Oxford Blood (14 page)

“It’s basically what we all try to do, but he’s a real
master at it. He’s built up enough money, skills and experience over the
centuries to make anything possible.”

Harriet’s mind was reeling. The concept of Tom being born in
the 1900s was something she could just about comprehend. The idea that her
stepfather had already been older than anyone living today by the time that
Jesus was meant to have been born was too much.

Part of Harriet wanted to ask about everything there was to
know on the subject. The rest of her just wanted to collapse onto the nearest
bench and have Tom comfort her. Before she could take steps towards either
option, a drunken teenager approached them.

“Can I borrow your phone mate?” he asked aggressively.

“Sorry, no,” Tom calmly replied.

“Give me your fucking phone,” the boy shouted, leaning
menacingly towards Harriet.

Tom touched him on the shoulder and stared at him hard.
“You’re going to leave us along. You’re going to go home without bothering
anyone else tonight and then you’re going to learn to be less antisocial in
future. Maybe get some qualifications and a job.”

The boy looked confused, whispered, “Sorry,” and ran fast
down a side street without looking back.

“Well, there’s one plus point to hanging out with vampires I
suppose,” said Harriet, wide-eyed and relieved. “How deep does that mind
control thing go?”

“I’m glad I could do one thing right for you at least,” Tom
replied. “As for the mind control, it varies from individual to individual. In
my case that’d certainly be enough to make him go home and stay out of trouble
for a few days. The whole suggestion of turning his life around was probably
over ambitious, but some of the Senior Officers are good enough to make the
entirety of the press forget that they’ve never seen the Chancellor during
daylight hours. The only bars are that we can’t break another’s mind control
and can’t mesmerise other vampires, apart from ones they’ve made.”

Harriet was desperate to pursue the point about the
Chancellor – she was hugely curious about what public figures were vampires –
but before she could ask, they reached the college. Hours seemed to have passed
since Harriet had been getting ready in her room, but to her surprise, the
porter’s lodge was still open, meaning it couldn’t be after midnight yet. She
felt a sense of security descend upon her as they stepped inside the college
walls.

There were a number of other students milling around,
returning from low-key evenings, preparing to head into town for wilder ones or
just getting some fresh air mid essay crisis. One of the things Harriet loved
about Oxford (even if it slowed every journey down) was the fact that it was
impossible to go anywhere without bumping into a few people she knew.

Harriet and Tom walked towards their staircase in silence,
not wanting any of their discussion to be overheard, especially as they were
getting a few curious looks from mutual friends and acquaintances hoping for
romantic gossip.

“Where have you two been all dressed up?” shouted Omar, a
chemist from the year above who Harriet was on nodding terms with and who often
went to parties at Tom’s.

“Oh just a dinner,” said Tom airily. “Are you heading out?”

“Well, I’ve got labs in the morning, but Harry and that lot
are trying to get me out to Filth. Shall I call you if I’m going, or are you
going to be busy?” The last comment was accompanied with an amused glance at
Harriet.

“I think I’ll give it a miss tonight, already feeling pretty
wasted from this dinner.” With that, Tom strode purposefully away, pulling
Harriet along with him.

Harriet laughed as they opened the door to their shared
staircase. “You might as well have told him you were going to spend the night
with me. That’s sure as hell what he’s going to tell everyone.”

“Maybe I should have,” he replied, raising his eyebrows.
“Now, are you desperate to get to your room and have some time alone to
reflect, or would you rather come to mine for an hour or two? We could have
coffee and go over anything else that you still want to know.”

Harriet didn’t answer, but headed for his door.

Tom smiled and let her in.

The room was large even by the standards of the college’s
accommodation. There were actually two rooms, one at the front for working and
meeting friends and a bedroom at the back.

The former had a large window looking out into the quad but
the latter was entirely windowless and dark. The rooms was richly decorated
with expensive looking rugs and lamps. Looking around, she noticed the oddities
– the gramophone on one shelf, right next to the iPod speaker, the usual
pictures of him with his friends in freshers’ week, accompanied by some black
and white photographs and even some sepia ones from decades ago.

