Sleeping Angel (Ravenwood Series) (39 page)

‘Go to Belgium, go to Bulgaria, I don’t care,’ she had said. ‘If I ever hear of any of you again, I will find you and kill you. Is that clear?’

Not a single one of them said a word, but it was obvious from the speed with which they left the building that Silvia’s message had got through. The question, of course, was whether that would be enough; whether it would ever be enough.

‘Are you thinking they’ll come back?’ asked Silvia. ‘Is that what’s bothering you?’

‘They’ll definitely come back,’ said April quietly. ‘Oh, not those particular people. I think you scared them enough that they’ll thank their lucky stars every time they swallow. But there will always be vampires and there will always be humans who think they can make a deal with them.’

‘That’s true,’ said Silvia. ‘That’s always been true. But that was before I was Queen.’

April looked at her sharply, but her mother only laughed.

‘I have a plan,’ she said, tapping the side of her nose. ‘I won’t be keeping you in the dark anymore, I promise you that. But let’s take one thing at a time, hmm?’

April nodded. Silvia had shown plenty of cunning when she had dismissed the Council of Light at Ravenwood, so April thought it was entirely possible her mother knew what she was doing. She had kept Detective Chief Inspector Johnston and David Harper behind when the others had left and spoon-fed them an alibi: the reason for their presence at Ravenwood that night was indeed a meeting with Thomas Hamilton, however it was to discuss keeping the students safe after the latest outbreak of violence in Highgate. Without warning, Silvia informed them, Dr Tame had attacked Thomas – and Gabriel when he tried to intervene – leading to the tragic outcome. The policeman and the politician were given the same terms as the others: full cooperation with Silvia or a bloody end. They had both managed to look convincingly shaken when the police had arrived. No, Silvia had covered all the bases. All except one thing.

‘Mum, can I ask you something?’ said April.

Silvia pulled a face. ‘Why do I think I’m not going to like this question?’

‘You loved dad, right? That’s why you killed Gramps?’

Silvia reached over to squeeze April’s hand. ‘I’m so sorry, darling. Really I am. I wish—’

‘No, I get it,’ said April, ‘Seriously. Gramps went to our house and –’ her voice began to break ‘– And he knocked on the door and when dad let him in, he tore his throat out.’

She was sobbing now, her voice thick. ‘When he admitted it, when he
boasted
about it, you wanted to kill him, right?’

Silvia’s arms were around her now, holding her tight, but April had to finish, had to get it all out.

‘But then he tried to kill
me
,’ April whispered, choking as she said it. ‘He tried to
kill me
, Mum! Why? Why did he do it? Did he hate me so much?’

And this is what April had been holding back, what she had been hiding from. Maybe she had always known there was something wrong about her family – that’s why she had never questioned the lack of photos in the house, why she had never followed up all those stupid hints about the Black Prince – and maybe the reason she hadn’t confronted it was simple. Because vampires were killers, monsters, ghouls – who could cope with knowing that their grandfather was something from the depths of hell? Yes, Grandpa Thomas had killed her father and that was like a stone weighing on her heart; she would never, ever be able to forgive that. But this man, the big bear of a man who had hugged her, bought her dolls and sweets, and who had been the one solid thing in her life – this man had wanted to rip her throat open. That was breaking her heart.

‘Oh baby,’ whispered Silvia, rocking her back and forth, ‘It wasn’t you, it wasn’t your fault.’

‘But if I had done as he said? What if I had agreed to it?’

Silvia turned April’s chin so she was looking straight into her eyes. ‘Listen to me, April, because this is important.’ April could almost feel the heat of her mother’s fury as she spoke. ‘You did nothing wrong. Your grandfather wanted the world to do exactly as he said and if you didn’t go along with it, that made you expendable, whoever you were: you, me, Gabriel, your father, anyone. Believe me, April, even if you had done as he asked, there would have come a time when you became inconvenient or surplus to requirements. Like my mother.’

