The Secret Vendetta (Part 2)

Out of the Window


Later that night, after Andrew drove her home and insisted on giving her his number, she decided to investigate this Varjak Swinton on the internet. The search engine came up with few results- 'Swinton Holiday Resort', 'Varjak Paw', 'Did you mean Hill?', but one result, right at the very end of the list, caught Katy's attention.
'Jack Swinton...Killed in 1988...Terrible gas leak...' She clicked on it immediately, heart racing with excitement. It turned out to be a news article written the day after the gas leak. Katy read on.
'...and no one, not one person was spared to tell the tale. Mr Swinton's late stepfather, Dr. Swinton, owned the hotel in question, the Swinton Hotel, a renowned and expensive hotel located in suburban California...'
Katy's heart jarred in her throat. So Varjak was a ghost, then. He died in the very hotel she had been in that evening. What's more, he was related to the guy who made the hotel franchise. She didn't feel the need to read on. She shut down her computer, and moved rather robotically to her bed. Now she was frightened.
She curled up into her quilt, slowly, tentatively, as if Varjak might be in the room. There was a sudden breeze that swirled around her exposed feet, but thankfully it had only been the gust from the window. Both irritable and terrified, she stalked over to the window and pulled it shut. Then she turned back round very slowly to the dark room. Still no blood red text on the walls. Thank God. She stumbled over to her bed, clutching her faintly smarting nose, and curled up once more under the sheets.
"Going to have a nightmare about me, then?" drawled a loud male voice at her ear. She shrieked so loudly that she was sure the entire neighbourhood heard her. She sat up, panting, eyes alert and bewildered, body shaking violently. She looked side to side, up and down, yet nothing. No one was there. No blood red text, no Varjak Swintons, no nothing. But she was sure that she heard something.
She bit softly into her hand, trying desperately to suppress her trembling. Somehow biting her hand always seemed to help sooth her, and instantly, as promised, she began to calm down.
Until the TV switched on and began screaming with white noise.
Her own screaming matched it tenfold, and she leapt out of her bed and hurtled herself into the door. Or tried to. For she was blocked by a tall figure, shadowed by the darkness in the room. Everything was still then- even the television had switched itself back off. Yet the room...it was freezing again, and this person was freezing too, Katy noticed. Like ice.
Then she noticed something else, as her trembling hands pressed into his body. Well, precisely that- he had. No transparency, no being able to put your hand through him- he was solid. cold, yes, but nonetheless still alive. Katy thought desperately back to the article.
Had there been a photo of Jack, or Varjak? No, there hadn't. In fact, no-one had even known where he lived. His body was gone before they could investigate credit cards or passports- the only way they knew he was even there was because his name was on some sort of register...
"To answer your question, dearest petal, I am definitely not a ghost. Those guys are de," the figure snorted. Katy took an involuntary step backwards, to get a clearer view of him. With a sickening lurch in her stomach, Katy realised that the person, ghost, thing, was actually rather attractive.
He had a very pale pallor, as you'd expect from someone as cold as him, and wore a dark green trench coat. He possessed tousled, caramel blond hair that was combed backwards neatly (a rather old-fashioned style, Katy noted) and square-shaped, dark-rimmed glasses. He has a very unusual look, she thought, intrigued.
Jack or Varjak tapped his nose and shot her a knowing grin. "I know precisely what you're thinking. I'm a babe, right? I mean, just check. me. out. Hot stuff, if I do say so myself."
Katy regarded him incredulously. This definitely was not the same person. Can't have been. She'd met some sort of ghost. Although, he did make that ridiculous comment about how 'completely fantastic' he was...
She gasped. "You ARE Varjak Swinton, aren't you?"
"One-nil to Einstein," sang Varjak, holding up his fingers to demonstrate 'one-nil'.
Katy blinked at him. He's a loon, she thought.
“So, that's Varjak right? Not Jack?”
“ You would be correct. I like the name Varjak better. It has a certain, je ne sais quois.”
"Oh, don't be ridiculous," she snorted.
"Oh don't be ridiculous,” he imitated.
