Maddy jumped as a van door slid open to her left. The man put his arm around her shoulder and pushed her towards the vehicle.
‘Hey!’ She brought the skates up to hit him, but someone pulled them out of her grip. She dropped the drinks on the ground and was shocked to realise there were people in the van who were trying to pull her inside. And they were succeeding. The man let go of her as she was forced inside, a dark piece of cloth rammed over her head. Maddy tried to yell, but no sound came out other than a useless moan.
The van door slid shut and the engine started up. She struck out with her fists and feet, but they were doing a good job of restraining her, pinning her arms while someone else held her legs. The cloth smelt funny, like sweet glue. She felt odd, woozy. Voices filtered into her head as though from far away.
‘Did anyone see you?’
‘No.’
Men’s voices. Shit. Her heart was racing. That bloke had deliberately pushed her into the van. Who was he? Why was she here? The others would find her. Alex would find her. She couldn’t stay focused. Her eyes were closing.
‘Is she out yet?’
Maddy lost consciousness.
*
The vampires met back home at midnight to discuss a plan of action.
‘But where could she be?’ Ben asked for the hundredth time.
‘I don’t know, Ben,’ Isobel replied. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll find her.’
‘Maybe we should call the police?’ Ben said.
‘Do you really think they’ll do a better job than us?’ Freddie replied.
‘It can’t hurt to have as many people looking as possible.’
‘We can’t involve the police,’ Leonora said, stroking Ben’s hair. ‘We’re vampires. It will raise too much suspicion and things might get very awkward.’
‘I don’t care if things get awkward,’ Ben replied. ‘I just want my sister back.’
‘Don’t worry, Ben,’ Alexandre said. ‘You’ll get your sister back. I promise you now you’ll get her back. I would never let anything happen to her.’
They were in the kitchen, standing around the scrubbed pine table, the back door to the utility room wide open, letting in the freezing night air.
‘I think this is something to do with Blythe,’ Alexandre said.
‘The solicitor who tried to kill you?’ Ben asked.
‘Why would he take Maddy after all this time?’ Isobel said.
‘I thought all that was over,’ Jacques added.
‘Why would it be over?’ Alexandre replied. ‘Blythe told us his clients didn’t tolerate fledgling vampires. That they wanted us dead. That hasn’t changed.’
‘But you killed them all.’
‘I killed a lot of them, but I don’t know if they all perished. And you’re forgetting about the one that got away - the Cappadocian vampire who turned me. He’s still out there somewhere and I’ve a feeling he’s the most powerful of them all.’ Alexandre hadn’t let himself think too much about the Cappadocian vampire who had changed his life forever all those years ago.
Back in the nineteenth century, Alexandre had been a young man with his human life ahead of him, but he and his friends and family had been attacked by blood-drinking demons, and the creatures had killed his parents. It had been terrifying, a nightmare from which he thought he would never wake. And when he finally did wake, he had become … this.
‘But if Blythe’s vampire clients have got Maddy, how are you going to get her away from them?’ Ben was becoming hysterical.
‘Shhh,’ Leonora said. ‘We still don’t know this is even the case. Alexandre is just guessing. There might be a more simple explanation.’
‘It will be easier if we split up,’ Alexandre said. ‘That way we can cover more ground. We have to find her before daybreak. Ben, you wait here and call us if she arrives home.’
‘I’m not waiting around while you’re all out …’
‘Ben,’ said Freddie, ‘we can cover more ground than you. It makes more sense for us to go.’
‘But I can go too. I can take the bike …’
‘You have to stay here in case she comes back. We’ll need to know if she shows up here.’
‘I’ll stay here with you, Ben,’ Leonora said.
‘Fine.’ He looked like he was going to cry.
‘It’ll be okay, Ben,’ Alexandre said. ‘Do you doubt me?’
Ben looked at Alex.
‘Do you?’
‘No. But you’d better keep your promise. She’s my sister. She can’t be …’ His voice cracked.
