Post by madascheese on Sept 21, 2008 4:21:15 GMT
Hey! So it's been farfarFAR too long since I've worked on this fic and, having had a sudden need to finish this darned chapter, here it is! Enjoy 
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Dillan couldn’t sleep, despite the intense fatigue the sunrise seemed to force upon her. Her mind ran wild with fright and trepidation; the girl’s face swam threateningly before her as the possibility of the end of immortality, marked with burning fire and the stinking smell of smouldering flesh, stirred a deep, primal fear within her. That dream, the terribly real dream, had made her completely aware of her vulnerabilities, and she didn’t like it.
If only she could lead a peaceful life – she had wished that her whole new life was just a horrific dream, that she had not done what had already been done. She lay in the pressing darkness of her silk-lined coffin willing herself to wake up, begging to see the light of day stream into her eyes and bathe her skin, but never for it to hurt her again. An imaginary summer breeze lifted the tiny hairs on her arms ever so slightly as she closed her eyes and began to plead with herself – “Wake up, wake up. This isn’t real.”
The air around her fell quite still as she imagined herself in her soft, warm bed and saw the eyes of her mother peering haughtily down at her, ghostly opaque and completely intangible, in her mind’s eye and bit back her crimson tears. The ethereal figure turned to the left and she saw, with deepening disgust, two small, careful puncture wounds where the very life had been taken from her; if only she could touch this pale silhouette, if only she could explain why she had done it. Could she really explain? Slowly but surely, her mother’s hazy outline began to fade into the air around her, until all that was left to see were a few shimmering specks of silver behind her cool eyelids.
This, she decided upon opening her eyes, was real. At least it was for herself and those select few who knew of the ‘vampires in the basement’, regardless as to how insane it felt to look at the world through the eyes of a true outcast. She had to come to terms with what she’d done, and staying with the others at the academy was a start at least, as uncomfortable as it was. She felt trapped in this stone cellar, cooped up like birds in an aviary, unable to make complete sense of the real world for fear of cutting her morals loose again – it would be so easy, she thought, to live up to her nightmarish predicament and play the monster; but would she lose herself by doing so? She’d already left part of herself behind on that fateful night she was bitten, the night she became the vampires’ patient who could not be saved, but perhaps there was still something of her old self worth salvaging. Maybe.
For now, however, there were more pressing matters at hand – what could be done about this girl? She was certain that this was no ordinary dream, but a vision, and after seeing the new girl with the golden hair arrive at the academy she decided that Dr Murdoch must be made aware of the situation. The real issue was him believing her story; even if he did believe her, what could he actually do about it? She knew what she would do…but even then, she doubted she was powerful enough to defeat the girl, the creature, whatever it was. Moreover, she wasn’t actually one hundred percent sure that this new girl was the creature in question, as her dream had conveniently masked its face. Something must be done, she decided, lifting the lid of her casket carefully and silently. It was quite clear that they were all in danger – this couldn’t wait for nightfall. She would have to see Murdoch now.
She looked around the dusty dungeon and sighed with relief as she saw it was empty; the bright sun’s rays couldn’t penetrate here, but her skin tingled ever so slightly in the morning air as she lifted herself onto her feet, her head heavy with tiredness yet determined to do something, anything. She picked out an over-sized hooded sweatshirt from her suitcase and slipped it over her, leaving the hood up in case she burst into a room filled with burning sunshine. Her feet shuffled amongst the dust on each stair as she made her way to the secret entrance, the portal between the lands of the dead and the living, the door to the real world, and placing her ear against the lacquered wood, she listened. Two heartbeats thronged her ears as her stomach pained with hunger – she focussed as hard as she possibly could on the conversation taking place inside.
“…I can assure you, Ms Hackett, I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I find that hard to believe – you are aware, I take it, of the consequences you face by impeding a federal investigation?” Hackett replied curtly.
Murdoch stood and walked around to the other side of the desk; he perched on the end casually, arms folded, and looked straight into the agent’s determined, piercing stare.
“Trust me, I’m not impeding your investigation. Please feel free to investigate as thoroughly as you need to – I only ask that, this time, you at least attempt to curtail the distraction caused to my students.”
“Of course. Much of our operation will occur after nightfall anyway, I just wanted to give you fair warning.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that. So, if I understand you correctly, you think that someone – or something,” he added quickly, noticing the disapproving look she gave him, “may be a danger to us here?”
“We’re not sure, hence the investigation, though we did receive reports of unusually high paranormal activity that occurred just beyond school grounds in a small thicket of woods.”
