Revenge is Sweet

by Berni Stevens

  ‘But you wouldn’t have been allowed to marry me.’

  ‘Elinor, this conversation is hypothetical, it is of no consequence.’

  ‘It is to me.’

  His arms tightened around me. ‘Elinor, I adore you – I love everything about you. I have loved you from the moment I first saw you. And I truly believe I would always have loved you, no matter when or where we met – in whatever century.’

  His words were filled with passion, and I instantly felt cherished and calm. I looked up at him. ‘Are all the pictures of you?’

  A shadow passed over his handsome face as he frowned. ‘No.’

  ‘Can I see the other paintings?’

  ‘Are you sure you want to?’

  I nodded.

  He went towards the stack of canvases and moved his portrait to one side. Turning the next painting around, he stepped back so I could see it.

  At this point I wished I had never asked. A beautiful redhead stared out from this portrait. Her alabaster skin almost glowed, and her hair cascaded past her creamy shoulders in a tumbling mass of red curls. She looked young, happy and absolutely breath-taking. She wore a green satin, off-the-shoulder dress, edged with fine ivory-coloured lace. At her throat sparkled a priceless looking emerald necklace, and my eyes immediately went to her hands to see whether she wore the Ring of Porphyry. She didn’t, and I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. My right hand covered the ring protectively, an impulsive gesture on my part, almost as though I were hiding it from her painted gaze. What she did appear to be wearing on the third finger of her left hand, was a plain gold wedding band.

  I looked at Will questioningly, not daring to trust my voice at that moment.

  He nodded. ‘My wife, Emily.’

  A swift, sharp stab of jealousy sliced through me at his words. I didn’t comment. Somehow I’d always known there must have been a wife. People married younger amongst the aristocracy in those days, I knew that, and someone of his wealth and standing would have been a prime catch. Even without his devastating good looks.

  I turned to look at her again. Emily. Will’s young wife. I couldn’t hate a three hundred-year-old rival, but neither could I compete.

  Strong arms enveloped me again, and I looked up into his concerned face.

  ‘She died in childbirth, twelve months after our wedding … together with our stillborn son.’

  That explained a few more things.

  ‘I’m … sorry.’ I meant it.

  ‘As was I,’ he said softly. Cupping my face in his hands, he continued, ‘Elinor, my feelings for you surpass anything I ever felt for Emily – or for anyone else.’

  ‘But you did love her?’

  ‘I would not have married her had I not grown to … care for her.’ He spoke slowly, carefully. I couldn’t make my mind up whether he was avoiding answering the question, or just answering it honestly.

  ‘What was she like?’

  For heaven’s sake Ellie, leave it alone.

  Will looked thoughtful as he tucked wayward locks of my hair behind my ears.

  ‘Sweet-tempered, kind and … obedient.’ His eyes took on a mischievous glint. ‘Women from that era and class were taught to obey their husbands at all times.’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘How incredibly dull.’

  ‘Yes, it was.’

  I didn’t know if he was teasing or not, but I suspected he was.

  I decided to move on, for the moment. I gestured at the canvases. ‘Next picture.’

  He returned to the stack of paintings, and turning Emily back to the wall, moved her painting out of the way, as he revealed the next one. I felt relieved when I could no longer see her fresh-faced beauty. Having her staring at me, made me feel like an adulteress. She could have been no more than eighteen when she’d married Will, but her innocent gaze still seemed accusing to me.

  The third painting was of Will again, minus his horse this time. He sat in a carved wooden chair with a red velvet seat. He looked like royalty, dressed in dark armour and a black powdered wig, which curled past his shoulders. Underneath his armour there could be seen a glimpse of some kind of white shirt, with frills at his throat and wrists. At his feet sprawled two hunting dogs, both gazing up at him adoringly. He looked gorgeous.

  ‘You even manage to captivate animals,’ I said.

  ‘Dogs like anyone who takes them out for walks and feeds them,’ he said with a shrug.

  ‘I knew there was a reason I preferred cats,’ I replied. ‘Far more discerning.’

  ‘Blimey Will, is that you?’ Daniel’s voice came from the doorway and Will frowned at the interruption.

