– I'll get it, and you have your food» I said, rising from my chair.
– Thank you» Mary said.
When I opened the door and saw the guest, I was surprised to see Harry Smith.
– Good afternoon, Miss Mroczek» he said kindly.
– Good afternoon» I replied. – I don't think you called me that formally yesterday. Why did you come?
– I came because of Mary. I sincerely apologise on behalf of our family for the inconvenience» he replied.
– What inconvenience? – I didn't understand.
– Mary's arrival: she shouldn't have come and interfered with you, since you're renting-» Harry began.
– It's nothing! Mary didn't inconvenience me at all! – I interrupted him. – I'm even pleased that we're going to live together. Your sister is an amazing girl.
– And I thought you were very unhappy about her coming. Then I should lower the rent for you.
– Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Mary is not a burden to me, and there is no need to lower the price» I said hastily, thinking that Mary would be surprised to see that she had been repaid some of the rent, and would investigate why.
– But…
– That's my last word. But why are we standing on the doorstep? Come in, we're just having lunch.
I went inside, Harry came in too, took off his grey jacket and shiny black shoes, and made his way into the kitchen.
– Brother! What are you doing here? – Mary exclaimed cheerfully: she was washing the dishes. – I'd give you a hug, but my hands are wet!
– Hello, Mary, I've come to find out how you got here» said Harry, sitting down on a chair.
– Would you like some tea? Misha will make you some now.
«Me? Make him tea?!» – My eyes went wide at that statement.
– No, Misha, you don't have to: I won't be long» Harry told me.
Phew! I was certainly looking forward to human life, but I certainly wasn't going to make people tea!
I felt the urge to leave them to talk in private. Besides, I felt superfluous – this was their human family and their human relationships, and none of this was my business.
Quietly leaving the kitchen, I hid in my bedroom. It now seemed to me that living in the same house with Mary had not been the best idea, and that I had rushed into this decision. Mary was too much. Too much.
After about ten minutes, Harry left.
Mary knocked on my door.
– Misha, can I come in? – She asked.
– Yes, come in» I answered.
Mary came in and sat next to me on the bed.
– Why did you leave? – She asked.
– I was sorting out my things. – I nodded at the empty bag.
– You weren't mad that Harry came round?
– No. What did you two talk about?
– He said it was very rude of me to come without telling my family or you.
– How did he find out?
– Aunt Mel rang him… Are you tinting your eyebrows? – Mary suddenly asked, looking intently at my face.
– Yes. Alas, I can hardly see them» I replied with a smile.
– No, you can see everything! It's silly to tint your eyebrows.
– Well, you can definitely see them! – I said with a laugh. – You're a brunette!
– Listen, I'm going to meet some old friends. Would you like to come with me? I'll introduce you! – Mary offered.
I was terrified of her offer: No new acquaintances! I've had enough of people!
– No, thank you, I'd better go to the post office to wait for a letter from my mother» I said.
– Well, as you wish! I'll go and get ready. – Mary went out, and I heard her rummaging through her wardrobe and humming some children's song.
I quickly put on my sneakers, grabbed my jacket, grabbed my passport, wallet and house keys, put them all in my purse and left the house. After a bit of thought, I got on my blue bike, determined to try it out, and rode down the flat alley, looking around to make sure I didn't miss the post office.
Thanks to the advice of passers-by, I successfully made it to the post office, where a registered letter from my mum was waiting for me. But when I left the building, I discovered that the bicycle I had carefully leaned against the lamppost had disappeared without a trace. I was distraught: Wow, had my bike been stolen?
I looked around, hoping to see my bike, but it was gone, and I was left to stand outside the post office and wonder. On the one hand, it was funny: my bike had been stolen! How human of me!
«But it's not my bike, it's Mary's! What do I do?» – This thought made me angry: I've only been here for two days and already my bicycle has been stolen! – What do people do in such cases? Go to the police!» – I said to myself.
Thanks to the same kind passers-by, I found the police station. The policemen were very nice to me and even offered to drive me home, as it was quite far from the station, but I refused in favour of a regular bus.