Murdoch laughed dryly. “My students are always telling me those woods are haunted. Maybe I should start believing them…”
“This really is a serious matter, Dr Murdoch. You will need to ensure your students remain indoors after sunset, for their own safety.”
“I will,” he sighed.
“Thank you for your co-operation.”
“I don’t really have much choice, but you’re welcome. Good day, Agent Hackett.”
“Same to you – oh, but before I leave,” she said, turning back to face Murdoch. “I’ll need to see the security camera feeds for the last three nights. Could you have your security officer make them available for me tonight?”
“Tonight? Isn’t that a little soon?”
“This is an urgent matter, I’m sure that whoever it is will understand. I’ll return tonight, after sunset. Good day.” With that, the agent strode haughtily out of the room, closing the door roughly behind her.
The headmaster returned to his chair as Hackett left the office, his brow thick with worry. He wasn’t sure how he’d get out of this one – had his night students been stupid enough to wander outside the grounds without his knowledge, knowing how vigilant the BPDA had been in Mansbridge? He was furious at the very thought, they could have been found – or worse, killed; he would certainly have some very strong words for them tonight.
Dillan, meanwhile, had heard everything; horrified, she thought back to their encounter during the summer, of the way in which Hackett had hunted her down and, worst of all, found her. If she and Karl had been followed back here then others were, again, in danger. She kept her ear close to the door, vigilant in case anyone else should wander in to see the headmaster, but could only hear his steady heartbeat. He was alone. She flipped a switch to her right and felt the stone steps beneath her vibrate as a series of loud clicks and whirrs heralded the opening into the headmaster’s sunny office.
Dr Murdoch jumped, startled, as he heard the secret entrance begin to unlock itself, just as soon as there was a tentative knock on the office door. He quickly ran to the other end of the office, seeing the pale, red-headed figure in his peripheral vision as he opened the door.
“Dr Murdoch?” Dillan gasped, shrinking back into the shadows as the bright morning sunlight pierced her eyes painfully. She squinted, able to just about see him at the office door talking to someone. She closed her eyes and listened carefully as a familiar voice became audible.
“Have you heard from Dillan? I tried to contact her all summer, she never returned my calls or emails or anything, it’s like she just…disappeared. Is she okay?”
“Mimi, she’s absolutely fine, I promise you,” he replied, hastening to close the heavy doors. “I’m sorry, but I really can’t talk about this now, I’m extremely busy – and you should be going to class.”
“But – “
“No. Not now. I’ll talk to you about it later. Go to class,” he said firmly.
Mimi drew a breath to protest but, feeling that she had been beaten, stomped off instead with annoyance, leaving the relived teacher behind. Sighing, he closed and turned the lock in the door quickly and turned back to face his night student, who concealed herself from the sunlight just beyond the secret door.
“Stay right there,” he said, dashing around to pull the large, heavy drapes shut. “There, is that better?”
“Yeah, thanks. Can I sit down?”
“Please do.” He blinked distractedly as Dillan sat before his desk and pulled down her hood, willing his eyes to adjust ever more quickly to the darkness that had engulfed the room. He switched on the small brass lamp and sat down, arms resting casually on the arms of his chair, the fingers on his right hand never too far from his jacket pocket – just in case. “So, how can I help?”
“I…I’m not sure,” she replied truthfully. “I don’t really know how to explain this, but I think I’m – well, all of us – are in danger.”
At this, Murdoch looked back enquiringly. “What makes you think this?”
“I had this dream last night – well, less like a dream, more like a sort of vision or something, it was too real to just be a dream…” She continued to explain the events to the headmaster who, his brow intensely furrowed, began to look less concerned and more perplexed than anything. When she had finished, he sat a little straighter and mulled the possibilities over in silence, his eyes looking everywhere but his student.
“So what does it mean?” she asked, her impatience beginning to get the better of her as his heart thumped temptingly in her ears and the warm, luscious scent of fresh blood enveloped her like an all-consuming haze. She felt starved, and the hunger cramped the muscles in her stomach painfully, but she clung on decency. Barely, anyway. A nerve twitched slightly at the corner of her mouth as she anchored herself back to the office, back to herself.
“To be honest, I think you might be feeling a little worried about your own mortality. You’re safe here, remember that.” He smiled reassuringly at her, a gesture which she did not return.
Leaning forward, she fixed her cold, emerald eyes upon him. “It wasn’t just a dream,” she said firmly. “I’m sure of it. Look, I think she’s – it’s, whatever – it’s already here. That new student, the blonde girl – I saw her on the security feed yesterday when all the day students arrived.”