She studied one of the oldest looking ones. It showed him
lounging against a wall in the college’s main quad with two other boys of the
same age. They were all wearing blazers and boaters and looking very happy in
the sun.

“Is that from before you were changed?” Harriet asked.

Tom took the photograph from her and studied it. “Yes, just.
It was towards the end of Trinity term 1925, during Eights Week, about a month
before the Cavalier’s summer party. It was scorching hot that summer and I
practically lived outside, punting and picnicking and rowing and playing
croquet and going to garden parties and balls. I always felt glad I got my
money’s worth before I was unable to ever go in the sun again.”

Harriet didn’t know what to say.

“Oh, don’t look so miserable on my account. I’m sure Henry
and Arthur there had plenty more summers like that, but they’re both dead now,
so who really won?”

“Don’t people ask about the pictures and all the old stuff?”
Harriet wondered aloud.

“Oh the gramophone and decanters and things people put down
to me being posh and eccentric. The coffin in the bedroom too for that matter.
I just say the pictures are of my grandfather. There’s a striking family
resemblance isn’t there?”

The two of them sat down on the sofa.

“I’m truly sorry you’ve had such an awful night,” Tom said.
“Do you feel alright from the blood loss?”

“A little lightheaded, which isn’t helping with my shock and
confusion, but it’ll be okay. It’s nowhere near as bad as last time. George
managed to show a little more self-control.”

“Well in that case, I suppose it’s question time. Now,
there’s not a lot I can say about Augustine and your mother, partly because
their relationship and her turning have always been shrouded in mystery, partly
because it has to be her story to tell. But anything else you want to know
about vampires in general or the Cavaliers in particular ask now and I’ll do my
best. No more evasion I promise.”

“Tell me about the Cavaliers,” Harriet requested. “What’s
the point of the society?”

“Well, there’s a degree to which they’re like every other
dining society in this place – it gives everyone involved a chance to be
exclusive, to dress up, to have wild and glamorous parties. Members come to
Oxford every few decades to relieve their youth with others in the same
situation. It’s a good place to do it. Plenty of young, rich attractive people in
one place, plus most of us find the traditions and the old buildings
comforting.”

After only a few weeks at Oxford, Harriet could already
understand their urge to return every so often during an endless lifetime.

“And of course, there are some tutors at each college who
are in on it, so we are admitted and treated as normal students, but generally
let off essays and tutorials, unless we’re desperate for a little academic
stimulation, in which case they’ll hold them at night.

“There is a much more serious purpose however, and that’s to
maintain vampire influence by seeking out the most talented and ambitious
students and making them one of us. We give them all the help they need to
become powerful politicians and media barons and heads of major companies. Once
upon a time, ancient vampires could hold the same important position at
fifty-year intervals, but photographs and the internet leads to more questions
being asked if anyone tries to reinvent themselves too quickly.

“We stick strictly to five a year. Too many people in
government or at the same bank only coming out at night would suggest a
conspiracy; a handful doing it seems like their own eccentricity. Anyone who
reports injuries consistent with a vampire attack is hushed up, police cases
against us are dropped, and investigative journalism pieces are not printed at
the editor’s strict instructions. We even have a chap at Google trying his best
to make sure internet searches into our activities only come up with the
ramblings of lunatics and not anything more prescient.

“Basically, when people talk about ‘the old boys’ network’
or ‘the establishment’ or ‘the man,’ they don’t know it, but it’s us that they
mean.”

Harriet nodded. “Old boys seems the right term. No-one’s
thought to get women involved in this great conspiracy have they?”

“It’s been discussed in the last few decades. There are
certainly enough amazing women at Oxford, and enough female politicians and
lawyers and journalists to mean it would be a sensible idea, but you’ve got to
remember that this is a society founded in the seventeenth century with many
members older than that. Attitudes forged over hundreds of years change slowly,
though I suspect they’ll crack at some point.”

