left him, unconscious and scarred, though she was sure that even in the half hour that she’d been away the scar had already begun to fade.
“Tom, it’s me,” she said loudly, shaking him as vigorously as she dared. “Wake up.”
At the sound of her voice, he stirred slightly. “Harriet,” he said, his voice barely audible.
“Oh thank God, you’re alive. I know all this stuff about how normal injuries can’t kill you, but I was so worried.”
“I’ll be okay. I need two things. Rest and blood. It’s almost dawn, so for now I’ll settle for the former. Tomorrow night however you might have to bring me people to drink from. I daren’t take more from you, and even if I all but drained you it wouldn’t be enough.”
She kissed him then, allowing herself all the passion and feeling that she’d carefully avoided with George. “Shush, save your strength. I’ll do whatever you need me to do, I promise. Do you want me to stay with you?”
“No, you should enjoy the choir and the sunrise. It’s the main point of the evening after all. Close the lid and let me sleep. Then take this key and lock my door from the outside.”
Harriet didn’t like the sound of
that. Did he really think someone was going to come and hurt him? She nodded, and after one last kiss, awkwardly put the lid onto the coffin. It would have been too heavy normally, but with the fresh dose of George’s blood, it wasn’t physically too difficult. Emotionally was a different matter. Shutting her boyfriend into a coffin was something she’d hoped never to have to do.
Trying not to think about the evening’s odd events, she ran over to Ben’s staircase to see whether her friends were still there. She bumped into them halfway, walking towards the cloisters to listen to the choir and see the sunrise. She fell in with them and tried to act normally.
“Hey, I was wondering where you were,” Ola said, coming up beside her. “I’ve managed to get two tickets to go up the Founder’s Tower to get a better view. Do you want to come with me?”
Harriet wasn’t sure how she could just carry on as normal, but nodded and followed her. The Founder’s Tower was smaller than the main college tower that the choir would sing from, but still one of the highest points in the city. She’d never been up it before as it wasn’t open on a day-to-day basis.
Most of their group walked out onto the lawn at the centre of cloisters whilst she and Olamide ascended the steep stone staircase. She was glad she’d taken George’s blood – the state she’d been in before she’d barely have been able to leave her room, never mind make the difficult climb. It was worth it when they got to the top. She could see out across the city in all its glory, bathed in the pre-dawn half-light. Always slightly fantastical, it looked like a bizarre medieval toy town. Closer to home she could see the other students milling around on the lawn below, clutching one last drink and steeling themselves for the final part of a long night. She noticed two people in white tie slumped in one corner of the lawn. They appeared to have passed out drunk, and were face down so it was difficult to tell who they were. Could they be Cavaliers? If so, they were taking a huge risk, staying out with only minutes until dawn. There were other dining societies who might conceivably be wearing white tie, but she hadn’t seen any around the college.
“Don’t look down there, look up,” Olamide said, turning her around to face the larger tower. “Can you see Josh? They’re going to start singing any minute now.”
Trying to ignore the feeling of unease, Harriet followed her instructions. “It might just be the booze and sleep deprivation speaking but this feels really magical,” she said.
Before she could reply, the choir began to sing in Latin, their voices carrying over the college. As they sang, the sun began to rise, turning the sky a beautiful shade of pink. There was just the music and the dawn, and Harriet felt that the world was how it should be.
Within seconds however, the choir were all but drowned out by the sound of screaming. Harriet rushed to the edge of the tower to look down. The two bodies she’d seen were on fire. Too high to hear anything but themselves, the choir kept on singing. As people panicked down below, they sang the college anthem in their angelic voices.
Some students were running away, others were dashing over to the burning boys, trying to pour water on them or smother them in a cloth. Nothing helped. Within moments, they had burnt away to nothing. All that remained were their canes, topped with the silver horse and sword sign. The choir came to the end of their final song and the bells began to ring for 6AM – the new day and the start of summer.
Chapter Fourteen
“I still don’t understand how it happened,” Caroline said, pacing around her room. “How can two people just suddenly burn up?”
Everyone had been desperately tired, but no one could face going to bed knowing what had happened. Usually the Cavaliers would have used their mind control tricks to erase everyone’s memory of the horrifying events and make them believe that Crispin and Peter had left the university or died in an unfortunate accident, but the sunlight made it impossible. By now, the story was all around the University, and the press was starting to get involved. It didn’t help that both boys had been well known figures at Oxford. Crispin’s father had been dead for three hundred years, but Peter’s was a noted lawyer.
“Someone must have doused them in petrol or something whilst they were passed out,” Ben said. “Then tossed a lit match whilst everyone concentrated on the singing.”
“Who on earth would do something like that though?” Olamide said, shivering despite the morning’s warmth.
“Julia?” said Caroline, only half-joking. “She was furious after the election. If anyone’s got it in for the Cavaliers, it’s her.”
