The Red Slayer

Chapter Nineteen – The Truth

Ariel comes running when Dad and I get home. I give her a massive hug and let her lick my face in the hallway as Dad shuts the front door behind us and strides towards the kitchen. But I don’t let him get too far before I spring to my feet and ask outright, ‘Is it true that Mum was killed by a vampire?’

The words strike him to the point he has to steady himself on the nearest doorframe. He turns to me, eyes glistening. ‘Do you really want to know?’

‘It’s not so much a want as need.’

His Adams apple bobs as he swallows his dread. ‘All right.’

I follow him into the kitchen where I sit at the island counter while he fills the kettle.

‘I’m sorry you had to find out for yourself, Iorwen. I should have told you after you found the lab.’

He slides a can of caffeine-free coke across the counter which I catch effortlessly. ‘Did you think I couldn’t handle it?’

‘No.’ He braces both hands on the marble surface between us. ‘I’d go to Hell and back to forget what happened that night. And I prayed you’d never cross paths with vampires. But I can’t, and you didn’t. I’m sorry.’

I open the can slowly, letting the cracking sound reverberate. ‘It’s not fun for me to remember either. It drove me to do things I never thought I was capable of today. Why did Aunt Lesley lie that the fire killed her and Kayley?’

‘It wasn’t Lesley. MI5 put out that cover story and said it was an accident. It was either that or have conspiracy theorists breathing down our necks saying it was the Illuminati.’

I scrunch my eyebrows together. ‘The Illuminate aren’t real, are they?’

’They were,’ he says with a laugh. ‘These days they’re a cabal of self-important men who get drunk together.’

‘And do vampires have secret clubs like the one I came across?’

He nods. ‘Sadly. They’re very good at staying under the radar.’ He pulls up a stool for himself, ignoring the kettle reaching the boil and switching off.

‘I don’t know who killed your mother and sister. For all I know, they might have been working for someone else.’

‘Why were we at that cottage? Were we hiding from them?’

‘Yes. Someone sent Clarissa a death threat. Not the typical kind from some coward on Twitter. They killed a dog and left it eviscerated in her dressing room, along with a message written in its blood.’

I clamp my hand over my mouth. I don’t want to know what that message was.

Dad continues, ‘MI5 arranged us to stay in a cottage in Somerset while they investigated the threat. You loved it there. You were on the beach every day, it’s a good thing you learned to swim early. Kayley hated it though. She was up all hours crying. Your mother and I hardly got any sleep.’

‘She was just a baby,’ I say.

‘I know. Six weeks old she was when it happened. We finally got her to sleep so we sat downstairs and Clarissa started playing the ukulele—’

‘What did she play?’ I ask.

’Moon River, she loved Audrey Hepburn, and Starman.’

That would explain why I couldn’t identify what I thought was one tune.

‘And then you screamed. We came upstairs and you were in the doorway to Kayley’s room. Men were breaking in. Vampires. Your mother shielded Kayley while I got you. Vampires don’t usually kill children, but they’re not above taking them as hostages.’

‘And that’s when the fire started?’

Dad nods. ‘My back was turned, so I don’t know who started it or how. The smoke got to you immediately. If I hadn’t got you out, you would have been dead in minutes. Unfortunately, my decision to save you meant leaving them behind and hoping Clarissa could follow. She was quite fearless, she would have managed it. But when they found her body afterwards, they found teeth marks in her neck that only a vampire could have made.’

I drop my gaze to the grey countertop, watching my hand clench around the can until it buckles. ‘I hate them,’ I mutter.

Dad gets up and moves to the stool next to me. ‘You’re not alone.’

I sniff, but I’m too angry to cry. ‘At least you taught me to fight them. You told me they were strong and fast, but they could barely touch me today.’

Dad says nothing. Instead, he gets up again, goes up to the kettle and makes himself some tea in his favourite mug with the words, So Long & Thanks for All the Fish written across it in gold. It was a present from me.

‘Haven’t you wondered why you have frequent adrenaline rushes?’

I shrug.

‘Long ago, I and a few other scientists did research into vampires, hopeful a human could possess their abilities without turning. We had a few on our team, non-hostiles obviously. They contributed their blood to the experiments and I, being young and rash and curious, made myself the test subject.’

I gasp. ‘Did it work?’

He drops the teabag in the bin. ‘I didn’t think so…’ he sips his tea slowly to avoid burning his tongue, ‘…until recently.’ And he looks directly at me.

I instinctively put my hand on my chest. ‘Eh…?’

'I did these experiments before I married your mother, before you were conceived. The blood I injected myself with was dormant in my body, like a recessive gene.’

I sit back in horror.

‘So when you came along, the dormant properties in my DNA was mixed with yours. Your body produces twice the adrenaline of a human. During your rushes, you’re as fast, as strong and as resilient as a vampire. I’ve been looking into this since you fell from that second storey window. No normal human would have walked away with a dislocated shoulder and a concussion.’

‘What are you saying?’ I jump off the stool and stare down at myself as if something is crawling around inside my body. I rush to a mirror near the door and stare at myself. The fact I have a reflection isn’t enough. I have to check my canines to see how pointy they are.’

‘Iorwen.’ Dad comes to stand behind me.

‘I’m not one of them, am I? I’m not a monster?’

‘Of course you’re not,’ he says, turning me around and pulling me into a hug. ‘You’re human one-hundred percent. They gave you a blood test when you were eight.’

When I got my scars, he means.

‘So, I’m a mutant then,’ I say. 'A diet vampire. No, a vampire zero.’ I laugh. ‘Oh god. No wonder I was so good at killing them.’

‘Iorwen, listen to me!’ Dad holds my shoulders at arms’ length and stares into my eyes. ‘You’re human. You’re Iorwen. You’re my daughter. Nothing can change that.’

Nonetheless, I bury my head in his chest in shame. He wraps his arms around me consolingly. We stay that way for a few minutes until I decide what I really need is a bubble bath. There isn’t an inch of my skin unwashed or a strand of hair rinsed of dirt. In my bedroom, Ariel is waiting for me in her basket, along with a can of coke and a turkey and ham sandwich on my desk. The A4 envelope Sophia McIntyre gave me is there too, but I’ll look at that tomorrow. I turn out the lights, put my laptop on the bed and watch Phantom of the Opera with my headphones in. The volume of the organ pounding in my ears shut out the world, and all thoughts of who or what I am.

© Alice of Sherwood, February 2020