by Preston, Ken
Steffanie closed the door.
Saliva flooded her mouth at the thought of his hot blood on her tongue.
She stood by the side of his bed, savouring the moment, the anticipation.
Another muffled scream.
Every single pensioner in this home would be dead within the hour.
And when they woke up once more, changed, immortal, Chitrita would have an army of vampires on her side.
The man’s eyes fluttered open.
‘Mary? Mary, is that you?’ he said, his voice thick with sleep. ‘Oh, I had such a vivid dream, a nightmare. I dreamt I had grown old, and that you were dead. It was a dream, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, all a dream,’ Chitrita whispered, and placed a hand over his eyes. ‘Now go back to sleep.’
He tried to fight her when her teeth pierced his throat, but his struggles were weak and half-hearted, as though he knew what was happening and had resigned himself to it.
His warm blood flowed over her tongue and she swallowed greedily. She kept her hand in place over his eyes, and it was only later once all the old people and the staff in the home were dead that she wondered why she had done that. What had possessed her to make that pathetic attempt to hide the horror of his situation from him? And that single thought that had blossomed in her mind as she drank his blood.
That she was depriving him of the right to join his wife in death. This old man would soon begin his new existence, life eternal. But without his beloved Mary.
The vampires sat and lay in various rooms in the home, blood staining their mouths and splattered in their hair and on their faces, satisfied for the first time in a long while. Chitrita wandered amongst them, whilst the bats thudded at the windows, the sound of their wings beating at the glass panes a victory drum roll.
Some old people would wake as vampires soon, whilst for others the process would take longer, days even.
And soon enough, Steffanie and Chitrita would have the beginnings of a vampire army, with which they could take the city.
EPISODE FIFTEEN
jeremy
Emma sat and waited.
Her left eyelid twitched in short bursts.
Too much black coffee had her nerve endings firing constantly. She snapped her fingers, clicked her teeth, Couldn’t keep a thought in her head for more than a second or two.
She thought about Joe.
That wasn’t right, was it? Mitch, Mitch was the one on the table in the operating room. Not Joe.
She waited and waited. They’d told her she had to wait downstairs, told her to get herself a coffee.
While she waited.
The nurse, the nice one. Young, pretty. She’d said they could be a while. Said the surgeons had to investigate first, find out how much damage had been done to Mitch’s skull. How much, if any, had been done to his brain.
Hadn’t she read somewhere once that approximately half of the brain could be cut away and it would make hardly any difference to a person’s personality or ability to function?
She didn’t believe that. Surely that was an impossibility.
She picked up her phone. Googled, ‘can you live without half of your brain?’
Apparently it was true. Something to do with something called neuroplasticity.
Emma put her phone down. Picked it up again.
Thought about contacting Nick.
The police had arrived at the house with the ambulance, and Emma had been questioned some more at the hospital too. But no sign of DCI Archer.
Was he that pissed off at her that he couldn’t even come and see her now?
And what about Joe?
If she phoned him and told him what happened, would he come?
He would have done once.
Emma scrolled through her contacts, found his number.
They hadn’t spoken since that night at Angellicit. He still believed she had betrayed him. And in a way, she had, hadn’t she?
When she first got hold of that video of Joe murdering Terry Wu it had been with the intention of taking it to the police, of writing up a huge expose of Coffin and Craggs and the Slaughterhouse Mob. Get that publishing deal, make a name for herself.
As time had gone on though, her feelings had changed, and she had seen the situation grow more complicated.
Emma had realised that Joe was more complicated than she had first thought.
But still she had held on to her evidence.
‘Hey.’
Nick sat down next to her.
Emma switched off her phone and placed it face down on the table, wondering if he had seen Joe Coffin’s name on her display.
‘Hey yourself,’ Emma said.
‘They leave you on your own down here?’ Nick said. ‘There should be an emotional support officer sitting with you.’
Emma smiled thinly. ‘I think they’re a little bit stretched at the moment.’
