April felt her skin prickle. She felt sick and hot at the thought.
‘Kill them? You mean I have to hammer a stake through their hearts or …’
Miss Holden shook her head sadly.
‘I know you’re only seventeen and would rather be worrying about shoes and kissing boys, but that’s all gone. You need to grow up, toughen up – and fast. Your life and your friends’ and family’s lives are at stake.’
‘But I don’t want any of this.’
‘Tough.’
Miss Holden sat back and folded her hands. ‘Your father is dead, April. Murdered. A vampire tried to kill you; it’s real, it’s happening. Yes, you could ignore it, but I doubt you’d make it to eighteen and you would take a lot of innocent people down with you. The only way to save Caro, Fiona, your mother and even Gabriel, is to embrace it. The only way you can save them is to stop the killers who are coming for you all.’
In a rush, April realised her teacher was right. She hated her for it, but there was an undeniable truth in what she said. It wasn’t about her any more. It never had been. ‘All right then, tell me what to do!’
Miss Holden spread her hands.
‘Find that book.’
April gaped at her.
‘“Find that book?”,’ she repeated, struggling to control her temper. ‘Is that all you’ve got to say? Miss Holden, I came here for advice. You’re supposed to have all this amazing knowledge to give me and you’re saying “Find that book”? At least tell me where it is!’
‘You know I can’t do that, April.’
April curled her hands into fists under the table.
Is it okay to use my Fury powers to kill bloody Guardians?
she wondered, gritting her teeth.
‘Let me guess, it’s against the rules?’ said April, her voice shaking.
‘April, you have to understand – I should never have even told you about the
Albus Libre
, I can’t help you find it too. Yes, there are rules …’
‘Well screw your rules and screw your war!’ shouted April, standing up again. ‘If you won’t help me, you’re not much use, are you?’
She picked up her bag and strode over to the door.
‘You know what? I’ll ask my friends. They’ll help me, however dangerous it is – because we look out for each other.’
‘April, please …’
‘I’ll see you in school,’ she said, closing the door behind her.
April didn’t feel like going to school, but she knew she had to. She could probably get away with skipping a few days on compassionate grounds, but after her meeting with Miss Holden, she was filled with a new sense of purpose. The woman was maddening, with her riddles and her ridiculous rules, but she was right about one thing: April couldn’t waste time wishing this whole mess away, she had to roll up her sleeves and get to work. She needed to find the book, and then she would have the means to save Gabriel; she had to track down the Regent, somewhere in the shadows behind Ravenwood, and make him release Gabriel – then they could be together at last. And she needed to find out who had killed her dad, and then she would have peace of mind. She had spent far too long being a silly little girl. It was time to grow up and accept that none of this was going to go away. Yes, she wished her dad would come back, she wished she and Gabriel could run away and leave it all behind and, more than anything, she wished she didn’t have this bloody Fury thing hanging over her, making her even more unsure of herself. As she walked up the steps to the school’s main entrance, she decided she was going to do whatever was necessary to bring this to a conclusion. It was the helplessness, the sense of being overwhelmed that was crippling her. If she was honest with herself, she had wanted Miss Holden to just say, ‘Okay, April, I’ll make it all stop. No vampires, no Fury, just you and Gabriel – oh, and look – your father has come back.’ But she hadn’t – she couldn’t. April had to face up to the fact that she was a natural anomaly, like those kids who could play chess at three or who could do back
flips. She was what she was, it was that simple. ‘Get on with it’, that’s what her dad would have said. ‘You don’t have to like it, but you do have to finish the job.’
Right then
, thought April,
let’s get this sorted
. Infiltrate the Faces, see what I can learn about Ravenwood
, and turn Gabriel back into a vamp. If I don’t start doing something, I’ll go mad.
She found Caro after her English lesson and pulled her into the girls’ toilets. After checking they were alone, she laid it out for her.
‘It’s time to get serious. I’m going to find that book and I’m going to find the Regent.’
‘Brilliant. I’m with you all the way.’
‘No you’re not. Not any more.’
Caro frowned.
‘Why not?’
‘Because we’re being naïve about this. We’re assuming the Suckers are stupid, but that’s the last thing they are. They’ve remained hidden for centuries, they’ve set up this school to recruit new vamps and heaven only knows what else they’re up to.’
‘Okay … so how are we being naïve?’
‘Because if Suckers are anything, they’re suspicious and paranoid. One of their own has been killed by a weird disease. Vampires don’t get sick – so that’s going to make them jumpy at the very least. My dad’s been killed and I’ve been attacked – that makes me exactly the sort of person who would get nosy, maybe put two and two together. And that’s why I want to keep you out of this.’
‘That’s very noble of you but …’
‘I’m serious, Caro. I’ve realised I have to take this seriously, and the more we dig into this the more we’re going to put ourselves in danger. So I don’t want you getting into all this Vampire Regent and stuff with the Faces. I have to do it, you don’t.’
‘But you can’t do everything on your own.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ve got a job for you. Dig into the governors of Ravenwood.’
‘I’ve tried that, but …’
‘Well try harder! Someone must have put their name to something. Remember when we broke into Sheldon’s office? I found an invoice for some weird windows they’d put into the science block. That must have been expensive, someone will have had to sign that off. And something else – I want to know why the vamps don’t come out in photos.’
Caro grinned.
‘Okay boss, you’re in charge,’ she said.
April nodded. For the first time in ages, she felt as if she was in control of what was happening.
‘Yes I am,’ she said. ‘And I’m not going to forget it.’
