Darkness Falls

  ‘Nothing, Mrs Dunne, I am just intrigued. Why did your husband have such a large life insurance policy? It doesn’t make a great deal of sense.’

  ‘He was probably mis-sold the policy when he contacted you. No doubt your salesman sold him the most expensive package. Maybe he didn’t shop around, I don’t know. You’ll appreciate I can’t ask him because he was murdered.’

  The solicitor turned bright red.

  ‘Yes, indeed, and we would like to extend our sincerest condolences to you at this difficult time.’

  ‘Really. Sincere is not a word I’m entirely sure you know the meaning of, Mr Jones.’

  She could be insufferable and irritating, but there were still times when April really loved her mother.

  They left the building and walked down the busy London street, their breath steaming in front of them.

  ‘So what was all that about?’ asked April. ‘Why was that man asking all those questions about Dad?’

  Silvia sighed. ‘It’s his job to be a little toad, darling.’

  ‘No, I don’t mean that. I mean what he was saying: was it true? Dad spent a fortune on life insurance?’

  Silvia shook her head. ‘Finance has never been my strong point. I always let you dad sort out paying the bills. You don’t think I’d have let him spend all that money on something so unnecessary, do you? Even now, that man has the power to drive me mad.’

  April looked at her mother.

  ‘What do we do now?’

  Silvia shrugged. ‘We have a party.’

  ‘A party? You are joking?’

  ‘I don’t see why not. Your father obviously meant to provide for us, so we should make use of it.’

  ‘What, go on a shopping spree?’ said April sarcastically.

  ‘He knew me well, darling. What do you think he’d expect me to do with all that money? What else are we going to do? Put it into bonds? Give it away to charity?’

  ‘I don’t know, but having a party … it’s as if we’re happy he’s dead.’

  But why did he leave all that money? Wondered April. Did he expect to be killed? Obviously he had run the risks of upsetting the wrong people in his work as an investigative reporter. That was true. But this seemed something more than that. Mr Jones was right: no one expects to get their throat torn out by a vampire, do they? It might have made sense if her dad had taken the insurance out a week before his death, but he’d done it seventeen years ago. It just didn’t add up. Like almost everything in her life right now. She suddenly thought of Gabriel and the terrible, hungry look on his face when he’d taken the potion. She had been calling and texting him, but his phone was switched off. Where was he? Had he gone on a blood-sucking rampage? Was he dead in a ditch? She had no idea.

  ‘Anyway, the upshot is that your dad provided for us and for that, at least, we should be grateful.’

  ‘At least? What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘What’s the matter? Why all these snide references to Dad all the time?’

  Silvia’s attitude toward April’s father was seriously beginning to upset her. Weren’t you supposed to cut someone a bit of slack when they’d died? Don’t speak ill of the dead and all that? April had the distinct impression that Silvia wasn’t just angry, she actually resented William for dying. Like he had any choice about it, and now they knew about the insurance, it wasn’t as if they were left in the lurch either. What was her problem?

  ‘Snide? I didn’t say anything about your father.’

  ‘Well maybe you should. Aren’t you supposed to be his grieving widow? It was bad enough you gave him such a hard time when he was with us, without you making him out a bad father now he’s gone.’

  ‘It’s only natural I should feel angry at your father. Robert says …’

  ‘Robert? Who’s Robert?’

  ‘Mr Sheldon.’

  ‘You’ve been seeing Mr Sheldon?’ April said incredulously.

  ‘He’s a friend.’

  ‘A friend? What kind of friend?’

  ‘I can choose my own friends, April. I don’t need your approval. I have issues I need to talk through and I’ve known Robert a long time.’

  ‘Longer than Dad? Or maybe only since he died?’

  ‘What are you implying?’

  ‘Whatever you think I’m implying!’ April shouted. ‘What difference does it make what I think? You’re going to go out and do whatever you— oh, forget it!’

  April stalked off in disgust.

  ‘April! Come back here!’

  ‘No!’ yelled April. ‘I’m old enough to choose my own company too.’

