by Philip Henry
Claire’s attention turned back to Tom. He was so quiet. He wasn’t like the other children, but not to the point were he was some kind of Billy-no-mates. Tom had friends and for 99% of the time he acted like any other boy his age; he climbed trees, rode his bike, collected Star Wars figures and spaceships, and thought girls were a bit yucky. But sometimes when Claire found him sitting by himself in his room he seemed to be staring off into space. No music or TV on: he was just thinking. That was what Claire thought was odd. No nine year-old boy is that introspective. She had asked him what he was thinking about once and he had just smiled and hugged her. Claire had appreciated the gesture but still wondered what he spent so much time thinking about. It worried her sometimes.
Claire’s reverie was broken by the sound of Xavier’s car pulling into the driveway. She marched to the door and put on her sternest face.
Xavier opened the door and put his hands up when he saw Claire’s expression. “I know, I know. I’m late. I’m sorry, sweetie. We were on a roll and I lost track of time but we can still make our reservations if you let me get dressed instead of giving me shit because I’m not dressed.”
Claire smiled. “Compromise: I’ll give you shit while you get dressed.”
“Fair enough,” Xavier smiled and kissed her. He shouted hello at Tom as he passed the living room and Tom waved backwards over his shoulder without turning or speaking. Xavier started to take his sweater off as he passed through the kitchen and said hello to Gillian, who was tucking into Chinese food and watching the kitchen TV. Claire walked after Xavier with her heels clipping on the kitchen tiles.
In the bedroom, Xavier threw off his T-shirt and smelled his armpits – he could still see so they weren’t too bad. He gave them a quick blast of deodorant to be sure, slipped out of his trousers and ducked into the en-suite. Claire came in and sat on the bed.
“Your anniversary present better be good after keeping me waiting and not even commenting on how I look,” Claire said with mock annoyance.
Xavier popped his head out of the en-suite and said, “Is it too late to tell you now?”
“Way too late.”
“You’ll forgive me when you read all the nice things I’ve been saying about you all day. I don’t think there’s a simile left that I haven’t used to describe your bum.”
“I should think so, too.” Xavier popped his head out of the en-suite and gave her a grin and she laughed. He popped back in. “Hey, I forgot to tell you, Tom got a part in the school play.”
“Shakespeare?” Xavier shouted with a mouthful of toothpaste foam.
“No it’s the nativity at Christmas. I think he’s a shepherd.”
Xavier was silent but somehow Claire knew he was smiling. “You’ll never guess what I just found, Claire.”
“Think about football, honey; it’ll go away.” Claire shouted.
“No, not that. Come here and see.”
Claire walked into the en-suite and saw Xavier fully dressed in his dark blue suit and shirt & tie, and looking every bit the hunk she had married. She walked over and kissed him. “You dressed yourself. Clever boy.”
Xavier looked in the mirror and put his finger at his hairline on his left temple. “Look at that,” he said.
Claire moved in close and saw what he was pointing at. “It’s a grey hair!”
Xavier turned and smiled. “OK, don’t get excited. You’ll be next, you know.”
“Never!” Claire said defiantly.
Xavier reached into his pocket and brought out a black velvet box. “I should give you this now so you can wear it…if you like it, of course. You never can tell with you.”
Claire took the box and opened it. She gasped as she lifted the locket and looked at it closely. It was oval, half silver, half gold split down the middle and in the centre was a small ruby heart inset into the metal. “Xavier, it’s beautiful,” she said, welling up.
“I had to be a little creative. No one knew what the traditional gift was for one-hundred and sixteen years.” He took the necklace and moved behind her and put it on. Claire looked in the mirror and noticed she was crying despite her best efforts. “So I had to do some adding up,” Xavier continued. “The gold half is for fifty years, the silver half is for twenty-five and the ruby is for forty.”
“That’s only one-hundred and fifteen, honey.” Claire said, looking at her make-up run away in the mirror.