  ‘Daniel, we are having a very private conversation,’ he said. ‘I would be extremely grateful if you could give us a few minutes?’

  Unabashed, Daniel grinned. ‘Sure, that’s cool. I’ll go back downstairs. I just wondered where you were.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Will nodded to him and we heard him clattering down the stairs.

  Will sighed. ‘I wonder whether all teenagers are this noisy, or whether we just have the noisiest one in London. How I long to have the house back to ourselves.’

  ‘But where will Danny go?’

  ‘When he is feeding properly and no longer a threat to anyone, I shall find him somewhere safe to live.’

  ‘Alone?’

  ‘I think not, no. He is too young, and I believe our Daniel needs company.’

  ‘But not ours.’ I made it a statement.

  ‘Definitely not mine.’ He brushed my cheek with the backs of his fingers. ‘It would never work, Elinor, trust me. But I will not force him to live with anyone he does not like, that I promise.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ I nodded. ‘Next picture.’

  Will turned back to the stack of canvases. The next picture was of an older man with a striking resemblance to Will. Now I could see how he would have aged, had he remained human. Yep, still gorgeous. Not that I’m biased in any way of course.

  Aloud I simply said, ‘Your Father?’

  ‘An easy guess,’ he said.

  ‘Well I can see where you get your looks from.’

  ‘He appears to still have his.’

  I laughed.

  There was a light tap at the door, and we both turned to see Luke’s tall figure framed in the doorway.

  ‘I’m sorry to intrude, but we have a problem.’

  ‘Come on in Luke, we’re merely taking a trip down memory lane.’ Will took hold of my hand as he winked at me.

  Luke came further into the room.

  ‘What is it?’ Will asked.

  ‘Stevie left all the newspapers for us, and it would seem some humans are actually saying the murders on the Heath are the work of vampires.’

  ‘I was afraid of that.’

  ‘Surely no-one will seriously believe that?’ I looked from Will to Luke in amazement. ‘I didn’t believe in vampires even when I’d just become one.’

  ‘There is such a thing as mass hysteria,’ Will said. ‘There was the time in the 1970s, when people around here believed a vampire resided in the cemetery. It caused untold damage.’

  ‘The Highgate Vampire,’ I said, and Will looked surprised. ‘I read the book downstairs.’

  ‘I suppose I need to read the papers. We will follow you down in a moment Luke.’

  I thought it unlike Will to almost dismiss Luke like a lackey and gave him a questioning look.

  He waited until Luke had gone downstairs, before he held something out to me. ‘I would like you to have this Elinor.’

  I took the object from him. It was a miniature, a tiny portrait of him, of the kind fashionable in the 1700s. Oval in shape and framed by ornate gold; an exquisite rendition of Will’s face smiled out, captured forever by a talented artist’s brush all those years ago. It must have been painted in the same year he’d been turned, because apart from the clothes he wore, he looked identical.

  ‘I love it,’ I said, closing my fingers around it. I didn’t even want to hazard a guess
at how much it would fetch at Sotheby’s. I put it carefully in the front pocket of my jeans. ‘I’ll treasure it always, thank you.’

  Will looked pleased. ‘Unfortunately we need to see about those headlines.’

  I went through the doorway before him, and he closed the door on his past.

  Will’s Journal, 23rd May

  I had always known Elinor would come across the portraits at some point. A part of me wished I had put Emily’s portrait in one of the attics where she would never see it, but perhaps it is better we have no more secrets between us. I feel relief more than words can say that everything is now out in the open, and Elinor knows I have been married. If she but knew the feelings I had for Emily pale in comparison to the overwhelming love I feel for her. I only hope she will eventually realise that.

  The newspaper headlines were exactly what I have been dreading. I remember only too well the last batch of hysteria involving vampires, and I am filled with foreboding. It is easy to say that humans will not believe the murders are the work of vampires, but there are always a few who do. They are the deluded souls who read books of folklore and fantasy fiction, and see themselves as a modern day Van Helsing.