I was very pleased with myself, for I had behaved sensibly, carefully, like a real young lady, and had even been to the police station.
At home I found that Mary had gone.
«I should have got her phone number. Why didn't I think of that before?» – I thought with annoyance.
My neighbour came back around ten o'clock in the evening. She was cheerful and flushed. She thought I was asleep, so she tried not to make any noise in the hallway, and went quietly to her room. On the way, Mary stumbled over something and cursed under her breath with a word I didn't know.
I went in to see her.
– Oh, did I wake you? – Mary frowned, pulling off her warm grey sweatshirt.
– No, I wasn't asleep. So, how was your time?
– I had a great time! You should definitely come with me next time! I took off my piercing, see?
I looked at her nose: indeed, the earring was gone, but there was a small but rather repulsive hole. I felt uncomfortable, so I looked away.
– Mary, I wanted to say… Don't swear… My bike was stolen» I said in an apologetic tone.
Mary giggled, which surprised me: our bicycle was stolen and she was laughing!
– It's not a big deal! I've had it stolen six times, and that's because it doesn't have a lock on it! – she said cheerfully. – Don't be upset! Tomorrow we'll go to the police and report it.
– I've already reported it» I said, feeling proud of what I'd done.
– All the more reason to report it. Oxford is a city of bicycles, and they go missing a lot, but they're always found. You left them a phone number, didn't you?
– Yes, and the address too… And I wondered why the policeman was smiling like that! – I laughed: when I gave him my address, he looked at me with a smile. He must have taken this particular bicycle theft report more than once.
–Do you mind if I borrow the bathroom for a couple of hours? – Mary asked, pulling a large fluffy towel out of the cupboard.
– No, of course not. I'm going to go to bed. – I got to my feet. – Just give me your phone number, just in case.
– Okay, write it down.
Mary dictated her number to me and I wrote it down on my smartphone.
Mary started going through the nightstand.
– Where the hell is that gel? Did I forget it in Scotland? Misha, can I borrow yours?
I was a bit taken aback, but I brought her my shower gel.
«I must make sure I drink blood tonight when Mary's asleep, it's the third day». – I thought as I locked myself in my bedroom.
Suddenly Mary's voice came from outside the door:
– «Misha, open up! I'll switch on the fireplace for you, or you'll freeze at night: it's terribly cold outside!
I opened the door, Mary came in, switched on the fireplace, wished me good night and left. A minute later I heard the sound of water in the bathtub. So as not to hear Mary taking a water bath, I put my headphones in my ears, opened my laptop, turned on some music, and logged onto social media to chat with some of my own. Only Maria was online, and I was happy to lie to her: that I lived alone, that I didn't talk to anyone, that I was considered a bitch and an arrogant girl, and that people were tedious and I had no desire to communicate with them. I lied, because I couldn't tell her the truth lest she rush over and take me back under her parents' wing.
At four o'clock in the morning, I switched off the music and the laptop, listened and heard Mary's steady breathing: she was asleep. So I went to the kitchen, silently, without switching on the light, took one of the juice pouches out of the fridge, poured the blood into a glass and began to drink it slowly, savouring it, feeling the pleasure spilling over my body, filling my mind with a light fog. I drank all two litres of blood, crumpled the empty bag into a small ball, threw it in the bin, washed the glass thoroughly, went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth and, feeling a frantic rush of energy and a pleasant feeling of satiety in my body, filled the bathtub with water and lay in it for several hours.
At six o'clock in the morning I went for a run, got dressed, even put on a warm jumper so as not to look strange, and went in to Mary's room, for she had said she would run with me.
Mary was asleep, stretched out almost across the bed with her hands behind her head. She was breathing heavily in her sleep. I shook her lightly by the shoulder.
– Mary, wake up» I said quietly, but she mumbled unhappily and turned on her other side. – Are you going for a run? – I shook her again, harder.
Mary opened her eyes, turned to me, and looked at me with a sleepy, disgruntled look.
– Oh, is that you? What's the matter? – She asked in a husky voice.