“Jennifer?” He almost laughed with incredulity. “I’m not sure that’s right. You mentioned to me that you didn’t see the being’s face. How do you know it’s her?”
“I – I don’t know,” she admitted. “There’s just something about her I don’t trust. Something’s not quite right with her.”
“There’s nothing unsavoury about her.”
“Then why did she end up here?” The question hung accusingly in mid-air, puncturing the previous politeness that had dominated their conversation.
Murdoch took a deep, steadying breath. “That is not something you need to be concerned about.”
“Did you ever wonder how I remembered what Karl did to me?” She pressed. “That he was a vampire too, and how I remembered the others?”
“I assumed that was a result of the transformation,” he replied calmly.
She shook her head. “No. I dreamt it – that dream felt exactly the same as this one, and it turned out that it wasn’t just a dream. I felt then the same way I do now. Please, you have to believe me,” she implored, her bright green eyes shining wide in the dimly lit room.
Murdoch leaned back in his office chair slightly, returning her powerful, pleading stare, and thought carefully. Should he trust a hunch? The events Dillan had described were extremely unlikely to ever happen, especially whilst they were under his care; but perhaps, if she were to be believed, a little extra vigilance would not go amiss.
“Okay Dillan, I’ll compromise. Until I have proof that Jennifer is a danger to you all, I can’t really do much. However – “ he continued, pressing on as his student was about to interrupt. “I will keep a close eye on her whilst she remains at the academy. I think that’s a fair compromise, don’t you?”
It was something, she thought bitterly, but whether it would be enough was a different matter all together. At least the girl would be under surveillance; that would have to be good enough.
“Fine. Thank you,” she replied. She stood, readying herself to be excused back to the confining darkness of her casket, but stopped as a particular scent wafted into her consciousness – blood scent, but one that she vaguely recognised. Someone was standing outside the large, oak panelled doors. She looked back at her teacher who, having noticed her looking towards the doors, stood also as his eyes glanced down at something lying on his desk. Following his lead, she looked down and spotted a white, card-shaped badge resting on the dark wood. It was rather official looking, and she wondered why she hadn’t seen it before now; as she looked closer, panic began to set in:
‘BPDA. Marianne Hackett, Special Agent’
The hardened, captured stare of the agent looked fiercely back at her; her stomach somersaulted with nerves as three sharp knocks echoed through the silence.
“Dillan – there’s no time to go back down, the door’s closed” Murdoch whispered urgently. “Hide!”
She moved quickly towards a cupboard near the back of the room, her feet silent on the lush carpets, and nestled herself inside next to the headmaster’s old tweed jackets and scholarly robes.
As soon as the cupboard door closed, he moved around the room feverishly, roughly throwing the long velvet drapes open, and headed for the door, the room once again bursting with autumnal sunlight behind him.
“Agent Hackett,” he said warmly as he opened the heavy door. “Back so soon?”
She smiled grimly at his polite sarcasm. “I’m sorry, I must have left my badge here. I think I may have put it down somewhere…”
“I see – and here’s me thinking that you just enjoyed my company. Come in, I’ll have a look for you.”
She leaned against the gilded, papered wall to one side of the room and watched as Murdoch performed his charade-like search of bookcase edges and tables until he finally reached the desk.
“Ah, here we are,” he said genially, walking back to hand her the badge. She took it from him but said nothing, eyeing him suspiciously as a small device buzzed infrequently on her edge of her bodywarmer. She unclipped the tiny black box, which looked somewhat like a small pager, and looked at the red blinking light curiously.
“What is that?” Murdoch asked politely.
“A Paranormal Activity Detector – PAD, for short. It seems to be detecting something here, I’ll need to search this room – just in case. Stand aside please,” she commanded. “And shut the door.”
A knot of fear threaded deep within him as he silently followed her instructions. He watched as she scanned the room, searching perhaps for a dark, hidden corner, her hand closed tightly around the pulsing gadget with white-knuckled ferocity.
Dillan stood breathlessly in her dark hiding place, knowing she would eventually be found and dragged into the light, alive before death with burning flames. Hackett’s heartbeat pounded in her ears, steady and calm – she was obviously used to these situations. Murdoch’s heart, however, betrayed his perplexed, yet calm exterior.
“Agent Hackett, may I a – “
“Shh!” She scolded, prowling the perimeter of the office carefully. The device began to beep rapidly as she approached the antique closet, a wicked grin spreading over her face. There had to be something there, she knew it!
