Sleeping Angel (Ravenwood Series) Read online

  ‘What are they doing there?’ she said, starting to run. ‘Come on!’

  At the gates, April could see a uniformed police officer standing in the doorway to the miniature Gothic chapel that served as a cemetery office. He was talking to Miss Leicester, the sour-faced old woman in charge. Miss Leicester always had a frown on her face, but today she actually looked angry.

  ‘Excuse me,’ said April, ‘What’s going on? Has something happened here?’

  ‘Nothing to see here, darling,’ said the officer walking towards her. ‘The cemetery is closed. Keep moving along, please.’

  ‘Miss Leicester?’ called April over his shoulder. ‘What’s happened?’

  The old woman whispered in the policeman’s ear and they exchanged a look.

  ‘I’d better call the boss,’ said the officer, stepping to one side and clicking on his radio.

  Miss Leicester stepped forward, a look of sympathy on her face. Now April was really worried; Miss Leicester was not the kind of woman who gave the impression of caring that much for other people. She only seemed concerned with the well-being of her beloved graveyard. Sympathy from her was bad. Very bad.

  ‘There’s been an incident,’ said Miss Leicester, her mouth pinched. The way she said the word “incident”, it was clear she actually meant “another one of those incidents that keep happening around you, April Dunne”. April couldn’t really blame her for that.

  ‘What is it? What’s happened?’ asked Gabriel.

  ‘There’s been some vandalism in the cemetery. All rather unpleasant.’

  April looked at her, her eyes wide. ‘Is it something to do with my dad? It is, isn’t it?’

  Miss Leicester looked over at the policeman. ‘I think you’d probably better wait until the officer ...’

  But April wasn’t listening. She pushed past the woman and into the courtyard beyond. Already running, she took the stairs three at a time, ignoring the calls to come back. What had happened? she thought as she ran up the path towards the tomb high on the hill. What sort of vandalism? Had someone defaced her dad’s grave? As she turned the corner towards the Vladescu family vault, April almost ran headlong into a man wearing a raincoat.

  ‘Mr Reece!’ panted April. ‘What are you doing here? What’s happened? Miss Leicester said there had been some vandalism. Is it something to do with ...’

  ‘All right, all right, calm down,’ said the detective inspector soothingly. ‘Catch your breath and let’s try to be as steady as we can, okay?’

  She felt Gabriel come up behind her and put his arms around her shoulders. She looked up at him; his face was grim, serious. ‘Please, Mr Reece, tell me,’ she said.

  The policeman breathed deeply. ‘Okay. Maybe it’s best if I show you,’ he said, leading them along the pathway towards the tall grey stone building. There was another policeman standing by the tomb’s iron doorway – it was open. No! thought April. It shouldn’t be open. Only her grandfather and Miss Leicester had keys, so how could it be open? April moved forward, but DI Reece caught her.

  ‘There’s nothing to see, April,’ he said. ‘You can’t do anything now.’

  ‘What do you mean? What’s happened to him?’

  April threw herself forward, breaking free of the policeman’s grip, and ran to the doorway. ‘Daddy!’ she cried. The stone around the door was broken, the iron portal dented, as if a huge weight had been thrown against it. Sprayed in red paint over the word “Vladescu” was something else – a foreign language – Latin? “Omnes fures mori” – what the hell? Inside, the small room was empty. Where was his coffin?

  DI Reece stepped inside, his face ashen.

  ‘W—where is he? Where is my father?’ stammered April.

  ‘He’s gone, April,’ said Reece. ‘Your father’s body has gone.’

  Chapter Three

  Detective Inspector Reece looked like death warmed up – one of her dad’s pet phrases, April remembered. Perhaps not the best choice today. Reece never exactly looked great, but today, seated in the Dunne family kitchen, he looked haggard and unkempt, as if he’d slept in his clothes. Perhaps he had.

  ‘We’ve had reports of vandalism in the cemetery over the past few weeks,’ said the inspector, stirring his coffee. ‘Some statues kicked over, slogans sprayed on headstones, that sort of thing,’ he added. ‘I’ll be honest; we hadn’t really taken it seriously.’