– I'm going for a run. Are you coming with me? – I asked.
– Jogging? Mm-hmm. What time is it?
– Six o'clock in the morning.
– Six? It's so early… I probably won't go with you today. I'll go tomorrow. No offence, okay? – She rubbed her closed eyes with her fingers.
«I knew it! Just words!» – I disliked her, I thought.
– All right, sleep! – I said grudgingly.
– Thank you. I owe you breakfast» Mary mumbled and rolled over onto her other side.
Why did I trust her to run with me? Who could I trust? A person!
I put on my sneakers, stuck my headphones in my ears, turned on some music, and ran happily for two hours, facing the scattered sunshine. When I got home, Mary was still asleep.
On Friday we went to Auntie Mel's, picked up our order, walked around town, and Mary showed me around my college. The last few days had been so busy that I even began to forget that I was alone in a strange city, among people, and began to feel the freedom that first pressed on me and then began to choke me with happiness. But it was not my merit – Mary helped me in many ways to adapt to the new world around me, and most importantly, living and communicating with her, I slowly began to understand how the human body works, how people live, what they want, and how to communicate with them.
Mary behaved as easily and naturally as if we'd known each other for a hundred years, and at first it surprised me-I wasn't used to such frank conversations and stories about other people's private lives-but then she began to talk about herself, of course, hiding the fact that I was a vampire and that my family wasn't supposed to know that we were living under the same roof. Mary had a strange effect on me. On Thursday night she talked me into watching some melodrama with a simple plot: a guy and a girl see each other all the time, but they can't meet in the big city. And at the end of the film it turns out that the guy is a ghost, and the girl is the one who hit him to death with a car and left the scene. The film is so bad – I watched better, but the end, but the end, nevertheless, did not leave me indifferent: the girl, tormented by thoughts and conscience for the murder of the guy in whose ghost she had already fallen in love, committed suicide by jumping from the roof of her multi-storey building. And so, she fell on the pavement, her brains spilled on the road, and then her ghost rose to his feet, and in front of her – the guy she killed. He gave her his hand, she accepted it, and together they walked away from her dead body with a bunch of people gathered around it. Oh yeah, the ghost forgave her and was in love with her too.
And so, after watching this film, I sat on my bed and thought: why? I wasn't going to watch it at all! But as soon as Mary said: «Let's watch a great film!», I immediately said, «Let's do it!», and I wasn't sorry for the time spent watching it: it was a new experience – watching a film with a person, with a friend. After all, people often do this: for some reason they always need someone to be with them while watching a film.
Our bike was found quickly: I got a call the very next day after I filed a theft report, and it turned out that the bike had been stolen by a local naughty guy named Frank, who likes to steal other people's vehicles, especially two-wheelers. In addition to the bike, we got a «super-secure lock» from the police so that the theft would not happen again, apparently they were tired of looking for our bike all the time.
As cliché as it is, Mary never got round to running with me in the mornings: she'd wake up around eight o'clock, have a quick shower, eat, get dressed, run off to work and return at six o'clock in the evening. But this Friday she was given the day off and we were able to do our tour of Oxford and my college. Thanks to the fact that I had read a book about Oxford's history before I came here, I didn't need the repeated narration that Mary was so eager to tell me.
«The city of brooding spires» is what some singer Matthew Arnold called Oxford in England in one of his songs. Exquisite architecture and stately buildings – everything here holds history. From Mary I first heard the information that even Adolf Hitler during the Second World War ordered not to bomb the city while London was constantly under air attack. All because, my neighbour claimed, it was the city that Hitler wanted to turn into the capital of England in case of its conquest.
Legend has it that Oxford came to England thanks to Princess Freidswade. The beautiful girl dreamed of becoming a nun, but the obstacle to this was the king, who wanted to marry her. To avoid this, she ran away to a small village, and when the king went after her, on the way he lost his sight and gained it only after the princess forgave his persecution. For this he promised the girl her freedom, and Freidswade founded a monastery, around which the first collegiate colleges sprang up, and then the city.
