Darkness Falls

by Mia James

  ‘Bugger that,’ said April, ‘I’m coming with you.’

  ‘No, April, there’s something dangerous here.’

  ‘What, and it’s going to be less dangerous if you leave me by myself? I’m sticking to you like glue, hero.’

  She followed Gabriel along the path. To their left was a long grey stone wall with arched doors let into the sides, the occupants’ names carved above them: tombs for London’s wealthiest Victorian families. April remembered coming along here on her tour of the cemetery; the main doorway ahead of them was the entrance to the Highgate Catacombs. It had been a pretty creepy place then, and that had been in full daylight. Gabriel stopped and crouched down, as if he were searching the ground for tracks.

  ‘What is it? What can you see?’

  He looked up and pointed ahead of him to the high black iron door set into a stone archway. The catacombs were open.

  ‘Oh no,’ whispered April. She remembered the tour guide making a big deal about how the catacombs were kept locked at all other times.

  ‘Someone’s been here,’ said Gabriel.

  ‘Someone or something?’

  Gabriel turned to her, the moonlight catching his face. She didn’t need an answer. He looked like an attack dog straining on the end of his lead. Whatever the something was, he wanted to get at it.

  ‘Stay outside, April,’ he said, moving towards the door. ‘I’m serious.’

  April watched as he stepped into the vault, staring at the entrance after he vanished inside. She turned around, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow, wondering if the something was out here watching her from behind a tree or a tomb.

  Scrabbling in her pocket, she brought out the little torch and began shining it at the tree line, back at the tomb, anywhere. There was nothing – nothing she could see, anyway. There was a noise to her right and she whirled around, holding the torch in front of her like a gun. What was that? All she could see were trees, but she was sure she’d heard something: a whisper? A chuckle? God, not again. ‘Gabriel,’ she hissed, backing towards the door. ‘Gabriel!’

  She wasn’t going to stay out here alone. She walked slowly towards the dark open doorway, her body tensed, hearing her heart thumping in her ears. Where was he? As she reached out to touch the stone archway, she immediately jerked back as Gabriel stepped in front of her.

  ‘Dammit, Gabe, you scared me!’

  ‘Don’t go in there,’ he said, putting his arms around her. It was a gesture of protection and sympathy, the same sort of embrace people had given her at her dad’s funeral.

  ‘Why not?’ she said, trying to look around him, ‘What’s in there?’

  ‘You don’t need to see,’ said Gabriel, his face grave. ‘We should go.’

  ‘No,’ said April angrily. She didn’t know why, but suddenly it was very important that she see inside the vault. ‘Whatever’s in there, I want to see it,’ she said, trying to get around him. ‘Don’t tell me what to do, I’m sick of people telling me what’s best for me.’

  More than that, she was sick of not knowing what was going on, of half-glimpsing things, of constantly feeling that she was groping around in the dark. She could tell from the look on his face that she wasn’t going to discover a box of fluffy kittens, but at that moment she wanted – she needed – to see, however horrible it was. She darted to the side and ducked under his arm.

  ‘April, don’t …’

  But he was too late. There, in the entrance to the catacombs, she could see a body. Hanging by the neck.

  ‘Jesus, God …’ said April, a hand over her mouth. Her heart was hammering and bile rose in her throat. Because she knew who it was; she recognised the dress, and the shoe hanging loosely from the toe of the left foot. She knew who it was, but still she couldn’t help raising her torch beam towards the face. Because she had to see, she simply couldn’t help herself. She had to be sure that what she was seeing was real. April let out a sob as she saw the horribly distorted face, her eyes mercifully closed, her blonde hair falling in waves, still perfect even in death. ‘Layla,’ she moaned. ‘Oh Layla.’

  Gabriel caught April as she staggered backwards, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her outside. He held her tightly as she shook, her breath coming in gulps. It was horrible, monstrous, unreal. She looked up into Gabriel’s face, tears streaking her own.