  She ran off down the street, bumping into people as she struggled to get away. She ignored their protests and ploughed on, needing to put distance between her and her mother. Turning a corner, she saw a taxi and flagged it down, hoping she could scrape together enough change from her purse for the fare back to Highgate.

  I’ve got a million quid in the bank, she thought as she told the driver: ‘Highgate Cemetery, Swain’s Lane.’ I can afford it.

  April waited until the taxi’s red tail-lights had disappeared up the hill before she approached the gates. She rapped timidly on the cemetery office window, half hoping that Miss Leicester had already gone home, half hoping her disapproving face would appear at the glass. It was only quarter-past six, but it was already as dark as it ever got. And April wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to be in the cemetery alone, not after hearing the whispers and laughter the last time she came here in the dark. She cupped her hands around her eyes to peer in through the latticework windows. No, the office was empty. Everyone had gone for the night.

  Right then, no excuses, she thought, looking up at the gates. The original architects had obviously anticipated this moment, having made the wrought iron gates fit the stone arch perfectly, so April skirted around the building and looked at the railings surrounding the courtyard where the funeral vehicles pulled in. Clearly there had been crowd-control issues at some point in the cemetery’s history – the tall iron fence was topped with revolving spikes which had been reinforced with rather more modern-looking razor wire.

  ‘Screw that,’ said April, turning and striding up the hill, keeping the high cemetery wall to her left until she came to the North Gate, the place she had first met Gabriel Swift, the place it had all started. She tried not to think about that night as she wedged her foot into the fence and pulled herself up, scrabbling for a hand-hold in the crumbling wall to the left of the gate. She had been terrified that night and had run home covered in what she had assumed was fox-blood. She couldn’t afford to be so squeamish any more. Or so naïve.

  Grimacing, groaning, she hauled herself up, the pointy tops of the gate digging into her hands and thighs as she rolled over them. ‘Dammit,’ she whispered as she snagged her tights and felt them rip. Better than an artery I suppose, she thought, landing awkwardly in the mud and rotting leaves on the far side. She ran into the cemetery, barely giving the little white building just inside the gate a glance, letting the darkness separate her from the living world. She knew Gabriel had warned her not to go into the cemetery after dark, but today was special. She needed to talk to someone or she would burst. She still had her torch from the night in the woods and she flicked it on, shining it into the faces and the closed eyes of the stone angels as she walked along the path, through the shadows, her torch beam waving back and forth. She knew the way well enough by now and it didn’t take her long to find the tomb: a glowering black slab in the darkness.

  ‘Hi, Daddy,’ she said, huddling down next to the door. ‘I’ve just come from your solicitors. Apparently you’ve made me a rich woman. I suppose I should say thank you.’

  The truth was, April didn’t really want to have anything to do with the money. Of course, like everyone else, she had occasionally wondered what she would do with a million pounds if she had somehow won the lottery, but this was different. The money seemed tainted somehow. Blood money, quite literall
y. And the mystery surrounding it only made things worse. That horrid man at the law firm had been quite right: they had been poor when April was born. April didn’t know much about journalism, but she did know that it wasn’t a huge money-spinner, especially not for a junior writer working his way up. How could he have afforded such huge premiums? And more to the point: why had he? Had he expected to die? It was all so strange.

  ‘Daddy, why did you leave us all that money?’ she asked quietly. ‘Did you know you were in danger? But how could you have known so long ago? Was it because I was a baby and you were worried how mum would cope if you died?’

  April’s questions were met with silence. Well, what else were you expecting, genius? A reasoned argument? A note slipped under the door? April stood up and brushed the dried leaves off. For the first time since her father’s death, visiting his tomb gave her no comfort. Maybe it was the late hour or the fact that her thoughts were directed elsewhere. Or maybe I’m growing up, her mind countered and perhaps there was some truth in that. Maybe it was time to stop relying on someone who was so patently, so undeniably dead.

  ‘You’re not coming back, are you, Daddy?’ she whispered, running her fingertips over the cold metal of the door.