The history of Oxford begins in the ninth century, when King Alfred the Great ordered the construction of fortifications in several English villages for defence against invaders.
The fortress built by the Saxons soon became a flourishing town, and its favourable location between two rivers was the key to trade.
The town was periodically attacked by the Danes, and in the eleventh century it was completely destroyed in a fire. After reconstruction, the city was taken over by the Norman conquerors, who built the first castle here. At that time the city was the second in England in population just after London.
In 1117, the oldest university in England was founded in order to give the clergy a more complete education. It was not until the reign of Henry the Second that Oxford became a true university town. Its students received many privileges from the government, which, of course, displeased the local population. There were constant conflicts between students and residents, and to resolve the situation, the university authorities diverted students to Cambridge, which became the foundation of the second oldest university in the English-speaking world.
During the Tudor era, the city's economy revolved around the institution: students became a Playboy source of income for local manufactures and industrialists. Oxford soon grew from a small town to a large wealthy city.
During the First World War the number of students decreased considerably, as most of them were called up to serve in the army. The university itself gave part of its premises to military hospitals. After the war, the city was quickly rebuilt and became a centre of industry. In the Second World War the destruction of Oxford was bypassed, as the city did not have a developed heavy industry, and Nazi Germany did not have much sense to spend resources on it.
Mass labour migration after the war turned Oxford into a multicultural city. It remains so today: the number of international students from all over the world grows every year. This beautiful old city has become a centre of intellectual potential, with technological and scientific facilities that attract young minds, and is still a city of great scientific potential.
The largest and oldest university in the city is Oxford University, which is where I enrolled: it has thirty-eight colleges, as well as six hostels – closed educational institutions owned by religious orders without college status. The institution is divided into nine faculties: English Language and Literature; History; Linguistics; Philology and Phonetics; Medieval and Modern Languages; Music; Philosophy, Theology and Religion; Ancient Sciences; Oriental Languages and Culture. It also includes research centres where scholars and students work. Every year, more than twenty thousand students from all over the world choose this institution as their «alma mater».
The architecture of the city deserves volumes of description, but I would not be witty if I said: «Gothic reigns here!». Gothic, which attracts millions of tourists every year. Many of Oxford University's colleges are also housed in medieval buildings. For example, mine is the beautiful old St John's College, founded in 1511 by Lady Margaret Beaufort, the mother of King Henry the Seventh.
Thus, I became a part of this beautiful, one of the most famous and ancient universities in the world, and was unspeakably happy at the thought.
Monday was the first day of school. I was incredibly excited, and I spent Sunday night foolishly: I spent the rest of the morning choosing my outfit and opted for a white shirt with narrow arms, a black skirt with a classic cut, black tights, shoes with a comfortable heel, and, of course, a black silk neckband. The robe, new and neatly ironed, weighed on the back of a chair.
In the morning I went for a run, cutting my jog down to an hour, showered, washed my hair, blow-dried it, put on my suit, tucked my hair into a knot at the back of my head, put on my shoes, carefully folded the robe into my bag, twirled in front of the mirror, put on my autumn brown coat, left the house, got on my bike and rode to the college. I was so excited I could barely hear the noise around me, even though it was always following me, but this time the excitement drowned out the perpetual buzzing in my head.
As I pulled up to the car park, I hitched my bike to a post and stood there hesitantly, something holding me back, restraining my actions. When I was lost, I was very indecisive. So now I was silently looking around, watching hundreds of students walking boldly towards the college.
«What kind of cowardice is this!? Are these people braver than me?» – I thought irritably, and these thoughts moved me.
I walked into the college and, watching the other students, handed my coat to the wardrobe and put on my robe. But then my nerves kicked in, and I hid in a corner, not knowing what to do next. My courage faded, leaving me alone with a sickening sense of awkwardness: everyone knew what to do but me! I huddled in the corner, realising that I was being a fool, but afraid to leave this refuge.
– The girl from the shop! Is that you?» I heard a familiar male voice beside me.
It was Andrew, Mary's ex-guyfriend.
– Hi» I said, confused.
– Hi! Why are you hiding here? – He was wearing a black robe, too.