“Stand back,” she warned. He took a step back behind her and, nonchalantly, placed his right hand inside his suit pocket.
Now the agent pulled a shining handgun from her shoulder holster, filled with the purest silver bullets, and readied herself. A door swung open with a dull thud…revealing a long, black scholars robe.
“I know it’s hideous, but I didn’t realise it was dangerous,” Murdoch laughed, his amusement spilling over as relief settled in.
Undeterred, the fearless agent poked the end of her gun just inside the closet, her finger wrapped closely around the trigger, and flung the other door open as the device beeped shrilly. An old-fashioned tweed suit looked back at the barrel of her gun and she hung back for a moment, feeling a little deflated.
“d**n thing must’ve malfunctioned,” she spat, shaking the device furiously as she turned back round to face Murdoch who, having curtailed his laughter, merely smiled benignly back at her.
Before he could take a breath to speak, two porcelain hands reached out from the darkness of the closet, wrapping themselves tightly around Hackett’s mouth and neck as the agent’s eyes widened with unprecedented fear.
“Dillan – no!” Murdoch cried loudly before he could stop himself, submerging the muffled screams. “Let her go!”
She would not listen to him; a kind of madness grew within her as her former hunter now struggled vainly in her unassailable grip, and her bloodlust seemed to reach fever pitch. Murdoch, meanwhile, rushed to the drapes and pulled them shut once again.
“Dillan,” he called. “Come out with her. Now.”
She sensed the fury he felt despite his calm, even and commanding tone and slowly crept out into the office, with the mortal still most definitely in her strong grip. Hackett’s blood was pumping twice as fast now, and she felt the shudder of each heartbeat, of each pulse through that warm, living neck, thud against her cold, dead hands.
Peace, the beast inside told her, was in her grasp.
Murdoch saw the young vampire’s deep, scarlet eyes bore into him threateningly, hesitant yet almost daring him to challenge her. A shiver of fear ran through his body as he thought, quickly and carefully, of the best way to defuse the situation. Right now, he’d try anything.
“This is a government agent. If you don’t let her go, we’ll all be in serious trouble,” he pleaded.
“I know who she is,” Dillan snarled. “She was following me through Mansbridge when Karl found me.”
“Then you realise that we really don’t want to get on her bad side – though it may already be too late for that.”
“If I let her go she’ll kill us all,” she replied, roughly bending her victim’s neck to one side. “I’d rather just settle this here and now.” Hackett began to scream again, muffled as it was, her voice croaking with the agony of intense fear.
“You can’t do that – you won’t do that. I’ll make sure nothing comes of this, but I can only do that if you let her go,” he said calmly, walking towards her with care.
Silence hung in the air as the vampire held her prey ever tighter.
“Trust me,” Murdoch said quietly. “Please.” He removed the handgun from Hackett’s weakening grip, careful that their eyes didn’t meet, and proceeded to empty both the magazine and chamber, the contents of which he slipped inside his jacket pocket.
Seeing the only possible resolution at last, Dillan thrust the mortal towards her teacher who, before the agent could even think to react, pulled the taser from his pocket and pushed it against her back. She howled in agony for what seemed like an age as Murdoch streamed electricity through her ailing body until, at precisely the right moment, he withdrew, allowing her to collapse on the floor, her limbs twitching wildly.
He breathed a deep sigh of relief as he watched Hackett lying, with a glazed stare, at his feet. He looked at Dillan, who had still not been able to calm herself sufficiently and was now staring, fixated, on the body.
“Dillan. DILLAN!”
Finally, as if returning from some horrific daydream, she came to. It was taking every ounce of her strength to resist the kill right now – her insides seemed to burn with hunger with each breath she took, her mind still more than a little absorbed on what she could have. However, it was time she took control; with a highly concentrated effort she implored herself to stop, looking at Hackett not with contempt, but with pity. She was a living, breathing human being, as she herself had been not too long ago; her simple respect for life, which had seemed to dwindle into nothingness since her transformation, rushed suddenly back so much that it sickened her. She felt a wave of intense, drowning sadness overcome her as blood-red tears stained her now vivid green eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she croaked, sitting down with exhaustion.
“We’ll talk about this later,” Murdoch replied, relieved and yet stern, as he rubbed his forehead tiredly. “We can fix this – we’ll have to wake Essie and modify Hackett’s memory before it’s too late. Help me take her downstairs please.”
She almost couldn’t bear the thought of touching that warm, mortal flesh again – that scent that filled and dominated her senses was the cause of all this madness – but she did as she was told. They lifted the now strangely still, yet living body, Murdoch at the head and Dillan at her feet, and carefully carried her downstairs and into the gloom of the basement below.
