Amanda sat back for a moment and finished the remaining blood in her cup. Though she could not quite put her finger on exactly what it was, the drink had tasted somewhat different to what she was used to.
“Perhaps you could help me answer a few other questions, Mr Packard.”
“I have time, as you well can tell. And it is more than a welcome change to spend a few moments with a young vampire, especially one as pretty as yourself. Ask away.”
“I see,” replied Amanda, who was not sure if the compliment had been given only to make her feel ill at ease once more. “And thank you, of course. There is one vampire that I have not been able to locate, but I believe that he resides in the area?”
“Ha, well, you must be talking about Johann Milch. I would be most surprised if it turned out that he had been our attacker, for that little Tierblut is often more than a little upset for having to kill the rats and other vermin that he lives on. No, no, that is quite the wrong man to chase after.”
“Nevertheless, I would be grateful if you could give me some information on him, just so I could see if he has anything to say.”
“Well, of course, I would be happy to oblige. Though it is not the case that I’m keeping a track of the man, it would not surprise me at all if you were to come across Mr Milch near the mess of trees beyond that terrible sight of a car park which services the collection of out-of-town stores on Radcliff’s outskirts. But as I say, I’m not sure that you will find anything of use from the man, even if he did have something to tell you. No, no.”
Packard paused for a moment and fixed his hard gaze on the drops of blood that remained in his cup.
“Have you already been to see Mrs O’Hare, by any chance?”
“Yes, in fact, I paid her a visit only yesterday.”
“A most interesting woman, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Unfortunately, there was not really time for us to get to know one another. She said she had work to do.”
“Oh no, really? Such a shame, I receive guests so infrequently from members of the - what do they say now? - the community out here in Radcliff that I always make sure to invite my fellow sufferers in. It’s not just the company, you know, but the getting to know what’s going on in the little world of the school and elsewhere. But of course, that’s just me.
“Now, speaking of such things, would you mind indulging me a little?” continued Packard before Amanda could ask a question about what he knew about Mary O’Hare. “I believe it’s the case that Martin Chester is still running the place down there? Still letting the rather unfortunate members of the undead roam around our old haunt, is he? Even though, of course, there is no point in giving them any instruction as they cannot even remember their own names. No need to answer, I can see from your face that this is still the case.” In a quieter tone, he then added, “It also seems that he’s still doling out some of the school’s petty jobs - and the funds that come with them - as if the place were a charity, but no matter.
“Well, Amanda. It’s been a pleasure having you here, but I think that it is time for me to let you go. As much as I might like to keep you here, I know you have many duties to attend to, so I’d best not keep you.”
***
Amanda listened to the rain beating on the roof of her car as she sat staring at the thick cluster of trees that she assumed that Packard had referred to when she had asked him about Milch over an hour and a half before. She had returned to her hotel, but as soon as she had stepped through the door, she had known it would be best to act on the information Packard had given her without delay. Despite her suspicions about the youthful-looking Packard, she could not see why he would lie to her about Milch. Furthermore, his information on both Mary and Johann seemed to suggest that the man knew quite a bit about what was happening in the town and it would be foolish of her to not follow a lead when she had so little to go on otherwise. So, despite having to head out into the pouring rain, she left the warmth of her hotel room behind to drive to a car park that, as far as Amanda could tell from a hurried internet search, best reflected Packard’s description of Milch’s location; one that serviced the town’s cluster of large, white, cheaply constructed stores, including office supply and card shops, a cut price sports outlet and a generic supermarket.
A glance at her phone informed Amanda that it was ten minutes to two in the morning. She had been waiting now for over half an hour, but she had seen no sign of anyone coming in or out of the trees. Indeed, apart from a small group of teenage boys, who