– This may seem silly and funny to you, but I'm completely lost! I don't know what to do or where to go! – I exclaimed, delighted by his appearance: how timely he was! No, it's not that… How marvellous that he came!
– Then let me take you where you need to go: the freshmen are about to take their oaths» said the guy.
– What would I do without you? – I said with sincere gratitude. – I'm Misha, by the way.
– Misha » he said again. – And my name is Andrew. Come on, we need to get your coat.
And that's right: now I saw that his robe was on top of his black coat.
I picked up my coat from the cloakroom, put it on, then the gown, a cap on my head, and Andrew and I walked out into the courtyard, which was already lined with hundreds of students. The guy led me to the organised rows of freshers and walked away. The freshers standing next to me were chatting merrily, and I was just very nervous, not at all understanding what was happening and what was going to happen.
– Hi, did you just get in too? – suddenly asked me the neighbour on my left – a nice smiling girl.
– Hi, yeah. And to be honest, I'm insanely excited! – came out of my mouth.
– Oh, I know exactly what you mean: I'm the same. Where are you from? You have a strange accent.
– From Poland» I answered and smiled: I was very pleased that she had spoken to me.
– Far away from here… And I'm from Scotland. My name is Ellie.
– I'm Misha. You know, I'm very confused.
Ellie laughed softly.
– Me too. We can… – She didn't finish, because at that moment an elderly grey-haired man in a robe (but not like ours) and a cap came up to the podium and greeted the students. A thunderous applause erupted in response. I followed the students' actions, but I still felt like an unimaginable dumbass.
– Let's be friends, Misha! I don't know anyone here! – Ellie whispered to me after a moment's pause.
– I'd love to, because I don't know anyone here either! – I told her.
– And the guy who brought you?
– He just helped me» I explained.
– Yeah, I see! Shit, I'm so worried! – Ellie laughed softly.
– Me too! – I smiled back.
Soon I calmed down a bit and was able to focus on what was happening: there were hundreds of robes and enthusiastic happy faces around me, young and friendly. Everyone was smiling.
«That's what people are like when they're happy! But they will give this place some of their youth. That's sad» I thought as I watched the students.
I don't remember what happened next: I remember some kind of disorder, professors coming to the podium and saying something, students applauding… Chaos, incomprehension and fog in my head. Then the freshmen recited the pledge. Lots of noise, clapping, speeches, smiles, but I remembered almost nothing and was pretty disappointed.
«And this is what I'm supposed to remember for the rest of my life – the first day at the first university of my life? This chaos? Am I going to be able to fondle myself with these memories afterwards if I realised almost nothing but worrying and looking around? What a disappointment!» – I thought unhappily when all the activities were over and I could go home.
But one thing I remembered for sure: that October day was cloudy, and sometimes drizzled a small nasty rain, but no one paid any attention to it – everyone was completely engrossed in what was happening. Everyone except me.
I was hurt and bitter: this was not how I had imagined this remarkable and long-awaited day!
When everyone started to leave, Ellie and I walked along the avenue and got to talking. It turned out that she came from a small Scottish town: she had won a grant, gone to Oxford, and lived in a university flat. Ellie turned out to be a simple, intelligent girl, and I felt stupid around her, although I guess I was. We exchanged phone numbers, agreed to meet tomorrow before class to wander around the college and look for classrooms, said our goodbyes and parted.
I went to my bike, took off my cap and gown, put them in my bag and started unbuckling my bike. It was wet, but I didn't care about that.
My mood was dreadful, and I felt like one more little thing and I would throw a tantrum. I would scream, scream, scream, scream, scream.
Getting on my bike, I rode home slowly and carefully, as much as my irritation with the day would allow me.
***
A very ordinary English grey day. I could have safely stayed at home, as I never go to such events, but I went to it because I was bored in my big old stone mansion on Abington Road. I bought it four years ago when I first got here, and I've been bored here for four years now. Of course, with my unpretentiousness, I could have rented a flat or a simpler place, but I needed to be as far away from my neighbours as possible for comfort and peace of mind. Because my house was secluded, I didn't have to hear what my neighbours were doing all the time, although I had long been able to block out the noise in my mind.