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Dillan couldn’t sleep, despite the intense fatigue the sunrise seemed to force upon her. Her mind ran wild with fright and trepidation; the girl’s face swam threateningly before her as the possibility of the end of immortality, marked with burning fire and the stinking smell of smouldering flesh, stirred a deep, primal fear within her. That dream, the terribly real dream, had made her completely aware of her vulnerabilities, and she didn’t like it.
If only she could lead a peaceful life – she had wished that her whole new life was just a horrific dream, that she had not done what had already been done. She lay in the pressing darkness of her silk-lined coffin willing herself to wake up, begging to see the light of day stream into her eyes and bathe her skin, but never for it to hurt her again. An imaginary summer breeze lifted the tiny hairs on her arms ever so slightly as she closed her eyes and began to plead with herself – “Wake up, wake up. This isn’t real.”
The air around her fell quite still as she imagined herself in her soft, warm bed and saw the eyes of her mother peering haughtily down at her, ghostly opaque and completely intangible, in her mind’s eye and bit back her crimson tears. The ethereal figure turned to the left and she saw, with deepening disgust, two small, careful puncture wounds where the very life had been taken from her; if only she could touch this pale silhouette, if only she could explain why she had done it. Could she really explain? Slowly but surely, her mother’s hazy outline began to fade into the air around her, until all that was left to see were a few shimmering specks of silver behind her cool eyelids.
This, she decided upon opening her eyes, was real. At least it was for herself and those select few who knew of the ‘vampires in the basement’, regardless as to how insane it felt to look at the world through the eyes of a true outcast. She had to come to terms with what she’d done, and staying with the others at the academy was a start at least, as uncomfortable as it was. She felt trapped in this stone cellar, cooped up like birds in an aviary, unable to make complete sense of the real world for fear of cutting her morals loose again – it would be so easy, she thought, to live up to her nightmarish predicament and play the monster; but would she lose herself by doing so? She’d already left part of herself behind on that fateful night she was bitten, the night she became the vampires’ patient who could not be saved, but perhaps there was still something of her old self worth salvaging. Maybe.
For now, however, there were more pressing matters at hand – what could be done about this girl? She was certain that this was no ordinary dream, but a vision, and after seeing the new girl with the golden hair arrive at the academy she decided that Dr Murdoch must be made aware of the situation. The real issue was him believing her story; even if he did believe her, what could he actually do about it? She knew what she would do…but even then, she doubted she was powerful enough to defeat the girl, the creature, whatever it was. Moreover, she wasn’t actually one hundred percent sure that this new girl was the creature in question, as her dream had conveniently masked its face. Something must be done, she decided, lifting the lid of her casket carefully and silently. It was quite clear that they were all in danger – this couldn’t wait for nightfall. She would have to see Murdoch now.
She looked around the dusty dungeon and sighed with relief as she saw it was empty; the bright sun’s rays couldn’t penetrate here, but her skin tingled ever so slightly in the morning air as she lifted herself onto her feet, her head heavy with tiredness yet determined to do something, anything. She picked out an over-sized hooded sweatshirt from her suitcase and slipped it over her, leaving the hood up in case she burst into a room filled with burning sunshine. Her feet shuffled amongst the dust on each stair as she made her way to the secret entrance, the portal between the lands of the dead and the living, the door to the real world, and placing her ear against the lacquered wood, she listened. Two heartbeats thronged her ears as her stomach pained with hunger – she focussed as hard as she possibly could on the conversation taking place inside.
“…I can assure you, Ms Hackett, I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I find that hard to believe – you are aware, I take it, of the consequences you face by impeding a federal investigation?” Hackett replied curtly.
Murdoch stood and walked around to the other side of the desk; he perched on the end casually, arms folded, and looked straight into the agent’s determined, piercing stare.
“Trust me, I’m not impeding your investigation. Please feel free to investigate as thoroughly as you need to – I only ask that, this time, you at least attempt to curtail the distraction caused to my students.”
“Of course. Much of our operation will occur after nightfall anyway, I just wanted to give you fair warning.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that. So, if I understand you correctly, you think that someone – or something,” he added quickly, noticing the disapproving look she gave him, “may be a danger to us here?”
“We’re not sure, hence the investigation, though we did receive reports of unusually high paranormal activity that occurred just beyond school grounds in a small thicket of woods.”
