Thicker Than Blood (Marchwood Vampire Series #2) (18 page)

‘
You cannot know it. We
are caught in an impossible situation and I feel responsible for
you all.’

‘
You are not responsible
for me,’ she said with a sad smile.

‘
You are all my
responsibility whether you like it or not. And I refuse to allow
any harm to befall any one of you.’

‘
Why don’t you and I go to
the city tonight?’ she said ‘We will talk to them and find out what
it is they want. Morris is right. It is the simplest
way.’

‘
Let me think about it,’
Alexandre replied. ‘There are many hours between now and nightfall.
Perhaps another solution will present itself between now and
then.’

Chapter Twenty One

Cappadocia, 575 AD

As the bats emerged from their places of
darkness and the cicadas began their evening chorus, Aelia returned
to the widow’s cave. She hesitated outside. What if she was too
early? The widow had said not to return before nightfall. She
turned and looked up at the velvet sky. Milk white stars emerged
before her eyes, growing larger and brighter as she stared. It was
time.

Inside, the cooking area was clean and tidy
and the floor and fireplace had been swept but there was no sign of
Widow Maleina.

‘
Hello!’ Aelia called into
an echoing darkness.

No reply.

She lit the lamps, fumbling in the darkness,
and she searched all around the back of the cave, but the widow
wasn’t there either. Aelia felt bemused and a little concerned, but
she was also hungry and thirsty. She dipped a cup into the spring
and took a long drink. The idea of cooking did not appeal, but she
managed to find a stale piece of bread and an apricot. Curling up
on her pallet, Aelia chewed the bread and waited for the widow to
return. Before long, she was asleep.

A low droning sound woke her
up. Or was it someone muttering? Aelia strained her ears and
realised it was a sort of tuneless humming. She opened her eyes and
sat up. The pale waxy light told Aelia it was morning. The cave
always descended into absolute blackness at night. She stood and
saw Widow Maleina sorting out her medicines; putting some into a
leather bag and arranging the rest on the thick stone ledges of the
cave. This was not such an unusual sight. What
was
unusual was the manner in which the
widow was moving around - she seemed almost light-hearted and was
she …
singing
? Yes. The tuneless humming was emanating from the
widow.

‘
Good morning,’ Aelia
said, unnerved by the widow’s strange behaviour, but pleased to see
she had returned to the cave after last night’s absence.

‘
You’re awake,’ the widow
replied. ‘Good.’ As Widow Maleina turned, Aelia noticed she still
wore the cloth tied over her mouth and nose.

‘
I suppose I’d better
leave soon,’ Aelia said, feeling trepidation at the thought of the
journey ahead. ‘It will take me most of the day to reach my village
and I don’t want to travel after dark.’

‘
No need. You can leave a
bit later.’

‘
But I have to
…’

‘
I have something for
you,’ the widow interrupted. ‘Come.’

Aelia followed. As they entered the narrow
passage which led to the cave entrance, she smelled the earthy warm
scent of an animal. Tethered just inside, she saw a small grey
horse.

‘
He’s yours, so there’s no
need to leave just yet.’ The widow briefly locked eyes with Aelia
before heading back inside.

‘
What?’ Aelia hurried
after her. ‘Mine? But …’

‘
There’s no time to change
him so it’s hard luck if it’s not what you wanted.’

‘
Change him? Why would I
want to change him? He’s beautiful. Thank you so much. A horse of
my own. Not even a mule. Why would you do that for me?’

‘
I didn’t do it for you. I did
it to stop
them
. It is safer to travel on horseback than on foot. This
beast is fast. He will carry you away from danger if you meet it.
We must keep you safe until you are able to do what you need to
do.’

‘
I don’t
understand.’

‘
Of course you don’t. I
will explain, my dear. Come, sit.’ Aelia had a flash of déjà vu as
the widow pointed to the same chair-like boulder Aelia had sat on
when she’d first arrived. She sat now, almost as confused as she’d
been all those months ago.

