The Reformed Vampire Support Group (37 page)

‘He’s not my friend! He killed my friend!’ I was feeling safer, by this time, because Dermid had once more aimed his gun at Nefley – who whimpered as I inched my way towards the exit. ‘Listen, Dermid. We don’t want the police involved! Can you come inside? Before the neighbours get interested?’

‘You’d better not call the police!’ was Dermid’s strangled response. ‘You’d better not do that!’

‘Shh! Keep it down!’ I pushed open the back door, adjusting my volume as I did so. You might be wondering where I found the courage. You might be thinking:
She’s just like Zadia Bloodstone.
Well, you’d be wrong. Because I had already spotted something that told me exactly what I needed to know.

Most people would have missed it – I realise that. Most people don’t have my night-vision, and wouldn’t have seen Dermid swallowing, over and over and over again. But I saw it. And I understood what it meant.

Dermid was feeling bad.
Really
bad. He was on the verge of throwing up.

‘Just come inside and we’ll talk,’ I pleaded. ‘You’re confused because you’re sick—’

‘I’m not sick!’

‘Dermid—’

‘Stand back!’

‘Okay.’ I lifted my hands again, to show him that I didn’t mean any harm. ‘I’ve stopped. Don’t worry.’

‘Where’s Dad?’

‘He’s coming. He’s sick, too.’ I took a deep breath, to steady myself. ‘Don’t you remember what you did to him?’

Dermid swallowed, three times in succession. His eyes widened
until they almost sprang from their sockets. His gun was beginning to shake.

But he didn’t speak. Perhaps he
couldn’t
speak.

‘You bit him, Dermid. You drank his blood.’ Ignoring Nefley’s groan, I pressed on, as quietly as possible. ‘Don’t you remember doing that? It happened just here, in the kitchen.’

Dermid made an odd noise. Then he said, ‘No.’

‘You’re a vampire now. Like me.’

‘
Bullshit!
’ Dermid’s grip on Nefley must have tightened, because Nefley coughed, turning an even darker shade of mauve as he pawed at the tattooed forearm that was pressed against his wind-pipe. Anxiously, I took note of the veins standing out on Nefley’s forehead. And I was about to suggest that Dermid ease up a little when the back gate squeaked.

Dave had arrived. He’d been summoned by my mother, and had parked in the alley behind the house.

George was with him.

‘
Freeze!
’ Dermid yelped, yanking Nefley around to face the newcomers. Dave froze. He stood quite still, his fingers clamped to the top of the gate.

In the dimness, his chalk-white complexion had an almost phosphorescent glow to it.

‘They’re not going to hurt you, Dermid,’ I said quickly. ‘They’re vampires. Like you are. We’re all in the same boat.’

‘Shut up!
Shut up!
’ Dermid’s voice cracked. All at once, the pistol was pointing straight at me. ‘You’re crazy! Where’s Dad? I’ll count to ten!’

‘He – he’s coming,’ I stammered, not even daring to glance around. It’s amazing how big a small hole can seem, when there’s a bullet somewhere down the other end of it. And though I knew that a shot to the head wouldn’t kill me, I also knew that life with
half a brain would be more uncomfortable than ever.

‘Could you please just think about this? For one minute?’ I begged. ‘You were bitten by a vampire. You
are
a vampire.’

‘I am not!’

‘Nina,
don’t
.’ Dave’s frantic plea was almost unrecognisable; he sounded like Bridget, all breathy and high-pitched. ‘For God’s sake, be quiet!’

‘Hey, Dermid!’ someone barked. Dermid jumped, and I was lucky he didn’t shoot me. The gun-barrel wavered, then swung off to my left. When I looked in the same direction, I saw that Reuben had returned.

He’d entered the kitchen with my mother. She was wearing her nightgown. Between them they were supporting Barry McKinnon, whose arms were draped around their necks, and whose feet were dragging.

Dermid stared at his father through the kitchen window, in a kind of horrified bewilderment.

‘You see?’ I whimpered. ‘Your dad’s sick. You bit him. He’s going to need help, all right, but not
your
kind of help, Dermid. We’re the only ones who can help him, now.’

‘It’s finished!’ Reuben declared loudly, with far too much relish. ‘You! Him! The whole damn deal! You’re done and dusted, mate!’

‘Shut up!’ snapped Mum, who looked about a hundred years old. Reuben actually flinched away from her glare, which could have stripped the paint off wood, like a blowtorch.

Dermid licked his dry lips. He staggered slightly, turning pale beneath his tan.

