“I think Malvern was playing a very deep game here,” Clara said. “I think she never intended to occupy the prison for very long, and that the vampires she created here were not meant to survive. I think she had something in mind other than just a ready supply of blood and recruits.”
“Well, obviously she came here because of Caxton,” Fetlock said. “She wanted revenge. And it backfired on her.”
“Perhaps, sir. I just want to make sure. Let me show you why.” She led them into the tower room. The corpses inside had not been moved. She would perform a more in-depth examination eventually, but for the moment she wanted to wait until she could get a camera up there and fully document the scene. It had to be done before Laura’s final message was disturbed.
On the floor there was a large amount of debris from a broken searchlight. Bits of glass and shards of broken mirror littered the floor. Laura had quite carefully arranged the pieces to spell out three words. She hadn’t possessed any normal writing utensils or any other way to leave a message, but like a smart prisoner she’d learned to make do with what she had. The message was very short. It simply read:
it’s not her
There was an arrow pointing to the vampire’s body.
“Oh, come on,” Fetlock said in disgust. “She only has one eye, the dress is the same. She looks a lot more… fresh than we’re used to, but that’s simply because she was full of blood. That has to be Malvern. It has to be!”
The last time Clara had seen the warden, she’d been missing an eye. She’d been missing her left eye, just like Malvern. She could have easily killed herself before sundown and then been put in a coffin by waiting half-deads—no one had seen her after she left her desk above the Hub. Clara remembered the call Bellows had made to Guilty Jen, and how immediately after it ended she had heard a gunshot she couldn’t explain. That could have been the sound of Bellows taking her own life, the last step necessary before the curse consumed her and turned her into a vampire.
As for Malvern—she probably had left the prison long before the police had secured its perimeter. She could have left the prison as early as sundown the day before, immediately after sending her “23 hours” message. Clara had wondered why the message had been so brief, and she saw now that it didn’t have to mean anything, really. It could very well mean that, twenty-three hours after the message was sent, Malvern would be a free vampire. Far, far away from the prison.
She could have left the warden in her place, to act like her and speak like her and wear her old tattered dress. The two of them could have worked it all out in advance. Bellows wanted very badly to become a vampire. In exchange Malvern might have insisted that Bellows pretend to be her. To kill Caxton herself. But Bellows wouldn’t have known about the loaded gun, left just where it needed to be—the final double-cross in Malvern’s plan.
And she’d almost gotten away with it.
After all, if Laura Caxton, the world’s foremost expert on killing vampires, claimed that she had killed Justinia Malvern— who would ever doubt her? Fetlock would close his case. The long hunt for Malvern would be over. Which was exactly what she wanted. She wouldn’t have police studying her every move. Laying traps for her. She could lie low, and scheme her schemes, and wait for the right moment to come back. Maybe after all of them were dead.
It was the perfect plan.
And looking at Fetlock’s face, Clara wasn’t sure it hadn’t worked. He looked skeptical. “You think we should just take Caxton at her word? When all the evidence points in a different direction? As far as I’m concerned, Malvern is dead. Truly dead. Case closed. And if she’s dead, then vampires are extinct, and we win.”
His face made it very clear he refused to accept the other possibility. That Malvern had beaten them once again.
Laura had known he would have that reaction. That was why she ran.
Because it wasn’t over.