Murdoch laughed dryly. “My students are always telling me those woods are haunted. Maybe I should start believing them…”
“This really is a serious matter, Dr Murdoch. You will need to ensure your students remain indoors after sunset, for their own safety.”
“I will,” he sighed.
“Thank you for your co-operation.”
“I don’t really have much choice, but you’re welcome. Good day, Agent Hackett.”
“Same to you – oh, but before I leave,” she said, turning back to face Murdoch. “I’ll need to see the security camera feeds for the last three nights. Could you have your security officer make them available for me tonight?”
“Tonight? Isn’t that a little soon?”
“This is an urgent matter, I’m sure that whoever it is will understand. I’ll return tonight, after sunset. Good day.” With that, the agent strode haughtily out of the room, closing the door roughly behind her.
The headmaster returned to his chair as Hackett left the office, his brow thick with worry. He wasn’t sure how he’d get out of this one – had his night students been stupid enough to wander outside the grounds without his knowledge, knowing how vigilant the BPDA had been in Mansbridge? He was furious at the very thought, they could have been found – or worse, killed; he would certainly have some very strong words for them tonight.
Dillan, meanwhile, had heard everything; horrified, she thought back to their encounter during the summer, of the way in which Hackett had hunted her down and, worst of all, found her. If she and Karl had been followed back here then others were, again, in danger. She kept her ear close to the door, vigilant in case anyone else should wander in to see the headmaster, but could only hear his steady heartbeat. He was alone. She flipped a switch to her right and felt the stone steps beneath her vibrate as a series of loud clicks and whirrs heralded the opening into the headmaster’s sunny office.
Dr Murdoch jumped, startled, as he heard the secret entrance begin to unlock itself, just as soon as there was a tentative knock on the office door. He quickly ran to the other end of the office, seeing the pale, red-headed figure in his peripheral vision as he opened the door.
“Dr Murdoch?” Dillan gasped, shrinking back into the shadows as the bright morning sunlight pierced her eyes painfully. She squinted, able to just about see him at the office door talking to someone. She closed her eyes and listened carefully as a familiar voice became audible.
“Have you heard from Dillan? I tried to contact her all summer, she never returned my calls or emails or anything, it’s like she just…disappeared. Is she okay?”
“Mimi, she’s absolutely fine, I promise you,” he replied, hastening to close the heavy doors. “I’m sorry, but I really can’t talk about this now, I’m extremely busy – and you should be going to class.”
“But – “
“No. Not now. I’ll talk to you about it later. Go to class,” he said firmly.
Mimi drew a breath to protest but, feeling that she had been beaten, stomped off instead with annoyance, leaving the relived teacher behind. Sighing, he closed and turned the lock in the door quickly and turned back to face his night student, who concealed herself from the sunlight just beyond the secret door.
“Stay right there,” he said, dashing around to pull the large, heavy drapes shut. “There, is that better?”
“Yeah, thanks. Can I sit down?”
“Please do.” He blinked distractedly as Dillan sat before his desk and pulled down her hood, willing his eyes to adjust ever more quickly to the darkness that had engulfed the room. He switched on the small brass lamp and sat down, arms resting casually on the arms of his chair, the fingers on his right hand never too far from his jacket pocket – just in case. “So, how can I help?”
“I…I’m not sure,” she replied truthfully. “I don’t really know how to explain this, but I think I’m – well, all of us – are in danger.”
At this, Murdoch looked back enquiringly. “What makes you think this?”
“I had this dream last night – well, less like a dream, more like a sort of vision or something, it was too real to just be a dream…” She continued to explain the events to the headmaster who, his brow intensely furrowed, began to look less concerned and more perplexed than anything. When she had finished, he sat a little straighter and mulled the possibilities over in silence, his eyes looking everywhere but his student.
“So what does it mean?” she asked, her impatience beginning to get the better of her as his heart thumped temptingly in her ears and the warm, luscious scent of fresh blood enveloped her like an all-consuming haze. She felt starved, and the hunger cramped the muscles in her stomach painfully, but she clung on decency. Barely, anyway. A nerve twitched slightly at the corner of her mouth as she anchored herself back to the office, back to herself.
“To be honest, I think you might be feeling a little worried about your own mortality. You’re safe here, remember that.” He smiled reassuringly at her, a gesture which she did not return.
Leaning forward, she fixed her cold, emerald eyes upon him. “It wasn’t just a dream,” she said firmly. “I’m sure of it. Look, I think she’s – it’s, whatever – it’s already here. That new student, the blonde girl – I saw her on the security feed yesterday when all the day students arrived.”
