Sleeping Angel (Ravenwood Series) (28 page)

‘Drunk, sober, I’m going to get even with them, whatever it takes,’ she said. ‘Now are you going to help me?’

April didn’t immediately respond.

‘Oh, maybe you don’t care as much about your dad now he’s gone.’

‘That’s not fair,’ said April, her face turning red.

‘Isn’t it? Either you want to nail the bastards who tore his throat out or you don’t. Which is it?’

‘Davina ...’

‘Which is it?’ her eyes were blazing.

April felt trapped. No, she didn’t want to trust this girl, but had she any  choice? As Fiona had so painfully pointed out, there were so few of them. They were fighting and they were losing. She looked at Davina for a long moment, then she made a decision. ‘All right, where do we start?’

Davina stabbed at the paper. ‘Here.’

The Crichton Club stood at the foot of Haymarket on the edge of Mayfair, only a stone’s throw from Whitehall, Parliament and the Mall. A tall white Georgian townhouse, it had a grand entrance hall with a huge Union flag hanging over the street. If it had been a haunted bat cave, April couldn’t have been more intimidated. ‘But what am I supposed to say?’

Davina put a reassuring hand on April’s knee as their car pulled up at the kerb. ‘Just be yourself. You don’t need to be Sherlock Holmes, just keep your eyes open. Try to remember who’s there.’

Davina had spotted a news item in the morning paper about a fund-raising lunch being held at the Crichton Club, a well-known haunt of right-leaning politicians and high-powered business types. According to the piece, the lunch was being held for various government bodies to honour “Outstanding Contributions To Education”, but Davina had immediately known it for what it really was: a gathering of vampire sympathisers. ‘Sheldon used to take me along to these things,’ she had said, ‘All those crusty old men loved to see the pretty girl from Ravenwood.’

As Davina had said it, April had felt sick, knowing that Davina was going to suggest gate-crashing the event. And now, sitting in the Osbourne’s Mercedes outside the building, she felt even worse, especially as she was going in alone.

‘Are you sure you can’t come in, just for a bit?’

Davina shook her head. ‘I’m in mourning, remember? Every man in there will have known Nicholas Osbourne one way or another, and my presence will draw far too much attention.’

‘And I’ll fit right in, I suppose?’

‘Relax, April, you’re Head Girl of one of the top schools in the country. Why wouldn’t they invite you? Besides, you’re not gate-crashing, you have an official invitation.’

Ignoring April’s objections, Davina had picked up Silvia’s kitchen phone and called the Parliamentary Under-Secretary for Education – or someone like that – April was still a little fuzzy from sleep – and, putting on a plummy accent, pretended to be the PA to the Head of Investment for “Ravenwood Corp”. She had explained that their student representative, Davina Osbourne, was no longer able to attend the Crichton Club lunch – ‘Her father was killed last night. I don’t know if you read about it in the Times? All very tragic ...’ – so could they add April Dunne to the guest list in her stead? The combination of Ravenwood, dead fathers and Davina’s take-no-prisoners approach had worked, the Under-Secretary assuring her that Miss Dunne had only to announce herself at the reception desk where a name-tag would be waiting.

‘Chop-chop,’ said Davina, opening the car’s door and giving April an encouraging shove. ‘You’ll miss the canapés.’

A woman with a clipboard and a fixed grin took April down a long corridor and stopped outside some double doors. ‘Professor Young has almost finished his address, I’m afraid’ she said, consulting her watch.

April frowned and nodded, as if she knew exactly who Professor Young was and was very sad to have missed most of his talk.

‘A buffet lunch will be served at one.’ With that, the woman turned on her heel and disappeared.

April gingerly opened the door and slipped inside. It was a large room with dark wood panelling and ornate paintings of gods and cherubs in gold frames – it had once been a ballroom, she guessed. Mercifully, the fifty or so people in the room were all facing the other way, towards a man speaking on a raised platform at the far end. April found a space at the back and tried to blend in.