  ‘Why?’ she asked. ‘Why is this happening? God, Gabriel, why?’

  Gabriel didn’t answer. What could he say? ‘Because creatures like me have come to destroy everything you know, to turn this place – to turn the world – into a living hell’? There was no way to explain this, to explain the endless horrors which kept coming again and again. Alix, Isabelle, her father, her own ordeals and now Layla. Who would be next, who was safe? No one was; April saw that clearly now. She had been floating in her naïve belief that the worst was over and all they had to do was catch the bad guy. But now she saw with sickening clarity that any one of her friends, her neighbours … anyone she knew could be next, anyone who stumbled onto the vampires’ secret, anyone they felt could be a threat. And if she didn’t do something about it, something very, very soon, then any day now, that vault would be piled high with bodies.

  ‘We have to stop them, Gabe,’ she said fiercely.

  ‘We will, baby,’ he said. ‘We have to.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  The police examiner thought Layla had been dead for two days. Which placed her time of death on the night of the party at Davina’s house.

  ‘Are you okay, April?’ DI Reece had found April in the kitchen where she was staring into a cup of tea which had gone cold ten minutes before.

  She looked up. ‘Not really.’

  Reece nodded. ‘Well, I think I’d have been more worried if you were doing cartwheels. Do young people still do cartwheels?’ he wondered aloud.

  April forced a smile: he was only trying to lighten the mood, but she really didn’t feel up to swapping jokes. And to think only half an hour ago, she had been feeling so happy. Happy that her boyfriend had lived, happy that she hadn’t killed him with her kiss after all. Well, that didn’t last long, did it? she thought cynically.

  Gabriel had taken her back to her mother’s house, where they’d raised the alarm. They both agreed that having Gabriel find another body would prompt too many questions. It was bad enough that April was wrapped up in yet another violent death, but at least she had an excuse for being in the cemetery – even if it had involved some minor breaking and entering.

  ‘I know you and Layla weren’t exactly friends,’ said Reece, sitting on the stool opposite her, ‘but it’s never pleasant to hear about a suicide.’

  Suicide. It was all April had been thinking about. Could Layla really have committed suicide? Or had the Suckers forced her into the noose? She wasn’t sure which was more horrible.

  ‘But she just wasn’t the type, Mr Reece,’ said April urgently. ‘She wouldn’t have killed herself, she was too …’ she trailed off.

  ‘Too what, April?’

  ‘Too arrogant.’ She shrugged. ‘Too full of her own self-importance. Layla loved herself, Mr Reece, there’s no way she would have done that.’

  ‘People do funny things sometimes. You think you’ve seen everything, but they will constantly surprise you. No one can really know what’s going on inside someone else’s head.’

  He looked at April sympathetically.

  ‘I’m sorry, she was your friend. You don’t want to hear this right now.’

  ‘It’s okay, I want to work it out as much as you. Because if someone as self-obsessed as Layla can kill herself, then something’s seriously wrong in Highgate.’

  Reece nodded.

  ‘Okay, well let’s see if we can work it out. Her boyfriend’s death could certainly have been a trigger, but is there anything else you can tell us?’

  April hesitated. She wasn’t sure how much she should tell him. She never was: that was the eternal problem.

  ‘Well, there was one thing
,’ she said slowly. ‘Layla said something to me the other day about how “they” were after her. She was acting really strangely.’

  Reece noted it down in his notebook, then tapped the page.

  ‘And who were “they”?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, avoiding his gaze, ‘I assumed she was talking about some of the other girls in her clique, you know, that they were pushing her out of the group or spreading rumours about her or something, not that anyone was actually threatening her life. Especially since when I asked her about it the next day, she acted like I was talking rubbish. She was back to being the same cocky girl she was before.’

  ‘So you think there could have been a bullying element to this? Something that pushed her over the edge?’

  ‘Look … I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but Layla was a bit of a bully herself. It’s like asking if a shark could be attacked by another shark. I suppose it’s possible, but … I can’t see how someone calling her names would make her do … that. Like I said, it doesn’t make sense that Layla would kill herself.’