“Press the ruby,” he said, smiling.
Claire pressed the little heart with her thumb and the locket opened outwards down the middle with the ruby staying on the gold side. The tiny doors parted to reveal a photo of Xavier and Tom.
“First anniversary is paper. I could do Carol’s job on Countdown.”
Claire closed the locket and hugged Xavier. “Thank you. I love it. I love you,” she whispered in his ear. She released her hug and said, “Now look at me. Give me a minute to reapply my make-up. God, I look like Alice Cooper.”
Xavier smiled and left. Claire quickly wiped off the tear tracks of mascara and touched up the gaps in her make-up. She rushed through it because she had just had a great idea: if Gillian was going to stay the night anyway, maybe she and Xavier could book into a nice little hotel and drink champagne and get breakfast in bed. She checked her look once more in the mirror and then ran out to tell Xavier.
Xavier was in the kitchen with Gillian, who was still munching her chicken fried rice while glancing at the TV. Claire ran in and moved to whisper in Xavier’s ear. “Gillian’s going to stay tonight anyway so I was thinking maybe we could book into somewhere and I could thank you like you’ve never been thanked before.”
“That would take some…” Xavier’s words drifted to a stop as he saw the news report on TV. Claire turned to see what had caught his attention. The reporter was standing in front of the Arcadia, where they had lived in their vampire days.
“Hey, it’s…” Claire began and Xavier hushed her. He looked scared. Claire listened to the report.
“I’m standing outside the Arcadia: one of Portrush’s best-loved landmarks. In the sixties a place to twist the night away while the band played on. The Arcadia was then closed and bricked up for many years until it was reopened nine years ago as a thriving restaurant and coffee shop. Last night this historic building was wrecked in an act of vandalism that local councillors have called mindless and barbaric. The furnishings inside broken beyond repair and the walls covered with graffiti that the police are refusing to let us see. We are able to see one word written on the outside of the building but that has only baffled members of the press even more.”
The reporter walked across and got the graffiti in shot behind her. The camera zoomed in and focussed on the word KAALIZ written in three-foot high letters in blood.
“All the linguists I’ve talked to have been unable to decipher what language this is or what it means, though the use of blood-red paint has prompted the question of witchcraft. We’ll bring you more on this story when we get it. This is Alison Fleming in Portrush.”
Terror crept up Xavier’s spine. He turned to Claire and tears of fear were in her eyes. Gillian washed down her food with a drink of milk and said, “Big night in Portrush. I heard earlier that there were seven missing persons reports filed today. Ordinary people that just never came home last night. You know what I think? I think…”
Xavier spoke loudly. “Claire, get Tom and get in the car now. You too, Gillian. We’ll take you home.”
“What? Aren’t you going out anymore?”
As Xavier made up some lie about feeling sick Claire ran to the living room to get Tom. When she opened the door he had turned off the TV, put on his shoes and coat, and was standing waiting for her. She didn’t have time to ask him how he knew. She was just thankful that he was ready to go. She rushed him out of the room and into the kitchen. Xavier was roughly helping Gillian on with her coat.
“Take Tom out to the car,” Xavier said, pushing Gillian towards the door. She took Tom by the hand and led him to t
he door as Xavier and Claire exchanged worried glances and found their own coats. Gillian opened the door and stepped outside. Two hands reached down from above, seized her by the jaw-bones and pulled her upwards in a second. Claire saw it happen and leapt forward, grabbing Tom and yanking him back inside just as crimson rain began to fall outside. Claire started to scream and clutched Tom close to her. Xavier ran to the door and slammed it shut.
“He can’t get in,” Xavier said, with panic clearly distorting his words. “He can’t get in without an invitation. Get away from the door. We’ll call the police.” Xavier took a few steps towards the phone. “It’s OK. We’ll be safe until the police come. He can’t get in.”