‘Of course, this is a radical approach,’ the speaker was saying, ‘And historically, we have all resisted the radical. But if we are to build a stronger, more focused generation, we need to be bold. We need to believe in what we’re doing, and do it quickly and decisively. No half-measures, no apologies, it’s finally time for us all to act.’

Is he talking about running a school or planning a war?
April glanced up at the faces of the assembled crowd – they were nearly all men, apart from a smattering of frumpy-looking women in over-long skirts – and saw they all had the same expressions: excitement and expectation, the sort of look you see on a six-year-old girl sitting under the Christmas tree clutching a Barbie-shaped parcel. Davina had been right – it was a rally for the converted. Professor Young wasn’t talking about education at all, he was talking about “us”, the Vampire Nation, the Chosen Ones and all their new BFFs, and how they were getting ready to send the troops over the top.

Suddenly the room erupted into applause, along with a few shouts of “Hear, hear!” No wonder the woman with the clipboard was worried she had missed the talk – it was clearly the headline act. As the Professor left the stage, the crowd broke up into groups and the hum of chatter filled the room. A waiter offered April a silver tray of wine glasses, but she carefully picked up a glass of orange juice. Wouldn’t do to have the Head Girl getting sozzled at lunchtime, however much April felt like a little Dutch courage.

‘So what did you think of the Professor’s speech?’

April had been so busy taking it all in, she hadn’t noticed the man standing in front of her. Dark hair and brown eyes, he was mid-forties, she guessed, and actually quite handsome.

‘Sorry, I got here late,’ she stammered. ‘Only heard the last few minutes.’

‘You didn’t miss much. The old duffer always says the same thing.’ He leant forward, a half-smile on his mouth. ‘Bores me stiff, if I’m honest,’ he whispered.

April smiled into her juice and relaxed a little. At least someone was friendly.

‘So what brings you to our little gathering, April? Can’t be the buffet.’

April froze for a moment at the mention of her name, before remembering that she was wearing a name badge. The man caught her searching for his and tapped his chest.

‘Sorry, I don’t have one,’ he smiled. ‘I’m afraid the Secretary believes everyone should know who I am by now.’ He put out his hand. ‘David, David Harper.’

April was so surprised she almost snorted her juice down her nose.

‘Gosh, that bad?’ Harper laughed, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. ‘Seems you have heard of me after all.’

‘No, sorry,’ spluttered April, feeling her cheeks flush. ‘It’s just you’re my MP, I think.’

‘Ah-ha, so you’ll be the new girl from Ravenwood,’ said Harper. ‘How’s it going with the new regime?’

New regime?
Thought April,
does he mean the academic regime or the pro-vamp regime?
So far David Harper seemed very human, but she reminded herself there was a good chance – especially given the present company – that he was a human with his own pro-vamp leanings.

‘Dr Tame has some very strong ideas,’ said April tactfully.

‘Yes, he does, doesn’t he?’ said Harper, a distinct gleam in his eye. Or perhaps David Harper was just another politician, happy to agree to any political movement as long as it served his purpose – furthering David Harper’s career.

‘You must let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you over there at the school,’ he said. ‘I have a real passion for education, and I think the students at Ravenwood in particular hold the keys to the nation’s future.’

Yeah, you would say that,
thought April,
especially as you obviously think your friends the vampires are going to be in charge.

‘Listen, I need to mingle,’ he said, ‘But it’s been fascinating meeting you, April. Don’t overdo the orange juice, okay?’

She watched him move back into the crowd, shaking hands and slapping backs, the consummate politician working the room, and suddenly April was filled with an intense anger, a loathing for David Harper and all his kind. Oh, he was charming all right, in a superficial slightly condescending way, but that was just a mask, wasn’t it? Looking at all these men and women with their red faces and bad suits, she couldn’t believe they were motivated by ideology, or that they believed whole-heartedly in the vampire cause. They had simply aligned themselves with the Suckers to further their careers and feather their nests. They had chosen to back the vampires because they believed the Suckers would give them money and power – it was as simple and depressing as that.