  ‘Don’t be so sure,’ said a voice and April literally jumped into the air, falling back against the door, whirling her torch out into the darkness as if it could defend her.

  ‘Who’s there?’ she gasped. ‘Who the hell is that?’

  ‘Relax,’ came the reply. ‘It’s me.’

  ‘Gabriel?’ she whispered as her beam caught a figure standing ten yards away. His white teeth glinted in the torchlight – he was laughing.

  ‘Damn you, Gabriel Swift,’ she yelled as she ran towards him, jumping into his arms and hugging and squeezing him tight, breathing in his smell, wishing she never had to let him go. Laughing, he squeezed her back, swinging her around and kissing the top of her head.

  ‘You’re okay, you’re okay,’ she said. ‘I thought I’d lost you for ever.’

  ‘Never,’ he said fiercely, brushing her hair back and looking into her eyes. ‘I will never leave you again.’

  Even in this darkness she could tell he was better, although he still looked as if he had been up for two days straight. His sparkling eyes were red-rimmed, his hair sleek but out of place.

  ‘Where have you been?’ she said, slapping his arm. ‘I was worried sick. I thought you were dying up there!’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I couldn’t risk your staying. It felt as if I was going through the change all over again.’

  There was pain in his eyes at the memory.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Sorry I hit you, I mean. And sorry that you went through all that for me.’

  He laughed.

  ‘Not just for you. You were right, April. This isn’t just about me. There are other people relying on me – on us. And I have things to do before I can lie down and die. I’ve searched for the Regent for so long, I can’t just slip away and let him carry on corrupting the world.’

  April nodded, but looked a little put out.

  ‘And there’s you, of course,’ he grinned. ‘I couldn’t leave you.’

  She smiled, looking into his eyes, overjoyed to see the life there. He was alive! Alive!

  April threw her arms around his neck again, grinning. ‘I’m so glad you’re back.’

  ‘So am I,’ he said, cupping her face gently. ‘I felt so far away, so lost. And yet I knew I had to get back to you.’

  April lifted her chin and he leant in, his lips coming down towards hers, so close she could feel his breath …

  ‘No!’ she cried suddenly, jerking away from him. ‘We can’t!’

  Gabriel stepped away from her, all the colour drained from his face.

  ‘Oh God, I’m sorry!’ he breathed. ‘That’s so stupid. I’m just so used to being able to kiss you whenever I like.’

  April gave a sad smile.

  ‘Me too,’ she said softly, pulling him into a hug.

  ‘Well maybe we have to focus on finding the Regent then, so we can do it all the time,’ she said.

  ‘That sounds good,’ said Gabriel, bending to kiss her ear lobe, sending a tingle along April’s spine. Let’s find him quick, she thought, Please, God.

  Linking her arm through his, they walked away from the tomb.

  ‘So how do you feel, honestly?’ she asked.

  ‘Honestly? I feel amazing. That month of feeling human – of feeling the cold and the rain and pain in my head, it feels like I dreamt it. But it was dangerous too, so seductive, feeling that vulnerable and exposed.’

  ‘Not to me,’ said April. ‘I hate it.’

  ‘Well I’m here to protect you now, aren’t I?’

  April looked around at the headstones, the dark trees.

  ‘Can you really protect me?’

  ‘I will,’ he said, squeezing her hand.

  ‘And who’s going to protect me from you, Gabriel Swift?’ She had meant it to sound jokey and flirtatious, but there was genuine fear in her question too.

  ‘The way you looked at me on Primrose Hill …’ she said. ‘It was as if you wanted to kill me.’

  He nodded gravely.

  ‘Which is why you need to take this seriously, April. The Suckers are experts at putting on masks, on pulling you in with their lifestyle and friendship. But underneath the mask, that’s how they all look. They all want to rip your throat out.’

  ‘Is that what you want?’

  ‘No, not any more. I’m different, April. Truly. I don’t want to kill anyone.’

  ‘Not even the Regent?’

  ‘No. Not really. Yes, I have the vampire instincts and powers, but it gives me no pleasure to use them. I would much rather be like you. Be normal.’