“Oh come on,” said Josh. “Of course she was angry. Julia’s lovely though. You never hear her say anything bad about anyone, never mind decide to burn them to death.”
“Just because you’ve got a crush on the lovely Julia,” Caroline said laughing. “I don’t really think she’s responsible, but you’ve got to admit, that wasn’t just normal annoyance about losing an election. She accused Edward of killing his sister in front of a hundred people.”
“What do you reckon then Josh?” Ben asked, curious.
“Gosh I don’t know. Probably just some random psycho. Is Peter gay as well as Crispin? It could have been some sick homophobe.”
Harriet sat in silence. She was sure that whoever had killed them was the same person as had killed Charles. Their bodies were too burnt for anyone to tell whether they’d been drained too, but she’d bet her life on it. At least Tom had been quite clearly out of action when it had happened, so George could no longer attempt to accuse him.
Despite the shock of the double murder, Harriet was more concerned with Tom’s condition. Despite everyone’s assurances that he’d be fine given a few days, she found it difficult to believe. There was also the small matter of feeding him. She’d promised she would do everything possible to help, but it was going to be difficult to take her friends for Tom to use as blood donors.
“Guys, we really don’t know and talking about it isn’t going to help anyone. I say we ought to go to bed, get a few hours sleep and then get on with the day,” Ola said wearily.
Everyone reluctantly agreed, although Harriet doubted anyone would actually get to sleep with the images of the burning bodies floating in their minds. Having drank George’s blood, she didn’t feel tired at all, so despite it being the last thing she felt like doing, she prepared for her tutorial instead, praying that she could avoid further flashbacks.
Somehow, she made it through the day. She was angry with herself for having accepted the blood, but it certainly made everything physically and mentally easier. With the lengthening days, it seemed to take forever for darkness to fall. The moment the sun went down Harriet dashed to Tom’s room. To her relief, he had got out of the coffin and was sitting up in bed, although he looked even paler than usual, and extremely frail. She slipped in beside him.
“How are you feeling darling?” she asked. She’d already decided not to worry Tom more by mentioning the deaths.
Tom’s voice was weak, but he managed to sound cheerful. “I’m recovering,” he said. “Wounds like that are hideous, but at least they remind me of the benefits of being one of us. It’s humbling to think that an attack of that sort would have killed me if I’d still been human. How are you? I’m so sorry I took so much blood, and it was all for nothing.”
Cuddling up to him she softly stroked what was left of his scar, amazed by how quickly it was healing. “I’m fine,” she replied, desperate not to let him know she’d drank from George again. “I’m a little tired, but nothing some iron tablets and a few quiet days won’t fix. In fact, you should take more blood,” she said, tilting her head back to expose her neck.
“Not from you. It’s too risky. Are you still willing to bring your friends?”
“I’m not sure I can bring myself to do that,” she said apologetically.
“I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” Tom replied. “I can see how it might feel like a betrayal. All I can say is that it would help a lot and I’d only take a little,
it wouldn’t hurt them.”
“If you really think it’s necessary I guess I could do it this once. Are you strong enough to mesmerise them or do you want me to try to explain?”
Tom frowned. “I’m not sure. We could perhaps tell Ben as he’s a potential inductee, but explaining to anyone else is a bad idea. I’m definitely going to struggle to put anyone under though.”
Harriet couldn’t see this ending well whatever they did, but she couldn’t bear to see Tom in that state either. “I’ll go and get Olamide. You’ve got to promise me you’ll be careful not to take too much though.”
“I’ll be careful. Other than when you drain someone, taking a little from a lot of people gives more power than taking a lot from one person. Remember your step-father at the Christmas party when he had just a taste of everyone’s guest?”
Harriet shuddered at the memory. She hadn’t seen Gus since, and wasn’t sure she could face seeing him again. Before she could change her mind about feeding Tom, she got up and dressed, and then went off to find Olamide. She was still feeling very uncomfortable about the whole plan – how could she put a friend in that position? – but the frailty evident on Tom’s face had convinced her that she had no choice. She’d just have to make it up to them all somehow.
Olamide’s room was in the very centre of the college, in the attic above the cloisters. The rooms there were atmospheric but cramped, with sloping ceilings and heavy beams. As soon as Harriet reached the long corridor outside Olamide’s room, she heard the shouting and froze. She knew she ought to leave and come back later, but she couldn’t resist the temptation to listen.
Olamide and Callum, two of the quietest and calmest people that she knew, were screaming at each other. She was accusing him of working too hard and never having time for her or for fun of any kind. He was giving as good as he got, saying she’d changed and was being led astray by her lazy friends.
“Well, maybe it’d be easier for you to concentrate on getting your top first if I was out of the picture,” Olamide shouted hysterically. “I like to study too, but I can’t live with this pressure from you. I think we should call it a day.”
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