A flaming bottle of petrol crashed through the living room window and exploded against the wall. The flames spilled across the room and in seconds it was ablaze. Xavier shut the door to the living room and huddled together with Claire and Tom in the corner of the kitchen. Another Molotov cocktail crashed through the kitchen window and smashed against the cabinets. Tentacles of fire crept along the tiles of the kitchen floor towards them. Claire was crying while holding Tom to her chest. They started to cough as the fire took hold of the kitchen and smoke began to cover the ceiling above them.
Xavier moved them to the door and opened it. The car was only twenty feet away on the driveway. He grasped his pocket and took out the keys. He pushed them into Claire’s hand. “OK, we’re going to have to make a break for the car. If he comes after us, I’ll try to hold him while you and Tom get away.”
Claire found her strength. “We’re making a break for the car but I’m not leaving without you.” Xavier realised it was pointless to argue with her and nodded. Claire kicked off her heels and knelt down to Tom. “Listen, honey, there’s a bad man out there and we have to run fast to the car when daddy says. OK?” Tom nodded obediently. Xavier leaned over and kissed Claire quickly. He looked in all directions outside and then gave them the nod to run.
Claire and Tom ran across the yard to the car. Xavier walked slowly and turned to look at the roof. That was where he would come from. The little house was being consumed from within and the first signs of flames were coming through the tiles by the skylight. Xavier saw nothing and quickened his pace walking backwards to the car. Claire pulled the door open and heaved Tom inside then jumped into the driver’s seat and fumbled with the key until it slid into the ignition. A red-haired vampire dropped on the bonnet as the car came to life. Claire screamed. Xavier turned and saw the female vampire on the car and started to run. He was grabbed from behind and thrown back towards the house. Xavier slammed into the wall beside the living room window with his back and dropped to the ground, winded. He was face down on the ground and saw feet walking towards him.
Claire shoved the car into reverse and hit the accelerator. The vampire fell backwards onto the ground. She slammed the car into first gear and said, “Put on your seatbelt, Tom.” She turned quickly and saw Tom already had his seatbelt on. Claire put her foot down and the car lurched forward. The female vampire was just getting to her feet when the car slammed into her. The vampire’s legs were caught under the car and being dragged along the ground. Her fingers were holding onto the bonnet and leaving deep scratches as they slowly slipped. The vampire was looking over the grille directly at Claire. Claire saw the hate in her eyes. Claire pointed the car at the back wall next to the garage and closed her eyes as the car smashed into it.
Xavier heard the crash and turned. He saw the car had knocked over the wall. He looked up and saw Kaaliz staring down at him. “I read your book last night, Xavier. Can’t say you painted me in a flattering light. Is it true? Are you mortal now?” Xavier was discreetly feeling around the ground behind him and found a stone about the size of a grenade – it would have to do. Kaaliz grabbed him by the lapels and lifted him to his feet. “I guess you must be. A little throw like that and look at you, fighting for life. This is going to be more fun than I imagined.”
Xavier saw the car reversing from the wall and turning. Claire was coming to get him.
“I see you’ve got a kid, too,” Kaaliz continued. “You won’t believe what I’m going to do to him right before your eyes. You’ll be begging me to kill him!”
Xavier took all his remaining strength and smashed the stone hard into Kaaliz’s nose. His nose split and blood splashed across his face. Kaaliz’s hands went to his face and he cradled his injury.
Xavier ran behind him and charged. “I’d like to invite you into my home, Kaaliz.” Xavier pushed him through the living room window and into the fire beyond. Shards of glass followed Kaaliz into the burning house. The shattered window released a thick cloud of black smoke. Xavier coughed and stepped back. The flames had swallowed Kaaliz. The car skidded to a stop bedside him and he jumped in. The car roared down the driveway and onto the open road. Claire watched their home being consumed in flames in the mirror and headed towards the town, hoping there would be safety in numbers.
Claire was having trouble driving with the deflated airbag around the steering wheel. “Can you do something about this?” Xavier saw how it was hindering her and reached across and ripped it off. “Are you OK?” she asked.
