Chapter 2 Komal #2
“You can’t tell every shop owner in the village to change their hours by text message.
” I stomp right up to him, my non-cake hand curling into a fist. “You need to talk to them individually, and come up with better solutions. What about the shopkeepers who want to be involved in village life after they shut up for the evening? I run the tourism office, and the tourist buses leave the village before six. No one is buying tours on their way to the pub. Why can’t the work crews do the job in the evenings?
We could compensate them with overtime—”
“The council doesn’t have the budget for overtime.”
“Because you mismanaged the funds!”
“I did no such thing.” His jaw ticks. “And before you bring up the sunshades again or pretend that your anger isn’t about your own business, consider that this will give others who live in the area, who can’t shop during the daylight, the chance to be involved in village life.
And what on earth are you eating? It smells like a unicorn with a sugar addiction met an untimely end. ”
“It’s birthday cake.” I tear a huge chunk off and chew it right in his face.
“There’s something whimsical about absolutely tearing into a sugary cake and feeling warm all over, don’t you agree?
But of course you don’t agree because your life is devoid of whimsy—wait a second, what do you mean by ‘others in the village who can’t shop during the daylight’? ”
He can’t be talking about vampires, can he?
Because he’d be right. Damn him! The only shop in the village that has hours and products specifically for vampires is Beth’s Zen and Tonic, with her evening vampire facials, yoga classes and beauty treatments.
But that’s because no one else is supposed to know that vampires exist, so how does—
“You know what I am.” Augustin hisses. “After the regrettable drama your friends Alaric and Gideon have inflicted upon the village, not to mention this husker you have so far failed to catch, I think the Upyr in our community deserve the opportunity for leisure.”
He curls his lip back into something that might, to anyone else, have been a smile. But Augustin Durant doesn’t smile at me.
Poking out of that not-smile are two long, sharp fangs.
I stumble back. “You’re… you’re a vampire.”
His not-smile wavers. “I thought you knew. I assumed Arabella told you.”
He’s a vampire.
A million pieces fall together in my mind.
Augustin convincing the parish council to meet on Tuesday evenings instead of our usual Sunday afternoons.
The fact that I’ve never seen him attend any village event during the daylight hours.
He never partakes in the snacks that I bring to meetings.
(I thought he was a food snob who refused to try murukku.)
Those stupid sunshades.
And just some weeks ago, he was seen outside the Sanctus Estate – the development that’s going up just outside the village – in a state of extreme agitation.
Plus, Sanctus’s director, Gideon Blake, bribed him to push the estate through planning permission.
Never in a million years would I have guessed straitlaced, stickler-for-the-rules Durant could be bribed.
I should have known then, since Sanctus is an estate built entirely for vampires, complete with fancy windows that block sunlight and a bar that only serves blood cocktails.
But I was too busy trying to catch the vampire killer, manage my insane family, run a business, and hate Augustin for existing to give it a second thought.
If I had, I’d have come to the obvious conclusion.
All the years I’ve been arguing with him about bus timetables and swing-set maintenance, he could have snapped me in two or drunk me dry.
So what? This changes nothing.
Just because he’s a vampire doesn’t mean he can make decisions that impact every shopkeeper without consultation. He shouldn’t ruin people’s businesses just so a few of his Upyr buddies can go shopping. My papa would never do this. He’s taking this too far.
His face collapses as he reads the emotional journey on my face. “You didn’t know.”
“No, Durant. I thought you were a weird loner. Now I know you’re a weird undead loner with a blood fetish and an abnormally high dental bill.”
“I’ll have you that know my fangs are in perfect health. I presume I can count on your discretion.” He looks meaningfully in the direction of Sanctus Estate. “And your vote.”
“My vote?” I scoff. “You have got to be kidding.”
I didn’t know it was possible for this man to infuriate me more. I’ve now reached a level of rage that’s so red-hot I’ve come around to icy calm again. After campaigning for the mayor’s job while my papa’s in hospital and forcing all the shops to close, he actually thinks I’ll vote for him.
And the worst thing is that he’s right. Neither of the other candidates will do anything to help the local vampire population, since they don’t know vampires are real. They’d both be worse for the village than Augustin. And I can’t not vote. Komal Ahuja cannot refuse her civic duty.
“Obviously, we have our differences,” Augustin continues. “But I’m the only candidate who will care for your friends’ interests. Shouldn’t this village be for everyone?”
“On this one point, we agree,” I snarl. “That’s why I’m running.”
I’m what?
“Pardon?” Augustin’s brows knit in concern. “It’s a terrible time to go for a run. You could trip in the dark and break your neck, and then who will vex me at every council meeting—”
“I’m running for mayor. Against you.”
Augustin looks taken aback.
I’m a little taken aback myself. I don’t have time to run for mayor. I have to look after my father, my family. I have to find the husker. I have to keep my business afloat.
But looking up at his face, I can’t seem to take back the words.
“The election is three weeks away. You don’t stand a chance,” he says.
It’s the cold certainty in his voice that sends me over the edge.
I shove my birthday cake into his face.
Blue icing drips from the end of his nose. Behind me, Beth and Celeste whoop with glee.
I’m Komal Ahuja, Madam MacGyver. I may not have the Upyr vote, but people love me.
I’m a veteran. I’m the prodigal daughter who returned to the village to help my family.
(Everyone knows that gets you heaps of brownie points.) I’m involved in every village event.
I bring in the tourists who keep the shops running, and I’m bubbly and fun and the life of the party. Plus, I can play the sick papa card.
I can beat drippy, brooding Augustin Durant. I know I can.
“See you at the ballot box, Durant.” I grin as I skip back to my friends. “And may the best vampire – or human – win.”