  He looked up, his gaze moving from April to her mother and back again, taking in Silvia’s glare and April’s discomfort. April hadn’t been back to Pond Square since that confrontation with her mother the morning after the fire. Reflecting, April realised she hadn’t even spoken to Silvia since that morning, but DI Reece had insisted on talking to her and her mother together. So it was that April stood hovering in the doorway, arms folded, avoiding her mother’s gaze, willing Reece to get on with it.

  ‘You hadn’t taken it seriously,’ repeated Silvia, her voice cold.

  April knew the look on her mother’s face well: she was furious. And for once, April couldn’t really blame her.

  ‘What exactly would you class as “serious”, inspector?’ continued Silvia. ‘I suppose there would have to be a killing for it to be treated as serious? Or should I say another killing? Is that how the police operate nowadays? Just wait until somebody is dead before you investigate?’

  Silvia Dunne’s voice sounded calm and even, but April knew her mother was like a grenade with the pin out – she could explode any minute. Perhaps sensing this, the inspector attempted a soothing tone.

  ‘I understand how it looks, Mrs Dunne, but we’ve had a lot more serious incidents to deal with in recent weeks. You’re quite right – people have been killed, and we have devoted the most manpower to those investigations.’

  ‘Oh really?’ said Silvia, ‘And how are those investigations getting along? Have you found out who killed my husband? Have you managed to prevent any more attacks on my family? Because to me, it doesn’t look as if the Metropolitan police are doing anything to deal with what’s happening in Highgate.’

  In normal circumstances, April would have been sympathetic to the look of helplessness on DI Reece’s face. After all, the police inspector had always been good to her, but tonight April was just as angry with the police’s incompetence as her mother.

  ‘How could you let this happen, Mr Reece?’ said April, ‘It’s my dad! How could you let someone just take him? It’s bad enough I had to ...’ she trailed off. Bad enough I had to watch him die. She turned away, hating herself for getting so emotional in front of her mother. Bad enough I had to get his blood all over my hands, bad enough he was torn from my grasp – and now it felt like she was losing him all over again.

  ‘Unfortunately, in this case, April, the local police who dealt with the vandalism neglected to pass it on to CID,’ said Reece. ‘They assumed it was just drunk kids messing around.’

  ‘Just kids?’ snapped Silvia, ‘Is that what you think —’

  Reece held up his hands to stop her, but Silvia was in full flight.

  ‘Kids!’ shouted Silvia. ‘I’m sorry, inspector, but that’s just pure crap. I saw that door. It was solid iron but there were huge dents in it. There’s no way that was the work of a bunch of drunken kids.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Reece, standing up. He reached into a briefcase by his feet and pulled out a folder, then spread a number of photographs on the counter. April and her mother stepped forward. ‘Luckily, Miss Leicester had the presence of mind to take pictures of the damage to the gravestones,’ said Reece. ‘And ... well, as you can see, there’s a ritualistic element to this.’

  April’s eyes opened wide. There were symbols painted on the tombs, slogans scratched into the ground, even what looked like ... ‘Is that blood?’ said April, pointing to a dark stain on one of the broken stones.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ said Reece. ‘I don’t want to alarm you, but I think that’s strong evidence that there was some sort of sacrifice going on.’

  ‘Sacr
ifice?’ gasped April. ‘Human sacrifice?’

  ‘No, April,’ said Reece. ‘Animal – we found a number of dead foxes at the scene.’

  April’s heart gave a lurch. There had been a dead fox that first night in the cemetery when Isabelle Davis was killed, hadn’t there? Silvia had obviously registered April’s stricken expression.

  ‘A few dead animals hardly make this The Exorcist, inspector,’ said Silvia.

  ‘No, but we have to take everything into consideration.’

  He pulled out another photo, a shot of the slogan daubed on the Vladescu tomb. ‘These words written above the door – “omnes fures mori” – do they mean anything to you? The words translate as “all thieves die”. Does that ring a bell with either of you?’