‘Actually, you’re not finished,’ I assured him, with as much certainty as I could muster. ‘Being a vampire doesn’t mean that you’re
finished
. I used to think so myself, but I don’t any more.’ Though I was talking simply to keep him occupied – to stop him
from forming any kind of firm resolution – I was also speaking straight from the heart. ‘You can still live like a human being, even if you are a vampire,’ I continued. ‘Even if it is a lot harder to be energetic, and excited, and involved, it can still be done. I’ve
seen
it done.’ Glimpsing a peripheral movement, I realised that Dave was creeping forward, and surreptitiously flapped my hand to make him stop. ‘It’s an infection – that’s all. You can rise above it, like Dave has. You wouldn’t think that Dave was a vampire. He’s just like a normal person, except that he can’t go out in the sun these days.’

‘
Dad? Can you hear me? Are you all right?
’ Dermid bellowed. His gun was trained on my head once more, though his aim was far from steady.

‘You’ve run out of options, arsehole!’ Reuben’s delivery was sharp and fierce and high-pitched. ‘Forrest Darwell’s in the clink by now! So’s your truck! We faked a meeting – tipped off the police! You can say goodbye to your hundred grand!’

‘Reuben,
shut up
! You’re just confusing him!’ I could see that Dermid was in no condition to absorb complex ultimatums; he was too fuddled and frightened to think in a logical way. ‘You don’t have to worry, Dermid. We’ll find somewhere for you to go – you and your dad. We have to. Because you’re one of us, now, and we always help each other.’

Then – without warning – Dermid threw up.

There was a retching gasp as his head snapped forward. Suddenly my shoes were covered in tar-black vomit. At the same instant he relaxed his hold on Nefley, who broke free with a tortured howl. Reuben and Dave dashed towards me, one from each side. Though still doubled over, Dermid began to wave his gun about, wildly.

He pulled the trigger when I caught his arm.

Click
.

Mum screamed. Dermid fell to his knees, gagging. I wrenched the gun from him, holding it aloft as I retreated. Though quick, however, I was barely quick enough. Reuben rushed through the back door, jumping on Dermid with such an excess of energy that he almost knocked me off my feet.

‘You didn’t
load
it?’ I asked Nefley, who was cowering nearby.

Before he could answer, I was engulfed in a bear hug. While Mum struggled with Barry’s dead weight, and Reuben pinned Dermid to the ground, and George stood slack-jawed and goggle-eyed near the fence, I found my nose rammed against Dave’s chest.

‘
Did you mean it?
’ he said hoarsely.

‘What?’ I wasn’t processing questions; I was too busy trying to absorb what had just occurred. When I struggled to free myself, Dave’s hands dropped to my elbows. ‘I’m all right,’ I assured him. ‘There were no bullets in the gun.’

‘Did you mean it?’ His tone was urgent. ‘What you said? About being a vampire?’

You probably won’t believe this, but my mind was a blank. It was the shock, I expect. You don’t recover quickly from having a gun fired at you, even if it isn’t loaded.

I stared at the thing: it was heavy and dull in my hand.

‘What?’ I murmured. (What
had
I said?) ‘Could you remind me …?’

‘You said I’d risen above it. You said I wasn’t like a vampire.’

‘Oh.’ I could vaguely recall making some such comment – a very long time ago, it seemed. ‘Well, you aren’t,’ I confirmed. ‘I mean, you’re not like a
typical
vampire. You do things. You make a difference. You’re brave, and you care about stuff, like a regular guy.’ I glanced around, distracted by all the activity in our immediate neighbourhood. Reuben had Dermid in an armlock. Mum was yelling at George, telling him to come inside and call Sanford. Nefley
was apologising tearfully to anyone who would listen. ‘Nefley,’ I said to him, ‘what’s wrong with you? The gun wasn’t
loaded
.’

‘I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I forgot …’

‘You
forgot?
’ I couldn’t believe it. ‘That’s a pretty big thing to forget, don’t you think? You let Dermid drag you all the way here, and you forget that the gun has no
bullets
inside?’

‘I forgot to check! I thought maybe
you’d
loaded it!’

‘Why on earth would we have loaded it?’ I exclaimed. ‘We wouldn’t even know how!’

‘In that case,’ Reuben interrupted, from down on the ground, ‘you’d better make damn sure it’s empty.’ He stretched out a hand, reaching for the pistol; his other hand was clamped around Dermid’s wrist. ‘It might have been a misfire. There might still be bullets in the chamber.’