‘Sshhh,’ Isobel said. ‘We’ll find her.’
*
If Maddy’s disappearance was Winston Blythe’s doing, he would have arranged for her to be taken to London, maybe to his offices in Marylebone. So she would probably be heading east towards the capital. Alexandre stood on an iron motorway bridge watching the eastbound traffic below, trying to see if he could sense her in any of the speeding vehicles, their blurred red tail lights like blood trails. He caught the chatter of children, the banter of youths heading for a night out, the companionable silence of couples and the music of a thousand radio stations. But no Madison. She wasn’t there.
Something was niggling Alexandre. There was a memory he couldn’t quite grasp, but he knew it was important. It was something to do with the smell in his nostrils, but he couldn’t think clearly. He was too angry and scared. This danger which dogged him – it meant Maddy had never been safe, would never be safe. If only he hadn’t been so complacent. He should have sought out Blythe and put an end to this a long time ago. It was his own stupid fault. He gripped the metal rail in front of him and savoured the icy burn against his fingers. When he’d been human, such cold would have been painful, stripping the skin and seizing up his joints. Now it felt like a sharp pleasing tingle, clearing his mind and giving him a jolt.
Suddenly he knew what the lingering scent in his nostrils was. It was warm milk and cocoa – hot chocolate! That man who had talked to Madison, he’d had a stain on the arm of his coat. It was hot chocolate! How could he not have noticed that at the time? He was such an imbecile. Alexandre leapt off the bridge and onto the central reservation below. The traffic roared past him, but he ran across to the hard shoulder without interrupting its flow. Alexandre was sure now that the man had lied to him about not seeing her again. Maddy had gone to buy hot chocolate and the man had hot chocolate on his coat, which meant something must have happened between them.
Alexandre almost flew back to the cathedral. It was silent now. No skaters, no music, no lights, only a dull glow from the ice rink where a sliver of crescent moon shone down. The arches of the cloisters surrounded him like dark gaping mouths. He slowly retraced his steps from the rink towards the café. The alleyway was deserted apart from a small black and white cat which darted away into the shadows.
A few vehicles remained in the car park. Alexandre stopped. Something caught his eye. From a couple of hundred yards away it looked like some random trash on the ground, but Alexandre knew what it was. He crossed the space in less than a second and knelt down to pick up the cardboard tray. Ben’s chocolate flake lay squashed into a frozen puddle of milky chocolate. So Maddy had made it back this far and then something had happened. Someone had made her drop the drinks. It was something to do with that man. Alexandre remembered the car, the blue Audi. He would find it and he would question the man. He would rip his arms from their sockets if he needed to.
He searched the area using his vampiric senses of scent and sound, moving quickly, unseen, almost spirit-like through the dark city. He found the Audi in the grounds of a disused warehouse at Gloucester Docks. The car was still smouldering, a burnt out shell, the number plates removed. But it was the same make, model and colour. Too much of a coincidence for it to be anyone else’s vehicle. Alexandre wanted to yell out in frustration. He wanted to find that man and throttle him until he could no longer breathe. He was a damn good actor whoever he was. When he’d questioned him earlie
r, Alex hadn’t detected any duplicity in his answers.
What could he do? What use was this immortal life if he could not protect the one he loved? How could he bear it if she was gone forever? It would destroy him more thoroughly than the sun ever could. It would obliterate him. But he couldn’t let his mind wander down such desolate paths. He must continue to act. He would locate his love and kill whoever was responsible.
But dawn was only about an hour away and Alexandre couldn’t believe he would soon be powerless to act, impeded by daylight, his mortal enemy. He had to find Madison now, but how? The man was gone, a shadow. The car had been his only link. Alexandre was out of ideas. The obvious thing would be to go and confront Blythe but there wasn’t enough time. The sun would soon be here. And Blythe’s offices in Marylebone were lethal for vampires with all that UV installed throughout the building. No. He would have to visit the solicitor at his personal residence. He would do it tonight.