Boredom was eating me alive, and I cursed myself a hundred times for the fact that for some reason I had entered the master's programme, but if I had not done this stupidity, I would be somewhere in Scandinavia now: I would build myself a two-storey wooden house on the shore of a forest lake, paint it red, make a wooden boat, have a dog and live quietly and privately. I would eat in the nearest town or my victims would be poachers. But instead, for some reason, I re-enrolled in Oxford, for a master's degree. Why? I was surprised at the stupidity of it: I didn't need another degree, and I wasn't going to become a world-famous public figure. Yes, a vampire only needed publicity, and to be a nuisance to mortals who shouldn't know we existed. Humanity's mission is simple, to feed us with its blood.
The weather was right on order, and I thought I should get out of my smoky house and into the fresh air after all.
I smoked a cigarette, put on my bloody uniform, a black Oxford noose round my neck, a black coat, like many students, and a master's robe on top. Then gloves and boots, though such formal style was repugnant to me. I took my cap with me, threw it on the seat of the car and drove to my college of the Church of Christ, where for the fourth year I was fiddling with an unnecessary right.
Oxford is a city of cyclists, and most students arrive at their colleges on these two-wheeled toys, which are very handy in these narrow streets. But I couldn't afford such a thing, for I was already at the age where the sun gave away my true age – I had recently turned one hundred and eighty-eight, and had been living in the shade for one hundred and fifty years. So, unlike normal students, I drove to college in a rare 1975 Mustang with tinted windows.
My enthusiasm for my studies was gone by the time I was a first-year student. It was the third time I'd studied here, and I was bored to death, but I deliberately tortured myself to keep up with modern life, as most vampires do. It was important for me to stay abreast of developments in law, science, technology, and art. I always had to keep up with everything that was going on in the world, even though sometimes I desperately wanted to leave everything behind and live a secluded life away from civilisation.
I drove up to the college, put the car in the car park, put on my Oxford cap and went to the ceremony. Everything happened routinely: the greetings of the professors and the management, the subservient faces of the students who, at anything, raised a murmur of applause, the announcement of the Chancellor's hopes that we would be worthy of the title of student at Oxford, such an ancient, conservative and reputable university, and so on and so forth. Then there was the ceremony of vows, the general rejoicing, the chirping, the shouts of «Now for the pub!». It was all banal. I was dejected, not sharing with mortals their joy: of course, to go to Oxford was for them happiness, God's grace, but for me it was a chore and an obligation, first of all, to myself.
Since I was a hundred years old I had lived without the supervision of my family, alone, thinking it a shame to annoy my parents, for they had fulfilled their task of bringing me up and teaching me everything, so let them live at their pleasure.
As the day did not bring me any new emotions, I got into the car and drove home. As I drove out into the central part of town, I found myself behind a blue bicycle and the girl sitting on it as she was riding straight down the driveway, not in the bike lane.
«What the hell is she doing?» – I signalled for her to move off to her side of the road, but the girl didn't think to do so.
I honked again. To no avail.
And I drove at the speed of a turtle, boiling with irritation: behind me there was a long line of cars honking at me. Me! As if it was my fault for dragging along like a dead sloth! After a while, I decided to teach the stubborn bicyclist a lesson, so that she would finally get off on her damn bike lane, and I stepped on the accelerator, thinking that the clang of the wheels would scare the girl and she would get off, but instead, she suddenly stopped abruptly and I just hit her.
The girl fell off the bike.
«Shit! Just what I needed!» – I thought grimly, though I rarely used that expression, but this was the right moment for such a statement that accurately captured my emotions.
I stopped the car abruptly, so that the car behind mine almost kissed the bumper of my Mustang, and got out to see if the girl had been hit hard. I knew it was bad though, in fact she must have broken something.
The girl was sitting on the road, apparently not realising what had happened: her high hairdo had disintegrated and her long, beautiful golden hair had fallen down her back and chest. A bicycle with a bent rear wheel lay beside her.