  We had no luck finding any kind of surveillance camera in the gardens, although I have a feeling Elinor is correct in thinking it could be situated just outside. We must find it, and we must find Thomas and his courtesan. Things have gone their way for far too long.

  Will’s Journal, Oxford, 1704

  My parents’ country house had been unbearable for days, as the staff prepared for my forthcoming marriage to Emily. I still had some misgivings about wedding one so young, but my father had insisted I marry a woman of substance in keeping with my own status as heir to the title and estates. He is, unfortunately a dying man, and so I agreed to what may well be his final request. Most of the suitable women in our social circle bore me. Very few can even hold a decent conversation. Simpering sycophants.

  I first met Emily at a ball held by a cousin of hers who lives nearby. She was young enough to talk to me without guile, which I found refreshing. Initially, Emily had been all but betrothed to another, which did make her appear more attractive to me; such a tempting, sweet prize to win. I am ashamed to admit, I enjoyed the challenge of stealing her from another man.

  Emily has an enchanting way with her, and her lovely temperament makes a foil for my own rather headstrong personality. I still thought her too young for marriage, at a mere eighteen years, but my mother reminded me she herself had been just seventeen when she married my father. However, I felt no remorse whatsoever at ‘winning’ Emily from the other man, and thankfully my father is pleased with my choice of bride.

  The late summer’s day blessed us with warm sunshine for our wedding, and my valet, Samuel, helped me dress in the emerald-green velvet jacket and matching breeches for the ceremony. I fiddled with the jacket’s brocade sleeves to allow the frilled shirt cuffs to show fashionably below, and then allowed Samuel to pull my hair back and secure it with a leather tie. I had refused to wear a wig, much to my father’s annoyance, but the fashion which dictates men of substance should wear a white wig, has always annoyed me intensely. A ridiculous fashion in my opinion, and probably instigated by the wig-makers themselves. I wondered idly how Emily would be dressed, and how nervous she must be feeling. Poor girl. Half the eyes of Oxford’s gentry would be on her, criticising her every move. Not least the odious Lady Jane Barnet, who had hoped to wed me herself – shrew of a woman!

  Half an hour later, I stood under the rose arbour awaiting Emily. A harp played a quiet melody and I knew when the congregation’s soft buzz of chatter suddenly ceased, that Emily had arrived. I turned to watch her walk towards me, guided by her proud father. I had to catch my breath. The girl looked radiant and so beautiful. Her red-gold curls were adorned with fresh white rose buds, but had otherwise been left loose to reach her shoulders. (She knows how I hate women’s hair to be tied up and fussed around with, and I do love her hair – I have always had a preference for redheads). The white satin gown had a fashionably stiff bodice, with full skirts closed in front, and three-quarter length sleeves decorated with heavy lace, which flared at her elbows. She looked chaste and adorable, and her innocent blue eyes gazed at me with such love and trust. From that moment, I vowed I would attempt to be worthy of her trust.

  Chapter Ten

  The headlines were even worse than I’d imagined. The red tops screamed, VAMPIRE MURDERS ON HAMPSTEAD HEATH and, BODIES DRAINED OF BLOOD BY VAMPIRE KILLERS, whereas the other tabloids and broadsheets were a little more civilized.

  All in all, not good. Really, really not good. Will spent a lot of time on the phone whilst the mobile nearly drove me mad with its incessant ringing. I felt tempted to carry out his own threat myself, and hurl it into Regent’s Canal.

  So far this evening we’d had nothing useful from any of the phone calls. They were mostly from other vampires needing assurance that their Elder was on the case, as it were, and their secret existence could continue as normal. Will advised everyone to stay in as much as possible, to be more discreet than usual with their feeding habits, and to generally stay alert and report anything untoward.

  The odious Thomas hadn’t called yet this evening, which could only be good, or alternatively, very, very bad. Each time I thought of the children he’d turned, I felt sick and desperately sad. For once I wanted to kill something in a premeditated, callous way. I was of the opinion that beheading would be too swift and almost too ‘royal’ for that creature, but I couldn’t actually think of anything horrific enough to fit his crimes. Although I had a feeling Will would. He’d been around at the time of the witch hunts in the late seventeenth century, and I felt sure he could easily adapt some of those tortures to kill a vampire.