"Stop imitating me you weirdo!" growled Katy.
"Why?"
"Because! It's annoying!"
"But I like it!"
"Well I don't."
"You do really."
Katy groaned, in a typical moody teenager way. "This is insane. What are you, some kind of vampire or something?"
"A vampire?" Varjak withdrew breath dramatically, "If only I was that cool! No, I'm what you call an 'undead', since they didn't really think of a cool name for it. I'm like a half-ghost, half-vampire, so you were half-right. One and a half-nil to Einstein."
"An...undead?" repeated Katy slowly, condescendingly.
Varjak shot her an irritated look. "Don't say it in that tone. It's true! Watch-"
"No! Don't do anything stupid! I believe you!" said Katy hastily.
Varjak frowned. "Why not? Not scared of me, are you?"
"I thought you WANTED people to be scared of you?"
Varjak shrugged. "Defence mechanism. I got so used to people shunning me that I started scaring them for revenge. The blood effect is really cool. I can do all sorts of creepy things if I put my mind to it."
Katy felt a twinge of pity for him. Varjak shook his head again, causing his blond hair to jiggle about.
“Don't feel sorry for me. I have you to talk to now, don't I?”
Katy's face softened considerably. It was strange to think that only an hour ago she was so terrified of this man. Varjak took a step forwards, and when Katy took a step back he raised his arms defensively in the air.
“Hey, it's fine, I'm not going to do anything,” he said, looking slightly injured. But Katy was still unsure. He seemed, but he washer he was half a ghost and a vampire.
“So, do you have any special...things, at all?” she asked, halting in her stepping back.
“How do you mean?” asked Varjak, thick eyebrow arched.
“You know - fangs, fur, howling at the moon, blood-drinking-”
“You've been watching too much TV, you have. Why don't I do you a favour and chuck this one right out the window-”
“No! Leave it alone!” cried Katy, lurching forwards as Varjak picked up the TV. Apparently he could lift things, too. He shot her a hurt look, then dropped the TV carelessly onto the cabinet.
“Fine,” he muttered, “But you were actually right about one of those things.”
Katy froze. “Which one, exactly?”
“Blood-sucking.”
“N-No way?” stuttered Katy, promptly resuming her backing up.
“Way,” said Varjak, shooting her an amused look. “But there's no need for all the alarm, you know. I don't need to drink your blood, seeing as I don't actually need any nutrition whatsoever, but I prefer it to old human food. Especially that McDonald's place they all seem to go to nowadays. That stuff looks disgusting.”
“Oh? So you do get out of the hotel then?” asked Katy, sitting down on the bed, which, after all her backing up, was only just behind her.
“Naturally. From time to time, when I'm bored.”
“You gave me the impression that you don't get out often.”
“Really? Is that so?” he half-smiled, leaning casually against the door frame.
“Well, yeah, I mean, you said all that stuff about no-one staying long enough to talk to you...”
“They don't.”
“Well yeah, but what I mean is you gave me the impression that you only trypeople who go to the Swinton.”
“I do. You know that you say 'well' rather a lot?”
“That's beside the point. So what, you just fly about examining people whenever you feel like it?”
“Naturally.”
“You know you say naturally quite a lot?”
“I've only said it twice.”
“I've only said 'well' twice.”
“That's beside the point.”
“Oh, NOW it's beside the point-”
“Katy,” sighed Varjak, as though he had the right to become impatient. “Aren't you the slightest bit curious about WHY I'm actually here in the first place? Why I actually followed you home and revealed myself to you? Oh, revealed myself, that sounded rude.”
Katy ignored him. “Well yes, I am actually. Why HAVE you come back?”
Again, he tapped his nose conspiratorially. “Ah ah. I'm not in the mood for telling you.”
“Not in the mood?” repeated Katy exasperatedly.
“Indeed,” he replied airily.
“Then why did you- What was the point in- You're such a-” The many things Katy wanted to say seemed to fill up her cheeks, making them balloon with air..Varjak only looked faintly amused.
“It's been a while since I've wound someone up. I forgot how fun it is.”
“Shut up,” she growled.