I walked over to the girl.
– I apologise, miss. I hope you're okay? – I asked, bending towards her.
She raised a fury burning gaze at me.
«Maria?» – rushed through my mind, barely seeing the marvellous, familiar features.
– Maria? – I involuntarily burst out loud.
– He asks for forgiveness! How honourable! Do you think I don't know that you ran me down on purpose!? – the girl exclaimed angrily. – Stop! How do you know my sister?
Looking at her closely, I was convinced that I was wrong – it wasn't Maria.
'She's Maria’s sister? But Maria never told me that she had another sister. I know Mariszka!» – I thought, looking at the girl.
Of course, she was Maria’s sister: the same features, the same eyes, the same eyebrows and hair… But this girl was different, some gentle, tender, in her look there was no passion, which always blazed Maria’s look. The girl I hit looked like a very young vampire.
«I wonder how old she is? And that stupid bright blue nail polish on her nails» I thought mockingly.
– She and I used to be friends» I replied, completely confused: it was Maria’s sister in front of me, and I had just hit her. Wow, what a coincidence. – What are you doing here?
– Studying, of course! And you hit me and dented my bike! I'm sitting on the road like an idiot, and everyone's looking at it! – suddenly shouted the girl and quickly got to her feet.
If there had been a mortal on the bike, she would have broken something for sure, but this golden-haired hysteric didn't even get a scratch, and I knew why.
– It was your fault: who made you stop the moment I stepped on the gas? – Despite my icy calm, I began to lose my temper.
The situation was like a silly farce.
– I stopped at the traffic lights! – shrieked the girl, adjusting her skirt. – And you, if you don't know how to drive, first learn, and then drive, otherwise, you'll hit a lot of people! If you haven't already, like I just did! Who gave you a driver's licence?
***
I looked at his face with disdain, but I was struck and frowned at the same time: very pale, paler than my own, perfect skin, pale lips, beautiful but cold, almost blue eyes, dark hair. And his voice was nice: low, but also kind of cold. Too perfect a look for such a villain.
«He's a vampire? Yes, he must be… Too handsome for a human» I thought involuntarily, not believing my eyes.
– You…» I stretched out, but I had to be careful not to say too much in public.
– No, you little hysteric, it wasn't me, it was you who broke the rules of the road by riding your bicycle on the carriageway. What do you think this bike lane is for? You caused a huge traffic jam! – The unfamiliar vampire raised his voice.
«I wonder if he realised I'm a vampire too?» – I thought, but when I heard his last sentence, I boiled with anger like Mary's kettle in our kitchen.
– How dare you! – I exploded. – My sister must have made a mistake when she chose you as a mate, you rude bastard!
– Learn to drive by the rules, you hysterical girl. – The bastard didn't even bother to help me with my bike.
I looked round: there was a crowd of onlookers around us, probably not very happy that we were blocking the road. It was just like in that film: the girl had jumped off the roof, and the neighbours were very sad that they had to suffer some inconvenience because of her suicide – now they had to clean up the pavement!
I had a lot more to say to this insolent man, but I decided it was useless to fight him: he even called me «hysterical»! He's a boor, not a vampire! And he's wearing an Oxford robe!
– Why don't you go? – I said one last time, then picked up my bike and, despite the bent rear wheel, got on it, going to leave this unfunny comedy with a proud look.
But suddenly an unfamiliar vampire grabbed my forearm.
– Wait a minute. Are you Maria’s sister? – he asked.
– What do you care? Do you have a hearing problem? – I replied grudgingly. – Who gave you permission to touch me? Get your hands off me now!
– But Maria never told me about you. – It was as if he hadn't heard me and hadn't taken his hand away.
***
– Take your hands off me or I'll scream! – She said in such a convincing tone that I knew she would carry out her threat.
I thought she was stupid and hysterical, but I still wanted to know who she was. Maria’s sister! Here! In Oxford!
– Listen, my name is Fredrik Haraldson. Has Maria told you about me? – I asked, hoping that she had, but of course not all of it.