‘Grandma?’

Silvia nodded.

‘We’ll probably never know exactly what happened. Your Uncle Luke spent years over in the Old Country piecing it together, but in the end it came down to Mother wanting me to live a normal life, to grow up free of Thomas’s ambition. She was only trying to protect me, just as I was protecting you, but your grandfather couldn’t accept that.’

‘So what did he do?’

‘He burnt her alive and fed her remains to his dogs.’

‘Jesus,’ whispered April.

‘That is why you must never doubt you made the right choice. You made the only choice you could. I’m so, so, proud that you did. Your dad would have expected nothing less.’

April couldn’t say how long they sat there crying together. She suspected that Silvia had needed this as much as her. It can’t have been easy living with a huge secret your whole life and it can’t have been easy seeing that secret devour the people you loved, one by one. But most of all, it can’t have been easy to kill your father, however evil he was, however much he deserved it – even if was to protect your own child.
That
truly can’t have been easy.

But like all storms, theirs finally passed. Mother and daughter blew their noses, wiped their eyes and Silvia began to gather up the photographs and knick-knacks, carefully putting them back into the boxes, along with a little of the pain. It felt – well, not good exactly, but better. Together they carried the boxes downstairs and put them on the shelves in the study, above William Dunne’s old work desk. It felt the right place for them, just as it felt right when Silvia took a handful of pictures and propped them up in the hallway: April as a little girl in her ballet costume, April as a gangly pre-teen sitting on a swing  and best of all, the one of April with her Dad, posing by the Loch Ness sign.

‘I’ll get some frames tomorrow,’ said Silvia. ‘I’m never going to hide them away again.’

They walked through to the kitchen and Silvia began to fill the kettle, humming a tune that April remembered was one of her dad’s favourites. April sat at the breakfast bar and watched her mother. It was almost as if nothing had happened. No vampires, no murders, no blood on the floor. But it
had
happened and April hoped she could learn to live with it, because she was tired of secrets.

‘Mum,’ she said, ‘There’s one more thing we haven’t talked about. Don’t be mad.’ Unconsciously, April’s hand moved up to touch the star birthmark behind her ear. Silvia caught the gesture and smiled.

‘You mean the Fury thing?’ Silvia burst out laughing at the look of fear and surprise on April’s face. ‘Of course I knew, April. I couldn’t really miss it: you almost killed me.’

‘How?’

‘Breast-feeding, honey. Luckily, the Fury part of you didn’t fully develop until puberty, but wherever your little mouth touched me as a baby, I came out in a violent rash. I think your dad understood what was happening before I did. You know what he was like – he researched everything to death – so he knew about the Fury legend. We switched to formula pretty quickly.’

‘Is that why you never wanted me close?’ asked April. ‘Why you never kissed me?’

‘I so wanted to, baby. But I couldn’t.’

‘Mum, you could have
hugged
me. You were always so cold.’

‘I know ... I’m sorry. I think it was self preservation. You know, if I don’t get too close, maybe I thought it wouldn’t hurt so much when ...’

‘When what?’

Silvia sighed and passed April a mug of tea.

‘You were always in danger, April. It was just a reality of our lives. That’s why we moved around so much when you were little. In the early years, we were almost gypsies, always on the move. Rural Surrey, West Sussex, the Cotswolds, we had a farmhouse in the Wye Valley for a while. It was quite romantic, actually.’

‘But why? I mean, why did we have to keep moving?’

Silvia looked serious. ‘Because we thought the vampires would find out who you were and try to kill you.’

‘And did they? I mean did they find out?’

Silvia hesitated for a moment. ‘The truth? I never knew for sure. I suspected your Grandfather had worked it out – I was sure he had spies following us – but no one ever made a move. But then the fact that you were part of your grandfather’s precious Royal line meant that there was always a chance someone might try to eliminate you.’