  April shook her head, looking at the floor. Her heart was beating so hard she felt sure that the policeman would hear it. Of course it rang a bell. Fures, furem, fury: it was her. ‘Fury’ came from the Latin, dreamt up by angry vampires in the time of the Roman conquest. Marcus Brent had told her this as his horrible bony claws had closed around her neck that night in Waterlow Park. It was a term of disgust and loathing, an accusation that Furies like her were nothing more than cowardly thieves sent to steal the vampire’s dark “light”. Something like that, anyway. She had been too busy fighting for life to ask for a more detailed history lesson.

  Reece examined April’s face. ‘You sure?’

  ‘Of course she’s sure,’ said Silvia. ‘Don’t you think we’d tell you everything, inspector? We want my husband’s remains back.’

  The policeman nodded and stood up. ‘Yes, quite. And I assure you we’re doing everything we can to trace your husband’s body and return it to its rightful place.’

  ‘Assure me?’ said Silvia. ‘You don’t seriously think anything you say is going to carry any weight with me, inspector?’

  ‘Mum ...’

  ‘No, it’s quite all right,’ the officer assured April. ‘I realise neither of you has much reason to trust the police, but we will find your husband’s body, Mrs Dunne. It is a priority, because I believe that all of these incidents are linked –’ He was looking at April now. ‘– the attacks, the deaths – even this vandalism – I think it’s all connected. And we will get to the bottom of it.’

  ‘Sooner rather than later would be good, inspector. Do I need to remind you that my family have been attacked repeatedly?’

  ‘No, Mrs Dunne, you do not. Thank you. I will see myself out.’

  April listened to the front door close, then picked up her coat, turning to follow the policeman. She didn’t feel comfortable being in this house.

  ‘Please stay,’ said Silvia, walking to her. ‘We need to talk.’

  ‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ said April.

  ‘Your father’s body has been stolen,’ said Silvia. ‘Don’t you have anything to say about that?’

  ‘Of course I do! It’s horrible, disgusting, heartbreaking, but it doesn’t change anything, mum. You still did what you did and I still feel the same way about it.’

  Did Silvia really think she was going to break down and throw herself into her mother’s arms? Maybe a year, even six months ago, perhaps she would have, but too much had changed in that time; April had changed too much.

  ‘Please, April, this is serious.’ Silvia paused for a moment. ‘Please?’

  April sighed and dropped her coat on a chair. ‘Five minutes,’ she said, reluctantly sitting on a stool and watching as her mother filled the kettle again. If you had no idea about the horrific circumstances, you might think this was a normal everyday domestic scene: mother and daughter sitting down to have a chat over a cup of tea. But that was long gone for them, a relic of the world she had known before she discovered that her ordinary boring old life was filled with hideous creatures with long teeth and claws. April suddenly felt a crushing sadness as she realised that nothing her mother could say or do could bring the old certainties of a normal family life back.

  ‘I do miss you, you know,’ began Silvia. ‘Please come back; your old room is ready for you.’

  ‘Oh no,’ said April, ‘We are not having that discussion. If you want to talk about what’s happened to dad’s body, fine, but let’s not get into this. You know very well why I’m not living here anymore.’

  ‘No, April, I don’t,’ said Silvia, turning to look directly at her. ‘I really don’t understand it.’

  April was surprised how angry she felt. ‘Because you lied to me,’ she cried. ‘Because you lied to dad, because you lied about your affair with a man who tried to kill me. Is that enough?’

  ‘All right,’ said Silvia, ‘Perhaps I’m not the model mother ...’

  ‘The model mother? You’ve barely even tried to be a mother. When did you ever act like a mother? I can’t remember one instance of you making me a packed lunch, helping me with my homework, even tucking me in at night.’

  ‘But I did!’

  ‘No – dad did everything like that. You never even came to see me in school plays.’

  Silvia frowned. ‘I’m sure I remember seeing a nativity play. Weren’t you Mary?’

  ‘That was your friend Amanda’s daughter Sophie,’ said April, tight-lipped. ‘You went to her play because it was at some swanky public school where you might meet important people over cocktails.’

  ‘Fine. I’m a terrible parent,’ said Silvia, crossing her arms. ‘It’s clear you’ve made up your mind about that. But however much you hate me, it won’t change the way I feel about you, April. I love you. And I want you to be safe.’