“You shut up,” he said playfully, grinning away.
“What age are you?” sighed Katy.
“What age are you? Sixty?”
“Eighteen!” she squawked.
“So's your face.”
“My face IS eighteen.”
“Good I hope it is.”
“VARJAK!” shouted Katy. Then she flaked on her bed, exhausted by the conversation alone. He was completely insane.
“That's my name, don't wear it out,” said Varjak unhelpfully.
“You're so corny,” muttered Katy.
“It was cool in my time to say stuff like that,” he retorted scornfully.
“Yeah, well, times have changed,” she grumbled.
“There you go with your 'wells' again...”
“I might kill you, Varjak.”
“Have fun trying.”
“I will.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
“You know,” began Varjak, after a long moment, inspecting his fingernails, “I think this is the start of a beautiful relationship here. Right here. You and me. Partners in crime. The Bonnie and Clyde of California. Romeo and Juliet. The icing on the cake, even the cherry -”
Katy shook her head, annoyed with herself. “No, why are you talking about all this relationship bull? You're just a...a half-dead person who I happened to come across on a night out.”
Varjak's expression fell. “Just a half-dead person?” he said, sounding injured.
Katy bit her lip guiltily. “Well, no, not quite- you know what I mean...”
“Not really.”
“Look, can you not act like a kid for five seconds and answer my question?”
“I don't think I want to any more.”
“You know what,” said Katy, irritated, “That's fine by me. You can go back to your little hotel and dwell in the depths of the woman's bathroom, which can I say is a little perverted, and I'll go back to my normal life. How does that sound?”
“Just dandy,” grinned Varjak.
“And no-one says dandy any more, either.”
“Good, I hope they don't,” he sneered sardonically.
Katy got up off the bed and steam rolled over to the window, thrusting it open and showing the Varjak the exit with an exaggerated gesture of her arm. “Go on then. Take a hike.”
“I'm not Batman,” he grumbled.
“Oh, forgive me. I'm not quite WITH the rules of the undead yet,” she replied drily.
“You're forgiven,” he smirked.
“As I say. Take a HIKE,” she said sternly. Then something surprising happened. He looked at her, straight at her, his grey eyes regarding her carefully, trailing over her face as though he did not want to forget it. Then, to Katy's surprise, he stepped back into the wall and was gone. She closed the window with a shudder, and shook her head again. Just mental, that's what it was. Had it even really happened?
The room was exactly the way it was before after all, save for the TV. Exactly, she thought, as her eyes wandered over to it, its aerial bent slightly. You can't deny something happened to that aerial, whatever you want to believe. So he was real, then. Katy returned to her bed, but her mind was racing, and she could not, no matter how hard she tried, get to sleep.
She felt desperate to talk to someone about it, obviously someone other than Varjak. But who? Who would even listen to her mad story? She snuggled further into the quilt, thinking. Her mind cast back to the night she just had; the food, the wine, the laughing guests, the people she met, the alive ones that was...Then she remembered, with a jolt. Andrew. He was the one who had taken her to the stupid Varjak-infested bathroom, after all.
Maybe he heard something. Was it possible? Would he be the sort of person to listen to this totally insane stuff? But it was already decided for Katy- first thing tomorrow, she would call Andrew, ask him over, and try to make sense of the craziness. If he ditched her, that was completely cool. She'd only known him for two minutes, right?

Close d Until Further Notice

The phone continued to drone on monotonously in Katy's ear. She sighed impatiently, drumming her fingernails on her kitchen counter in typical moody teenager fashion.
“Hurry up...”
She gazed outside as she thought about last night, and saw that in spite of California's sunny reputation it was snowing. Disgruntled by the November weather kicking in only a few weeks after she had arrived, Katy placed her attentions back with the phone. Finally, there was an answer.
“Hello?”
“Hello? This is Katy, from last night?” She paused, uncertain, “This IS I'm speaking to?”
“Oh! Hey Katy. I wasn't expecting a phone call this early from you. How's the nose?”
Katy grimaced to herself. Could he not have just forgotten about that, or something? Or at least not mentioned it?
