THIS STORY IS NOT SUITABLE FOR READERS UNDER 12
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Chapter 10: Death of a Prime Minister
It needed to be done urgently so Velma decided she’d catch the last train to London that night, at 22.03. The friends had decided that Muriel would clock in with Velma’s phone and log-in details for her 10pm cleaning shift, in order to leave no written record of Velma’s absence.
Velma grabbed a wig and some make-up from her bottom drawer – she’d be a goth this time – and got herself ready. She had to be sure no one saw her leaving the flat when she was disguised, that’s why she would normally slip on her disguises somewhere en route. But this make up was going to take a long time and she needed good lighting, so she had to do it at home. The obvious answer to making sure she wasn’t seen leaving home was to transform into the bat or the mist. For some unknown mystical reason, however she was dressed before morphing into her alternate forms, she would be again when she reverted. The only problem, then, was that she couldn’t take anything else with her.
But that didn’t matter too much. Muriel had her phone anyway, so all she needed was a ticket and Andy would help with that.
At 21:45, while Muriel walked to work, Andy walked Sammy to the station and paid £84.40 cash for a single to London. Then he sat on a bench at Platform 4 and read his book. Meanwhile, the Velma Mist slid under the door of the Ladies toilets which opened a moment later as Velma the Goth walked out. Then she walked back in because it’s always a good idea to go for a pee before you get on a train.
Five and a half minutes after that, she sat down next to a man she pretended not to know, and a dog who pretended not to know her. Andy put away his book and walked Sammy to the station exit. Velma put her hand on the ticket he’d left behind and nonchalantly picked it up as the station announced the imminent arrival of her train. She would be in London at 00:23.
Velma transformed into mist in the toilets of King’s Cross Station and then made fast progress over the three-and-a-bit miles to Downing Street. It was twenty nine minutes past midnight. She knew that members of the government and the civil service would likely be home in bed but there were still plenty of staff on duty inside and around the government buildings. Of course the armed guards at the front of Number Ten did not hinder her so getting under the door was no problem at all. But, once inside, she had to be careful to stay close to the floor, hoping not to get noticed by the night shift of admin and security staff.
She kept still under a desk in the first busy office she came to, listening to staff conversations until she was satisfied that there was no late night cabinet meeting and the Prime Minister was indeed at home in the flat above Number Eleven.
Pleased to discover the PM sleeping alone, she demisted and stood close to the bed. The bleached blonde, crimped and back-combed wig topped off a startlingly good gothic disguise which included enough face paint, strategically applied, to confuse any facial recognition software that might subsequently be used.
The PM’s phone was on his bedside table. She tapped his shoulder with it, gently at first but when it didn’t rouse him she tapped it on his forehead. He lifted his hands to his face as if to swat away a fly.
“Wake up Prime Minister,” Velma spoke low so as not to be heard outside the room. “You need to make a phone call.”
His urge to shout came a fraction of a second after he opened his eyes but Velma’s eyes told him not to.
“You see,” she told him, “vampires are real.” She smiled for a moment, the whites of her eyes became black, her long sharp teeth revealed themselves, and then her vampire traits receded again. “So now you know. And you’re going to make sure everybody else knows.”
She handed him his phone and told him to Facetime the leader of the opposition. Having no choice but to do as he was told, he scrolled through his contacts and tapped Amelia Lunk. After five unanswered rings it went to voicemail. Velma cut it off and told him to call again.
Amelia finally picked up on the third attempt. “Oh come on Morris, give me a break!” she said with undisguised disdain. “Do you know what time it is?!”
Without turning his head, the Prime Minister’s pupils moved to the right as he tried to point to Velma the only way he could.
Velma leaned in, putting her head close to Morris’s. “Sorry to disturb you at this hour,” she told the Shadow Prime Minister, “but we have something very important to tell you.”
Amelia nervously kicked her husband under the covers. “I’m warning you, whoever you are, I have just pushed the panic button so the police will be -“
“I hope you haven’t,” Velma interrupted, “because that could reduce our time together and I have more to tell you.” She knew the only panic button within Amelia’s reach was the man she was trying to launch into action with the heel of her left foot. “Let him sleep Amelia, he’s so tired.”
Amelia took a deep breath and tried to appear calm. She looked at the strange woman on the screen and nodded, hoping she hadn’t noticed her swipe to record the call.
