Thicker Than Blood (Marchwood Vampire Series #2) (9 page)

Alex would find her soon and then her
captors would be sorry. She wouldn’t like to be them when he
arrived. She remembered what Alex had done to that slimy solicitor,
Vasey-Smith, when he’d held her at gunpoint - Alex had broken his
neck with a flick of his wrist. She wished he’d hurry up and find
her now because she was beginning to freak out and this place was
rank. She was cold, hungry and felt so grotty that the vain part of
her almost didn’t want Alex to come and see her like this with her
hair all greasy and her X-rated breath.

Images of warm bubble baths, crisp cotton
duvets and toothpaste floated into her head, followed by the
picture of one of Esther’s home-cooked roast dinners with mountains
of crispy potatoes and treacle tart for pudding. Her stomach
gurgled and she banished the image from her mind. No, she couldn’t
waste time wishing for the impossible; she needed to work out how
she was going to get out of here. Part of her brain was telling her
to crumple down onto the bed and sob her eyes out, but Maddy
refused to give in to it. She needed to be strong and clear-headed,
she couldn’t dissolve into tears.

A whirring noise broke the silence, followed
by a crackle and a pop and then the humming sound of the strip
light flared into life again. Once more, Madison was forced to take
in her depressing surroundings and she decided she would have
preferred to remain in darkness.

Maddy dozed on the bed, leaning back against
the wall. Sometime later, she didn’t know how long, she was
startled awake by a jingling sound. The locked door opened and
Maddy opened her eyes and immediately sat upright. It was dark. The
power must have gone again. Someone entered the room. Maddy’s heart
began to race.

‘
Hey,’ Maddy croaked. ‘Who
are you? Why am I here?’

The light flickered on and off a couple of
times illuminating a slim girl just a little taller than Maddy -
maybe 5’3 or 5’4. She wore her hair in a French plait.

The girl didn’t look at her. She put
something down on the end of the bed and made to leave. The room
plunged back into darkness.

‘
Hey, wait a minute. Where
are you going? You have to help me.’

The girl ignored Maddy, her dim outline
heading towards the door. Still groggy with sleep, Maddy jumped off
the bed and stumbled across the room.

‘
Hey! I’m talking to you.
Why have you got me locked up? Who are you?’

But the girl had left the room. Maddy groped
around for the door handle and pulled, but she wasn’t quick enough.
The girl had already locked the door.

The generator kicked in and the strip light
came on properly.

‘
Oh yes,
now
the light decides to stay on.’
Madison could’ve screamed. How had she allowed herself to miss such
a perfect opportunity for escape? She could’ve kicked that girl’s
ass easily and bolted out of the door. What a total idiot. She
didn’t even think the girl had any kind of weapon and all Maddy had
done was gawp uselessly at her.

Next time she’d be totally
prepared, as long as there
was
a next time. But she knew it wouldn’t be as easy
as all that. There had to be more people outside the door
somewhere. Back at Gloucester Cathedral there’d been several men in
that van. God, the evening at the skating rink seemed like weeks
ago. But it couldn’t have been more than a day or two. The others
must be worried sick. Poor Ben, he’d be going crazy by
now.

Maddy looked at the bed: the girl had left a
bottle of water and a plate with a couple of slices of bread and a
pear. Not exactly one of Esther’s roast dinners, but she was
starving and it looked pretty good to her. Soon the plate was empty
and Maddy felt hungrier than ever. She sipped at the water and
thought about how she could overpower the girl. Her eyes rested on
the plate. It was cheap pottery and should break easily enough. She
walked into the vile bathroom and turned on the light. Then she
closed the door behind her.

Tentatively, Maddy banged the plate on the
chipped tile floor. It didn’t break, so she brought it down a
little heavier. It was vital it didn’t smash into tiny pieces. She
wanted a pointed shard which she could use as a weapon. This time,
the plate broke in half. She held one of the pieces and banged it
against the wall. Part of it dropped on the floor and shattered,
but Maddy was left holding a large triangular piece which would be
perfect. She allowed herself a grim smile.

