Oxford Blood
Authors: Georgiana Derwent
Oxford Blood (The
Cavaliers: Book One)
By Georgiana Derwent
Copyright 2012 Georgiana Derwent
Book
cover design by Scarlett Rugers Design
www.scarlettrugers.com
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For F, the man of my overheated twenty-something dreams and
the original Cavalier
Part One - First Year, Michaelmas
Term
Part Two - Year One, Hilary Term
Part Three - Year One, Trinity Term
T
he Cavaliers’ Midsummer Party. Celebrate
the lengthening of the nights with us. Dress like it’s your last night on
earth. 21st June. Be ready and we will be waiting.
When she found the invitation, Stephanie French stared at it
for a few moments, utterly speechless. Then she punched the air. This was it.
Until she got a proposal from an aristocrat (and she was working on that one),
she’d reached the pinnacle of Oxford University social progress.
Despite her humble background, Stephanie had begun to feel
almost blasé about her place in the in-crowd and each exclusive party.
Nonetheless, she’d gasped at the sight of the tiny square of solid silver
engraved with a heavily stylised sword and horse design.
Although she’d tried to find out, Stephanie still didn’t
know much about the Cavaliers, the most exclusive and secretive society in
Oxford. She’d heard some rather alarming rumours about their summer parties,
but was determined to do whatever was necessary to get ahead.
***
The party began the moment that the sun went down. Each
guest had been picked up from their college by an unordered taxi and driven out
into the Oxfordshire countryside. One by one they had been deposited in a large
clearing in the middle of a wood, several miles outside of the city. Stephanie
was enchanted by the lanterns and flaming torches, and impressed by the
elaborate free bar with every drink that could be imagined. Music of all kinds
drifted out from hidden speakers. To her astonishment however, the space was
dominated by a mock up of a scaffold, decorated in the Cavalier colours of
silver and turquoise.
“I hear that’s always there. Commemorating the execution of
King Charles or something,” Alice, another of the guests, whispered to
Stephanie.
Stephanie nodded, trying to look interested in her socialite
friend’s ramblings, but her eyes were on Archie, who was standing on the other
side of the clearing. The son of a Duke, he was surprisingly sweet and shy, and
all the time that she’d been social climbing over the last year, she’d had him
in her sights as the ultimate prize. At some point however, she’d surprised
herself by developing real feelings for the boy. Despite his aristocratic
background Archie looked as though he felt as out of place as she did,
apparently sober and staid amidst the drunken and drugged chaos.
Before she could reach him, the music suddenly stopped and
all the torches extinguished themselves. When they flickered back on, the
Cavaliers stood on the scaffold, champagne glasses in hand. They wore similar
white-tie outfits to the guests, but as full members, their waistcoats and bow
ties were in the society colours, and many of them carried canes topped with a
carving of the Cavaliers’ sword and horse design.
“Welcome,” said one, a gorgeous tall boy with floppy
white-blond hair and a finely sculpted, arrogant face. “I hope you’ve all been
enjoying yourself in our absence. Now that we’re here, the party’s only going
to get better.”
Stephanie was intrigued to see the difference between the
established members and the prospective ones. Everyone was exceptionally
attractive, but the actual members notably more so. It was like looking at an
airbrushed modelling shoot compared to a holiday snapshot.
“Becoming a Cavalier involves trading one life for a new and
better one,” intoned the blond boy. His voice was oddly hypnotic and Stephanie
couldn’t take her eyes off him. “It involves power that you can’t imagine. It
involves acts that some would call evil, but we simply consider exhilarating. Allow
me to introduce one of our most eminent old boys and begin the induction of the
new members.”
A man who appeared to be about forty but was still very
attractive walked out of the woods behind the scaffold and joined the speaker
on stage.
“Ladies, gentlemen and Cavaliers, please raise your glasses
to Augustine.” As everyone complied, the speaker passed the microphone to the
newcomer.
“Thank you George,” said Augustine.
If George’s voice had been hypnotic, Stephanie realised,
Augustine’s was a thousand times more so. Nonetheless, she was sure that she
had seen him before somewhere, and through her daze desperately tried to
remember where.
Augustine turned to face the candidates. One by one, he
pointed at them, until five had been selected and lined up on the scaffold.
Stephanie was delighted to see that Archie was one of the chosen few.
“Congratulations gentlemen,” said Augustine. “Now please
call your chosen guest to you.”
The first selected candidate, a rower and College President
named Peter called for ‘Camilla Jenkins,’ and a brash brunette who had headed
the fashion show committee walked up to him.
“Alice Howard-Jones,” said a socialite type called Charles
and her friend and sometimes rival, a sexy blond South African who partied
constantly and had a different eligible boyfriend every other week, sashayed
onto the stage.
Next up was Edward Howard-Jones, Alice’s twin brother. He
was as blond as his sister, and tall and muscular. He was also notorious for
being the leader of the gay scene in Oxford, and was generally amiably camp,
right until the point when he turned ruthless when an election needed fixing.
