Chapter 53
I sit there, clutching the lace of my dress, the cool air on my bare back, staring at my packed suitcase as the same sounds of laughter and glasses clinking and music drift up from downstairs.
What just happened? How could he do this to me?
How could I let this happen? Let him draw me in again?
Abandon me again? What the hell is wrong with me?
I’m such a fool. I look around, my breath quick and heat swirling through me.
What am I doing just sitting here?
I could just leave. I should leave.
Be free of all this. For once and for all.
I go over to my handbag, pull out my phone, plug it into the wall, and sit beside it on the floor thinking: I’ll just catch an Uber back to London.
But when I look down at the screen, my breath catches. Because there, floating on the screen, is a notification. A text notification. And not just any text. The room spins as I take it in.
Jonathan: I’m a mess. I’m so sorry for everything. Please can I see you? Xx
I blink hard.
I read the message again, checking it’s not some hallucination. But it’s not, it’s real. He really texted.
And now that I think about it, even though it has felt like forever, it’s only been eleven nights since the break-up.
Daphne was right. All I needed to do was ignore him. Wait it out.
But now guilt oozes through me. Because I was about to sleep with Oscar. Why was I so weak?
I could go to him. Now.
I glance at the time on my screen: it’s 9.24 pm. My mind begins to whir.
The train will take an hour, maybe an hour and a half to get to London Paddington, then add another twenty minutes for a cab or maybe the Tube. It’ll be tight, but it’s possible that I could be at Jonathan’s door by midnight.
And then we could see the New Year in together.
It’d be the perfect way to start our new life. Our future.
Because I want all of it. I want so many great memories with him that Oscar is nothing more than a distant blip.
I want so much love and contentment that even after Jonathan dies, memories of him sustain me for a century.
Maybe two. I want everything I know we could be.
Hell, maybe I’ll find him again in his next life, too .
. . We can do this over and over again, ad infinitum.
But I can’t spook him. Not like last time. I need to be chill. Mysterious. Alluring. What was it that Daphne said? Aubs two-point-oh.
I type back: Hey! HNY. What are you doing tonight? x
Typing bubbles . . .
They stop. Then they start again . . .
Jonathan: Honestly? I’m at home. I miss you. I found this. Xx
Then beep, in comes another message.
It’s a picture of my earring. The one I left under his desk.
I write back quickly: Oh wow, thank you! I’ve been looking for that! x
And in a single instant, the haze clears and I know exactly what I need to do.
Go to him. Right now. While I still have some shred of my soul left.
I pull open my suitcase. What to wear, what to wear?
I grab a pair of jeans and a pink fluffy jumper and quickly get dressed.
I google the closest train station and order an Uber, then I put on my coat, slide my suitcase down the stairs.
With the noise of the music, nobody even hears it bang to the bottom.
I wait outside in a badly lit area behind a row of parked cars and slouch a little, just in case Oscar looks outside.
My app flashes: Monroe is six minutes away.
And then I do the thing I’m most scared to do. I log into the VHC website.
Nothing could stop me going to Jonathan right now, but still, I need to know what’s going on. I anxiously scroll through the posts.
The title KENNETH brAWLEY, WHO IS WITH ME? screams back at me and I tap on it. It was posted by @Vampitup and it’s another call to action.
I scroll down to the comments, bracing myself.
But this . . . isn’t so bad. Dare I say, it’s good.
Because the tide has turned.
@Bloodygood: Man, I’m sorry I just don’t think you’re right about this one. I googled and those do look like fox bites. I vote just a regular stabbing.
@Victor: Second that. Too bad. Next time.
I scan down, searching for names I recognise in the comments. Nothing from Sally . . .
And then I see Riley’s name.
@Riley: Sorry I couldn’t make it.
Relief pulses through me. Riley didn’t even bother to go to the meeting. He believed Es. That I was in Australia. I couldn’t have killed Kenny if I wasn’t here.
There’s one message from Sally in my inbox: In-laws finally left, thank god. Btw turns out Kenny really was a stabbing, hope my prayers didn’t do it. I feel bad. Are you back in London? xx
I type back: Oh really? I thought we’d definitely found a vamp! Def not your prayers, just a bad thing. I’m on my way back to London now. Can’t wait to get back to routine. Xx
And just like that, my life is going back to normal.
It might not be lavish and exciting, I may not routinely go to balls or do Dirty Dancing lifts in the moonlight, but I also don’t end up in a room with a tiger, or battle feelings for the prince of fucking darkness. I can’t wait to have ‘normal’ back.
Then my phone flashes with a notification: Monroe is arriving now.
I look up as headlights snake towards me, past the parked cars. Monroe pulls up, pops the boot and gets out.
‘Aubrey?’ he asks.
‘Yes,’ I say. As he loads my suitcase, I look back to the manor one last time. And who should I see walking in a little late? Emma.
Alive and well. In the same yellow dress she was wearing the night of the Christmas Eve party.
He pretended to kill her, so I’d be scared and do what he said. No more. Never again.
I get into the car quickly, keen to leave before Oscar checks on me.
‘You going to the station?’ asks Monroe as we drive towards the gates, his eyes on mine in the rear-view mirror.
I nod. ‘Yes.’ Then I plug my phone into the charging cable he has sitting over the console.
‘Looks like a fun party, why are you leaving before midnight?’ he asks.
‘It was fun,’ I say. ‘But I’m going to London to see my boyfriend. I want to be there by midnight.’
‘Nice,’ he says, and then returns his focus to the driveway.
I sit back, and as gravel crunches beneath our tyres, I think about everything that’s happened over this last week.
Felix and Red Flannel Jeff and Oscar and those pictures Oscar has of me. The box, the necklace he gave me, the tiger, the dancing. Tonight. I push away the thoughts. It’s like I’m running away from the circus.
Instead, I focus on the good. Because even through it all, good has come of it.
Now I know I can die, for one. That’s pretty important information.
I learnt to control those visions—even if I’m not perfect at it yet.
I learnt how to hypnotise. I even learnt how to feed off the vein without killing, not that I’ll be doing that once I’m home.
It’ll be bagged blood for me again. But being away from Jonathan, almost losing him, has made me even more sure of him.
It’s like Oscar just made it clear to me why I need Jonathan so much.
We pass through the gate, and now that big house and Oscar are small in the distance.
And I know—I know—I’m finally headed to where I am really meant to be.
Somewhere I can be good and human and never even think of this past week again.
Because, while I can still feel that gentle tug at my ribs, I know that the further I get from here, the more that will fade.
I fought the darkness, and I won.
Oscar promised that he wouldn’t harm Daphne or Jonathan. He may be severely flawed, but there does seem to be a nobility about him. Some tiny thread of decency, no matter how deeply hidden. He’ll keep his word, I know he will.
But me? I’m done. I pull up a browser window, and buy a train ticket to London Paddington.