by Anne Billson
'Oh, for Christ's sake!' she yelled. 'You're getting on my nerves, Dora. Why don't you get out of here? You think you can come round and cause trouble. Well, fuck off!'
Never before had I known Alicia to lose her temper and swear. Hearing those words from her, of all people, shocked me almost as much as anything else that had happened that weekend.
I had no desire to hang around and watch Abigail's feeding time. I left the stone-cold tea on the table, and fled.
Chapter 7
I went to Ruth's 'meeting' after all. I had nothing better to do that evening - except stare at the phone, wondering whether I dared interrupt Duncan's orgy of introspection. I went past the gallery, which was showing a wide selection of what appeared to be carpet underlay, and knocked at the door leading up to Matt's office. It was opened by a teenager wearing a black beret and cradling a machine-gun. I wondered if it had been Ruth's father who had provided the hardware.
He looked me up and down. 'Who you, babe?' He wasn't wasting any syllables. I gave my name, and he consulted a small notebook. I was apparently on the guest-list, because he nodded and stepped aside.
'Strict door policy you've got here,' I said, keeping an eye on the barrel of the gun as I squeezed past. 'That won't be a whole lot of use, by the way. Bullets don't stop them.'
'Yeah, they do,' he said. 'Shoot their feet off and the fuckers can't walk.'
The place I'd used as an HQ all those years ago had been transformed. The threadbare carpets had been replaced by sanded-down floorboards and a couple of plush oriental rugs. Someone had knocked a hole in the roof and inserted a large fanlight, and this, together with an excess of greenery, gave the place the look and feel of a conservatory. It was a clear night; if you looked straight up, you could see the stars. There were stars on the walls as well: signed portraits of pop singers, and a couple of certificates. It seemed that my erstwhile friend Matt was now an important and much sought after director of pop promo videos.
'Dora!' exclaimed Ruth, detaching herself from a bunch of people who were sipping wine and laughing at their own jokes. 'You made it!'
'Well,' I said. 'Look at you.' Yesterday's chic black frock had been replaced by a flak jacket, lumpy army-surplus trousers gathered around the ankles by drawstrings, and a samurai headband printed with some Chinese characters and a red sun motif. I saw her puckering her lips, ready to perform the kissing manoeuvre, and swerved to avoid it.
'Have a drink.' Her eyes fell on my bandages. 'Good Lord, what have you done to your hands?'
'An allergy.'
'Allergy? What kind of allergy?'
I told her I was allergic to broken glass. She made a sympathetic face. 'Poor Dora, you're always doing horrible things to your hands. Oh well, mingle and enjoy yourself. Dino'll be here any minute.'
'Dino? You're kidding.'
She shook her head solemnly. 'Our most valuable asset. Our main man.' I cringed, but she had already waddled off to greet another arrival. I endeavoured to chat with the other guests, surprised at how much information they had gathered. None of the obvious conclusions had been drawn, but Duncan and I were evidently not alone in our efforts to hold the fort against the rampaging hordes of night's black agents.
I ran into Desperate Dan, who had acquired an additional twenty-two hours' worth of stubble since our last meeting. He reeled off a list of industries which had fallen under Multiglom control in the meantime, Sunday or no Sunday. I talked to a TV presenter who had lost her job after refusing to swap her day shift for a night one, and to an editor of consumer affairs who had been sacked for resisting the drive towards intensive, non-critical coverage of Multiglom-linked products.
I talked to a computer buff who had hacked his way into the Multiglom files and been horrified by what he'd found there - a sort of hit list, he said, with some pretty famous names on it, though he refused to elaborate further. I talked to an advertising copy-writer, and to the sales manager with a firm of kitchenware manufacturers, and to an intense-looking man with a beard who said he was a film director; this last fellow had subjected me to ten minutes of unmitigated boredom before I recognized him.
'Matt,' I said. 'It's Dora.'
He did a double-take. 'I thought I'd seen you somewhere before. How long has it been?'
'Thirteen years,' I said, wondering how such a charming young hophead could have turned into this overfed entrepreneur.