Eliminate.
April felt herself go cold. She had always thought of her childhood as idyllic, hazy days spent playing in woods and fields and streams, climbing trees and messing about making dens. But all the time she was being stalked, hunted. Silvia saw April’s troubled expression.

‘Don’t look so sad,’ she said. ‘They didn’t find us, remember? Or perhaps they just didn’t think we were a threat. So we eventually moved up to Edinburgh and your father made a decent career with journalism and the books.’

‘Was that why dad was so obsessed with the yeti and mermaids and stuff? Because he knew they were real?’

Silvia shook her head ruefully. ‘They weren’t. I can’t count the times I told him “just because vampires are flesh and blood, doesn’t mean there are unicorns hiding in the Cheshire hills”. But I suppose it could have been worse – he could have been into golf.’

‘If everything was so sweet in Edinburgh, why did we move down here?’

Silvia looked down at her tea. ‘Because of Ravenwood.’

‘The school? Why?’

‘Your grandfather wasn’t the only one with spies. I had always kept my ear to the ground and when I heard about Ravenwood and it’s links with Agropharm, I just knew that Thomas would be behind it all: he was making his move. And I knew that would put us in terrible danger.’

April frowned.

‘But why? Why would Gramps want to harm us?’

A cloud passed over Silvia’s face.

‘You saw him that night, April. He was paranoid, insane; he wasn’t a man you could reason with. And besides, we were in danger from anyone who chose to oppose him: holding his two heirs hostage would be a pretty solid bargaining chip.’

Silvia sighed.

‘So I tried to make a move, a pre-emptive strike if you like. I went to your grandfather and told him I wanted to be part of the family again, that I wanted to help him. I wasn’t sure if he would believe me, but at least that way we would be under his protection. And if we could get close to your Grampa and Robert Sheldon, find out what they were planning, we’d have a better idea of how to protect you.’

Robert Sheldon
. Silvia had finally named the big, fat elephant in the room. April felt her stomach clench. She had come so far with her mother – it was as if Thomas’s death had closed the yawning gap that had been between them – and April had no real desire to ruin the mood. And yet still, she had to know.

‘Mum, I know you loved dad, I totally do. But ... why did you go off with another man?’

Silvia closed her eyes and let out a long breath.

‘I never cheated on him, April. I told you I had because it was easier for you to understand that way. And it was easier if you hated me. But now you know about us, about the vampires, I can tell you the truth.’

April’s head was spinning as Silvia got up and left the room. She was pin-balling between relief that her mother had lied about the affair and utter disbelief:
she’s a vampire, April
, she reminded herself.
Vampires lie.
A vampire would say anything to get their way. But why would Silvia want April to hate her? How would that make anything easier?

Silvia returned carrying a box-file, the sort that opened out like an accordion. She opened it and pulled out a large photograph. It was black and white, slightly yellowed at the edges, one of those formal shots of a whole school lined up in rows. In this case, it was a University graduation class, where everyone was wearing long black gowns and those funny flat hats with the tassels. The names of the class were written underneath in tiny writing.

‘Recognise anyone on there?’ said Silvia. ‘Back row, third from the left.’

‘It’s ... it’s you,’ said April, checking the name against the face. It looked like Silvia, but she was indistinct, her wide hat tilted downwards, casting a shadow over her face. ‘But how?’

‘Retouching,’ said her mother. ‘That was the way they did it before Photoshop and digital manipulation. We’d find a friendly snapper and pay him to paint the missing parts back in. You could only do it on long shots like this though. Anyway, I’m not showing it to you for that. Look at the date.’

April’s eyes opened wide. It read: ‘
Trinity College, Oxford, Class of 1957
’.

‘But you went to college in the seventies,’ she said.

‘Fifties, sixties and seventies,’ said Silvia. ‘I was the perpetual student. We age slowly, remember? It’s the perfect cover for a vampire, to start as a freshman at a new university every few years, where everyone accepts you at face value.’