Blood Exposed Page 3

  “If they haven’t spent it already,” Mum said.

  “What about everybody else who was in the hall that day?” I persisted. “It could have been any of them, not just committee members.”

  “True,” Severn agreed, “but how many of them knew Gerald had ten thousand dollars tucked away in his bag?”

  “Okay, I concede defeat – it’s probably someone on the committee. I just hope it isn’t Ngaire, or Gerald. Anita doesn’t need to take her baby to visit its grandparents in gaol. That would suck.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Two weeks later, the Reverend and Aiden threw their bags onto the matching beds in the motel’s second bedroom.

  “I didn’t expect to be back so soon,” the Rev said, joining us in the tiny living room. “Not that I’m complaining. It’s still winter over there and there’s snow on the top of Angel Mountain. Anyway, give us a hand to unload the gear. See what we bought then fill us in on what we’ll be doing this weekend.”

  We trooped outside and began unloading heavy cardboard boxes in a variety of sizes from the glossy black, long-wheelbase van Severn had swapped his rental car for.

  “Nice wheels,” Aiden said, running his hand along the van’s door. “Good colour. Very professional vampire.”

  “Very professional stage crew,” I said pointedly.

  “Yeah.” Severn agreed with both of us. “I might make them an offer, see if they’ll sell it to me. It’ll get us through the weekend anyway.”

  “I read through all the information you sent me,” the Reverend called from inside the van as he slit a box open and hauled out its contents. “I agree with your assessment of the gear we’ll need. There might be once or twice when we’re going to have to move and reset speakers but hey, after the practise we got at that outdoor show, we can break down and set up easily in the ten minutes they’ve allocated between workshops.”

  “Setting up the lights for the masquerade’s going to be the most work,” Aiden said as he grabbed a box and slid it towards us. “But they’ve got a dinner break so it looks like we’ve got an hour and a half so, like the Rev said, it’s going to be much easier than our last gig here.”

  “What’s in this box?” Severn said, peering at the box Aiden had pushed forwards.

  “La piece de resistance,” the Rev said, falling into his native French. “The answer to their request that, at least for the formal events, we blend in and look medieval. Open it up.”

  Severn took the pocket knife the Rev handed to him and slit the box open, looked inside and burst out laughing. With a shake of his head in mock despair, he reached in and pulled out a coarse, brown, woollen monk’s robe, complete with hood.

  “One for each of us,” the Rev said. “And at the bottom there’s something else. A slightly belated birthday present for Riley from Aiden and me. We thought it was about time she looked like the rest of us.”

  Severn pulled out four robes, held them up for size and threw the two small ones to the Rev and me, dividing the two longer ones between himself and Aiden. From the bottom of the box he pulled out another item and I must admit I disgraced myself by squealing like a twelve-year old at a rock concert when he handed me my own long, black coat.

  “I figured you were about the same size as me,” the Rev said. “I hope it fits.”

  I dropped my monk’s robe and pulled on the coat, hugging it to myself as I ran inside to find a mirror. It fitted perfectly – its heavy wool falling almost to my ankles and flowing out as I moved, just like the men’s identical ones. Like theirs, the coat had pockets everywhere, two on the outside and four more inside, behind the lining. Plenty of room for maglight, knife, gaffer tape and chocolate. I ran back outside to kiss and hug all of them.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love it!”

  Now I felt as if I belonged to the Guild. We four were the Angel Mountain Professionals. The best crew in the world. All we had to do now was prove that to Caleb’s mother.

  The fancy van and our brand new black t-shirts, all stamped with the AMP logo, certainly made a good first impression when we arrived at the hotel two days later. Brother Bertrand had excelled himself, taking our halo and mountain ideas and transforming them into a graceful, eye-catching logo in red on black with the halo a tiny circle of gold. Mum had helped, putting the file into her state-of-the-art embroidery sewing machine to make our t-shirts. We looked like the real deal.