'This is really wild, isn't it,' said Matt, or Matthew as I found he now preferred to be known. He had once changed his surname to Paint, but the age of flippancy was long gone.
I was thankful when our desultory conversation was interrupted by Ruth, who hollered and waved her arms like a cattle-driver. 'Ssh, everyone. Dino's here. Why don't you fill your glasses and take a seat.'
There was a mad rush to the bar, followed by aimless milling around the half-dozen or so chairs. Most people hunkered down on the floor. Finally, two people were left standing. One was Francine, still in her party frock and looking slightly the worse for wear. The other was a short, bullet-headed individual in a camouflage jacket. Even before he'd scratched his crotch and introduced himself, I guessed who it was.
'We all know what's happening,' Dino began, glaring fiercely at the assembled company. 'And we know what we have to do. We're all British here, so none of us have actually lived under an oppressive Fascist regime. But I've been conferring with the Weinsteins - Ruth's father and his father - and, believe me, these are guys who know what they're talking about. They lived through the Holocaust. And the way things are going, they reckon this country is turning into something that'll make Nazi Germany seem like a vicar's tea-party. The only way we can stop this happening is if we stand up and fight. We've got to do it, and we've got to do it now.'
He paused, possibly for applause that wasn't forthcoming, and went on: 'Me, I've always been a pacifist, but maybe that's because we've never had a cause worth fighting for. Until now. Now, our customs, our traditions, our way of life are being threatened by inhuman invaders who will stop at nothing to impose their vile regime. We must stand firm - not only for our own sake and the sake of our children, but for the sake of mankind. Now - are we going to lie down and let these scumbags walk all over us? Or are we going to stand up and fight?'
There was a hubbub of approval. I didn't join in - I was thinking about a dream I'd once had, and wondering whether to keep mum or pipe up. Dino's smarmy expression helped me make up my mind. As soon as the noise died down, I raised my hand.
'You don't have to put your hand up, Dora,' said Ruth.
'Well,' I said, feeling everyone's eyes on me and almost wishing I'd kept my mouth shut, 'it seems to me that you've missed the point.'
Dino was frowning. 'What point? What are you talking about?'
'I don't know whether you can compare all this to Nazi Germany,' I said. 'I think if you must use an analogy, it's more like the situation in the Middle East.' There was a ripple of unease, but I pressed on regardless. 'Look at it this way. All down the ages, vampires have been hunted down and persecuted, just because of what they are. Now they've had enough. They've decided to create a haven where they can live and hunt in safety. No more torch-wielding villagers, no more stake-happy vigilantes - just a smoothly run economy and specialized catering facilities. Business goes on as usual, the only difference being that it goes on at night. There wouldn't be a problem if it weren't for us. We're in their way, you see. We're the Palestinians.'
Suddenly, everyone was yelling at once. Ruth had gone purple with rage and was jabbing a finger in my direction, but I couldn't hear what she was saying because of the racket. Dino looked extremely pissed off at having lost the limelight. I'd had enough of being yelled at, so I tried to direct attention back to him. I said, 'Francine gave us access to some of your negatives.'
Everyone looked at Francine, who blushed and stared at her shoes.
Dino snarled, 'Who's us? You and the PLO?'
Ruth butted in. 'She's talking about Duncan. Duncan Fender
, aren't you, Dora? So why isn't he here tonight?'
'Yeah, why isn't he here?' asked Dino. 'And why the hell did you give him those negs, you silly bitch?'
'I didn't,' Francine protested. 'She stole them.'
'We sent photos to all the newspapers,' I said, adding lamely, 'No one ran them. Except the Sunday Sport.'
Dino slapped his forehead in exasperation. He didn't seem too thrilled about his work appearing in something so downmarket.
'Why should we believe you?' asked Ruth, who was still looking quite flushed. 'You know who Duncan is. Why would he want to have those photos made public?'
'No, I don't know who Duncan is,' I snapped back. 'Or rather I do know, but I don't know why you keep going on about it as though all this is his fault.'
They were still staring at me, so I let them have it. 'OK, so he used to go out with a vampire. But as soon as he found out what she was, he put a stop to her. He did, you know. If it weren't for him, all this would have happened thirteen years ago, and we wouldn't be in a position to stand around discussing it.'