Maddy had been in a few scraps before, but
never anything like this. Well, not unless you included the time
she’d tried to kill Alexandre with a pickaxe. But that was before
she knew him. She wasn’t going to try and kill the girl anyway; she
would just try to incapacitate her. Should she stab her in the arm
or the leg? The eye would be good, but she didn’t think she had the
stomach to do it. She’d better decide quickly and decide well,
because this might be the only chance she’d get to escape.

*

They had arranged to transport themselves to
Turkey in packing crates. Not a particularly glamorous or
comfortable way to travel, but there wasn’t enough time to arrange
passports and this way it meant they could travel safely by day. As
usual, they were all gathered in the large living area of the
basement. It was late morning and the marble mantel clock showed
twenty past eleven.

‘
But how will we ensure
the aeroplane people will not open the crates? What if one of them
opens a crate in daylight?’ Isobel said.

‘
They won’t open them,’
Alexandre replied.

‘
But how do you
know?’

‘
Easy,’ Ben said. ‘Just
mark the crates: ‘Light-Sensitive Artwork – Do Not Open in
Daylight’.

Jacques grinned. ‘Would that work? It sounds
a little strange to me.’

‘
We did it at school.
Light damage is called ‘photochemical deterioration’. That’s why
they don’t let you use flash photography in art
galleries.’

‘
Interesting,’ said
Leonora. ‘Do you think that’s what happens to us? Photochemical
deterioration? Maybe vampires have an extreme version of this
condition?’

‘
Maybe,’ Ben said. ‘Let me
see if I can remember what our teacher said … Light energy is
absorbed by the molecules of an object and this can start a
chemical reaction. Each molecule needs a certain amount of energy
to begin a chemical reaction with other molecules. It’s called
something like activation energy. Different types of molecules have
different activation energies. Maybe a vampire’s activation energy
is really weak or something.’

‘
Wow, Ben. You’re really
quite clever,’ Jacques said.

‘
Yes,’ Freddie agreed.
‘That is very enlightening.’

‘
Don’t sound so
surprised,’ Ben said, flushing under their admiring
stares.

‘
So will this labelling of
the crates work?’ Isobel said.

‘
I’m pretty sure it will,’
Ben said. ‘Just make sure you write it in big letters.’

‘
I’m nervous,’ Isobel
said. ‘I have horrible images of them opening my crate on the
airfield. The pain of daylight is not something I ever wish to
experience again.’

‘
We’ll be fine, Isobel,’
Alexandre said.

‘
Perhaps you should stay
here, Isobel’ Leonora said. ‘I’m sure we can manage.’

‘
No. Of course I’m coming
with you. I just want to be sure we’ll arrive safely.’

‘
So,’ Ben said. ‘You’ll
all be travelling as priceless sculptures.’

‘
Perfect,’ Leonora replied
and gave Ben a rare smile.

He basked in its unexpected glow, but his
happiness was short-lived.

‘
And don’t worry, Ben,’
Freddie said. ‘We will keep you informed of everything.’

‘
What do you mean, ‘keep
me informed’?’

‘
Just what I said,’
Freddie replied, a puzzled expression on his face.

Alexandre sensed trouble. ‘Ben, you do
understand you are staying here with Esther.’

‘
You are not doing this to
me again,’ Ben said.

‘
Ben, we’re not doing
anything to you. We’ve talked about this. You have no
passport.’

‘
You
might have talked about it,
but
I
didn’t.’

‘
The passport issue is one
we cannot avoid.’

‘
Then I’ll travel in a
packing crate.’

‘
You’ll die in a packing
crate.’

‘
But she’s my
sister!’

‘
I know. I’m sorry,’
Isobel said, reaching her hand out to his face.

He jerked his head away in anger. ‘You all
treat me like I’m some stupid kid whose opinion doesn’t matter. You
went off to London without me and now you’re going to Turkey
without me. It’s not fair. It’s not …’

‘
Ben, Ben,’ Isobel
interrupted. ‘It’s not as though we want to leave you behind. It’s
just that you cannot board an aeroplane if you have no
passport.’

