Sleeping Angel (Ravenwood Series) (17 page)

‘Politics? Like the government?’

‘No, I mean internal politics,’ said Mr Gill. ‘In-fighting, struggles between one faction and another, each of them wanting to be dominant.’

April’s eyes were wide. ‘More than one? You mean there could be three or four armies of vampires out there?’

The old man shook his head. ‘No, and that’s the worry April. In the past, the different nests would squabble and fight, like gang warfare – it was a natural safety valve. One leader would rear up and the others would blindly attack him, pushing him back down. Now it appears as though someone has managed to unite these creatures with one common goal – to take over. And unless something is done, I’m worried they may succeed this time.’

Again, April took a strange kind of comfort from the shopkeeper’s words. He was only confirming what she already knew: that the King Vampire was preparing for some horrible attack on humanity.
Is that all?
Her mind mocked her. But yes, somehow it seemed better than suddenly learning that there were dozens of different vampire armies surrounding them. At least there was still only one to worry about. Then April recalled something Miss Holden had once said in class.

‘You know what you were saying about the murderers – Dr Crippen and all those? Was Jack the Ripper one? I mean, there were – what? Five, six? – murders and then it suddenly stopped?’

Mr Gill smiled.

‘What is it?’ asked April. ‘You look as if you expected me to say that. Why?’

‘Just a hunch, my dear.’ Mr Gill surveyed  her curiously – as though  he wanted to say more.

‘What is it?’

‘If you’re after information on our old friend Jack, I think you’d better go straight to a good source. Someone who has personal experience.’

‘Who?’

‘I believe you know her. She owns a competitor – I’ll show you.’ He bent over the keyboard again then turned the monitor to face April.

She opened her eyes wide – she immediately recognised the picture of the shop on his screen. It was Redfearne’s books – Jessica’s shop.

Caro looked amazing. April knew she shouldn’t be so surprised; most of the time her friend hid behind a mask of thick eye make-up, distracting hair colour and about three tons of bad attitude, but underneath it all was a very pretty girl with well-defined cheekbones and a curvy figure. Tonight it was accentuated by a stunning, clingy little black dress. With her blow-dried wavy hair – restored for the occasion to her natural chestnut brown – she looked like a sassy supermodel.

‘I feel like such a loser next to you,’ said April as they tottered up the path towards Ling’s house. April felt unbalanced on the sky-high heels Caro had chosen for her and uncomfortable in the low-cut purple dress Caro had borrowed from her older cousin’s wardrobe. It was flattering, but it was also rather revealing.

‘Stop tugging at it,’ said Caro, slapping at April’s hands. ‘If you’ve got it, flaunt it, baby! And anyway, isn’t Mr Lover-Lover going to be there tonight?’

‘I believe Gabriel is due to attend,’ April said primly, although she was unable to keep a smile from her face.

‘Well then, when he gets a load of you, we’re going to have to scrape his tongue off the floor.’

‘Eww,’ said April, suddenly reminded of the tongue she had tipped onto Jessica’s desk. After her talk with Mr Gill, April had made a beeline for Jessica’s shop, but had been disappointed and a little unsettled to find that Redfearne’s was closed, the lights all off. Strange; she would have thought weekends were the busiest time for a shop like that. April pushed the thought away as Caro rang the doorbell. They waited, but no one came. Caro raised her eyebrows. ‘The party
is
tonight, isn’t it?’

April rolled her eyes. ‘Of
course
it’s tonight, Caro. As if we could get something like that wrong. Everyone has been talking about it for ages.’

             
Caro was about to reply, when she held up a finger, cocking her head. ‘Ah,’ she smiled ironically, ‘Maybe worth trying the tradesman’s entrance?’

She led the way along a path that curved around the side of the house. As they got closer to the back, the sound of pumping music got louder and April could hear laughter and raised voices. They stepped out onto the decking area and April actually gasped.

‘Now
that’s
a barbeque,’ said Caro, letting out an appreciative whistle.