“All of this is very interesting but it still doesn’t
explain your behaviour,” Harriet said, leaning into him slightly. “What was
with all the avoidance and the ‘it’s safer if we don’t speak’ stuff?”

Tom took her hand in his, and she felt tiny pulses of
electricity shouting through her body. She wondered idly how it would feel if
he touched her somewhere else, or considering the reaction she’d had when
George had done it, if he were to feed from her.

“I owe it to you to explain. I was immediately attracted to
you on that first day in the New Rooms, but once I noticed your necklace, I
realised who you were. For years, we’ve all been curious about Adelaide’s
mysterious human daughter. I didn’t dare take things further without asking her
permission, but when I called her, she told me in no uncertain terms that I
wasn’t good enough for you. I was to keep an eye on you, ensure that you met
the right people and came to no harm, and above all, report back to her. But on
no account was I to make my feelings known to you or make any attempt to act on
them. To be on the safe side, I was to avoid you as much as possible.”

“That’s insane. It’s not the eighteenth century. I can go
out with whoever I want. Besides, I adore my mother, but I’m not having my love
life dictated by someone who walked out on me when I was a baby.”

Harriet noticed Tom’s shocked expression. She supposed that
between her charm and her apparent status as first lady of the vampires, open
criticism of her mother was rare. For that matter, other than token jokes to
the twins, she didn’t think she’d ever had a bad thing to say about her before.

“It’s not that simple. Vampire culture still holds to those
old-fashioned ideas. Augustine and by extension your mother just aren’t used to
being defied, even on the little issues, and nothing matters more to her than
who is going to turn you.”

“To turn me?” Harriet went paler than Tom as she thought
about what he was saying. “You mean my own mother wants me to become a
vampire?”

“Isn’t it understandable? What mother wouldn’t want their
child to live forever? What mother wouldn’t want her daughter to be powerful,
beautiful, and always young? It’s the same as wanting you to get a degree, eat
healthily, or marry the right man. Besides, most vampires regard most humans
with a strong degree of contempt. Why would she wish that sort of mediocre life
on you?”

“So this is her attempt at being a pushy parent? Do you have
some way to contact her? I need words right now.”

“Don’t speak to her tonight. It’s almost the holidays. Visit
her and say what you need to say. I know she’d love to see you. In the
meantime, whilst it kills me to say it, I mean what I told you in the bar. The
closer we get, the more we risk making two very powerful vampires utterly
furious. Three if you count George. We need to keep apart.”

“Forget that,” said Harriet firmly. “She might not have been
around, but I’ve spent my whole life being defined by my mother. I’ve had
enough.” With that, she leaned in closer and kissed him.

She caught Tom utterly by surprise. For a second his sense
of self-preservation prevailed and he tried to resist, but he was soon lost in
the moment.

Harriet felt the strange electrical feeling flow through her
entire body. She pressed hard against Tom, kissing him relentlessly, terrified
that if she came up for air for even a second, one or both of them would lose
their nerve. This was who she wanted, she was sure of it. The feel of his lips
on hers, of their arms around each other, was so right. She felt guilty acting
like this after already getting so close to George just a few hours ago, but she
was convinced now that Tom was the man for her – if he just had the strength to
give in and resist her mother’s commands.

Her kiss had unleashed the force of Tom’s weeks of
self-control. She could feel his fangs with the end of her tongue, and the
sensation of this made her shiver. His hands were suddenly everywhere. For a
moment, he ran them appreciatively over the silky fabric of her beautiful gold
dress. Harriet was barely able to breathe. Quickly, he slipped its thin straps
down over her arms, leaving her breasts entirely exposed. He broke off the kiss
to take first one and then the other nipple in his mouth. For all his evident
strength and bloodlust, he was surprisingly gentle as he licked her. She moaned
slightly and he looked at her and smiled.