Chapter Five
Cappadocia 571 AD
*
Aelia awoke to darkness and hunger. She glanced about the unfamiliar gloom. This was not the room she shared with her sisters. This was somewhere else. Then she remembered everything and her empty stomach lurched. Had it all really happened?
The windows were shuttered making it impossible to tell whether morning had arrived yet. But it must not be far away, for the darkness was not absolute. No one sat at the table and no one lay on either of the other straw pallets. It appeared she was alone. This realisation made her a little less terrified and she closed her eyes again, trying not to think about what the day could bring.
‘There is a little bread and cheese if you want it.’
The voice made her jump and her eyes snapped open. One of the women was sitting on the end of her pallet, staring at her. Aelia instantly drew her knees up. How had she not noticed her before?
‘I would eat if I were you. You may not get the chance later.’
‘Thank you,’ Aelia whispered.
The woman pointed to a covered platter on the table.
‘Take what you want,’ the woman said.
Aelia stood and shook the creases from her clothes. She had slept in her head-cloth and now attempted to straighten it. Her mouth tasted stale and dry.
‘Please may I have some water?’
The woman pointed to an urn and some cups resting on a ledge on the wall. Aelia walked across the room, lifted the heavy urn and tipped it towards one of the cups. She misjudged the angle and splashed water onto the ledge and floor.
‘Oh! I’m sorry,’ Aelia said, feeling like she wanted to cry.
‘That is not something you need to be sorry about,’ the woman replied.
‘Shall I mop it up? Do you have a cloth?’
‘Leave it. Sit. Eat.’
The door swung open and a sharp flood of light swept into the dwelling. The other woman entered.
‘It is time,’ the woman said.
‘Better eat quickly,’ the first woman said to Aelia. ‘We leave now.’
Aelia gulped down her cup of lukewarm water, tore off a chunk of bread and stuffed it into her mouth. At the women’s beckoning, she followed them out of the door and into the hot morning.
Yesterday, she had taken little heed of her surroundings, but now she saw they were in a little side-alley which she did not recognise. That was nothing strange, as she was only familiar with the immediate vicinity of her dwelling and the well-worn route to the stream. Aelia was never supposed to leave her house unaccompanied. It was only during these last few weeks that she had felt a pull from outside, a need to be away from the claustrophobic confines of her house and village. She wished she had ignored those rebellious feelings, for look where they had led her.
The two women resumed their positions from yesterday and stood either side of her, gripping her upper arms. They looked straight ahead and began walking while Aelia stumbled along in between them, their black robes swirling about her. She chewed her mouthful of dry bread, trying not to choke, wishing they had offered her a little oil to moisten it. Where were they going? Were they taking her home? Probably not.
They emerged from the quiet alley into a wider lane and Aelia couldn’t help but notice everyone staring. She recognised a few faces, but today they were either hostile or embarrassed. She saw those she had played with as a young child, those she had laughed and run and teased and argued with, but they had no words for her now. No morsels of comfort or smiles of reassurance.
Then she briefly locked eyes with one of her father’s friends. He came often to their house to chat or to purchase pottery from her father’s studio. When she was younger, he had ruffled her hair with twinkling eyes and pinched her soft cheeks. But the look he threw her today, almost made her stagger backwards as if he had struck her, for it was a stare of pure hatred and loathing. Aelia took a breath and told herself she did not care that they showed her the other side of their faces today, for hadn’t Lysus told her not to worry. He would make things right. He had to.
Her two escorts paid no heed to the stares or the taunts, but marched relentlessly forward. By now, a small crowd followed them. She felt a sharp stinging pain at the back of her head and realised someone had thrown a stone at her. The two women stopped and turned. They shouted at a group of young boys who laughed and made no move to leave. As her keepers resumed their walk, Aelia cringed, expecting more stones to strike her. It was an awful feeling. Everything was spiralling out of control. Her calm and peaceful existence was disintegrating into fear and uncertainty.
