Hidden

  ‘How you doing?’ she asked.

  ‘I found out nothing. I heard nothing. Nobody tracked me and nobody approached me.’

  ‘Well that’s a good thing.’

  ‘I know something is not right. I know.’ He continued to lie there and Madison felt like she was intruding.

  ‘Do you want to be on your own?’ she asked in a small voice.

  Alexandre did not reply. He just pulled her to him and she lay with her head on his chest as he brooded in silence.

  That night he went out again. And the following night. And the following night. Maddy felt like she would go mad with longing for him. She was at a complete loss, annoyed with herself for feeling like this and annoyed with him for abandoning her. She thought he was on a wild goose chase and resented his attention being elsewhere. She hoped he’d soon realise no one was out to get him and that he would finally relax and enjoy his life with her once more.

  *

  ‘God, Mads, why are you so moody?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Not moody.’

  ‘Whatever you say, sis. I’ll be back lunchtime. Last day of term today.’

  ‘Have fun,’ she said in a monotone voice.

  ‘Sounds like I’ll be having more fun than you anyway. See ya later, alligator.’

  ‘Whatever, crocodile.’

  Alexandre had been out every night that week and was becoming more and more withdrawn, shrinking into himself. She felt like they were losing their connection. The easy closeness they had shared was unravelling and it frightened her more than any outside threat.

  Alexandre came into the kitchen. He still looked fresh and unblemished, but Madison noticed the tension behind his eyes. He sat next to her and kissed her hand, but it was more an automatic gesture than anything romantic.

  Esther walked in with the morning’s post and laid it on the kitchen table.

  ‘Lovely day outside,’ she commented. ‘Only you’d never know it in here. God only knows why you never open them shutters, but I’m sure you got your reasons. Hangover is it? Underage binge drinking I shouldn’t wonder.’

  Madison ignored her as usual and picked up the letters on the table.

  ‘You alright this morning, Alexandre?’ Esther asked.

  ‘I am very well, Mrs Foxton. And I must thank you for pressing my clothes yesterday.’

  ‘You’re very welcome young man. Nice to see someone with manners.’

  ‘Creep,’ Madison said to him, half-joking, half-not.

  ‘It’s not a matter of being a creep,’ Esther said. ‘It’s about showing appreciation. He’s been brought up with nice manners.’

  ‘Not like me, you mean.’

  ‘Now, now. I didn’t say that and I’m not comparing or complaining. I’m just complimenting him on his manners is all.’

  ‘Bloody hell!’ exclaimed Madison. ‘What’s this?’

  As she was flipping through the post she had come across a cream envelope. She stared at it in disbelief. ‘Who’s this from, Alex?’ She showed him the envelope. On it was written in beautiful inked copperplate lettering:

  ~

  Alexandre

  ~

  It had no stamp which meant it had been hand delivered. He looked at the front of the envelope with a frown.

  ‘I do not know. Nobody knows I am here. I know nobody who would send me a letter. Come.’ He held out his hand to lead her downstairs into the privacy of his lounge. They sat together as he tore through the thick envelope. He shook out a note, written on a piece of stiff cream card. It read:

  Sir,

  I would be grateful if you would meet with me tonight.

  We may be able to help one another.

  Stinchcombe Hill, 11pm

  A friend

  ~

  ‘Who’s it from?’ Madison asked.

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘Do you think it’s something to do with what happened the other night?’

  ‘It could be.’ He nodded slowly.

  ‘It might be some kind of trap though. It could be dangerous.’

  ‘It will be more dangerous for them than for me,’ Alexandre said, looking up at her. ‘I will have to go Madison.’

  ‘I really don’t think you should. You don’t know what kind of nutter wrote that note and I’m scared for you.’

  ‘I will be perfectly fine.’

  ‘And what do they mean by ‘we may be able to help one another’? Help one another with what?’