‘Even so, I’ll be having words with someone,’ Nick said. ‘Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner, no one thought to tell me what was going on until Amrit heard about it. How is Mitch?’
‘I don’t know,’ Emma said. ‘He’s in theatre right now, having the back of his skull put together again.’
‘You see who did it?’
Emma shook her head. ‘No, I found Mitch outside, whoever attacked him had gone.’
‘Yeah?’
Emma glanced at Nick, looked away again. He knew she was lying. And really, why was she not telling him about Gilligan? Why hadn’t she told the police woman earlier when she asked the same question?
Emma took a deep breath.
‘Have you heard of a man by the name of Gerry Gilligan?’
‘Gilligan? Yeah, he’s a petty crook with IRA connections. He’s in with Coffin and the Mob now. He was there that night at Angellicit.’
Of course he was, Emma thought.
‘Why? Are you saying he attacked Mitch?’
Emma nodded, unable to speak for a moment as an image of Gilligan flashed into her head as he unzipped his trousers.
‘What the fuck for?’ Nick said. ‘What’s going on, Emma?’
Emma swallowed, and her dry throat clicked painfully. ‘If I tell you, you promise to not get all angry and shouty?’
Nick placed his hand over Emma’s, resting on the table. ‘I’ll promise to try my best.’
Emma took another deep breath, organised her thoughts. She couldn’t tell him everything. Some of it had to stay her secret.
‘Gilligan murdered Karl,’ she said.
‘You got proof?’ Nick said.
‘No, but I confronted Gilligan about it and he admitted it to me.’
‘Bloody hell, Emma, why didn’t you come to me with this?’
‘Because I thought you would get all shouty at me.’
Nick squeezed her hand. ‘I don’t believe you. You were going after him yourself, weren’t you? What was this, some kind of Death Wish revenge thing? Did you get Mitch involved? That’s why Gilligan attacked him, isn’t it?’
‘Slow down, that’s too many questions, Detective Inspector Archer,’ Emma said.
Archer sighed. ‘What the hell am I going to do with you? Every time I turn my back you’re digging yourself deeper and deeper into the shit. Is there anything else I don’t know?’
‘No, that’s everything.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
Emma pulled her hand away from Nick’s. ‘I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. This is turning into a police interrogation now, and I’m feeling like the suspect.’
‘Oh for fuck’s sake, Emma!’ Archer hissed. ‘You don’t have to go into a hissy fit every time I ask you a question. Have you ever stopped to think that I ask you this stuff not because I’m a cop, but because I actually care about you?’
Emma said nothing.
‘I care about you, and your safety, and Louisa May. You think I ask you this shit because I want to make your life hell? Or because all I ever think about is work, and my arrest record? Is that
it?’
Emma shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Then stop attacking me every time I ask you something. I’m trying to help you here.’
Emma took Nick’s hand. ‘I know. Thank you. And, I’m sorry.’
‘Just tell me what’s going on.’
‘You’re right, I wanted revenge on Gilligan for what he did. I got Mitch involved, got him tailing Gilligan wherever he went. Gilligan spotted him and they got into a fight. Mitch left Gilligan in a right state and I guess Gilligan wanted revenge himself.’
‘And that’s it?’ Nick said.
Emma looked Nick in the eyes. ‘That’s it.’
‘All right, thank you for telling me. Right, I’ll call this in, get a search on for Gerry Gilligan. We’ll find him, and we’ll put him behind bars. But you’re out of this now, okay? Leave Gilligan to us.’
Emma saw a nurse approaching them. A sudden panic squeezed her chest tight, and she struggled to catch her breath. Looking at that nurse as she drew closer, seeing the expression on her face, Emma knew what she was going to tell them.
I’m sorry, the surgeon did everything he could. Mitch is dead.
Emma stood up, still gripping Nick’s hand.
Nick stood with her.
‘Mitch is out of theatre and he’s been moved to ICU,’ the nurse said. ‘You can come up and see him for a few minutes.’