‘
Have you heard of the
blood plague?’ Widow Maleina asked. She shuffled over to her
medicines and continued fiddling about with the various jars and
bottles, her back to Aelia.

‘
I’ve heard of the
plague,’ Aelia replied.

‘
The blood plague is
similar, but worse. The symptoms are terrible, agonising.
Brutal.’

‘
You said before that the
demons drank human blood. Is the blood plague carried by the
demons?’ Aelia asked.

‘
No. The demons are immune
to all human disease. The blood plague is a human disease which
poisons the blood. There is no cure and it is very
contagious’

Aelia digested this information. Widow
Maleina turned to face her and in her hand she held a small box.
Her hand shook as she held it out.

‘
What’s that?’ Aelia
asked, although she thought she knew the answer.

‘
This is the blood
plague.’

‘
In that box?’

The widow nodded.

Aelia looked at the small brown box. ‘How
can you have a plague inside a box?’

‘
From the tiniest, most
insignificant insect, I have taken this plague and changed it into
something else and I have sealed it inside this box.’

Aelia didn’t really want to hear the rest of
the widow’s explanation. Truthfully, she dreaded it. This talk of
plagues and blood was bad enough, but somehow she knew it was going
to get worse.

‘
As I said before, the
blood plague is fatal to humans, but the demons are immune to any
human disease. Now, I have changed the disease. Now it will affect
those demons. We can infect them with this plague.’

‘
So it will infect demons
and not humans?’

‘
No, it will affect both,
but it can now only be transmitted through the blood.’

‘
How can you be sure it
will work on the demons too?’

‘
I can’t be sure,’ the
widow snapped. ‘But it is the best I could arrange and it will have
to do. Now listen to me, my dear. Listen very carefully and I will
tell you what it is that you must do.’

Chapter Twenty Two

Present Day

*

Tetbury was in full Christmas mode.
Twinkling lights garlanded Long Street and at the far end, two
Christmas trees towered either side of the Market Hall steps.
Underneath the Hall, flanked by stone pillars, was a bustling
Christmas market, jammed with traders and shoppers as carol singers
sang Silent Night accompanied by a brass band. The whole thing
reminded Ben of the Victorian style Christmas card he’d received
from Esther and Morris a few days ago.

In the street, shoppers chatted and laughed,
jostling each other, red-cheeked and innocent. They flitted in and
out of the pretty Cotswold stone buildings where shopkeepers sold
beautiful things which would soon be wrapped, be-ribboned and piled
high in living rooms around the county.

Ben viewed it all as if he were watching a
movie. This festive cheer certainly had nothing to do with him. He
paused and swallowed in front of the imposing building before him -
a Georgian hotel on the main street. He told himself this was no
time to be hesitant or nervous and walked inside, straight up to
the front desk.

‘
Excuse me,’ he said to
the man on duty.

‘
Yes?’ The man wasn’t
exactly hostile, but he wasn’t friendly either.

‘
Do you have any headed
paper?’

‘
Sorry?’

Ben blushed and stammered. ‘Umm, head …
headed paper. My mum stayed here and I … er … thought I’d get her
some. Umm … buy some I mean.’ God, he sounded like a right idiot.
How lame was that.

‘
I’m sorry,’ the man
replied. ‘But our headed paper isn’t for sale to the general
public.’ He said the words ‘general public’ as though they were
something terrible and disease-ridden.

‘
Could I have a look at it
then?’ Ben asked, cringing as he spoke. ‘I just want to check
something.’

‘
No you can’t.’ The man
began to look around for someone and Ben knew he’d cocked the whole
thing up. ‘I’m going to have to ask you to leave,’ the man
said.

‘
But I’m not doing
anything wrong. I just want to …’

‘
Now. Or I’ll have to call
security.’

‘
Security? You are
joking.’

The man lifted the phone and poised his
index finger over the buttons while looking pointedly at Ben.