“It's smarting a little, but otherwise fine,” she murmured.
“That's good.” He sounded genuinely pleased.
“Yeah. Well, listen,” She DID well lot, “Are you alright to come over at some point today?” Come on Katy, think of a viable reason before he asks, “Only I'm not sure I've installed a shelf properly in my room, and the guy who normally does it isn't available.”
“Oh?” He sounded tentative. “Alright. What time?”
Katy breathed an inward sigh of relief. “As soon as you can make it.”
There was a pause. “Is everything okay, Katy?”
“Just dandy.” Damn that Varjak.
“Oh, good.” Still unsure. “I'll be there for about midday then?”
“That's fine. See you later.”
“See you.”
They hung up at the same time. As promised, Andrew arrived at midday, armed with a gigantic tool bag. Katy was secretly relieved that she'd managed to wreck the shelf in time.
“So, where's the shelf?” he asked, once she'd greeted him and let him in.
“The shelf? Oh, yeah, it's just upstairs...” She beckoned him to follow, then turned to go upstairs. He followed behind, his tools clinking around under his arm as he walked.
“Just in here...” She led him into her bedroom, where a battered shelf was now hanging loosely off the wall. Andrew set his tools down and stepped toward the shelf, fingers trailing along it as he studied the damage.
“You're weren't lying when you said you hadn't installed it properly,” he observed, tutting to himself. Katy grunted. Then he set to work on the shelf, as Katy watched him, sitting on the bed. Neither of them spoke for a while, Andrew busy with his work, Katy thinking of what to say to him about the whole Varjak business. Eventually, Andrew clapped his hands together, dusting them off.
“I'm done,” he said, turning to her with a meek smile. He looked much younger than his years when he did that. Katy looked up at him, surprised. “That quickly?” she asked.
“Yeah, you hadn't done too much damage to it.” He gestured her over. Obediently, she got up and went over to the shelf, pretending to observe it. “See,” he said, pointing to the metal casing that kept the shelf up, “You just went a little wrong with placing that, so the whole thing kind of tilted a bit.”
“Ah,” said Katy, trying to sound interested, and faintly aware of his breath on her shoulder. He laughed.
“Don't worry about payment, by the way. It's not as though this is really my trade,” he smiled.
“What is your trade?” asked Katy, turning to him.
He smiled lopsidedly. “I'm studying to be a Math teacher. Wait, didn't I tell you about that last night?”
“Oh, really?” said Katy, guilty that she'd forgotten. “Well with all the Var- stuff going on last night, I must have just forgotten. Sorry.”
He packed his tool-bag whilst smiling. “Doesn't matter.”
“Yeah,” Katy smiled. It was now or never, she thought, gulping quietly. “Andrew, can I talk to you? Downstairs? It's quite important.”
He looked wary. “Sure,” he said cautiously. He grabbed his tool bag and Katy led him down to her kitchen, where she got them both drinks; soda water and lime for him and plain soda for herself.
“So, what's this about?” he asked after a long, awkward sort of moment, leaning against the sink.
Katy hesitated. “It's quite, uh, weird really...You know last night, when you took me to the bathroom?”
“Yeah?” he asked, foot beginning to curl inward nervously. Clearly he was thinking of something much less important but a huge deal to him- like she'd seen him tending to his hair or something.
“Did you see anything or anyone when I was in there? Or hear anything?” Katy persisted.
He paused, expression pensive. It was the longest pause she ever had to endure.
“No, not really,” he said after a few moments.
Katy felt a twinge of disappointment. “Right.”
Andrew's eyes focused on her own. They were narrowed slightly in suspicion.“Why?”
Katy cleared her throat nervously. “Do you know a guy called Varjak Swinton?”
“No.”
“What about the Swinton Hotel? Do you know what happened to it in 1988?” she continued, eager.
“Katy,” said Andrew, slightly exasperated. “What's all this about?”
She deflated in her seat, quite put out after trying to find a way to tell Andrew sanely. But there simply wasputting it sanely, so she relented, and let it all come out in a torrent. A crazy-sounding, long-winded, breathless torrent. When she was finished, Andrew continued to stare at her, slightly slack-jawed.