  ‘Elinor, I do believe you are thinking evil thoughts.’ Will’s voice interrupted my reverie, and I looked up in surprise to see he now stood in front of me.

  ‘Are you shocked?’

  ‘No. I am aware of how you feel about children.’

  ‘Why haven’t we found him Will?’

  ‘I suspect he moves his lair often, and my people are always too late.’

  ‘Can’t you – kind of – track him?’

  He shook his head. ‘None of us have a connection to him … no-one … that is except Daniel.’ He stopped suddenly, as a thought occurred to both of us at the same time.

  ‘Danny could track him.’

  ‘I do believe he could. Thomas tracked him to this house after all, so it should work in reverse. Where is the boy?’

  ‘Downstairs playing on his Xbox.’

  ‘Shall we ask him?’

  Luke and I stood and followed Will downstairs. The gunfire and explosions got ever louder as we neared the cellar, and positively deafening when we went into Danny’s room.

  He didn’t even hear us, so intent was he on killing his opponents.

  ‘Daniel!’ Will shouted above the noise, and Danny jumped and turned around.

  ‘Yessir?’

  Will waved at the screen, ‘Be so good as to turn that off for a moment.’

  Daniel obeyed, and the resulting silence was bliss. My ears were ringing. Possibly bleeding. Will explained what we’d been talking about upstairs.

  ‘You think I can find him? Me? You really think I can help?’ He looked almost pleased.

  ‘He is your Maker, so I think you have more chance of finding him than any of us, yes.’

  ‘Cool.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  Now he really did look pleased. If he found Thomas for us, I thought there was a chance he might become a bit full of his own importance for a while. Will glanced at me with an amused glint in his eyes. So he thought so too.

  ‘What do you want me to do?’

  Will and Luke exchanged glances.

  ‘Come upstairs boy, and we will discuss it.’

  Still looking pleased, Daniel made to follow Will out of the door, turning around to give me a cheeky gr
in.

  ‘Manners boy,’ said Will without looking back.

  Looking chastened, Daniel stood back to allow me to go in front of him. I gave him a sympathetic smile. Will had been brought up on wealth and manners after all, but Daniel still had a lot to learn.

  We all filed into the drawing room and Will sat on the sofa, gesturing for me to sit next to him. I noticed that Daniel watched Luke, and when he sat himself in an armchair, Daniel followed suit. He might be young but he was no fool.

  Kicking off my sandals, I curled my legs under me as I sat on the sofa. Even I wouldn’t put my shoes on Will’s cherished leather Chesterfield.

  Will leaned forward and splayed the newspapers out so that all the headlines blazed back at us.

  ‘Blimey.’ Daniel looked up after he’d scanned them.

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘Where do we start?’ Luke glanced at Daniel. ‘Take Danny over to Hampstead?’

  ‘Possibly.’ Will frowned. ‘Although I still want to find the surveillance equipment.’

  ‘The camera was inside a gnome in Buffy,’ I said helpfully.

  ‘I saw that one, my mate’s got all the DVDs.’ Daniel grinned. ‘Series Six when Willow went bad – awesome.’

  ‘Children, I have no clue what the hell you are talking about.’ Will sounded pained.

  At that moment the entry phone buzzed, and Luke got up to answer it.

  ‘Jez,’ he called back, as he pressed the button to open the gates. He opened the front door, and I heard him curse, which caused Will to leap up and run out to the hall. I stood up too, but stopped Daniel from going out, just in case.

  ‘Shut the gates.’ I heard Will shout. ‘Now.’ The gates clanged, and Daniel clutched my arm. We both went slowly to the front door, which stood wide open. For one awful fleeting moment I thought Will had been taken again. But both Luke and Will were down by the front gates, helping a man towards the house. I assumed it was Jez, although he didn’t look exactly recognisable. He appeared to be covered in blood and unable to walk unaided. I dragged Danny back from the doorway as the three men came in. Luke shut the door behind them, as Will nodded towards the kitchen door. ‘Daniel – open the kitchen door.’