  ‘I do not know. But there is only one way to find out.’ He stared at the piece of card until the swirling words blurred in front of his eyes.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  *

  Ben came home at lunchtime with two of his mates and they were going to spend their first afternoon of summer holiday freedom, mountain biking in the woods. Maddy gave them some sandwiches and waved them off absentmindedly, too distracted and upset to talk properly.

  The day went by too quickly. The hours felt like seconds as she tried to keep her panic under control. She had lost too many people in her life and she felt physically sick at the thought of anyone trying to harm Alexandre. She knew he was strong, almost indestructible, but if this person knew he was a vampire, they might also know his weakness. She had to try again to talk him out of it.

  Just as she had made up her mind to go downstairs and see him, the cellar door opened and his brooding face appeared. He smiled at her, but the smile stopped before it reached his eyes.

  ‘You looked so stressed,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you just ignore that stupid letter? It’s not even worth thinking about.’

  ‘And if I ignore it, do you think that will be it? Do you think they will leave me alone?’

  ‘Yeah. I do actually. I think if you ignore it, they’ll go away. They’re obviously too scared to come and see you face-to-face. What makes you think they’ll even be there tonight? They might have paid someone to try to hurt you, or worse …’

  ‘This kind of talk is not helping, Madison. I am going to go and see what it is all about and then hopefully we can return to what normality we have.’

  ‘What if I beg you not to go?’ Madison asked jokily, but she heard the edge of desperation in her voice.

  ‘Please do not worry so.’ Alexandre’s voice softened and he led her out of the kitchen into the dark lounge. He switched on a table lamp and they sat together on the sofa. ‘Nothing is going to happen to me. It is just a meeting.’

  ‘Okay,’ she replied, unconvinced.

  That evening, Alexandre dressed sharply in a dark navy suit, white shirt and tie. He still could not get used to the casual style of clothes that Madison insisted was perfectly normal. She said people only wore suits for office jobs, weddings and funerals. But the scheduled meeting had unnerved him and he felt more confident in this attire, more himself.

  ‘But it’s only just after nine o’clock,’ Madison said. ‘The meeting isn’t till eleven.’

  ‘I need to survey the area first. I want to see if I can spot anything untoward.’

  ‘That’s a good idea I suppose. I feel so useless. I wish I could do something to help.’

  ‘It would help me a great deal if I knew you were not at home worrying about me.’

  ‘That’s like asking me not to breathe.’

  He laughed and kissed her. She responded urgently, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his neck. He peeled her away from him, kissed her one last time and disappeared.

  *

  Stinchcombe Hill was a large grassy promontory on the edge of the Cotswolds, looking out over miles of hills, forests and rivers. A winding road led up from the valley below and several cars had parked on the top. People walked their dogs and a gaggle of youths sprawled on the grass, chatting. A middle-aged couple sat in their car, drinking from a flask and an old gentleman sat alone on a wooden bench.

  Alexandre was already familiar with the place and he followed the spine of the hill, looking and listening for anything unusual. Still only a quarter
past nine, he did not expect to see the person he was meeting until a lot later. He heard a couple of cars leave, but no one else arrived. He quickly circled the woods that crouched in the hollow below the hill and then he returned to the car park.

  The couple in the car had gone, as had most of the dog walkers. The only people left were the teenagers, the elderly gentleman and a man training a couple of energetic young border collies.

  Alexandre sat on a bench further along the ridge and stared out at the winking lights below. He saw the blurred red and white beams of fast-moving traffic, the dark green shapes of sleeping hillsides and the silver stripe of a wide river, far off towards the Welsh mountains. It was a peaceful place and he envied the small group of boisterous youths who were enjoying being carefree in beautiful surroundings with nothing heavier on their minds than love and harmless fun.

  Alert to his surroundings, he heard rabbits nibbling the grass and sensed the fox making a move on its prey. He saw the owl in the tree and the scurrying mouse running in vain. No more cars arrived. The man and his dogs left. The teenagers lounged. The elderly gentleman sat. Time ticked on.