“The...undead?” he said after a while, in the same disbelieving tones Katy had used.
She nodded slowly. “I know it sounds beyond crazy, but I wouldn't have believed it myself until he went and popped up in my room last night.”
Andrew regarded her, expression unfathomable. “Was he the one who wrecked your shelf?”
Katy blushed a little. “No, that was me. I needed an excuse to get you over here.”
“Oh.” Oh. The word Katy hated hearing the most. When someone just said 'oh' and nothing else, you had no idea of what they were thinking, what tone they meant to use it in, or anything.
She stared up at him, slightly imploring, willing him, telepathically, to believe her. But his own eyes were transfixed on the opposite wall, unmoving despite her wordless pleas.
“Andrew,” she began, outstretching a hand to him, but his own hand clamped onto her hand and pushed her away forcefully, then pulled her back again, then pushed her away, then pulled her back again, this time with more force, so she nearly collided into him.
“What on earth are you doing?” she asked, glaring at him.
“Thinking,” he said shortly, finally releasing her hand. Annoyed, she sat back down in her seat. She waited for a while as he thought to himself, trying to work out if it was really a good idea to tell him. It had to be, hadn't it? Andrew was essentially, in fact no, he WAS her only friend in California, so who else could she have confided in?
But if he were to turn away now...She'd thought only last night that it wouldn't be a problem if he just left and never came back, since she didn't really know him and he was a bit up himself, but now it was different. She felt differently about the whole thing. Like she was almost getting used to it, in an odd sort of way. Or that all the pieces of the puzzle were coming together, and that, if Andrew left now, that puzzle would never piece itself again.
But why? Why Andrew? He was her acquaintance, yes, he helped her last night, yes, but what else was he to her? He was not her best friend, nor her boyfriend, or even her husband. So why should it matter if he leaves? Why DID it matter so much?
“This...whole thing,” said Andrew slowly, startling Katy. “It's just...It's not logical. There's nothing logical about it.”
Katy's breath caught in her throat briefly before she spoke, staring at him. “Does there have to be?”
He gave her a stern look. “Yes. Otherwise it just doesn't work.”
“But obviously it does work. It's all real, Andrew.”
“And what proof do you have of that except this Varjak?” snapped Andrew, “In fact, what proof do I have that any of this exists?”
An uneasy feeling began to creep up on her. “I'm sure if I just get Varjak to reveal himself to you...”
“I thought you told him to leave you alone?” asked Andrew thickly, a heavy eyebrow raising.
“I can fetch him back again.”
“How?”
“I can go to the Swinton just now and find him.”
“Be my guest.”
Katy froze as she stood up, wide eyes latched onto his once more. “You're not going?”
Andrew's mouth twitched as it fought with some unknown emotion. “No, I am. I need to find out if this guy is real.”
Inwardly, Katy breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, of course. Let's go.”

Clambering into the front seats of Andrew's small green car, they drove to the Swinton, which, to Katy's dismay, was closed.
“Closed?” Katy read, awestruck, as they padded through the light layer of snow towards the entrance. “How can a hotel be closed?”
Andrew shrugged. “I assume they're closing up for the winter.”
Katy grunted, irritated. She stepped back, getting a better view of the enormous hotel. A thought occurred to her.
“Which window would you say is the female bathroom's?” she asked Andrew desperately, panning round the side of the building and peering into several windows.
“I don't know,” he replied tiredly, following in her wake. “But Katy, suppose he isn't even here? Provided he's actually real, of course.”
“Of course he's real! And he MUST be here -he spends most of his time here.” She pushed the edge of her palm against a gritty old window and looked inside. “Yes, that looks like the female bathroom.” She began knocking loudly on the glass. “Varjak! Are you there? It's Katy! Come out, I want to talk!”
Andrew stepped forwards and seized hold of her shoulders. “Katy, you look stupid. Come on.”
But she refused to stop.
“Varjak! Come on, I'm sorry for what I said to you last night! Just come out! I've someone here you can talk to! A guy just like yourself!”