‘Really?’ This was alarming news. Hurriedly I relinquished the weapon. Though Reuben took it, however, he wasn’t able to inspect it without letting Dermid go.

Instead he gave it to my mother – who had abandoned Barry McKinnon, and was now hovering on the back steps.

She held the gun as if it were a dirty sock, dangling from her thumb and forefinger.

‘What the hell am I supposed to do with this?’ she said.

‘Just put it next to that rifle,’ Reuben advised, nodding towards the house. ‘That rifle in there is loaded, for sure.’

‘Nina?’ said Dave. His grasp tightened on my elbows when I didn’t immediately respond. ‘
Nina!
’

‘What?’ I was reluctant to drag my attention away from Barry, who was now lying flat on Mum’s linoleum. I could just see one of his legs if I craned my neck and peered through the back door. George was stepping over this leg on his way to the telephone. ‘What is it?’

‘Are you trying to say that you’ve changed your mind about vampires?’ Dave asked. ‘Are you telling me you don’t hate them any more?’

‘What do you mean? I never
hated
vampires. I just – I dunno, I just had this stupid idea that all vampires are a bunch of do-nothing losers. Which they aren’t.’
Speaking of losers
, I thought, as my wandering gaze snagged on Nefley. He was standing there like a fence post, sweaty and moon-faced. ‘Hey, Nefley,’ I suggested, ‘why don’t
you
go and see if that pistol’s loaded? It would be really nice to know for certain.’

‘What?’ He blinked at me, before abruptly snapping out of his daze. ‘Oh! Yeah. Right,’ he said. Then he waddled inside, following my mother.

I could see them both quite clearly through the kitchen window, as the pistol passed from her custody to his. She must have said something to George, too; though I couldn’t hear exactly what she told him (not from where I was standing), I did observe the way George obediently surrendered the telephone, then crouched beside Barry McKinnon.

Clearly, Mum had decided to call Sanford herself – while George took Barry upstairs.

‘Right!’ Reuben gasped. He reared up suddenly, catching me by surprise. ‘What’ll we do with this one?’

‘Um …’ I gazed at Dermid, who seemed dizzy and disoriented. He was groaning softly, though I couldn’t tell you exactly what was troubling him. It might have been nausea, or despair, or simply the pain of Reuben’s armlock. Whatever the cause of his distress, however, it was certainly debilitating. He was barely able to stand up straight, and sagged against Reuben’s chest.

‘I guess … I guess we should wait for Sanford,’ was my advice. ‘Sanford can give him a shot of something. To calm him down.’

Reuben sniffed. ‘If you say so,’ he spat, hustling Dermid towards the kitchen. ‘Personally, I’d give ’im a shotta lead in the brain. That would calm him down, all right.’

‘Reuben—’

‘I know, I know. Vampires hate violence.’ Adjusting his hold on Dermid, Reuben made his captive yip like a dog. ‘But isn’t
Dermid
a vampire now? And he tried to shoot you, Nina. I reckon he deserves whatever I can dish out.’

‘He’s not a vampire yet, though. Not quite. Not fully,’ I rejoined. ‘And when he is one … well, he’ll change. Like I said before, he won’t be the same person.’ After a moment’s inner struggle, I was finally compelled to admit the truth. ‘He might – you know, he might even be a
better
person. It’s possible. Becoming a vampire might improve his character.’

‘Well, he certainly couldn’t get any worse,’ Reuben muttered, pushing Dermid up the back steps. At which point somebody yelled, from the house next door, ‘
Can’t you people keep it down, over there? My family’s trying to sleep!
’

I recognised the voice. It belonged to one of our neighbours, Mr Kyrillis, who was leaning out of his bathroom window.

For at least five years, he and Mum had been engaged in a vicious feud about tree-roots. So he was never shy about complaining – not when he felt justified in doing so.

‘Oh! Sorry!’ I exclaimed. ‘Sorry, Mr Kyrillis! We’re just going in!’

‘
Buncha drunks!
’

The window above us slammed shut, as I tried to break free of Dave’s grip.

‘Hurry! Get inside!’ I whispered. ‘Before he throws something at us!’

But Dave wouldn’t budge.

‘So what you’re saying,’ he murmured, ‘is that I’m in with a
chance. Even if I am a vampire.’

‘What?’ I didn’t understand. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that if you’ve changed your mind about vampires, then maybe you wouldn’t hit the roof after all,’ he said, leaving me none the wiser.

‘Hit the roof about what?’ I queried, in utter confusion.

Whereupon he swooped down and kissed me, full on the mouth.