Yeah, yeah. But how are you going to stop it?
mocked the voice in her head.

April knew what she wanted to do – she wanted to jump up on that stage and grab the microphone. She wanted to scream at them, tell them exactly what they were doing. They weren’t just making a sound business move, they were opening the gates of hell. If these people truly thought that the vampires would treat them gently, more favourably when they finally seized power, they were very much mistaken. The vampires would slaughter them like pigs.

She pulled out her mobile and sent a text to Davina.

             
Met David Harper, horrible. Can I leave now?

The reply came back in seconds.

             
Names, remember?

She cursed under her breath and flipped her phone to camera mode and shot off a few snaps as casually as she could, reasoning that if anyone saw the token teenager holding up a mobile, they would assume she was tweeting or doing something equally alien. At least this way, she might be able to read a few name-tags or perhaps Fiona could identify them from news pictures. April glanced down at the screen. No, no vampires, these were all humans. Somehow that was all the more sickening.

Looking up, April suddenly saw a familiar face, or rather his back. Still, she would recognise Uncle Peter anywhere. She resisted the urge to shout out to him, and instead began to work her way across, skirting two groups of loud, guffawing men. She was within ten feet of Peter when she stopped. She could now see that he was deep in conversation with someone she wasn’t sure she wanted to see again: David Harper.
Damn.

It was only then that April remembered Peter saying that he was going to a reception with David Harper. April hung back, watching. They seemed to be involved in some sort of argument. Peter was gesturing, banging his fist into his palm to make a point, while Harper was nodding.

‘I agree, of course,’ she heard Harper say. ‘Let’s just hope you can persuade everyone else.’ Curious about what they were discussing, but not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, April stepped back into the crowd and almost walked straight into Dr Charles Tame.

Oh God, oh God
, she thought, quickly turning her back, ‘Please God, don’t let him see me,’ she whispered to herself as she quickly searched for the exit.

‘Miss Dunne?’

Oh no.

‘Dr Tame,’ she said, swivelling around. ‘I didn’t know you were coming too.’

A frown flickered across his face and April felt a chink of hope. Maybe she could bluff this out after all. ‘Such a good idea of yours, I have to say.’

‘My idea?’ he said suspiciously.

‘Yes, you know how you said I should get out and start spreading the word about Ravenwood? Well, I sat down with my grandad, and we drew up a list of ways I could do that. Turns out he knows quite a few people. Don’t worry, I’ve arranged for someone to take my notes at school.’

Tame blinked at her and April knew she had him – the mention of her grandad had been the clincher.

‘Oh,’ said Tame, ‘Yes ... Full marks for initiative, April. Glad you’re taking it seriously. Did you enjoy the professor’s speech?’

‘Inspirational stuff. Will you be speaking today?’

Everyone had a weakness and clearly Dr Tame’s was pride. She watched him puff up like a peacock at the notion.

‘No, perhaps next time,’ he said. ‘If we keep getting good results from Ravenwood.’

‘Exams you mean?’

Tame gave a superior smile. ‘No, no, mere qualifications are a thing of the past, April. Soon our schools and universities will be filled with students producing real work, not just empty theories copied from a book and scribbled down on an exam paper. Why wait five, six, even ten years to tap the potential of young people? Why not use our nation’s greatest resource right away?’

The fervour of his words lit up his face and April saw that she had underestimated him once again. Perhaps the other men and women in this room were in it for the money, but April could see that Charles Tame was a genuine convert – he believed all the promises the vampires had given him, truly believed that they were going to use their power to aid society. Or maybe he was coming up with a way to justify his actions – because April had no doubt that Charles Tame, of all the people in this room, knew what the vampires were capable of.