“I didn’t think…”
Kaaliz dropped onto the bonnet of the car. His clothes burning, his face blistered beyond recognition. Claire screamed and hit the brakes. Kaaliz held on. He drew his fist back to punch the windscreen. Claire hit the accelerator again and Kaaliz stumbled forward and onto the roof. Claire looked in the rearview mirror waiting for him to fall off but he didn’t. A huge dent appeared in the roof of the car. Kaaliz’s second punch made it through the metal and his arm was in the car. Xavier punched it and it retreated. Kaaliz put both hands into the hole and pulled. The roof tore backwards and left a gap big enough for Kaaliz to stick his head and shoulders inside. Kaaliz grabbed Claire’s hair and tried to make her crash but she held the car steady and all Kaaliz got was a handful of hair. Xavier punched the bloody and blistered face but he wasn’t hurting Kaaliz and he knew it.
Tom had pinned himself against the door beyond the reach of Kaaliz. He put his hand in his pocket and clutched his school craft project tightly. Then he shot out his leg and started kicking the thing that his daddy was punching. He got it a couple of good kicks to the face and edged closer. Kaaliz grabbed the boy’s leg and bit into his calf. Tom screamed and Xavier leapt at Kaaliz and grabbed his head. Xavier dug his fingers into Kaaliz’s eyes until he released Tom’s leg. Kaaliz mouth was open and he was screaming. Tom took the small metal crucifix he had made at school from his pocket and lunged at Kaaliz. Xavier saw it happening in slow motion. He saw Tom take something from his pocket. He saw it was a cross. He saw Tom stuff it into Kaaliz’s open mouth. Kaaliz recoiled. Xavier took his fingers out of Kaaliz’s eyes and pushed his mouth closed. Kaaliz was in agony. Xavier punched him in the throat. Kaaliz was choking as the cross lodged in his windpipe. He pulled backwards out of the car and fell off the roof. Claire saw him hit the dirt in the side mirror and roll to a stop. Xavier jumped into the back. Tom’s leg was bleeding badly. Xavier clasped his hand on it and tried to stop the flow.
“Claire, we have to get him to hospital fast!”
brigadier jones’s diary
Sin was badly hurt after the car had crushed her. She had lain there for a long time just getting up the strength to move. She had seen Kaaliz burst from the burning house and fly into the night with his clothes on fire. She thought he would come back for her when he had killed the family, but as the chill began to disappear from the night she feared he might need her help. She got to her feet and even though she ached all over, she followed Kaaliz’s scent and found him walking back to the house. He was in even worse shape than she was. His face was burned and blistered and his eyes were missing. He was staggering up the road when he caught her scent. “Sin? Is that you?” His voice was coarse and it was hurting him to speak.
“Yes, it’s me,” Sin said, exhausted.
“We haven’t long ‘
til sunrise. You have to help me,” he pleaded.
Sin scanned the countryside and saw a house in the distance. It seemed so far away and she was so tired, but they had to make it. She put her arm around Kaaliz and they hobbled as fast as they could down the road.
The Newman family were warring over the breakfast table. The previous night Patricia had told her parents that she planned to take a year off and hike around Europe before going to university. Mum and dad had not been taken with this idea and a blazing row had ended with Patricia stomping upstairs to her room. Patricia had hoped that her parents would be more receptive in the morning, after having the night to think it over, but the same old arguments were being thrown up.
“What are you going to do for money?” Dad shouted. “You needn’t think I’m going to bankroll a year-long holiday.”
“I’ll get jobs. Seasonal stuff. Fruit picking and junk. I’ve got this booklet if you’ll just…”
“And what do you do when the fruit’s all picked?” her mum chimed in.
Patricia growled at the stupidity of the question then answered, “If somehow I manage to pick all of Europe’s fruit reserves, I’ll get a job as a waitress or a bartender or something.”
“A barmaid!” her mother cried and crossed herself. “Jesus, help us.”