  ‘How are you planning to achieve that exactly? Move me back in here? It wasn’t exactly safe for dad, was it?’

  ‘That’s not fair,’ said Silvia.

  ‘Isn’t it? You said it to the policeman yourself – they haven’t got a clue what’s going on in Highgate and they’ve no way of protecting me – of protecting any of us. So what makes you think you can protect me here either?’

  ‘I’d never let anyone hurt you,’ said Silvia, her eyes fierce.

  ‘Really? You’ve done a pretty good job of that on your own.’ April regretted the words as soon as they came out of her mouth. Her mother flinched as if she’d been slapped.

  ‘Look ... I didn’t mean it like that,’ April said, but Silvia had turned away shaking her head.

  Great. Now I’m the bad guy, thought April.

  The odd thing was, April had never really minded that Silvia wasn’t a conventional Barbies-and-baking sort of mother. That was just the way she was – self-absorbed and irresponsible. It certainly wasn’t Silvia’s failings as a mother which had pushed April away – it was her lies.

  ‘If only you could understand how hard it has been for me,’ said Silvia, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

  ‘Hard for you?’ said April. ‘You brought this on yourself, mum – be honest.’

  The last thing April wanted right now was to get into a war of words about the ins and outs of her mother’s infidelity, but ever since that night in Sheldon’s house, April had been haunted by his words: ‘Your mother came crawling after me like a dog on heat’.

  Silvia had always maintained that moving to London was William’s idea, that she was only here under sufferance, yet Sheldon had laughed at that, said Silvia had talked her father into it, then begged Sheldon to start a relationship. April wanted to know the truth even though nothing could bring her father back.

  ‘Look, I think I’d better go,’ said April, reaching for her coat. ‘Besides, grandad will be worrying.’

  ‘April, can’t we talk about it like adults?’ said Silvia, turning back to her, a note of pleading in her voice. ‘I want you to understand what happened with your father and what happened with Robert and ...’

  ‘No, mum!’ shouted April, ‘I won’t discuss this. I didn’t come here to help you work through your issues. I came to hear what Inspector Reece had to say. Seriously, I’m done with this.’

  ‘And you’re done with me too?’ sai
d Silvia quietly. April’s heart sank as she watched her mother’s face crumple. Silvia covered her face with her hands and April could only watch as her shoulders heaved with sobs. Suddenly she felt horribly guilty: she had left Silvia to stew, probably drinking herself to sleep every night – and there was no question she deserved it – but Silvia wasn’t exactly surrounded by a support network. What friends she had in Highgate were from her snooty dinner party circuit, and hardly the sort who rallied around when tragedy entered your life.

  ‘No, Mum, I’m not done with you,’ she said, walking over and putting her hands on Silvia’s shoulders. ‘It’s just that I need a bit of time alone. You can see that, surely?’

  Silvia sniffled. ‘I suppose... it’s just that I’m so worried about you being so far away. I want to ...’ she let out another sob. ‘How can they take him a second time?’

  April rubbed her mother’s arm. ‘We’ll get him back, I promise,’ said April.

  Silvia pulled away and grabbed a tissue, loudly blowing her nose. ‘Sorry, darling. It’s just I feel so alone in this big house at night, all the noises, the creaking. And I keep seeing people looking in the windows ...’ She shook her head. ‘No, that’s stupid.’

  April looked at her sharply. ‘People at the windows? Why didn’t you tell Inspector Reece?’

  ‘It’s probably nothing, just paranoia. It’s probably just people in the square walking their dogs or whatever. Being on your own, it makes you see things.’

  Was Silvia imagining it, or was the house being watched? Was her mother a target? Again April felt a pang of guilt. She was angry with Silvia, yes, but not so angry that she wanted her in danger. The very thought made her feel sick – April had lost enough already.

  ‘Listen mum, this is getting us nowhere. I’m fine at gramps’ place – he can look after me. Just give me some space, okay?’

  ‘Space to be with your boyfriend, I suppose?’ Silvia said bitterly.

  April glared at her. ‘See? This is why I need to get away. Gabriel is a good guy, you know that. He’s looked after me. I thought you appreciated that.’