  The hotel management seemed impressed, letting us park in their loading dock and unload our gear through their store room. An immaculately dressed duty manager, who flirted openly with Severn as he showed us around, escorted us to the conference rooms and gave us our instructions about what we could and couldn’t have access to.

  Once Severn had politely convinced the man that we could manage without his personal attention to Severn’s wellbeing, he left us to do what we did best and by the time Ngaire, Caleb and Anita arrived, just before lunch, all three rooms were ready for the grand opening in the evening. The Rev had even added some extras, focussing small spotlights on the main room’s central dais to highlight the guest speakers. Ngaire was delighted, answering with “ooh” and “aah” as Severn walked her through the rooms, explaining what we had provided. Behind Ngaire’s back, Anita gave me a thumbs-up. When they returned to the main room and Severn formally introduced the Rev and Aiden to Ngaire, Anita took me aside.

  “I love your corporate clothes,” she said, “but did you get Ngaire’s note about medieval gear?”

  I nodded. “Wait and see. The Rev nailed it. You’ll see tonight.”

  “Can I possibly know in advance,” Ngaire said, overhearing us. She turned to Severn with an apologetic shrug of her shoulders. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m too stressed to deal with surprises and I really want everything to be perfect. I’m sure, if your costumes are as good as what you’ve set up here, they will be fine but ...,” she trailed off as Severn held up his hand in reassurance.

  “Wait here,” he said.

  We ducked into the smaller room, pulled on the robes and filed back in a line, our heads bowed and our hands clasped as if in prayer, exactly as the Rev had taught us, the Rev leading and chanting softly in Latin. Ngaire, Caleb and Anita took in our entrance in stunned silence then roared with laughter.

  “Oh you are so right,” Ngaire said, “You have absolutely nailed it. Anita, these guys are pure gold! Where did you get those wonderful outfits? And that chant was superb.”

  “The Reverend, here, brought the robes with him,” Severn said. “They’re the real thing. So is the chant. I should have explained when I introduced you. The Reverend isn’t his nickname, it’s his title. David is an ordained priest and an actual monk.”

  Ngaire stared at the Rev with her mouth open in surprise.

  “I might use all my title this weekend,” the Rev said, looking around at all of us. “Please call me Reverend Father. Okay?”

  “Yes, Rev,” Aiden relied.

  “Okay, Dave,” Severn added.

  “I warned you,” Anita said to Ngaire. “They’re all nuts. Good at what they do, but nuts.”

  “Look who’s talking,” I retorted.

  “Right,” said Ngaire, pulling us back into line. “I am amazed that all this is already done. I expected it all to be a last-minute rush. We’ve been over in the park where the marquee is going up. It’s all on track over there too. You should go over and see what we’re doing. It’s going to be fabulous. Feel free to wander over there. I would take you but we’ve got to get the key to our rooms so I can sort out the registration packs before people start arriving.”

  “One thing before you leave,” Severn said as Ngaire began ushering Anita and Caleb out of the room. “Is there a cupboard or a corner we can stack our spare gear in safely? If we need a replacement microphone or cable in a hurry, I don’t want to have to be running in and out to our van. Somewhere out of sight but accessible?”

  “Would upstairs be okay? That’s where we’re going now. We’ve g
ot a two-bedroomed suite booked that we’re going to use as the convention office, so there will be someone there all the time. Come and I’ll show you.”

  “Riley, can you go and have a look, please. We’ll tidy up here,”

  “Sure,” I agreed but as I moved to join Anita, Severn pointed to my monk’s robe.

  “You might want to leave that here.”

  As I pulled it over my head and handed it to Severn, I could understand why he had taken to wearing his around the monastery even though he wasn’t a monk. It was so comfortable I had almost forgotten I was wearing it. I wondered if I could keep it when the Rev went back to France and what Mum would say if I wore it around the house over my pyjamas. Knowing her, she’d want one too.

  Ngaire rounded us up like a flock of chickens and bustled us off down the corridor to reception where a shuttle-bus load of conference attendees were unloading suitcases and a variety of odd-shaped parcels wrapped in bubble-wrap and bound with copious amounts of tape and string.

