The Reformed Vampire Support Group (35 page)

‘That’s where he would have come down,’ Father Ramon decided. ‘And from here he must have gone straight in to rescue Dermid.’

‘Because the door wasn’t locked,’ Mum agreed, adding, ‘I was
told
not to lock the door.’

‘You shouldn’t have had to.’ Sanford was quick to defend the decisions he’d made. ‘Barry’s mistake was to cut himself while he was breaking into the roof. He blooded his own son. It’s as simple as that.’ Irritably, he rounded on the nearest available scapegoat – who happened to be Reuben. ‘Why weren’t
you
here?’ Sanford snarled. ‘I thought you were going to keep an eye on things.’

‘I was. I mean, I did,’ said Reuben. ‘But I had this idea. It was a
good
idea.’

Suddenly Mum’s phone rang. The noise made everyone jump; even Reuben was startled. After a moment’s pause, my mother went off to answer it, leaving Father Ramon to recount the day’s events.

That’s when Sanford and I heard about Forrest Darwell’s first call. The priest also told us about Nefley’s conversion, and Barry’s violence, and Reuben’s carefully laid plans. According to the priest, Forrest had phoned back at about four o’clock. Afterwards, Father Ramon had driven Barry’s ute to a deserted inner-city laneway lined with skips and bins and garage doors. (Father Ramon’s pastoral duties had taken him there once, when he was searching for the runaway child of a widowed parishioner.) On the train back to Parramatta, the priest had notified Reuben of the truck’s exact whereabouts. At which point Reuben had left Mum’s house to find a public phone box.

‘I didn’t want to ring the police from here,’ he explained, ‘just in case they ended up tracing the call.’

He also hadn’t wanted to use the
nearest
phone box, and had spent about forty-five minutes wandering the streets of nearby suburbs. Meanwhile, Father Ramon had returned to Nefley’s apartment, where Nefley himself was already halfway through my diary. Any normal person, of course, would have tried to conceal this diary before answering a knock on his door. Any normal person would have been ashamed of getting caught with his nose stuck in someone else’s private papers.

Nefley, however, isn’t exactly what you’d call a normal person. As soon as he had admitted Father Ramon, who was there to collect the rifle, Nefley began to babble on about the insights he’d gained from my diary, and how he’d never realised how fragile vampires actually were, and how sorry he felt for me – now that he knew the kinds of difficulties I faced – and why he wanted to do something
that would make amends for the crime he’d committed. ‘I’ll spend the rest of my life in the service of the very people I once tried to destroy!’ he had announced, in the manner of a comic-strip hero.

Father Ramon had been torn. On the one hand, Nefley’s change of heart had been gratifying to witness. On the other hand, it’s always a shock to encounter someone who can’t understand the concept of privacy. According to Father Ramon, Nefley seemed to view reality as an extension of his own personal fantasy world. ‘He’s very immature,’ the priest reported, in worried tones. ‘I’d have to recommend that we keep him under surveillance, or he might do something stupid.’

After expressing himself very strongly on the subject of stealing, Father Ramon had persuaded Nefley to hand over my diary – and had been on the verge of mentioning Barry’s rifle when his mobile had rung. It was my mother, calling with bad news.

Barry had managed to free himself.

At that stage, she wasn’t quite sure how he’d done it. All she knew was that he had managed to climb into her attic. And since Reuben wasn’t carrying a phone, she had immediately rung Father Ramon – who had told her to lock herself in the basement. ‘Get down there
now
,’ he’d instructed. ‘Take your mobile with you. If anyone tries to get in, just contact the police. I’m on my way.’

In fact, he had been on his way with the rifle. He might even have entered the house with it, if he hadn’t picked Reuben up in the street. (Reuben had made his anonymous call, and was retracing his steps along a main road when Father Ramon spotted him.) After conferring together, they had decided to enter Mum’s place from the rear, sneaking in through the kitchen fully armed. And they had both agreed that Reuben should be the one to carry the rifle, since Father Ramon didn’t even know how to load it.

They hadn’t expected to find the back door standing open. Nor
had they expected to find Barry already in the kitchen, sprawled on the linoleum with fang-marks in his neck.

‘We realised that
you
weren’t responsible,’ Father Ramon hastily assured me. ‘You and Sanford weren’t even awake then. We knew that Dermid must have done it – since he can still get about during daylight hours.’

‘And now he’s on the loose.’ It was a terrifying thought. What could we possibly do? ‘We have to find him,’ I said. ‘He’ll attack someone else, otherwise.’

‘Possibly,’ Sanford had to concede. ‘Though I suspect he won’t be plagued by very strong urges. Not after what happened downstairs.’

‘You mean he’ll be racked with guilt?’ Father Ramon inquired, eliciting a surprised look from Sanford.