‘
Why can’t I just … get
one?’

‘
There is not enough
time.’

‘
You could drive me to
London. Alex, we could go on your bike.’

‘
If I could, I would. But
it’s not as simple as that. You are only fourteen. You’re a minor.
We cannot manage all the paperwork in time.’

Ben stormed out of the basement, slamming
the door behind him.

‘
He’s just worried,’
Isobel said. ‘He’s not angry with us, he’s angry at the
situation.’

Alexandre rubbed his sister’s shoulder and
they smiled sadly at each other. Jacques and Freddie stood there
awkwardly and Leonora seemed oblivious, tapping away on her small
blue laptop.

Back in London, Alexandre had filled them in
on his conversation with Blythe. They had agreed there was no other
option than to go to Cappadocia. Alexandre had offered to go alone
but they had shouted him down.

‘
We’re all going and
that’s final,’ Freddie had said.

Now it was two days later and they were in
the Marchwood basement preparing for their imminent departure.
Alexandre’s eyes rested on the back of Leonora’s head. Her hair was
pinned up in a loose bun, tendrils escaping in wisps across her
white neck. Even from the back she looked similar to Madison, but
her bearing was so much stiffer, more controlled. Maddy was
infinitely more relaxed. But they were both as strong-willed as
each other.

‘
How is everything coming
along?’ he called out to her.

‘
Fine. I’m just printing
out Morris’ ticket. I’ll be done in a few minutes.’

‘
Play something for us,
Isobel,’ Jacques said. ‘You never seem to play anything these days.
I miss it.’

‘
You want me to play?’ she
arched an eyebrow at her twin.

‘
Yes.’

‘
But my playing always
used to irritate you.’

‘
I know I gave that
impression,’ Jacques said. ‘But I wasn’t entirely serious when I
made those comments. I’m your brother, it’s my job to annoy you.’
He grinned.

‘
Yes, Belle,’ Alexandre
said. ‘Play something.’

‘
I don’t believe I’ve ever
heard you play,’ Freddie said.

‘
There is no time. We have
too much to do,’ Isobel replied.

‘
There is time,’ Alexandre
said. ‘We have two hours before we leave for the
airport.’

‘
Well with all this
encouragement, how can I refuse?’ Isobel crossed the room, sat at
the tapestried stool and lifted the polished piano lid. She closed
her eyes and took a breath before opening them again and bringing
her slim fingers down over the keys.

Alexandre heard the notes as if listening
from far away. It was one of Chopin’s Nocturnes. As a mortal,
Isobel had always struggled with this particular piece, but now the
notes floated from her fingers and Alexandre became immersed in
them, as if the music was swirling inside him and he was a part of
the melody. Memories of Paris flooded back to him so quickly they
almost knocked him from his feet – the drawing room at home,
Maman’s laughter, Papa frowning and concentrating on the music,
Jacques clowning around and he, Alexandre, longing to be gone,
bored and wishing he was anywhere else. If only he had savoured
those rare times. He should have clung to those moments, not
brushed them away like stale crumbs. Now they were over, just
images in his head, memories of that vivid life, a life so close he
could almost touch it. Almost…

Chapter Eleven

Cappadocia, 574 AD

*

Over the next few months, the rumours of
invasion grew stronger. It was all anyone talked about, not that
Aelia ever got the chance to speak to anybody. But when she was in
populated areas, the atmosphere was alive with the chatter and buzz
of preoccupied people. There was an urgent energy in the air, an
energy made up of purpose and excitement and fear. People were
preparing for the invasion, but they were not discussing weapons or
defences – they were talking about digging.

‘
Excuse me,’ Aelia said to
a young slave girl, whose attention was being held by a performing
dog in the market place. The little creature was selecting coins
according to which emperor’s face they bore. Of course it was all a
trick and anyone who attempted to outguess the dog would invariably
lose his money.