Andrew shook his head irritably, and gently began peeling her off the window.
“He's not here. Let's go back to your house and talk it through-”
“No!” she half-yelled, shrugging him off, “He's there! He's just being stubborn!” What was the matter with her? Never had she been so desperate to prove herself to someone before. She just wasn't that sort of person, the type that wanted to please others, or to go out of her way to keep others around her.
“Varjak! I know you're there! Don't be so irritating!” She continued to hammer on the cold glass until Andrew practically hauled her away, twisting her round and grabbing her shoulders firmly.
“Alright, you've looked for him and he's not here. Can we please just go back to yours and try to get this into perspective?”
Reluctantly, Katy nodded - how could she not with those green eyes burning into her?- and allowed herself to be pulled back to the car by Andrew, continuously glancing over her shoulder. And she continued staring at the hotel through the back window as Andrew veered away, driving them back to the place where Varjak had been only a few hours before.

“Maybe he's at McDonald's again,” murmured Katy, cupping a soda in her hand and pressing it to her lips, her eyes transfixed on the kitchen floor. “He said he went there once. Or maybe he went a few times...”
Andrew sighed and rolled his eyes. “Well, you know him better than I do. But I'm going to have to get going soon anyway.”
That broke Katy's trance. She looked up at him worriedly. “Oh? Why?”
“I can't stay hanging around here all day talking about half-dead people,” he said with an undertone of irritation. That made Katy feel a pang of pain. Andrew seemed to detect this, and set his soda water aside to go over to her. But he hesitated, and moved backward before she had time to look back up at him again.
“I'm sorry,” he said quietly, after a moment, “I'm just finding it hard to adjust to...this. This whole thing, about the undead, the creepy pervert Varjak...I don't know. It's just not something I'm sure I can get used to.”
The look Katy gave him then was so sad that Andrew couldn't help but go over to her, and he consolingly placed a hand on her shoulder. Katy made a weak attempt to shove it off, but his grip was firm. She could feel those green eyes boring holes into her head again, and she felt her heart go light for a split second.
Then, suddenly, as though someone had come down on her heart with a knife, the feeling disappeared and was replaced by anger. Andrew had withdrawn his hand just in time before she turned to him, glaring.
“It's fine, Andrew. You don't believe me, and that's fine. But if you really don't, I wish you would just say so and go.”
At this, Andrew's face twisted, revealing several emotions at once. Some of them Katy could not decipher, and some were so plain to see it was though she could feel them herself. Anguish. Uncertainty. Incredulity. And that was the last look he gave her before seizing his jacket and brusquely leaving.
She stared after him a moment, the door trembling slightly with the force of its closing. Then a familiar tuft of blond hair swung down in front of her face, followed by a marble-white forehead and square-shaped glasses. Varjak. And he was hanging upside down from the ceiling.
“Lovers' tiff?” he asked innocently, beaming upside-down at her. But she swatted him away like a fly.
“You know, I had a slight feeling you were lurking about,” she muttered, falling back onto the sofa with a groan. Varjak continued to stare at her upside-down; it was quite hard to tell his expression when he was like that.
“Then why didn't you call on me? You've been doing so all afternoon at the hotel.”
“Because you're an obtuse little squirt who wouldn't have come out just because I told him to do it.”
“Naturally.”
“But now Andrew doesn't believe me,” she groaned, folding her arms grumpily.
Varjak's brow furrowed. “Why do you care? You've only known him five seconds.”
“I've only known YOU five seconds.”
“Your point?
“I don't have one this time.”
“I didn't think so. And hey, I'm not a creepy pervert, thank you very much,” he snorted, folding his own upside-down arms moodily and throwing a reproachful look at the front door.
Katy raised a delicate eyebrow. “Well, you kind of are. Why don't you lurk about in the men's bathroom instead of the women's?”
“Because then I'd be a gay pervert, stupid.”
Katy considered. “You actually have a point.”
“I usually do.”
Katy let out a short laugh in response. There was a pause.
“But what an excuse this morning. Seriously. 'Oh Andrew, my shelf my shelf! Come fix it with your big manly muscles!'”