‘Oh, no.’ Sanford dismissed the possibility. ‘I doubt he’ll even recall what he did, with any sort of coherence. But
physically
he’ll be satisfied. If you take my meaning.’

‘Oh.’ The priest lost even more of his already depleted colour, and I took advantage of his sudden silence to interrogate Sanford myself.

‘Where do you think someone like Dermid might actually go?’ I asked. ‘Do you think he’ll go to a hospital, or – I dunno – the police?’

Sanford shrugged, in hopeless kind of way.

‘Your guess is as good as mine.’

‘Yeah, but look.’ Reuben broke in with his usual excess of energy; it was like being buffeted by a powerful gust of wind. A nerve was twitching in the corner of his left eye. ‘This only just happened. Maybe a quarter of an hour ago? He can’t have got far.’

‘Yes, he can,’ I retorted. ‘He has money, remember?’

‘Money’s no good if you don’t know how to use it,’ Reuben
reminded me, before addressing Father Ramon. ‘Anyway, even if he
can
use it, how often do the buses actually stop around here? How often do the trains run? Maybe we can catch him, if we’re quick enough. Maybe we should form a search party.’

‘Oh, no.’ Sanford shook his head. ‘Not you. You won’t be going anywhere
near
Dermid. Not in his current condition.’

‘But—’

‘
No
. You wouldn’t be safe. Neither would Father Ramon. This is vampire business. I’ll ask Dave to conduct a search of the area.’

Sanford had barely finished speaking when Mum reappeared, holding her cordless phone. ‘It’s Dave,’ she announced. ‘He wanted to know what’s going on, so I told him. Now he’s asking if he should come over.’

‘Yes. I mean, no. Wait – give it here.’ Snatching at the receiver, Sanford began to pepper poor Dave with instructions. He told Dave to leave Horace locked in the bank vault and to bring George along for the ride. According to Sanford, George would be able to keep an eye on passing pedestrians while Dave was watching the road – and in any case, if George was left behind, he could easily be persuaded to release Horace. ‘You know what George is like,’ Sanford sorrowfully remarked. ‘Horace could talk him into anything. Now – listen carefully, Dave. I want you to take the main roads, because that’s where most people would look for a bus. You should stay alert for police vehicles, too, because if Dermid’s disoriented, or aggressive, he might already be attracting – what?’ There was a long pause, as Sanford listened to the voice at the other end of the line. ‘Yes. Right. Good idea,’ he said at last. ‘I’ll do that. And if you see him, give me a call. We need to handle this very carefully; we can’t just abduct him off the street, with a pubful of people watching.’

He then went on to describe, in great detail, the exact location
of his ‘emergency knockout kit’, which Dave could use as a last resort. ‘But
only
as a last resort,’ Sanford stressed. ‘Because you know what drugs can do to a vampire. And Dermid’s at a very advanced stage in his transformation – a syringe full of anaesthetic could make him severely ill.’

‘Like we’d even care,’ Reuben muttered, as Sanford signed off. ‘Sounds like poetic justice, if you ask me.’

‘No one
is
asking you.’ Without so much as a glance at Reuben, Sanford passed the phone back to Mum. ‘Dave recommends that we warn Nefley Irving, and I agree with him. Because there’s an outside chance that Dermid might be heading for Nefley’s place. So I’ll leave that to you, Estelle.’ When my mother opened her mouth, Sanford anticipated her protest. ‘It’s probably best that you ring him, since you’re the one he spent most of his time with. Just call directory assistance for the number.’

‘But why would Dermid want to go to Nefley’s place?’ I’m ashamed of myself for having made this inquiry; my only defence is that I still hadn’t had my evening guinea pig, and was therefore feeling more than usually wiped out. Sanford must have been similarly afflicted, to judge from the long-suffering manner in which he began to massage his eyeballs.

‘You need to get some blood into you, Nina,’ he remarked, leaving Reuben to answer my question.

‘Those pricks parked their ute outside Nefley’s place,’ said Reuben, kindly jogging my memory. He was shifting from foot to foot, like someone desperate to relieve himself. ‘Which means that old dickface might go back there to get it.’

‘Except that it’s not in Parramatta any more.’ Father Ramon was looking more and more like a vampire: not only pale, but ill and haggard. ‘It’s sitting in a laneway near Central Station.’

‘In which case,’ Sanford declared, ‘you should get onto Nefley
as soon as you can, Estelle. If I were him, I’d vacate the premises. It’s hard to know
what
Dermid will do, if he can’t find his car.’

