33. Winnie

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

WINNIE

Mum: Winnie, that’s terrific news that you’re coming home. I’m happy to have you stay. No sense paying for an expensive sublet when your old room is here for you. It IS awfully short notice, though. I don’t know if I’ll have time to clear out your room. I’ve been storing some things in there. Nothing too major – just a bunch of baby clothes for when you finally give me grandchildren.

“ R eginald!” I scream as I race through the halls, my chest heaving. Behind me, Alaric bellows like a wounded bear. His mother makes a sound of disapproval. A door slams so hard that the CRACK reverberates through the vast hallways.

Reginald appears from one of the labyrinthine hallways that bisect the main corridor. “Ms. Preston, you needed something? I’ve just brought the car around. What are you—” He must read my fear in my face because he grabs my arm. “You’ve cut yourself. Come quickly. We must get you away from them.”

I let Reginald drag me down the steps to the waiting car. As we tear away from the castle, I hear another almighty CRACK overhead, and Alaric screams.

“What’s going on?” I peer over my shoulder. “Is Alaric okay?”

“He’ll be fine. The woodwork, however, may not survive.” We reach the little gatehouse. Reginald pulls the car to a stop and ushers me inside. “Did he bite you?”

“No, he…” I shudder as I collapse into a chair. “He pinned me against the wall. He told me to run. He had fangs . And all those portraits of him…Reginald, what happened? What’s wrong with Alaric?”

I know the answer, but I can’t say it, can’t even think it. I’m wishing that Reginald will tell me a rational explanation for everything I’ve just witnessed.

Reginald takes my hand and pulls over a first aid kit. He dabs the cut with disinfectant and places a plaster over the wound.

“Nothing is wrong with Lord Valerian. He is who he is. Our kind have different means of dealing with the bloodlust, and Lord Valerian’s way since he left his birthplace has been to shutter himself away from the world. Which means that he hasn’t trained himself to resist the call of fresh blood. I think you already know the answers to your questions. You simply don’t wish to believe them.”

“But…he can’t be a vampire. There’s no such thing.”

Vampire.

The moment my lips form the word, I know it’s the truth.

“You said, ‘our kind’.” I whip my hand from Reginald’s cool grip. “You’re one of them.”

Reginald raises his hands in surrender, as if I would have any chance against him. “I assure you that you have nothing to fear from me, Ms. Preston. I am like you, but also not entirely like you. I do not drink human blood to survive. But nor am I entirely human, like you. I am what’s known as a Thrall, a human kept by a vampire to run their household, watch over their slumber, and perform such duties during the daylight hours as will keep them alive. In return for my services, Lord Valerian allows me to sup of his blood.”

I screw up my face. “You…drink Alaric’s blood?”

“Oh, yes. It is his gift to me. Drinking gives me endless youth and vigour. How old do you think I am?”

I study the lines at the corner of Reginald’s eyes, the scattering of grey hairs along his forehead. “Late forties?”

“I’m nearly ninety years old.”

“That’s impossible…”

“I assure you it’s not. I look after Lord Valerian – with the modern world moving at impossible speed, he needs someone to guide him and make certain he doesn’t reveal himself through his more anachronistic habits. I’m the one who has the electricity installed, makes sure he pay the council tax, arranges for a beautiful professional organiser to help him with his mess…”

“Install the internet?” I ask.

“Exactly. All these jobs I do happily, for they are trifles compared to what he offers in return. His blood…” Reginald closes his eyes for a moment, his body humming with the memory of his last feed. “You have never tasted anything so exquisite.”

“Gross. No, thanks.”

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I’ve watched him torture himself ever since you arrived at Black Crag, torn between his yearning for you and his desire to keep you safe. I told him to show you his truth, to give you a chance to understand him.” Reginald tilts his head to the side. “Humans and vampires are forbidden from becoming…entangled. But more than that, Lord Valerian believes he is a monster beyond redemption, and that no one can know what he is and love him. He has not been treated kindly when people have found out what he is. Secrecy is survival to him and his kin.”

I think of some of those paintings hidden in the dining room. “He was tortured, wasn’t he?”

“Humans don’t wish to live in the shadow of a vampire,” Reginald says softly. “They prefer to burn and stake and curse rather than try to understand, to co-exist. That is why they cannot know that they’ve been co-existing alongside the vampire courts for all of human history. And things were not always as they are now. Lord Valerian only employed me fifty-two years ago to help him procure blood. Before then, he did his own hunting, and things could go wrong. A vampire hunting has always been at risk of being exposed. Now, at least he doesn’t have to worry about this.”

He’s talking about the wine bottles in the cellar. Another piece slots into place. “You keep blood for him so he doesn’t have to drink from people.”

“Fresh blood is always best for vampires, but Alaric abhors the hunt. He calls it ‘a violation.’ Most of his kind don’t agree. There were times when vampires killed indiscriminately during the hunt – draining their victims dry, or ‘husking.’ But this resulted in humans coming after them and staking them while they slept. New vampire laws allowed for a mutually beneficial feeding relationship, where human Thralls do their bidding and keep them safe and fed in exchange for the long life and vitality of their blood. The bite of a vampire is an ecstasy unrivalled, so I’ve been told.” Reginald frowns. “I won’t get to experience it myself. I’m unique among Thralls because my lord will not drink from me, not even these past weeks when he’s been weak and suffering in your presence. Although I did drip fresh blood into his mouth after he saved you from the fountain and he needed the strength. He doesn’t trust himself. Alaric is old, even for our kind. He has lived for centuries, and as one of the old vampire families, he has traditions that he feels he must continue.”

I swallow. “Traditions like sleeping in a coffin.”

“Precisely those traditions.” Reginald’s kind eyes swim with sadness. “Most vampires wouldn’t react the way he did to human blood. But Alaric has always struggled with control. He’s locked himself away because he doesn’t want to hurt anyone, but hurt can still find him. You caught him unawares, in more ways than one. By the time I bandage you up and take you back to the castle, he will be in control of himself again.”

“I’m not going back to the castle.”

Reginald sighs. “I understand. What do you wish to do?”

What do I wish to do?

I have no choice. I have to leave. I can’t keep going with the job now that I know what Alaric is. I can’t stay at Black Crag with a vampire. I have to go back to London. But maybe first…

“Take me to the village,” I say. “I’m going to a meeting of the Nevermore Murder Club and Smutty Book Coven.”