“Varjak!” she squawked, firing a pillow at his head. Naturally, it missed, as Varjak somersaulted in the air and landed elegantly on the coffee table. “Sorry. But wasn't the one checking him out.”
“You sound like you were,” Katy scoffed. “And what was all that about you not being a GAY pervert?”
“It was only an observation,” he snorted, helping himself to a sweet from the bowl and fiddling around with its wrapper.
“A gay observation, if you ask me,” she muttered.
“I hope it was.”
“Oh Varjak, you're such a- a- why are you even still here when I sent you away last night?” she asked exasperatedly, pointing to the door to demonstrate. Varjak took the sweet out of the wrapper and waved it about in front of his face, sniffing it experimentally.
Katy regarded him imperiously. “Are you even going to respond to that?”
“Because I want to be here,” he said distractedly.
“But why me of all people?” she asked, baffled, “Why do you want to be here with me?”
“'Cause. You're cool.”
Katy sighed tiredly. “That's not a good enough reason.”
“You're right.”
Another pause. “Would you like to expand on that?” asked an irritated Katy.
“Not particularly.”
“Varjak,” she growled, grabbing the sweet from his cold hand and setting it aside, “Tell me why the Hell you're here. Tell me why you want to speak to me of all people. And as for all this about the undead, I wanted it explained to me. Every. Last. DETAIL!”
His eyes widened and he raised his arms defensively. “Alright! Alright! I'll tell you! Gosh!”
Katy was about to remark on how outdated 'gosh' was too, but refrained, anticipating Varjak's explanation.
“You know your folks, right?” he began, and for the first time Katy saw he was nervous. She nodded slowly, her heart racing with both excitement and anxiety.
“Yes, my parents. What about them? Did you know them?”
“Very well. Very, very well, in fact.” He smiled at Katy's expression of shock, “In fact, I was their best man at their wedding.” Katy felt a lump in her throat. Long ago, when she was about eight or nine, she was told that her mummy and daddy had gone to heaven on the day they got married. She remembered that, clearer than any other memory. She had cried that night more than she'd ever cried in her life.
“Of course, you won't remember much about the wedding, you were only about one, I think. You're eighteen now, aren't you? And that was seventeen years ago...”
“Varjak, get on with it.”
“Right, sorry. So, anyway, you were only there for part of it, but you got sick and started screaming and crying. So then my friend Arnaud took you back to your parent's house for the party bit. He's dead too now, actually. I was there at his funeral. But I never saw his ghost. Must've crossed over, or whatever they call it.”
“Will you stop going off on tangents?” muttered Katy.
“Sorry,” replied Varjak meekly.
“Well? Go on?”
Varjak cleared his throat. “So you were safe, and I at this point had just arrived at the party, and people were making toasts and things and it was all dandy, but then it all went wrong from there.”
“You mean the gas leak?”
Varjak frowned. “What gas leak? The one in your head?”
Katy shook her head. “No, never mind. Go on.”
“So then the room started getting rather chilly and misty - that's one of the signs of the undead, by the way- and us four, me, your parents, and Alicia, who were the only members of the party who knew of the undead, knew exactly what was going on. Edward actually suggested we make a break for it, just to see if you were alright, but of course I told him no. And that's when they came. I thought there wasn't a chance for any of us, least of all myself. Edward, Ruth, Alicia, Arnaud- they were the strong ones. I was merely the brains behind the operation. And yet Iwho lived. Well, half.
“It was a horrible thing to see. First the equipment on the stage went haywire. That was the point when people started screaming. Then they just appeared, quick as a light year, very suddenly surrounding us all. Their goal, I suspected, was mainly to kill us off first and then focus on the witnesses. And that's what happened. We were ridiculous to think we could come to such a huge event unarmed, and our stupidity cost us greatly. There were so many of them...it was only around ten minutes before every single person in the room had been killed.
“All apart from me, the one who hadn't had enough blood drained from them. I was rasping, my heart was racing, the pain was excruciating...I remember one of them drifting over to me, their face and neck dripping with fresh, sticky blood. They stood over me, deliberating with another undead about whether to completely finish me then, but they said 'No. Save your energy. If he's transformed, we'll soon know. And we'll search for him.' It sounded more of a warning to meguy standing over me.