There was a brief pause. From the glum expressions around me, I deduced that ghastly visions of possible worst-case scenarios must have been flitting through a lot of neighbouring minds. Father Ramon, in particular, seemed to be strongly affected. ‘Maybe I should go over there and help Nefley,’ he proposed at last. ‘Since he probably can’t drive—’

‘No,’ said Sanford.

‘His arm’s broken. He can barely walk—’

‘He can catch a cab, Father.’

‘Anyway, if the worst comes to the worst, he’s got a
whole heap
of sharpened stakes in his living room,’ I pointed out. As everyone turned to stare at me, I expanded on my argument. ‘Plus he’s got a gun full of silver bullets, and a notch in his belt. There’s no need to worry about
him
, Father. I reckon if Dermid does show up there, he’ll be lucky to get out alive.’

Sanford blinked. The priest swallowed. Then they exchanged a long, grave, resigned sort of look, before Sanford finally cleared his throat.

‘I think we’d better ring Nefley right now,’ he mumbled, ‘and tell him to come straight back here.’

But when Mum dialled Nefley’s number, no one answered.

Though Sanford was
reluctant to leave Barry McKinnon in my mother’s care, he didn’t have much choice.

‘I can’t let Father Ramon go to Parramatta all by himself,’ was Sanford’s reasoning. ‘It’s bad enough that he has to drive there in the first place. I’m not about to make him get out of the car as well – not if Dermid’s anywhere about.’

My suggestion that Dave be sent to Nefley’s flat was treated with something very close to contempt. Dave had a job to do, Sanford informed me. Dave would be looking for Dermid in the immediate neighbourhood. ‘Which means that someone will be close at hand, if you need any help,’ Sanford advised my mother, as he was exiting the house. ‘Not that I think you will. There’s not much you can do for Barry, at this stage – not now that his wound’s been dressed. Just keep his feet elevated and make sure he isn’t too hot.’

‘You’ve already told me all this,’ Mum rasped, exhaling a cloud of cigarette smoke. She was standing at the top of the stairs, glowering down at Sanford. ‘I’m not deaf, you know.’

‘If you’re not deaf, why are you still smoking?’ was Sanford’s tart retort. ‘I must have warned you off it a hundred times.’

‘And I’ve told you a hundred times to mind your own business.’
Mum’s gaze shifted across the chequerboard tiles of the vestibule, until it came to rest on Father Ramon. ‘Take care, Father.’

‘I will,’ he promised.

‘Sure you guys don’t want the gun?’ asked Reuben, who had stationed himself near the front door, rifle in hand. ‘You can have it if you like.’

Sanford shook his head. Father Ramon murmured, ‘I don’t think so, Reuben. Thanks all the same.’

‘You might need some firepower,’ Reuben warned. ‘We still don’t know what’s been going on back at Nefley’s.’

Sanford heaved an impatient sigh. ‘A gun will cause more problems than it will solve,’ he said.

‘But—’

‘Out where you come from, Reuben, you might be able to lug small arms around with impunity. Here in Sydney, it’s a perfect way of attracting far too much unwelcome attention.’ Sanford turned back to Mum. ‘We’ll keep you posted.’

‘Don’t be too long.’

‘If you hear from Dave, tell him to call my mobile,’ was Sanford’s final directive, before he donned his sunglasses and disappeared into the night. Father Ramon followed close on his heels; when the door closed, Mum gave a sniff and said, ‘Right. I’m off to bed now.’

‘Are you?’ I still wasn’t dressed, so I hadn’t strapped on my watch – but the cuckoo clock on the landing told me that it was only 7.15. ‘Isn’t it a little early for that?’

‘Not when you’ve had about four hours sleep in the last three days,’ Mum growled. I was draped over the banisters at this point, and as she trudged past me towards her bedroom, she added, ‘You can keep an eye on Barry yourself. I’ve had my fill of gastric cases. And don’t wake me up unless it’s an emergency.’

‘You don’t think
this
is an emergency?’ I called after her. ‘There’s
an unreformed vampire on the loose, Mum. It’s serious. I mean, it’s
really
serious.’

Mum paused on the threshold of her room, twisting the door-knob with one hand while her other hand was occupied with her cigarette. ‘Nina,’ she replied, ‘over the last week, I’ve had a basement full of vampires using up all my hot water, I’ve had a killer jumping out of an upstairs window, I’ve had a mad bloody kidnapper knocking holes in my ceiling, and I’ve had a werewolf eating me out of house and home. Not to mention the damage to my downpipe, and my bathroom door. It’s getting so that I can’t tell the emergencies from the daily routine, around here.’ Suddenly she erupted into a fit of coughing, which left her limp and teary-eyed. ‘Tell Reuben if he wants dinner, he can open a tin,’ she said at last. ‘And tell him to go easy on the bread, or we won’t have any toast for breakfast.’