“Jennifer?” He almost laughed with incredulity. “I’m not sure that’s right. You mentioned to me that you didn’t see the being’s face. How do you know it’s her?”
“I – I don’t know,” she admitted. “There’s just something about her I don’t trust. Something’s not quite right with her.”
“There’s nothing unsavoury about her.”
“Then why did she end up here?” The question hung accusingly in mid-air, puncturing the previous politeness that had dominated their conversation.
Murdoch took a deep, steadying breath. “That is not something you need to be concerned about.”
“Did you ever wonder how I remembered what Karl did to me?” She pressed. “That he was a vampire too, and how I remembered the others?”
“I assumed that was a result of the transformation,” he replied calmly.
She shook her head. “No. I dreamt it – that dream felt exactly the same as this one, and it turned out that it wasn’t just a dream. I felt then the same way I do now. Please, you have to believe me,” she implored, her bright green eyes shining wide in the dimly lit room.
Murdoch leaned back in his office chair slightly, returning her powerful, pleading stare, and thought carefully. Should he trust a hunch? The events Dillan had described were extremely unlikely to ever happen, especially whilst they were under his care; but perhaps, if she were to be believed, a little extra vigilance would not go amiss.
“Okay Dillan, I’ll compromise. Until I have proof that Jennifer is a danger to you all, I can’t really do much. However – “ he continued, pressing on as his student was about to interrupt. “I will keep a close eye on her whilst she remains at the academy. I think that’s a fair compromise, don’t you?”
It was something, she thought bitterly, but whether it would be enough was a different matter all together. At least the girl would be under surveillance; that would have to be good enough.
“Fine. Thank you,” she replied. She stood, readying herself to be excused back to the confining darkness of her casket, but stopped as a particular scent wafted into her consciousness – blood scent, but one that she vaguely recognised. Someone was standing outside the large, oak panelled doors. She looked back at her teacher who, having noticed her looking towards the doors, stood also as his eyes glanced down at something lying on his desk. Following his lead, she looked down and spotted a white, card-shaped badge resting on the dark wood. It was rather official looking, and she wondered why she hadn’t seen it before now; as she looked closer, panic began to set in:
‘BPDA. Marianne Hackett, Special Agent’
The hardened, captured stare of the agent looked fiercely back at her; her stomach somersaulted with nerves as three sharp knocks echoed through the silence.
“Dillan – there’s no time to go back down, the door’s closed” Murdoch whispered urgently. “Hide!”
She moved quickly towards a cupboard near the back of the room, her feet silent on the lush carpets, and nestled herself inside next to the headmaster’s old tweed jackets and scholarly robes.
As soon as the cupboard door closed, he moved around the room feverishly, roughly throwing the long velvet drapes open, and headed for the door, the room once again bursting with autumnal sunlight behind him.
“Agent Hackett,” he said warmly as he opened the heavy door. “Back so soon?”
She smiled grimly at his polite sarcasm. “I’m sorry, I must have left my badge here. I think I may have put it down somewhere…”
“I see – and here’s me thinking that you just enjoyed my company. Come in, I’ll have a look for you.”
She leaned against the gilded, papered wall to one side of the room and watched as Murdoch performed his charade-like search of bookcase edges and tables until he finally reached the desk.
“Ah, here we are,” he said genially, walking back to hand her the badge. She took it from him but said nothing, eyeing him suspiciously as a small device buzzed infrequently on her edge of her bodywarmer. She unclipped the tiny black box, which looked somewhat like a small pager, and looked at the red blinking light curiously.
“What is that?” Murdoch asked politely.
“A Paranormal Activity Detector – PAD, for short. It seems to be detecting something here, I’ll need to search this room – just in case. Stand aside please,” she commanded. “And shut the door.”
A knot of fear threaded deep within him as he silently followed her instructions. He watched as she scanned the room, searching perhaps for a dark, hidden corner, her hand closed tightly around the pulsing gadget with white-knuckled ferocity.
Dillan stood breathlessly in her dark hiding place, knowing she would eventually be found and dragged into the light, alive before death with burning flames. Hackett’s heartbeat pounded in her ears, steady and calm – she was obviously used to these situations. Murdoch’s heart, however, betrayed his perplexed, yet calm exterior.
“Agent Hackett, may I a – “
“Shh!” She scolded, prowling the perimeter of the office carefully. The device began to beep rapidly as she approached the antique closet, a wicked grin spreading over her face. There had to be something there, she knew it!
“Stand back,” she warned. He took a step back behind her and, nonchalantly, placed his right hand inside his suit pocket.