‘How is he?’ Emma said.
‘There was some swelling in the brain and the surgeon had to release some fluid, but after a couple of days in ICU he should be a lot better and we’ll be moving him onto a regular ward.’ The nurse stroked Emma’s arm. ‘Don’t worry, he’s going to be fine.’
‘Thank you,’ Emma said.
‘Right, I’m going to head back to the station,’ Nick said. ‘Keep me updated.’
‘I will,’ Emma said. She touched him on his elbow. ‘And Nick, I’m sorry about earlier, at the house, when you came by.’
‘Forget about it,’ Nick said.
Emma watched him walk away.
‘He looks like he’s been in a fight too,’ the nurse said.
‘Sorry?’ Emma said, momentarily confused.
‘That bruise on his face, how did he get that?’
‘He walked into a door,’ Emma said. ‘Can we go see Mitch now?’
‘Of course.’
They went up in the lift. The hospital corridors were quiet, apart from cleaning staff out with huge, floor buffering machines which hummed softly as they were swept over the floors. Emma had lost track of time, but it had to be the middle of the night, maybe early morning.
As the nurse swiped them into ICU, Emma remembered this was where she had paid Charlie ‘Stut’ Boyd a visit after he shot himself in the leg.
Mitch was tethered to a machine and a drip, his head swathed in a mass of white bandages. His eyes were dark, bruised.
Emma had never seen him look so helpless, not even at Angellicit.
As she sat down next to him his eyes fluttered open.
‘Hi,’ Emma said.
‘Hi,’ Mitch croaked.
‘How do you feel?’
‘Never better,’ Mitch said.
‘That’s good,’ Emma said. ‘I thought maybe we could go out for pizza in a bit, have a few drinks, party the night away.’
‘Sure,’ Mitch whispered. ‘Just give me a minute, okay?’
‘The doctor says you’re going to be fine,’ Emma said.
Mitch had closed his eyes again.
‘I think maybe we should leave him to get some sleep,’ the nurse said. Emma hadn’t realised she had been standing there. ‘It would probably be a good idea for you to go home and get some rest too. We’ll look after him.’
Emma stood up. ‘Yes, of course, thank you. I’ll come back tomorrow.’
The nurse smiled. ‘I think you mean today.’
There was a clock on the wall. It said the time was three-twenty.
Emma took the stairs back down to the ground floor. There was a security guard at the main hospital entrance. Took Emma a moment to remember why.
It was still night time. He was checking for vampires.
Emma felt sorry for him. If even just one vampire turned up that security guard didn’t stand a chance. It seemed no one fully understood the danger they were in.
Not yet, anyway.
Emma ran for her car and climbed inside. She didn’t start the engine but instead pulled out her mobile and opened it up. Joe Coffin’s name was still on the screen in her contacts folder.
She hesitated only a moment and then scrolled past him until she reached Barry’s contact details.
‘Sorry, Barry,’ she whispered.
It took him a while, but he answered eventually, his voice slow and groggy sounding. ‘Emma?’
‘Hey, Barry, sorry to wake you,’ Emma said.
‘What’s wrong? Are you all right? What’s going on?’
‘Gilligan attacked Mitch earlier this evening, bashed his skull in.’
‘Oh shit! Seriously?’
Barry was awake now.
‘Mitch has had to have surgery, but he’s going to be fine,’ Emma said. ‘I just wanted to let you know, you should be careful. Gilligan’s a psychopath.’
‘You don’t know the half of it,’ Barry said.
‘What do you mean?’ Emma said. ‘Have you found something on him?’
Emma could hear movement on the other end of the phone.
‘Hold on a sec, I’m just getting up. What’s the time, anyway?’ Pause. ‘I was going to phone you anyway later this morning. Hang on.’ More movement. ‘Here we go. Have you heard of a company called the Jiangchi Corporation?’
‘No,’ Emma said. ‘Should I?’