  “Their weapons,” Caleb explained. “They have to wrap them really well to get them through the airports.”

  “Are they real?” I asked. “I thought they would all be fake, like the ones we use backstage.”

  “They are all blunt, or they are supposed to be, but they are real enough. Some of them are home-made and look it, but there are a few guys, and one woman up in Palmerston North, who are blacksmiths and make real swords in Damascus steel. Some of them are stunning – engraved blades, gemstones in the hilt – wait till you see them, you’ll be amazed. That long, skinny parcel will be a longbow.”

  “Made from ash or yew,” I said. “I learned that recently.” From an old vampire who used his skills to shoot another vampire out of the air. Just your everyday way of learning new things.

  “Come along,” Ngaire called to us, “This way. Upstairs.”

  Ngaire rounded us up again and herded us towards the staircase, sweeping an arm around Anita’s waist to head her off when she took a hopeful step towards the elevator. On the first floor, she turned left, swiped the key-card in the first door she came to and let us into an immaculate but generic suite of rooms. I stopped in the sitting room, trying to work out where we could stack our equipment, while Ngaire strode through to the bedrooms, claiming the largest for herself and allocating the smaller one to Caleb.

  “Are you staying here too?” I whispered to Anita who had slumped onto the generic beige, linen couch.

  “No, I think I’ll be happy to escape and go home. She’s pretty full on. Caleb and I are going to be worn out running after her.”

  “You can always come and hang out with me if you need a break,” I said. “I’ll be in the main room with Severn most of the time.”

  “Why don’t we sneak off now. I’ll show you around the marquee over the road.” I nodded agreement. “I’m just showing Riley where the toilets are,” Anita called out. “Won’t be long.”

  We giggled at Anita’s lie as we escaped down the staircase. I stopped to tell Severn where the convention office was and where we were going, then we sneaked through the storeroom and out the loading dock in case Ngaire was coming back down the main stairs. Still giggling, we ran around the front of the hotel towards the road but our way across the carpark was blocked by two women struggling to extricate their luggage from the boot of a taxi while its driver sat, impassive and unhelpful, behind the steering wheel.

  “This weekend had better be worth it,” the shorter, larger women complained as she pulled out a large case. “I have not come all this way to lose again this year. I will beat Ngaire this time if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “I’m sure you will. Your costume is magnificent. All those ruffles. Very Elizabethan.” The second woman dragged two cabin bags around the side of the taxi. “And I’m sure you will take out the fantasy section, too. Nobody will have wings as good as yours.”

  Don’t bet on it, Lady.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Sounds like someone isn’t a fan of Ngaire,” I said as we crossed the road to the park.

  “She was talking about winning and losing, so she must be competing in the masquerade. Ngaire said they all get really competitive about their costumes. I’ll warn her when we get back. Hey,” she pointed to a brown, canvas tent being erected a slight distance away from the giant marquee, “that must be Rhys’s tent. He’s one of the blacksmiths Caleb told you about. In real life, he runs that place down Tuam street that does artistic things with old car parts but this weekend he’s going to be demonstrating how to make horseshoes and knives.”

  Our walk towards the tent to have a closer look was halted by a black-clad, black-bearded giant who yelled at us to stop.

  “Don’t come any closer,” the huge man bellowed from inside the tent. “This isn’t open to the public and we’re not set up. Go away and come back tomorrow.”

  “Hi, Rhys, it’s only me,” Anita called back.

  “Who’s me?” The giant came through the tent flaps and shielded his eyes against the glare of the midday sun. “Oh it’s you, Anita, m’lovely. Sorry, dear, I couldn’t make you out against the light. I thought you were another annoying jogger stopping to stare. Who’s your friend?”

  “This is Riley, she’s part of the team helping us with the technical stuff over in the hotel. Rhys, Riley.”

  The giant put out a hand that completely engulfed mine and shook my hand firmly but gently, like he was afraid of breaking my fingers with his strength. He peered at the logo on my t-shirt.