  ‘I’m about as far from normal as you can get.’

  He smiled ruefully. ‘I suppose. But I mean being human, worrying about exams and dates and what to wear to the next party, the everyday concerns of everyday people. I don’t want to kill the Regent, but I will because it’s the only way I can be released from this prison. And I want to stop whatever his scheme is.’

  ‘What do you think it is? Miss Holden says …’

  ‘Miss Holden? Don’t listen to that witch!’

  April stopped and looked at him with a frown.

  ‘Miss Holden is the only reason you’re still here, Gabriel Swift. She swallowed her principles and risked getting drummed out of her weird sect for you.’

  ‘No. She did it for you, April.’

  ‘Perhaps. But she did it because it was the right thing to do. You could take a leaf out of her book. And that woman from the woods, too. All you people are going to have to start working together or we’re never going to get out of this mess.’

  He laughed out loud.

  ‘You are unique, April Dunne.’

  ‘I’d hope so.’

  April and Gabriel walked up the path arm in arm. Something was nagging at April, tugging away at the back of her mind. Suddenly she realised what she was feeling: guilt. This was the first time she had felt properly happy since her father’s death.

  ‘You’re quiet,’ said Gabriel, sensing her unease. ‘What’s the matter?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Nothing’s the matter,’ she said. ‘Feeling happy.’

  ‘Hey, don’t make a habit of it.’

  She remembered the last time she’d felt so close to Gabriel; they’d been here in the cemetery that night after Milo’s party, before everything had started to unravel. She turned to Gabriel.

  ‘Hey, do you remember that night we first came here?’ she said. ‘Can we go back? To the Circle of Lebanon?’

  That night had been so romantic, so perfect. Gabriel had led her down into the circle of tombs which should have been terrifying, but she had only felt peace down there in the moonlight. Perhaps, she thought, it was because even then she’d been in love with Gabriel. It made her shiver.

  ‘I’ve got a better
idea,’ said Gabriel, taking her hand and leading her up the hill. The shadows seemed longer up here, closer to the moon. They passed the circle with its huge cedar tree and saw the strange shape of the Beer tomb with the pyramid roof looming above it.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘This way,’ he smiled, pulling her up a flight of steps, bright white in the moonlight. There was a wide terrace at the top with a low balustrade, a little neglected with plants and moss growing here and there, but impressive nonetheless.

  ‘What is this place?’ asked April.

  ‘We’re on top of the catacombs. It was built to give a perfect view of London; people used to come here to promenade and pass notes to each other.’

  ‘Seems a strange place to come.’

  ‘No, it was wonderful back then, flowers growing everywhere, the paths swept clean and those trees ahead of us were cut back to make the view as spectacular as possible.’

  April fought back a pang of jealousy, thinking of Gabriel coming here with other girls. Be happy that he’s here at all, she scolded herself.

  ‘You’re right,’ she said, ‘it’s beautiful.’

  ‘No. You’re beautiful,’ said Gabriel. He leant in and kissed her neck, his nose pressing against her ear. His hands slipped inside her coat and she sighed with pleasure. Oh God, I’ve missed this, she thought, urging him on, pressing her body against his.

  ‘I wish I could kiss you,’ he murmured, ‘you’re so …’

  She waited for more, but Gabriel had frozen. April looked up and flinched; Gabriel’s teeth were bared, his eyes narrow, darker. His whole body seemed tense.

  Oh God, he’s not going to kill me, is he? she thought miserably. There was no terror, no fear for her life, just sudden misery that their romance had all been a sham, that Gabriel had simply been attracted to her Fury scent all along.

  ‘Wha—’ she began, but Gabriel put a finger to her lips.

  ‘Shhh …’ he said in a low whisper. ‘Can you smell that?’

  ‘What?’

  He shook his head and led her back to the stairs. He was moving like a lion stalking prey, his head turning from side to side, his eyes taking everything in. When April reached the bottom of the stairs, he turned back to her. ‘Wait here,’ he said. ‘If anything comes for you, scream. And then run. In that order.’