“Can I pick James?” he asked nervously.
Augustine nodded, and James, a failed candidate, walked over
to join him.
Hugh, a well-built, charming black guy who had been
President of the Union the term before, picked a girl called Amelia.
Then finally, it was Archie’s turn. “Stephanie French,” he
said quietly, not quite daring to meet her eye.
Stephanie went to him, almost overcome with delight. So far,
they’d been keeping their burgeoning relationship quiet, but Archie could
hardly have made his feelings more public than by picking her out of this group
of beautiful and talented women, in front of the most important crowd in the
university.
George, standing behind Archie, glanced at Stephanie
questioningly. “French was it?” he asked quietly enough that only she and
Archie could hear. “Are you any relation to Adelaide? I’ve been trying to think
who you reminded me of all night.”
Stephanie had felt that nothing could ruin the moment, but
his words filled her with a sense of unease.
“I had an aunt called Adelaide,” she whispered. “But she
died when I was a baby, you couldn’t have known her.”
George smiled. “How fascinating. Isn’t it strange how things
turn out?”
Before she could reply, Augustine called for silence and
stepped to the front of the scaffolding again.
“Now it begins,” he proclaimed in his hypnotic voice. “What
follows is a necessity. I ask you all to remain calm.”
He raised his cane before slamming it down on the floor. The
Cavaliers, as one man, leant forward and sunk their teeth into the necks of the
inductees. Oddly, no one screamed. Stephanie could only manage one coherent
thought – that aristocrats don’t have blue blood after all. And then everything
went dark.
***
When Stephanie came around, the inductees were sat at a
table sipping champagne. The difference that she had noticed between the
existing Cavaliers and the new recruits had disappeared. The inductees were
terribly pale, but otherwise their good points were emphasised and their minor
flaws had disappeared. Like the existing members, they looked as though they
had only just left the house – not a hair out of place, not a single wrinkle on
their shirts or hint of sweat.
The failed candidates appeared to have undergone a similar
transformation, but they were unconscious and staked to the ground.
“They’ll die in the morning when the sun rises,” she heard
an existing members explain to a new recruit. “It’s a shame really, but we can’t
have failures hanging around and they know too much to just wipe their memory.”
“The girls seem to have woken up,” one member interrupted
casually.
“Perfect timing,” said George. “Gentlemen, I’m sure you’re
all still feeling a little frail and confused. Being dead for a while will do
that to you. But go and find your partner and you’ll soon be feeling much
better.”
As George and Archie came towards her, Stephanie knew she
ought to run, but her mind and body felt as though they’d become entirely
separated.
“As a rule we aren’t sadists and don’t take more blood than
we need,” Augustine intoned. “We try to avoid death and pain whilst still
feeding our needs and urges. But to complete the transformation, we drink to
the death.”
On cue, each of the old members leant forward and bit the
selected girls. It didn’t hurt as George’s teeth sunk into Stephanie’s neck. In
fact, it felt almost pleasant. After a few seconds, once the blood was flowing
easily, he stood back and guided Archie’s head to her wounds.
Archie held back. “I can’t,” he whispered.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” hissed George. “If you don’t drink
now you’ll die. Really die. You must have known what you were letting yourself
in for.”
“Fine, I’ll die,” he replied in a shaky voice.
George shook his head and holding Archie in something
resembling a headlock forced his mouth onto the gash in Stephanie’s neck. For a
moment, Archie resisted, but then some survival instinct kicked in, and he
began to drink. Stephanie snapped out of whatever strange hypnotic state she
had been in. Pain and terror hit her, and she began to scream and attempt to
fight Archie off. The other girls were still standing there placidly, making no
attempt to resist their partners’ attacks, clearly mesmerised. All the
Cavaliers turned to look at her.
“George, put her under, for goodness sake,” said Augustine,
calmly, but with a clear note of surprise.
As Archie continued to drink, seemingly oblivious to her
screams and certainly resistant to her attempts to drag him off, George put his
hand on her shoulder.
“Look at me Stephanie,” he whispered. “Just relax.”
Stephanie could feel her mind and body trying to respond,
but the pain and fear stopped her from giving in.
“She’s resisting,” George shouted, sounding alarmed.
Augustine walked over, put a hand on her head and stared at
her, clearly confused. “For a moment there I almost thought you were someone
else. Especially considering that you seem able to resist George’s mind
control. That’s most unusual.”
Stephanie wanted to plead with him to save her, but his
expression quickly hardened.
“It’s obviously just a strange coincidence and I can’t go
around being overly sentimental. You won’t get away, so at least let me make it
painless for you.”
Listening to his words, she found herself no longer able to
move or even to scream. She watched Archie continue to suck at her neck, George
holding his head in place, presumably in case he was tempted to change his
mind. As she began to pass out of consciousness, she finally remembered where
she’d seen Augustine before. Not in Oxford, or even London, but back in her
hometown years ago, at her cousin Harriet’s birthday party when they’d both
been kids.
And then Stephanie died.