They were approaching the village square. A long trestle table had been erected and behind it sat Praetor Garidas and three other village elders. A space had been left clear in front of the trestle, but all around, the whole village was gathered and people had now begun to notice her. Aelia’s cheeks flamed and she felt light headed. The women hoisted her up between them, as her knees gave way.
The mood of the crowd was one of tension and expectancy. What were they going to witness here today? Aelia didn’t know either. As soon as she set foot in the square, the noise level erupted. The sun beat down on her covered head and she thought she would faint with the terror of it all. This crowd was here for her. She was the cause of this gathering. It was like a terrible, terrible nightmare.
The women led her through the parting spectators. Again, Aelia dared not lift her head for fear of seeing more hatred etched on familiar faces. More friends to spit at her or curse her name. She felt she might die of shame. Soon, the women came to a halt and Aelia found herself standing in a clear patch of sunlight. She risked raising her face a little and found herself squinting into the eyes of the village elders. She quickly lowered her eyes again at the sight of their stern expressions.
She was shocked and a little dismayed to see the women in black had melted away from her sides and she now stood alone. Although they were her keepers, there had been some small comfort in having them either side of her – a barrier between her and the hostile crowd.
A hush swept across the square, like a dying breeze. Where were her parents? Why weren’t they at her side? And Lysus ... Where was he?
‘Aelia Laskarina, you are a maiden accused of sinning in the worst way, with a man.’ The Praetor’s voice filled every pore of her body. It rang out across the square and up into the sky. Aelia felt the tension around her increase even more, if that were possible. ‘Are you guilty of this crime?’ he asked.
She was expected to speak now, but what should she say? Should she admit her sin or should she plead ignorance and pretend she did not know what they were talking about? Where was Lysus?
‘Well?’ Praetor Garidas said, after a few seconds of silence. ‘Have you nothing to say? Are we to answer for you?’
‘Where are my … Where are my parents?’ she stammered.
‘Your parents cannot help you. They cannot answer for you. Only you can know what you did or did not. And only we can determine if you tell the truth or if you lie.’
She heard the crowd hold its breath. The silence was absolute. She knew that whatever she said now would determine the rest of her life. If she told the truth, she would be condemned, but if she lied and they already knew the truth, her fate would be a thousand times worse.
‘I … I did this,’ she whispered.
‘Speak up.’
‘I did this. I am guilty of this, but …’
The crowd erupted in a frenzy of jeering and shouting, drowning out the rest of her words. One of the elders rang a large hand bell, calling for silence.
‘Sir,’ she said. But she still could not be heard above the angry crowd. Once they had finally quieted, Aelia raised her voice, tears streaming down her face. ‘Sir, he promised me we would be married, that we would …’
‘Quiet, girl. Silence, everybody.’ The Praetor stood and waited for the hush to descend again. He spoke directly to Aelia who was shaking and sobbing. ‘I am sorry to hear you say it. I am sorry to pass out this sentence, but it is the law and we must abide by it or we will descend into chaos and heathen ways.’
‘But please, Praetor Garidas,’ she wept. ‘He has promised to marry me. It is …’
‘Promises are not the issue, girl. You have sinned. That is all that matters.’
‘But if I tell you who I was with! It was your …’ Aelia stopped as a stone struck her cheek. She put her hand up to the stripe of pain, then gazed at her red-stained fingertips before staring into the crowd, to where the stone had originated. Her gaze landed upon a pair of guilty eyes and she caught her breath as realisation punched its way through, like a blow to her gut. For it was Lysus.
Up until now, Aelia had prayed that Lysus would halt her humiliation and make everything right. But now, as she locked eyes with him for a second that lasted an eternity, she realised his loyalties were to himself. He would do nothing. Even if Lysus had intended to marry her, he certainly would not help her now. She knew nothing anymore, nor cared if she lived or died. The gentle security that had cloaked her childhood had been ripped from her shoulders and used to suffocate her. She turned away from Lysus in disbelief, and surrendered herself to The Praetor’s judgement.