Bump

5.1: A VAMP'S GOTTA DO WHAT A VAMP'S GOTTA DO (part 1)

In which everything takes rather more effort than Rupert expects.

#

There is a certain kind of night that lends itself perfectly to furtive activities. The sky is overcast, thick clouds conveniently blocking all light from moon and stars. If the weather is feeling particularly generous, a strong breeze blows, disguising the noise of the glass tinkling onto the floorboards as you break the window and reach inside for the latch. That kind of night would have been perfect for Rupert's purpose.

Unfortunately, this was not that kind of night.

The kind of night Rupert was faced with positively shunned the idea of sneaking into your arch-enemy's house undetected. The moon was a swollen orb in the cloudless sky and even the stars seemed to be blazing more fiercely than usual. There wasn't even so much as a breeze, which meant that there was a complete-and unhelpful-silence.

Rupert wavered in the blackness beneath the trees, inspecting the bulk of Winkton Manor looming in the midst of its well-tended gardens. The smell of ginger wafted toward him over the flowerbeds, but this time he had no urge to follow it. It just made him feel queasy, and angry into the bargain.

His feet ached too. In the last two nights he had walked further than he ever had in his afterlife. Who would have guessed that finding your way through a forest would be so difficult? They were just trees, for Night's sake. But those same trees had grabbed at him with their branches, tripped him with their roots, and one large conifer had even tried to knock him unconscious by springing a branch into his face when he wasn't looking. His nose still stung, and he'd picked up a nice array of scratches.

Hmm hm, hm, hm, hm, hmm hmm hmmm...

"Quiet!" Rupert hissed.

Juggalug's ears flattened, but he stopped humming.

Rupert looked at the Manor again, then back to Juggalug. "You stay here, all right? I could really do without you making all this noise."

Juggalug's bottom lip immediately began to quiver.

"I didn't mean it like that," Rupert said hastily. "It's just... It's a one-vamp mission, understand? A vamp's gotta do what a vamp's gotta do, and all that?"

The tears welled up, lining the bottoms of Juggalug's huge eyes.

"I can't take you," Rupert insisted.

It started as a deep vibration at the back of the banshee's throat. Then it rose in pitch, escalating to a shriller note, growing louder...

"For Night's sake! Fine. You can come."

Juggalug stopped instantly.

Rupert growled. "You're manipulative, you know that?" With a sigh, he turned back to his real problem. The coast seemed clear, but there was no way of knowing whether anyone was watching over the lawns from one of the manor's many dark windows. As before, the doors leading to the girl's bedroom were wide open.

"Stick by me," Rupert whispered to Juggalug. "And don't make any noise, you hear me? If you make so much as a peep, I swear I'll... I'll..."

Juggalug cocked his head.

"I don't know what I'll do, but that means it'll be from some vicious, suppressed part of my brain and be all the more unpleasant for it."

Rupert could have sworn that Juggalug raised his scaly eyebrows at that. Then the banshee whisked away, fluttering out from the cover of the trees and into the moonlight. Juggalug turned and hovered, waiting.

"What did I just say?" Rupert hissed, but without much heart. Steeling himself, he crept out to join Juggalug. They made their way cautiously through the gardens, Rupert scuttling between flowerpots and topiary, Juggalug flitting behind him. Rupert kept imagining he glimpsed a red beard through the manor windows, but no one raised an alarm.

After a short time, Rupert stood on the lawn beneath the girl's balcony, Juggalug fluttering by his shoulder. Looking up, Rupert bit his lip. The walls of the manor were made of blocks of grey stone, cemented together in a most efficient manner so as to provide the minimum of footholds for would-be intruders. Just my luck, thought Rupert sourly. How was he going to get up there?

Then Juggalug flashed upwards, diving out of sight beyond the lip of the balcony and straight through the open doors.

"Juggalug, get back here!" Rupert hissed. There was no response. "Juggalug!" he tried again, straining his eyes up at the doors. "Come right back here, or I'll wrap you up and send you to Day for the fairies to play with!"

Two luminous eyes appeared over the balustrade.

"Come down!"

Juggalug glanced back into the bedroom, then down at Rupert again, and pricked up his ears.

"What am I waiting for?" muttered Rupert in answer to the silent question. "I'm waiting to find a way up, that's what."

This time, Juggalug flicked his eyes to the left and, with a sinking feeling, Rupert realised what the banshee was hinting at. Beside the window an ivy-covered trellis was fixed to the wall.

First banisters, now this.

But it had to be done. Walking to the trellis, Rupert took a good grip with both hands, raised a foot and slotted it into one of the latticed squares amongst the ivy. After a few hops, he mounted the frame and began to clamber up.

A life of flying had not prepared Rupert for physical exertion. Flying was easy; it just happened. Upper body strength had never been a key concern. For the hundredth time, Rupert cursed Lord Winkton. What he wouldn't give now for just a short flight. His shoulders were starting to burn.

The trellis was shaking. Rupert glanced down. Heights had never been an issue before either. But it wasn't as though a fall could kill him. Although... was he sure of that? He did know that the fall from the balcony the previous night had hurt.

Negotiating the final part of the trellis, Rupert shimmied sideways so that he could slither off and onto the balcony. Thankfully, there was no shameful bump this time, though he made quite enough of a spectacle as it was: hair falling from his ponytail, waistcoat askew, shoes muddied from tramping through the forest. Rupert started to adjust his tailcoat and brush dirt from the knees of his trousers, then stopped. What was the use?

Juggalug stared at him as he straightened. Rupert cast him a sidelong glance. "Don't even smile," he warned the banshee through gritted teeth. Then, brushing his hair from his eyes, Rupert tiptoed into the room.