‘Not necessarily. They’re a Chinese entertainments company, they run casinos, betting shops, clubs and bars, restaurants, they’ve even got a TV channel. They are pretty big in China but nobody’s ever heard of them because all of their subsidiary ventures are run under different names.’ Barry yawned. ‘Sorry, I don’t think I’ve ever been up so early before.’
‘You’re kidding me,’ Emma said. ‘You’ve never done the graveyard shift on a paper?’
Barry laughed. ‘I’ve only ever worked on local rags, and they don’t do graveyard shifts. More like down the pub by eight o’clock shifts.’
‘So, this Jiangchi lot? What have they got to do with Gerry Gilligan?’
‘Maybe nothing,’ Barry said. ‘But the Jiangchi Corporation is known to have some dodgy funding paths, and one of those is with the Real IRA faction that Gilligan is a member of.’
‘Barry, I’m a little lost right now,’ Emma said. ‘Are you telling me that the Real IRA buy weapons from the Jiangchi Corporation?’
‘That’s right,’ Barry said. ‘But here is where it gets really interesting. The Jiangchi Corporation is also the legal front for a certain Triad faction.’
‘The Seven Ghosts,’ Emma said.
‘Correct, go to the top of the class,’ Barry said.
‘This doesn’t make sense, though,’ Emma said. ‘The Seven Ghosts made a deal with the vampires to take on the running of Angellicit, whilst Gilligan was with Coffin trying to take it back. Just whose side is he on?’
‘My guess is, whoever has got the upper hand, Gilligan is with them.’
‘Maybe you’re right,’ Emma said. ‘Look, Barry, be careful, all right? I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.’
‘Don’t worry about me, Careful is my middle name.’
Emma smiled. ‘Yeah? I thought it was Jeremy?’
Barry was silent for a moment.
‘How the hell do you know that?’ he said.
‘Bye, Barry,’ Emma said, and hung up.
wizztinkling his knickaloons
The scream ripped through the empty corridors and rooms, up and down the stairwells, and echoed around every last corner and crevice. It went on and on, drawn out seemingly beyond all human capacity for such a scream and when it finally faded away, there
was a crash of metal and another scream.
Corpse kept to the shadows as though aware that he should make as little movement and disturbance as possible. His small, dark eyes watched Stump as she threw her arms wide and screamed again.
The man in the cage was crouching low, his hands over his ears, making himself as small as possible. His jacket and shirt were stained with dirt and sweat and blood. His nose was swollen and red, his eyes puffy and bruised, from when Stump had smashed the cricket bat into his face.
Corpse didn’t think he would last much longer and then they would have to go and get another one of their playthings. It could get so boring down here without anything to play with.
Stump kicked out at a wooden kitchen chair, sending it skidding across the floor and toppling over onto its back.
‘I want him dead!’ she screamed, red faced and sweaty.
Strands of her hair, always so severely tied back, had come loose and were hanging over her face. She stood there, her round frame shuddering as she gasped for breath, and eyed Corpse through hooded lids. Even for Corpse it was unusual to see her eyes, so often they were hidden behind dark sunglasses.
‘Mr Coffin is burduous to murdinate,’ Corpse said.
A low growl began building in Stump’s throat. Corpse didn’t like the sound of that growl. It hardly sounded human.
‘We should kill him ourselves,’ she said. ‘We should slice him open and pull out his guts, all while he watches. We could have so much fun with him.’
She started growling again.
The man in the cage had removed his hands from his ears, but he was still crouched down, as though hiding in a tight space. No, he definitely wouldn’t be around for much longer.
The growl suddenly escalated into a scream and Stump lashed out at nothing, swinging her arms as though hitting someone. She howled and kicked and leapt up and down and stamped her feet.
And she stopped, breathless once more.
And she noticed the man in the cage, and she blinked her eyes.
Realising he had been noticed, the man tried shrinking even further into himself, looked like he was trying to make himself invisible.