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5.2: A VAMP'S GOTTA DO WHAT A VAMP'S GOTTA DO (part 2)

Harriet did not usually fall asleep until the early hours of the morning. She was used to waiting for the vampire visit, if there was to be one, which normally occurred between midnight and one o'clock. Even though she knew her father would burst in before any of them hurt her, it was still unpleasant waking up to find a predator silhouetted in the doorway. That kind of thing could even give you nightmares.

Nevertheless, sometimes she found herself too tired to keep her eyes open. Tonight was one of those nights. Her dreams were a confused whirlwind of images: her father spouting gibberish while emptying fetid potions over her; various sets of pointed teeth nattering in her direction. Finally, though, the dream settled into one of her mother, replaying the jumbled memories of her infancy: cuddles in a silken lap, a pair of loving green eyes, and always that sweet honeyed aroma. A terrible sense of loss yawned in Harriet, a yearning for those long-ago days. She had been sheltered then, with her mother still looking after her, though her father had already begun to withdraw into his other, stranger pursuits.

A sense of apprehension interrupted Harriet's dream, tearing her away from the memory of her mother. She opened her eyes. She didn't scream, of course—she was used to vampires leaning over her bed—but this time she did gasp.

"You!"

Before she could say anything else, the vampire's hand clapped over her mouth. He put a finger to his lips, his expression fierce. Harriet gazed up at him in confusion, though she still managed to note the hair that had escaped the vampire's ponytail and fallen into his eyes.

"Where is your father?" the vampire hissed.

Harriet swivelled her eyes to indicate the door. The vampire glanced at it. "In the next room?"

She shook her head.

"Outside the door?"

She nodded.

He lowered his voice still further. "I warn you, if you make any noise above a whisper I swear I will cut your throat."

With a burst of alarm, Harriet realised the vampire was holding the letter-opener that she kept on her desk, the one decorated with pink fairies. It was small but it was sharp. She looked back at the vampire's face, considering. From what she'd seen of him before, he didn't seem very dangerous, not the type to go slitting the throats of innocent girls. Then she scoffed at her own naiveté. He was a vampire—of course he was the type, and innocent girls were the most likely to be killed!

But there was another reason Harriet knew she wouldn't scream. She was intrigued. She had never known any vampire to come back after her father had finished with them.

Harriet nodded earnestly. After a tense moment, the vampire removed his hand.

"What are you doing here?" Harriet whispered. "Why have you come back? What—"

"I'll ask you the questions, thank you very much," the vampire interrupted. "May I remind you that I am the one with the dagger."

"It's a letter-opener actually."

He glanced down at it.

"And it has pink fairies on it. You could have chosen something a little more threatening."

The vampire pouted. "It's sharp, isn't it?"

Harriet had to agree, so she closed her mouth.

"Right then. Now, tell me—"

"What is that?" Harriet squeaked in surprise, looking over the vampire's shoulder. His hand shot out to cover her mouth again while his eyes darted to the bedroom door.