  The warm July wind teased the grass and briefly troubled the trees. A thin sliver of moon glinted like an unsheathed scimitar in the sky. The elderly gentleman rose from his seat and walked towards the four remaining cars. He passed Alexandre.

  ‘Good evening,’ the man doffed his brown fedora, displaying a full head of white hair.

  ‘Good evening,’ Alexandre replied.

  The man hesitated. ‘Alexandre?’

  Alex snapped his head up to look at the man, who smiled gently back with a look of ... apology?’

  ‘You. You are he?’ Alexandre stood. ‘You sent me the note?’

  ‘Yes, it was I who sent you the note. And I do apologise for the cloak and dagger way in which I got you to meet me here.’

  Alexandre appraised the man. He must have been in his mid to late seventies. He seemed in good health, handsome and well-dressed in an expensive suit. He was tall and fairly upright, but with a walking cane. He was undoubtedly human, unarmed and unthreatening. Alexandre sensed no other people in the vicinity, apart from the youths who were some way off, oblivious to anything but themselves.

  ‘Please explain why you thought this was necessary,’ Alexandre said, sitting back down on the bench. The man openly appraised Alexandre.

  ‘You are magnificent!’ he exhaled. ‘Absolutely extraordinary. I cannot believe I am actually in your presence. May I?’ The man pointed to a spare section of the bench that Alexandre sat on.

  Alexandre hesitated and then nodded once. The man sat down heavily next to him. ‘You do not know how long I have waited to have this conversation,’ he continued.

  ‘And so is that what this is all about?’ Alexandre said. ‘Satisfying your curiosity? Am I some circus turn you might stare and prod at?’ He felt an indignant fury. ‘I did not come here to be admired or to be complimented. Speak quickly for I have a mind to leave at once.’

  ‘Please do not. I am sorry if I have offended you. It is just … I am somewhat overawed by your presence.’

  ‘Sir!’ Alexandre’s patience was stretching.

  ‘I believe I can help you. My name is Winston Blythe and I would like to show you something.’

  He pulled something from his inside jacket pocket. It was a recent colour photograph. Alexandre took the picture. It was a picture of someone lying on a bed. A man in his early thirties. He was asleep, dressed in a style of clothing dating from Alexandre’s era or maybe a little more old fashioned.

  He reminded Alexandre of someone, or of something. Yes. He looked like the sleeping forms of the others: of Isobel, Jacques, Leonora and Freddie. He looked like a statue, like a vampire.

  Blythe stared intently at Alexandre’s face, waiting.

  ‘You recognise the condition.’

  ‘A vampire,’ Alexandre said. ‘Who is he?’

  ‘He is my great grandfather,’ Blythe replied. ‘I never even knew him. He’s been asleep for one hundred and forty six years. It is my family’s tragedy. Our skeleton in the closet, so to speak.’

  ‘I must admit I am surprised,’ Alexandre said. ‘This is the last thing I expected.’

  ‘I also have two confessions to make to you,’ Blythe said. ‘And I am more than a little nervous about telling you. But I trust you will understand why I did it and I hope you can forgive me.’

  ‘It was you then? Who paid that man in the supermarket car park?’ Alexandre asked, already knowing the answer.

  ‘I’m sorry. Yes it was. You see I had to be sure you really were who I thought you were. I felt terrible about that poor fellow. He must have had the shock of his life.’

  ‘You said you had two confessions.’

  ‘Aah, yes. Now this one I am a little more ashamed of and you must believe me it wasn’t meant to get so out of hand. My employees took it much too far. But it was ultimately my doing - that fracas you got into at the nightclub …’

  ‘That was you?’ Alexandre stood up angrily. ‘Why on earth would you want to insult my companion and have two scoundrels attack me?’

  ‘None of that was supposed to happen,’ Blythe sighed and stood up, leaning heavily on his cane. ‘I told them I needed a sample of your hair to test. They assured me they would get it with the minimum of fuss, but as it turned out, they got it with the very maximum of fuss.’