  “Oh, you’re that lot. Ngaire told us she’d found someone to get us out of our mess. Good to meet you. But from now on, don’t call me Rhys, either of you. As soon as we’re ready to go,” he dropped into a believable Welsh accent, “I’m Madoc the Smith, look you.” He reverted to his Kiwi accent. “Have you two got your personae sorted out?”

  “I’m Mistress Ambrosia of Warwick,” Anita said. “Seeing Caleb’s persona is a wandering minstrel from Stratford, I thought I’d better come from somewhere we might have met.”

  “I haven’t got a name, apart from my usual one,” I said. “We’ll be too busy making sure the microphones work. But we did bring some costumes. We’re monks from Angel Mountain Monastery.”

  “One of them really is,” Anita told Rhys excitedly. “A real monk. Their costumes are the real thing. It’s so awesome.”

  I gave Rhys a wry smile that said I apologised for my crazy friend, we said our goodbyes and continued our tour of the outdoor site. In spite of Ngaire’s earlier enthusiasm, there wasn’t much to see. Inside the marquee, pegs and rope created small sectioned areas down each side of a central isle, with accompanying signs to say what would be set up there. I read signs for spinners, weavers, embroiderers, jewellery makers, and leather workers, separated at intervals by stalls offering food and non-alcoholic drinks. Once all the medieval recreationists were in place, and the public were visiting, it would certainly be buzzing.

  “We’d better be getting back,” I said when we had completed a circuit of the marquee.

  Anita didn’t look too enthusiastic about returning to the role of Ngaire’s minion, but she led the way out of the marquee. At the roadside, while we waited for a gap in the traffic, I glanced back. A figure wearing a green puffer jacket pulled back the flap of Rhys’s tent and slipped inside. For their sake, I hoped they weren’t a jogger being nosy.

  We split up in the foyer, Anita reluctantly climbing the stairs to find Ngaire while I crossed to the main conference room where I expected to find the others. It was empty apart from Aiden who was lounging in a chair, his feet resting on another.

  “She’s back,” he said as I entered. I was going to reply until I realised he wasn’t speaking to me but to the other vampires who came through the doors a minute or two later.

  “Let’s get out of here for a while,” Severn said. “We’re all set up, spare gear is upstairs – Riley, our boxes are on the floor in the right-hand corner if you need them. I think we should escape while we can
, or the lovely Ngaire is going to find us things to do that are not in our job description, so let’s go.”

  “I agree. I’m not volunteering to carry suitcases,” Aiden said. “That’s why I was keeping out of the road in here.”

  “Can we stop at a take-away,” I asked. “I’m starving.”

  “Can do,” Severn agreed. “Let’s go up to the mall. I need to find somewhere that sells two-way radios.” He looked around the others then grinned at me. “While you were over the road, and we were ready to leave, I remembered that you can’t hear us. We don’t need radios to talk to each other in a venue this small, but we all forgot you don’t have that skill yet. So we’d better buy some radios so we can communicate with each other.”

  “Why can’t we use our phones?” I asked. “Can’t we just text?”

  “We could but we’re not going to. If someone sees us texting, they are going to think we’re slacking off, texting our friends and not being very professional, but if we’re talking on a two-way radio we look like we’re doing something important. It’s the technician’s equivalent of walking around carrying a clipboard – if you want to get somewhere fast and people are in your way, move faster and look like you’re talking into your radio.”

  The Reverend walked to the door, opened it a crack, peered through the gap, closed it quickly and came back to us.

  “I would suggest we leave through the service entrance,” he said. “Ngaire’s got Caleb and Anita setting up a folding table in the foyer and she’s surrounded by boxes full of what look like registration packs. I vote for a strategic retreat while we’ve got the chance.”

  Working on a variation of Severn’s advice about looking busy, we grabbed all our empty boxes and walked purposefully down the hall, hoping that Ngaire would see our hands were full and not call us to help her. Outside, we threw the boxes into the back of the van and drove away, ignoring the latest convention attendees struggling with their luggage in the carpark.