There was another uproar. I wasn't sure what had upset them this time. I had assumed that Ruth, at least, would have worked out the connection between Duncan and Violet by now. She was saying something, and she had to repeat herself several times. I finally managed to read her lips. 'Ask him,' she was saying.
'Ask him what?' I mouthed back.
Then I heard her say, quite clearly, 'He doesn't give a fuck what she was. He just likes beating the crap out of people.'
'Don't be ridiculous,' I said.
'He's a known sadist,' said Dino, his lip curling.
'Lulu had a shiner only the other week,' Ruth said. 'No wonder she left him.'
'Don't be silly,' I said. 'That wasn't Duncan. She banged into someone at her dance class.'
'Oh yeah,' said Dino.
'Pull the other one,' said Ruth.
I was about to protest again, but the meeting was on the verge of fragmenting into petty squabbling. Dino called for order with a sergeant-major roar. The bickering petered out. 'Perhaps Miss Vale would be so kind as to return my negatives as soon as possible,' he said sarcastically. 'But in the mean time, I think we are all in agreement that we are on the same side. If we're to survive, we must stick together. Now, I don't know how many of you know about Rotnacht...'
Someone volunteered the information that it was a little-known German expressionist film.
'No, no,' said someone else. 'It's a type of soft cheese.'
'Stop it!' snapped Ruth. 'This isn't funny. Now, are you going to be serious, or not? Because if not, we might as well forget the whole thing. We're history.' She drained her glass and stomped across the room for a refill. My little remark about Palestinians had ruined her entire evening.
Dino took over again. 'If we're not prepared to take this seriously, we'll end up dead, or changed into one of them, or worse.'
'What could be worse than being one of them?' asked the TV presenter. 'The idea of drinking blood makes me feel sick.'
'Is it true they never grow old and die?' someone asked. 'Do they ever get ill?'
'Great,' said someone else. 'I could cut out my BUPA payments.'
'Couldn't we give them AIDS?'
'Nuke them!'
'I know, let's emigrate.'
Dino called for silence again. 'Rotnacht, basically, is the night when the decks are cleared for action, when all opposition is wiped out in one fell swoop, when the garbage is disposed of, for keeps, with extreme prejudice. And when I say garbage - let's not be coy about this - I mean us. Rotnacht is the night our number comes up. That is, if we're not prepared to take a stand and do something about it.'
There was a shout from the back of the room; it might have been Desperate Dan. 'How come you know so much?'
This was Dino's cue. He smiled bitterly and said in his best Method actor voice, 'I used to be a part of it. I was part of the original Multiglom set-up. When I saw what they were up to, I got the hell out. They've been on my case ever since.'
He'd seen too many Marlon Brando movies, but I had the feeling he wasn't all bullshit. I wondered how close he'd got to Violet, and I wondered what had made him draw the line and opt out. Had it really been his choice, or was he just trying to save face? One thing was for sure; Dino was not playing at being a freedom fighter for lofty moral reasons. This was personal. He was getting his own back on someone. Just like the rest of us.
Ruth was beaming again, with only the faintest tinge of pink in her cheeks to suggest she had ever blown her top. 'What we really need is to know when Rotnacht is planned for. So we can warn everyone.'
Someone asked Dino how come he didn't know, since he seemed to know everything else. 'They didn't fix the date until after I left,' he said, with that shifty look you get when someone isn't giving you the whole picture. He stood there a bit listlessly, as though he'd run out of things to say, but Ruth was already gesticulating in my direction. 'Tell us what you know, Dora,' she pleaded.
'Not a lot,' I said. 'All the usual stuff. Don't invite anyone into your home. You know about the garlic, and some of you are already wearing crucifixes. Swot up on your Stoker. Watch some Christopher Lee. I would have advised everyone to wear black, so you don't stand out in a crowd, but I see most of you are dressed in black anyway.'
There were a few chuckles at this. Someone asked, 'Why black?'
I shrugged, but everyone was looking at me as though I was the expert. I realized I probably was. 'Something to do with absorbing the sun's rays? I don't know. I don't have a degree in biophysics.'