Now the agent pulled a shining handgun from her shoulder holster, filled with the purest silver bullets, and readied herself. A door swung open with a dull thud…revealing a long, black scholars robe.
“I know it’s hideous, but I didn’t realise it was dangerous,” Murdoch laughed, his amusement spilling over as relief settled in.
Undeterred, the fearless agent poked the end of her gun just inside the closet, her finger wrapped closely around the trigger, and flung the other door open as the device beeped shrilly. An old-fashioned tweed suit looked back at the barrel of her gun and she hung back for a moment, feeling a little deflated.
“d**n thing must’ve malfunctioned,” she spat, shaking the device furiously as she turned back round to face Murdoch who, having curtailed his laughter, merely smiled benignly back at her.
Before he could take a breath to speak, two porcelain hands reached out from the darkness of the closet, wrapping themselves tightly around Hackett’s mouth and neck as the agent’s eyes widened with unprecedented fear.
“Dillan – no!” Murdoch cried loudly before he could stop himself, submerging the muffled screams. “Let her go!”
She would not listen to him; a kind of madness grew within her as her former hunter now struggled vainly in her unassailable grip, and her bloodlust seemed to reach fever pitch. Murdoch, meanwhile, rushed to the drapes and pulled them shut once again.
“Dillan,” he called. “Come out with her. Now.”
She sensed the fury he felt despite his calm, even and commanding tone and slowly crept out into the office, with the mortal still most definitely in her strong grip. Hackett’s blood was pumping twice as fast now, and she felt the shudder of each heartbeat, of each pulse through that warm, living neck, thud against her cold, dead hands.
Peace, the beast inside told her, was in her grasp.
Murdoch saw the young vampire’s deep, scarlet eyes bore into him threateningly, hesitant yet almost daring him to challenge her. A shiver of fear ran through his body as he thought, quickly and carefully, of the best way to defuse the situation. Right now, he’d try anything.
“This is a government agent. If you don’t let her go, we’ll all be in serious trouble,” he pleaded.
“I know who she is,” Dillan snarled. “She was following me through Mansbridge when Karl found me.”
“Then you realise that we really don’t want to get on her bad side – though it may already be too late for that.”
“If I let her go she’ll kill us all,” she replied, roughly bending her victim’s neck to one side. “I’d rather just settle this here and now.” Hackett began to scream again, muffled as it was, her voice croaking with the agony of intense fear.
“You can’t do that – you won’t do that. I’ll make sure nothing comes of this, but I can only do that if you let her go,” he said calmly, walking towards her with care.
Silence hung in the air as the vampire held her prey ever tighter.
“Trust me,” Murdoch said quietly. “Please.” He removed the handgun from Hackett’s weakening grip, careful that their eyes didn’t meet, and proceeded to empty both the magazine and chamber, the contents of which he slipped inside his jacket pocket.
Seeing the only possible resolution at last, Dillan thrust the mortal towards her teacher who, before the agent could even think to react, pulled the taser from his pocket and pushed it against her back. She howled in agony for what seemed like an age as Murdoch streamed electricity through her ailing body until, at precisely the right moment, he withdrew, allowing her to collapse on the floor, her limbs twitching wildly.
He breathed a deep sigh of relief as he watched Hackett lying, with a glazed stare, at his feet. He looked at Dillan, who had still not been able to calm herself sufficiently and was now staring, fixated, on the body.
“Dillan. DILLAN!”
Finally, as if returning from some horrific daydream, she came to. It was taking every ounce of her strength to resist the kill right now – her insides seemed to burn with hunger with each breath she took, her mind still more than a little absorbed on what she could have. However, it was time she took control; with a highly concentrated effort she implored herself to stop, looking at Hackett not with contempt, but with pity. She was a living, breathing human being, as she herself had been not too long ago; her simple respect for life, which had seemed to dwindle into nothingness since her transformation, rushed suddenly back so much that it sickened her. She felt a wave of intense, drowning sadness overcome her as blood-red tears stained her now vivid green eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she croaked, sitting down with exhaustion.
“We’ll talk about this later,” Murdoch replied, relieved and yet stern, as he rubbed his forehead tiredly. “We can fix this – we’ll have to wake Essie and modify Hackett’s memory before it’s too late. Help me take her downstairs please.”
She almost couldn’t bear the thought of touching that warm, mortal flesh again – that scent that filled and dominated her senses was the cause of all this madness – but she did as she was told. They lifted the now strangely still, yet living body, Murdoch at the head and Dillan at her feet, and carefully carried her downstairs and into the gloom of the basement below.