Right in the centre of Ling’s garden was a huge swimming pool, surrounded by a series of red and gold Moroccan-style marquees containing pillow-strewn sun loungers and little tables piled high with what looked like Turkish Delight. The beautiful people milling about on the lawns were being handed exotic-looking cocktails by bare-chested waiters in turbans and harem pants. It looked more like something from a hip-hop video than a garden party in Highgate.

‘Jesus, check her out,’ said Caro from the side of her mouth.

April followed her gaze to the bar on the far side of the terrace where Ling stood holding court, surrounded by admirers. ‘She’s certainly thrown herself into the theme, hasn’t she?’

Ling looked like a genie: long billowing pants that ended in golden cuffs at her ankle, a sheer, slashed-back vest top and a tall head-dress with a trailing veil, all of it fashioned from almost see-through white silk. She noticed them and waved, pushing her way through the crowd to greet them.

‘Girls! So glad you could make it. Isn’t it fabulous?’

‘It’s ... very impressive,’ said April and Ling let out a trilling laugh.

‘Oh, I know,’ she said, ‘it’s tacky as hell, isn’t it? But I thought it’d be amusing. Cost daddy a fortune, I can tell you, but nothing is good enough for his little girl, that’s what he says anyway.’

‘Where’s the barbeque?’ said Caro.

‘Oh, no one eats at things like this,’ stated Ling airily, ‘But help yourself to the cocktails – one of Chessy’s secret recipes.’

They watched Ling dance off to greet another group of newcomers. A passing waiter handed them a cocktail each: a balloon glass filled with ice and some dark red liquid. Caro sniffed hers suspiciously. ‘What do you think it is?’ she said, wrinkling her nose. ‘If Chessy thought it up, there’s a good chance there’s blood in here somewhere.’

April took a tentative sip. ‘Blood
orange
, I think. But mainly vodka. I think we’re okay.’

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ said Caro, looking around at the crowd. There were a few faces they recognised from Ravenwood, but mostly the partygoers seemed to be older, cooler, like the sort of people you’d find in a VIP enclosure at a festival, only tonight they were wearing sheer dresses and open neck shirts.

‘Do you feel as exposed as I do?’ asked Caro.

‘
You
feel exposed?’ whispered April. ‘I’m the one with a dress the size of a bikini.’

‘No, I mean being human surrounded by all these Suckers. I feel like a chicken who’s wandered into a pit full of foxes. Drunk foxes.’

Don’t keep mentioning the foxes
, thought April, thinking of the tongue again

‘Hey, I’ve got an idea,’ said Caro. ‘Hand me your phone.’

‘Why? Are you going to call a taxi?’

‘Don’t be silly,’ said Caro, grabbing the phone and turning so her body hid what she was doing.

‘Okay, here we go,’ she said, handing the mobile back. ‘When in doubt, turn to your handy on-the-spot vampire detection device.’

Frowning, April looked down at the screen – Caro had managed a long shot of the whole party. ‘I wish you hadn’t done that – don’t you remember what they did when I was caught taking photos?’ said April.

Caro pouted. ‘No one saw’.

‘Not this time,’ said April, her eyebrows raised. They both huddled over the screen and April felt sick at what she saw. In the picture, almost every other person had come out blurred. Where those figures should have been, there was just a blank space as if someone had furiously rubbed them out with a giant marker.

‘It’s like half the party are vamps,’ whispered April.

‘Yeah, like
that’s
a big surprise,’ said Caro sipping at her drink casually. ‘What did you expect? Werewolves?’

Logically, April knew that she should’ve expected the new head of the Ravenwood Faces to invite a large number of vamps to her party, but it was still disturbing to actually see them there – more shocking because it was more real. She studied the picture again.

‘Look, Simon’s come out,’ she said, tapping the screen. ‘That’s good news isn’t it?’

Caro just shrugged and looked away. ‘I guess.’

‘What do you mean, you guess? I was worried they had turned him already.’

‘It doesn’t really make much difference does it? He’s as good as one of them already.’

‘But don’t you see? We can still save him.’

Caro turned to her, with eyes narrowed. ‘No, April, we can’t. Not if he doesn’t want to be saved.’ She nodded towards Simon, standing propped up against the bar. He looked drunk, his eyes half-focused, his mouth curled into a sneer. ‘Look at him. He might as well be a full-blown Sucker. He’s bought into the whole life; he’s hooked on it. What are we supposed to do? Throw a bag over his head and kidnap him? What would that achieve if he doesn’t have the slightest intention of leaving them? He’s
gone
, A.’