“So they left, as abruptly as they arrived, and I was left to transform. I still recall the moment my heart slowed down, feeling like a dead weight in my chest, paralysing me, pushing me further into the ground...And it just stopped. Just like that. But I wasn't dead. I moved my fingers, I sat up slowly...and I was still here., twisting round and half expecting to see my body mangled on the floor, as the ghosts in the movies do, but nothing. No longer did my heart beat, but as far as I could tell everything was still intact.”
Katy nodded slowly, too enthralled and stunned to speak. Varjak tilted his head slightly, and Katy thought if he had the ability to blush that he'd do so now. He'd obviously never spoken of this with anyone before. But the sincerity in his expression made Katy believe every word without doubt. Why else would he lie? And the way he spoke of her parents, the admiring gaze that came about his face, that could not have been faked. Then all the questions came rushing into her head.
“So, why exactly were they after you in the first place? Why were you four specifically targeted?”
“Because we used to bump them off. We were a group of undead slayers. They wanted to build an empire that would stretch out further and further until the undead were in complete control of everything. That was their sole aim. Of course, not every single undead joined this crazy campaign- but most of them did. In fact, I've yet to meet one who didn't join. Back in the 70's they were spreading out vastly with their colonies, building up armies of them, killing as many 'smart and strong' humans as they could, so their army would be pretty much indestructible.
But we tried to put a stop to them.”
“But how did you even find out about the undead anyway? Just by chance?”
“Chance?” asked Varjak, slightly incredulous, “Oh, definitely not. Arnaud's great-grandfather was supposed to have had a run-in with the undead many years ago, so when they discovered that Arnaud was a descendant they attacked him. Arnaud's great-grandfather was pretty crafty with bumping off that lot all on his own, so they wanted to get rid of Arnaud before he started trying to do the same. You know Arnaud's great-grandfather was supposed to be magic? That's how he was supposed to be so good at getting rid of them.”
“Right,” said Katy slowly, trying to process all the information. Varjak half-smiled.
“Anyway. That's enough story-telling for one night, I think-” But Katy caught hold of his wrist, stopping him from moving. He did anyway, despite the fact he easily could have passed his wrist through her flesh.
“So what? Was Arnaud attacked and you four rushed to save him?” she asked, head tilting slightly.
“Naturally,” said Varjak, typically. “It was pretty easy, since Arnaud already told us how to kill them as a general interest sort of thing. But not entirely pleasant.”
Katy looked pensive. “Hang on. You won the first time easily, as you said, and lost the second time, without Arnaud...”
Varjak shot her a knowing smile. “Turned out Arnaud WAS magic , as his great-grandfather was. We didn't know how exactly, but the killing came naturally to him, much more naturally than it did for us. He made it look like slicing cake instead of flesh.”
Katy winced. “You're right. That IS enough story-telling.” She dropped his wrist and stood up slowly, her back aching from sitting down so long. But Varjak was at her side before she'd even lifted off the seat, supporting her back. She stood up straight, and turned to him, gaping. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Turn up in places so fast. You've done it a few times.”
Varjak blinked at her, then seemed to realise. “Oh, right, that. I can disappear and reappear wherever I want. Another cool thing about being undead, though I personally wouldn't recommend it.”
Katy nodded again, and paused in her step toward the stairs. Varjak blinked at her again. “Is there a problem?”
“You never actually answered my question,” she said quietly.
“What question was that?” asked Varjak. “You've asked quite a lot.”
Katy cleared her throat. “Why are you here? If it was just to tell me all that, you would have said it last night and went away forever. Or not said it all. But you've been milling about here all day and night, humiliating me and pestering me and passing judgement on my life. Why ARE you here?”
He regarded her carefully, for once speechless. After a moment, he said, “Why am I not?” And disappeared into the floor. Katy shuddered again, half-uneasy, half-irritated. I wonder if he was this annoying when he was alive? She thought, grimacing as she trudged upstairs.