Velma had noticed and was glad. “Anyway, it’s nice to meet you Amelia, I’ve heard some good things about you,” she smiled. “You’re better than this one anyway,” she sneered, nodding in Morris’s direction. “I mean, I read the other day that he’s a quote unquote well-known enthusiast of game shooting and deer-stalking!” She scoffed. “That’s not a person to be running a country is it? He’s morally corrupt!”
Amelia first shook her head and then nodded.
“People like that have no morals at all! They’re monsters!” Velma looked at the frightened Prime Minister with disgust and tutted theatrically. “You’d be better than that wouldn’t you Amelia? You don’t kill animals for fun do you?”
Amelia shook her head again. “No, I don’t.”
Velma transformed into a wolf for a moment and snarled at Morris.
Amelia was trembling now, adrenaline flooded her body but she daren’t move.
“You wouldn’t kill a baby cow so you could steal his mother’s milk for your coffee would you Amelia?” Velma went on. “You wouldn’t experiment on animals to find a cure for a non-existent disease?”
Velma moved the phone to the Prime Minister’s left hand, making sure he held it at the right angle, then she grabbed his other hand and sunk her teeth into his radial artery. He gasped because that’s all he could do. “Don’t make a fuss,” she told him, “I only had a mouthful.”
She looked at the screen, at Amelia’s horrified face. “Why would he do that Amelia? After we told him it wasn’t a contagion? Why?!”
Amelia tried to shake her head again but it was more of a vibration than a shake.
“Come on Amelia, I think you know the answer to this one.”
Amelia’s head vibrated again as she whispered, “no.”
“Consider the facts!” Velma instructed. What started out as melodrama was becoming genuine frustration and with each utterance Velma was incrementally louder. “He has animals killed so that he can eat their body parts and excretions, just because he likes the taste; he shoots birds and deer for fun; and he’s going to have animals poisoned and mutilated for money and political gain!”
This time Amelia’s response was a nervous nod.
“All we want,” Velma explained, “is for people to be kind to all species. Is that too much to ask?”
The Shadow Prime Minister’s husband sat up in bed. “What’s going on? Who are you talking to?” Amelia shook her head without answering him.
“Are you vegan?” Velma asked her.
“No,” Amelia whispered fearfully, “but I don’t eat … red meat.”
Velma imbibed more of the PM’s blood. “That’s a good start Amelia but what about the chickens? What about the ducks and the fish?”
“Please stop. Please -“
“I bet that’s what the chickens would say, if they could talk,” Velma looked through the screen at Amelia, a trickle of Morris’s blood dripping from her chin. “I bet they’d say PLEASE STOP when they’re strung up by one ankle and sent along the conveyor to their death.” She turned to look at the paling world leader. “Wouldn’t they Morris?”
“I’ll do it!” Amelia blurted out, “I’ll go vegan today! No more dead animals!”
Velma was sceptical. “How do I know you won’t change your mind next week, or next year?”
“I won’t!” Amelia insisted, “I promise.”
“Why? Why will you go vegan? If you don’t do it for the right reasons, you won’t stick to it.”
Amelia knew what Velma wanted to hear. “For the animals,” she said.
“Yes. That’s the right answer. And it’s the only right answer because knowing someone else will suffer and die if you succumb to your cravings is what makes them easy to resist.” She paused for a second while she licked the blood off her lips. “Now, don’t get me wrong,” she went on. “As long as someone stops buying animal products, I don’t care why they do it, but in all my decades on this planet I have seen so many of those who do it for their own health, or to lose weight, and it’s much harder for them. I’ve lost half a stone, they’ll say, I should treat myself. Or one egg’s not gonna kill me. And then, regardless of the fact that it’s gonna kill someone else, they’re looking at veganism in their rear view and telling people it didn’t work for them.” When she turned away momentarily to glug another pint of Château de Morris, Amelia’s husband texted the head of Downing Street security.
“I am a vampire,” Velma concluded. “There is no contagion. And no one, NO ONE, is going to experiment on animals to find one!”
The thundering of heavy combat boots ascending the stairs, followed by a desperate pounding on the flat’s front door, interrupted Velma’s final guzzle. She looked again at the phone screen, whispered “Go Vegan!” to the future viewers, and stood to face the bedroom door.
A second later, three heavily armed men entered the room. Velma smiled at the party crashers before dissolving into mist again. She exited between the legs of the panicked crack team and headed out to look for a dark, secluded roost for her bat self.
***
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