April looked across at their old friend and could see that Caro had a point. Simon had always been the life and soul of the party, always ready to see the positive side of things, even if he put his own cynical twist on it. He had loved music and clothes and – yes, April was sure – he had loved Caro too. But now, he looked no more than a shell, burnt out from the inside.

‘Admit it, April,’ said Caro, ‘he’s one of them now.’

‘Yeah? Screw that,’ said April. Striding purposefully, she crossed the deck and pushed her way through the crowd gyrating in front of the DJ’s booth.

‘Simon!’ she called, tugging his sleeve, raising her voice over the pounding music.

Slowly he turned to look at her, his eyes barely focusing. For a moment, it seemed as though he didn’t recognise her, but then he broke into a half smile.

‘Hey, April,’ he said, reaching a hand out to stroke her face. ‘How are you doing? You want a drink? They’re free. Least, I think they are. If they’re not, I’m buggered.’ He began laughing, a wheezy sort of chuckle that quickly trailed off.

‘I’ve got a drink, thanks,’ said April, ‘Listen, can we go somewhere to talk?’

Simon squinted across at her, one eye closed. ‘Why do you want to move?’ he slurred, gesturing vaguely in the air. ‘I got everything I need right here. Booze, tunes and ... nuts.’ He groped towards the bar. ‘There were some nuts here ...’

‘You can come back and find them in a moment. First I’ve got something to say to you.’

April grabbed hold of Simon’s wrist and yanked him away from the bar, ignoring his protests. She pulled him back towards the house and into a passageway that seemed to lead to an outbuilding.

‘Hey!’ cried Simon, holding up his empty glass, ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? You made me spill my drink!’

‘Really? Well, why don’t you have mine?’ said April. And she threw her cocktail into his face.

Simon’s hands went up to his eyes, and his glass fell with a crash. Off-balance, he reeled backwards, cracking his head hard against a brick wall and sliding down to the floor. ‘What did you do that for?’ he whined, rubbing the back of his head. ‘You’ve soaked my bloody shirt.’

April knelt down next to him, so her face was on a level with his. ‘A wet shirt is going to be the least of your troubles unless you sober up, Simon,’ she said, her voice cold, detached.

‘I’ve only had a few,’ he mumbled defensively.

‘I don’t mean the booze, you idiot!’ she shouted. ‘I mean what you’re doing to yourself. Do you really want to end up like Layla?’

At the mention of the dead girl’s name, Simon recoiled, seeming to withdraw into himself. He crossed his arms and glared at April. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Yes, you bloody do. You know exactly what I mean. You will end up dead.
Dead
, Simon.’

Simon’s sneer was back. ‘Is that really so bad?’

April’s hand shot out and she slapped him hard around the face, then seized his shoulder, squeezing hard. ‘Don’t you ever say that,’ she hissed, ‘If you ever say anything like that to me again, I will kill you myself.’

Simon stared at her, his eyes wide, frightened. If she had wanted him to sober up, it looked as if it had worked and all of a sudden, she didn’t feel angry anymore – she just felt sorry for him. April let out a long breath and sat down on the floor, tugging her dress over her thighs.

‘My dad died in my arms,’ she said quietly. ‘I was there when Miss Holden was killed. And Benjamin too. I know a little bit about death, Simon. It’s ugly and brutal and there’s not the slightest hint of romance in any of it. It’s not poetic or noble or cool. It’s just horrible.’ She glanced over at him. ‘You know what else it is? Death is selfish. People say all these heroic things when they’re facing a firing squad, or they’re about to throw themselves on a grenade or something. “Save yourselves, I’ll hold them off” – all that crap. But that’s it for them, game over – and that’s the easy part. Dying’s not the hardest, Simon. Going on afterwards, that’s hard, bloody hard. All those people you leave behind, whose hearts you’ve broken, who spend every day at night wondering whether they could have done something differently – they’re the ones who have to endure the pain.’