‘
Fine,’ Ben harrumphed.
‘I’m going. Don’t know why you had to be so snotty about it.’ He
turned and slouched back out into the chilly street. Stupid git.
What was his problem? Well that tactic obviously wasn’t going to
work. He hoped that wasn’t the hotel notepaper he was looking for.
If it was, he’d have to wait for that twat to finish his shift. And
he’d have to think of a better line next time. A much better
line.

He felt more confident as he marched up the
steps of the next hotel. A young girl sat at the curved black
reception desk, talking in a business-like manner on the phone. A
noisy family had followed him through the entrance doors, a
concierge heaving their bags up the steps and through the lobby. As
Ben waited by the desk, their son slid across the marble floor with
some style. The dad was tickling the little girl who giggled and
squealed while the mum rolled her eyes and laughed at them. Ben
experienced a pang of something. Not quite envy; more a longing
tinged with regret for something he’d never had.

‘
Can I help you? Hello-o!
I said can I help you?’ Ben looked up to see the receptionist
smiling down at him. ‘You were miles away.’

‘
Oh sorry,’ Ben replied.
‘I was … er … wondering if you had a piece of paper I could borrow,
or … er … use. My friends are staying here and I need to leave them
a message.’

‘
Yes, of course,’ she
said. ‘Hold on.’

The newly-arrived family was now also
standing at the desk, the children bouncing around while their mum
tried to calm them down.

‘
Won’t be a minute,’ the
girl said to them before handing Ben a sheet of headed paper and a
pen.

‘
Thanks,’ he said and went
over to sit on one of the sofas in the wide bay window. The headed
paper was smooth and creamy, nothing like the notepaper he was
trying to match. Ben stayed on the sofa for a few seconds,
disappointment making him scowl. Then he heaved himself up and
returned to the front desk.

‘
It’s okay,’ he said,
holding up the pen and paper. ‘My friend just called. I don’t need
these anymore.’

The girl was preoccupied with the new
arrivals and so just mouthed a quick, ‘okay’ at him.

Ben placed the pen and paper on the side and
left the hotel. He picked his way through the shoppers and joined
the steady stream of people on the zebra crossing, ignoring the
exasperated glares of the stationary motorists. The end of the
crossing brought him to a stop outside The Old Bell, his next port
of call.

The lobby was packed and Ben
had to wait in line at reception as various people checked in. He
kept getting jostled out of the way. None of the staff on the desk
would catch his eye. He guessed it was so busy because it was
Christmas. Everyone was here to spend time with their loved ones,
their friends and families. Where were
his
family and
his
friends? In another bloody country trying to
rescue his sister from evil vampires. It sounded like a bad B
movie. And what was he doing? Looking at headed notepaper in
hotels. God, he was pathetic.

He turned to go. This was a waste of time.
He was just a stupid deluded kid who thought he was doing something
useful. No wonder the others had left him behind. As he walked out
of the door, he passed a wooden lectern with a pen and notepad
resting on it. Ben stopped and backed up. The paper was a mottled
white colour with a blue-inked header. The lobby was still busy. No
one was looking in his direction. He swiped a few top sheets and
stepped outside.

It had started to rain, slanted sleety
bullets which had driven the shoppers inside. The choir and brass
band had stopped and the only sound now was of spattering rain,
muffled car engines and wet tyres. Ben paused under the stone
canopied hotel entrance.

‘
You can’t wait here,’ a
uniformed bellboy said.

‘
Yes I can. I’m a guest,’
Ben retorted. ‘I need a taxi.’ Ben didn’t know where his confidence
had come from, but it worked.

‘
Oh, sorry. I’ll call one
up for you. Two minutes.’

As he waited, Ben pulled the original
notepaper out of his pocket and compared it to the hotel paper. He
held his breath. The original was pretty crumpled, but as far as he
could tell, they were a perfect match, apart from where the header
had been snipped off. Ben’s heart beat faster. Now what? How could
he find out who had been staying here?