'What do you know about Rotnacht?' asked Ruth.
'I'm no wiser than you,' I said.
'But you're closer,' said Dino. No one was paying him much attention now, and he wasn't looking very friendly. 'You're in with the vampire's boyfriend.'
'Oh, for Heaven's sake,' I sighed. 'He isn't the vampire's boyfriend, not any more. He hates vampires.' I paused, and decided I might as well spill the beans. I couldn't have them thinking Duncan was a traitor to his race. 'As a matter of fact, we staked one only last night.'
There was a shocked hush, followed by an awestruck murmuring. I felt proud of Duncan. For all the fine talk here, no one had yet seen action the way he had.
'Lulu,' Ruth said quietly.
'Let's go get 'em all!' someone yelled.
'Where is this Duncan? We should raise our glasses to him.'
'It's no good plunging straight in without a plan,' said Dino, trying to regain the goodwill he could feel had shifted towards the absent stake-wielder. 'They'll just pick us off one by one. We've got to get ourselves organized.'
'It's quite simple,' I said, with a withering look. 'But bloody hard work. You track them down in the daylight, while they're asleep, and you hammer stakes through their hearts. In most cases, that should be enough, but if you want to be on the safe side you give them the garlic treatment as well, cloves up the nose to short-circuit their sense of smell, and then if you really want to be on the safe side you drag them into the open and let the sun finish them off.'
'Stake 'em, stun 'em, and sun 'em,' said the copy-writer.
'But what if they're taken over the whole of Multiglom Tower?' asked the computer buff. 'It's a massive place. That'll take for ever.'
'Well, yes, I told you it would be hard work,' I said. 'Perhaps you can suggest a better method.'
'We could negotiate,' someone piped up.
Dino whirled on the speaker. 'Negotiate? With murderers? Not only would that be immoral, it would also be extremely dim-witted. We're not talking about the MCC here. This is not cricket, this is war.'
'Not yet, it isn't,' said Ruth. 'If we can just find out about Rotnacht, we can nip the whole thing in the bud.'
I said, 'I might be able to find out something.'
'You can?'
'I might. Give me a couple of days. Can't promise, though.'
'Of course you can find out,' sneered Dino. 'Just ask Fender.'
'Leave Duncan out of this,' I snapped back, and then I remembered something. 'Hey, I was snooping around in die Multiglom Tower,' I said, 'and I found your name and address on the computer.'
Dino looked embarrassed. He glanced sideways to see how many people were still listening. 'So? I told you I used to work there.'
'When your name came up, so did the word Rotnacht.'
Dino's face went a pale green colour which toned almost perfectly with his T-shirt.
The meeting broke up. As people began to drift towards the door, Ruth barred their way and shouted for quiet. 'Now you know what we're trying to achieve, perhaps you could persuade some of your friends to come to Tuesday's meeting. The more the merrier. Same time, same place.'
A few minutes later, as I was trying to slip past without her noticing, she caught my arm. 'I've got something for you,' she said, pressing a small paper packet into my bandaged palm. 'For old times' sake.'
'What is it?' I asked, realizing what the packet contained as soon as the words were out of my mouth. 'Thanks,' I said, intending to throw the drugs away as soon as I got outside. 'Oh, and may I make a suggestion?'
'Of course you can, Dora.'
'Why not hold your meetings during daylight, hours? It would make things so much simpler.'
I left her at the top of the stairs, staring after me with her mouth open.
I made myself a nest of garlic and slept soundly in it, even though the Krankzeits had a visitor and made a great deal of noise overhead. But I was so tired I managed to stay asleep and incorporate all their usual thudding and shouting into my dreams, which for some reason were about Patricia Rice and involved a lot of chasing around. At one point, I woke up and peered out through the curtains and saw her standing perfectly still on the pavement outside, face tilted upward and her gaze fixed on the floor above. I blinked, and then I saw it wasn't Patricia Rice at all, it was Lulu. And then I knew without a doubt that I was still dreaming. Because Lulu was dead.
SUCKERS
Part Four
Chapter 1