For once, Mr Gill wasn’t asleep. Usually April startled him out of a doze when she pushed through the door of Griffin’s bookshop, making his little bell jangle. The strange, dusty little store didn’t attract many customers and April got the impression Mr Gill preferred to be left alone with his books and memories, all stacked up in teetering piles. Of course, she didn’t think he’d just have a copy of the
Albus Libre
sitting on his desk, but it was a good place to start. But today, Mr Gill was different. For a start, he was wearing a clean tie with pink spots.
‘My dear girl!’ said the shopkeeper as April walked in, ‘Splendid to see you. How have you been keeping?’
‘I’ve been a little under the weather, to be honest,’ said April.
‘Of course, of course, I had heard. A terrible business.’ He moved a pile of brochures from a stool. ‘Sit down, please, and tell me to what I owe this happy visit.’
April saw that the brochures were for holidays and that there were stacks of old travel books piled on his desk.
‘Are you going somewhere?’ she asked.
‘Ah, well that’s the question. Where to go when the world is your oyster?’
April laughed.
‘You seem, well, quite upbeat?’
‘I am, I am. And I have you to thank for that, my dear.’
‘Me? Why?’
‘Because you reminded me of what is important in life. I have been sitting here surrounded by these dusty old books,
cataloguing, listing, alphabetising, never looking out of the window. And then in you come and say one magic word. Well, no, you didn’t exactly say the word, but you let it pop into my head.’
‘And what was the word?’
‘Marjorie,’ he said wistfully.
‘The school librarian?’
‘The very same. She had somehow managed to slip out of my life, but I’m delighted that we are now courting.’
‘That’s wonderful,’ said April. ‘Are you whisking her away for a mini-break?’
‘I have no idea what a mini-break is, but yes I was hoping to rekindle the flame of our passion on some sunny boulevard. And it’s permanent – I’m selling up this one-man gaol. One of those coffee chains you young people seem so fond of has made me a very generous offer.’
April felt sick. Yet another adult walking out of her life. One of the few people she felt would never change was doing exactly that. Why can’t anyone stand still for two seconds? she thought. Her face must have betrayed her disappointment.
‘Don’t take it so hard, dear girl, I had no idea these dusty tomes were so important to you.’
April shook her head.
‘I’m sorry, I’m being selfish. It’s great that you’re getting out there and finding happiness, genuinely, that’s brilliant. I just hope you have more luck with love than I’m having.’
Mr Gill picked up his tartan flask and poured April a cup of tea.
‘Yes, I can see that something is troubling you. Is it an affair of the heart?’
April found her eyes were filling with tears.
‘Sorry,’ she said, taking the tissue Mr Gill offered. ‘It’s just that someone I care about is in a great deal of danger.’
‘And how can I help?’
‘I need to find a book. A rare book. It’s called the
Albus Libre
.’
Mr Gill immediately looked troubled.
‘Are you sure? Are you sure that’s the title of the book you’re looking for?’
‘Yes. Why?’
‘Well, it’s a very rare tome indeed. There are many who think it’s just a myth, one of those books people wish existed, but never did.’
April blew her nose.
‘But it
has
to exist, Mr Gill. It’s my only hope.’
‘It’s none of my business of course, but why would you want such a thing? The
Albus Libre
is a book of the occult.’
‘I know, but it’s very important I find it.’
‘I can see that, my dear. But I’m not sure I can help you. It’s one of those books which have become legendary. No one has ever seen a copy, but there are always rumours. A dealer I once worked with in Munich has a client who claims to have met someone with a copy in their private collection. But I’ve never met anyone who has seen it themselves. All we know is that it is wrong.’
‘Wrong? That’s a curious thing to say about a book.’
‘Not wrong as in “not right”, but as in dangerous. Evil, perhaps.’
‘Because of the spells?’
Mr Gill sipped his tea and sat back.
‘Oh, I doubt that any of them work, my dear. There are plenty of old spell-books on the market, many of them genuinely very old, but most of them are fragments of something. Like someone’s trying to clutch at the last rays of sunshine and trap them between parchment leaves. No, I’m not worried by the spells. It’s the sort of person they attract that concerns me.’
‘So you have no idea where I’d find a copy?’
‘Turin, perhaps? Or Jordan. They have quite a brisk trade in the exotic out there.’
April gaped at him.
‘Jordan in the Middle East?’
‘Quite so. In fact …’ He rummaged through his pile of brochures and pulled one out, entitled ‘The Seven Wonders
Tour’. ‘See?’ he said, pointing at photos inside. ‘They do trips to Luxor, Petra and the site of Babylon.’
‘But I can’t go there,’ said April in despair. ‘I need the book right away.’
Mr Gill looked at her sympathetically.
‘I’d love to help you, but it’s dangerous to venture down that path.’
‘You think I might do some bad magic?’
‘No, I think it’s nonsense myself. But the people who do believe in it, they are dangerous. And I think they are on the rise.’
‘What?’
‘Oh, I may be an old man, but I’ve been here long enough to see this happen before. I heard what happened to you. And your father, of course. It’s a pattern, I’m afraid. I don’t think your father will be the last.’
‘But we can’t just let it happen, Mr Gill.’
Mr Gill put down his tea and nodded thoughtfully. ‘Quite so, quite so.’
‘So what can I do?’
Mr Gill stood up and turned April to look out of the window. From where they stood, they could see the steeple of St Michael’s, the fox weather vane just visible, turning lazily in the wind.
‘When darkness falls,’ he said, ‘look to the light, my dear.’
April thanked Mr Gill and left him leafing through a book of European canal maps. She had wanted the old man to give her more answers, but she knew she’d have to dig deeper than that. So why not follow his hint and try at the church? St Michael’s overlooked the cemetery after all – and whether it was coincidence or not, the cemetery had been the centre of everything bad which had happened in the village. Certainly easier to get to than the Middle East, anyway. She was walking along South Grove, staring up at the black spire, when she turned and saw another police car parked across the road from her house.