  ‘My hair? Why would you need my hair?’

  ‘We are trying to find a cure for the sleeping sickness my great grandfather contracted. You have overcome the sickness and I thought your DNA might shed some light on how you recovered. I needed the hair for analysis. To see if it would yield any answers. But alas, it was a fruitless effort. Your cells regenerate so quickly they leave no trace of trauma. Your hair is healthy. No clues were left as to what occurred previously.’

  ‘DNA?’ Alexandre asked.

  ‘Deoxyribonucleic acid. In short, your cells contain a nucleic acid that houses genetic instructions for all living organisms. A blueprint for life, if you like.’

  ‘But why did you not just approach me in the first place and eliminate all this secrecy? You could merely have sent me the note in the first instance.’

  ‘Well yes, in hindsight that would have been a much better way to approach things. But I didn’t want to involve you or disrupt your life in any way. I wanted just to establish that you were who I thought you were, find out how you were revived and leave you in peace. Instead I have alarmed you and intruded upon your life. For that I am truly sorry.’

  Alexandre thought for a few moments. Blythe seemed sincere enough. He was an elderly man with a plausible story. Alexandre suddenly remembered something.

  ‘You said we could help each other. How does this help me?’

  ‘Ah yes. Well the thing is, I know about the others in your cellar.’

  Alexandre grabbed Winston by the throat.

  ‘Who are you?’ he growled. ‘How do you know about me and the others? How do you know I was asleep? That I woke up? Start talking. I want answers, old man. I have no patience for games and I am suddenly angry.’

  Winston Blythe faltered and dropped his cane. Alexandre pushed him down onto the bench where he sat, dazed and apprehensive.

  ‘Talk quickly,’ Alexandre said.

  ‘I … I am a partner in an old established firm. We have been monitoring Marchwood House for a number of years and we knew there were five of you who were dormant. We are actually a firm of solicitors. Our name is Hamilton Blythe. I am Winston Blythe, a partner in the firm.’

  ‘So you are the firm who looked after the house before Madison inherited.’

  ‘That is correct.’

  ‘You knew of our existence there, but you left us alone. Why?’

  ‘As I said before, I did not wish to disturb you in any way. I just want to help my great grandfather.’

  ‘And is this really your great grandfather?’ Alex thrust the photograph in front of the solicitor’
s face. ‘Or was that just a lie to soften things up?’

  Blythe took it with a shaking hand.

  ‘It is true. I am not lying to you. I am trying to be scrupulously honest. Maybe too honest for my own damn good. When it came to our attention one of you had awoken, well we were excited. You may hold the key to reviving my relative.

  ‘There are no other conscious vampires in the world. As far as we know they all succumbed to this disease many years ago. I have so many questions to ask you, but the most important one is how you came to be awake. If you tell me this, I am sure I can help you to revive the others. We have a controlled environment and specialist equipment to ensure no harm comes to them. Will you at least consider enlightening me?’

  ‘I have to think,’ Alexandre said brusquely. He left Winston Blythe on the bench and travelled a mile or so along the ridge until he felt calmer. He reviewed the information in his mind.

  He had to ask himself, did he trust this man? Then he had to weigh up if giving this information to him could be dangerous in any way. But all he could think of was Isobel and the others. This could be a chance to safely revive them. He missed them so much. Winston said it was a disease that affected all of his kind. So those in Cappadocia must have contracted it. That would explain why they had all been half-asleep when they attacked. If they had been fully conscious the whole region would probably have been ravaged by now.

  He returned to Blythe who was still sitting on the bench.

  ‘I didn’t know if you were going to come back,’ the old man said. ‘I realise this is an awful lot of information to absorb. Do you wish to think on it and speak to me at a later date?’

  ‘I am sorry if I was a little rough with you before. But you took me aback and I am still getting used to my own strength. The others are everything to me and if I thought they were under threat …’

  ‘It is quite understandable. The others? Are they your family?’