  ‘And yet she did.’

  ‘Did she?’

  Reece raised his eyebrows.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, are you sure it was suicide?’

  Reece looked down the corridor towards the living room where DS Amy Carling was talking to April’s mother and Mr Sheldon.

  ‘Just between us, just in conversation – and I’m not saying she was killed, we’re just talking hypothetically here, okay? – it’s an awful lot of effort to go to, faking a hanging. Someone must have really wanted her dead. Given that people have been killed in much more bloody ways recently, as you well know, why would anyone bother?’

  And suddenly it came to her in a rush. All at once, she knew who had done it and more importantly, why they had.

  ‘Oh no,’ said April, clamping her hand over her mouth. ‘Oh God.’ Why didn’t I think of it before? She jumped to her feet, knocking her stool to the floor with a great clatter, and ran from the room, pushing through the kitchen door and out into the back yard, gulping at the cold air, her head spinning. Stupid! So stupid. How did I miss it? They had killed Layla because of her. Because they thought Layla was a Fury, rather than April. The vampires had watched Milo waste away, eaten away from the inside by disease, and they’d thought ‘vampires don’t get sick’. The only possible cause was a Fury. The only creature on earth which could destroy a vampire. As Milo’s girlfriend Layla must have been their prime suspect. Perhaps he fed from her, perhaps not. Either way they had kissed. God, that was why they had killed her in such a horrible way – snap her neck, no blood, no danger to the vampires.

  She squeezed her fingers into her eyes. It was me, it was me, she thought, I killed Layla. If I wasn’t a Fury – if I hadn’t accidentally killed Milo – they would have left her alone. And ironically, Gabriel would have been the perfect cover for April. All the Suckers had seen them kissing and yet here he was, a picture of vampire health. Killing Layla had made her safe – for the moment, anyway. God, that just made her feel worse.

  ‘April?’

  Reece had come into the yard. He handed her a glass of water. ‘Are you okay? Can I help?’

  ‘No, no,’ she said, taking a sip of the water. ‘I’m just … it just suddenly hit me – what had happened, what I had seen. God, Mr Reece, she was just hanging there. It’s just so … wrong.’

  ‘You said it. And it hasn’t gone unnoticed either.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Layla’s father is a well-connected businessman, something in telecommunications, I think. He has friends in high places, specifically the Home Office, the mayor’s office, not to mention Ravenwood – which is why Mr Sheldon is here. All of which means that suddenly this case has become big news. We’re going to be crawling all over this.’

  ‘Well that’s good, isn’t it?’

  Reece pulled a face.

  ‘Not necessarily. Not for me, anyway.’

  ‘They aren’t taking you off the case, are they?’

  ‘Not yet. But they will, believe me, if I don’t come up with results quick smart. And they’re bringing in some big guns.’

  ‘Why do you look so worried about that?’

  ‘I think you’ll see why when you meet Dr Tame.’

  ‘Who’s Dr Tame?’

  ‘A hot-shot police psychologist. Used to be an Oxford professor, written loads of books about how to tell if someone’s lying, which is why they bring him in to work on difficult cases.’

  ‘I take it you don’t approve?’

  ‘He gets the job done, I’ll give him that. But I’d rather be working with coppers, not some jumped-up teacher. And his methods … are not to my taste. But it’s out of my hands.’

  ‘But you’ll still be looking into my dad’s case?’ she said urgently.

  ‘As long as they’ll let me.’

  The police wrapped up their questioning and April’s mother showed them and Mr Sheldon out before she came to find April in the kitchen.

  ‘Are you all right, darling?’ said Silvia as she walked in.

  Yeah, like you care.

  ‘So what was Mr Sheldon doing here?’ asked April.

  ‘He came to offer his help. He has some connections in the force and they contacted him about the suicide.’

  ‘I meant why did he come here instead of visiting Layla’s family?’

  ‘Because he’s our friend, April. Don’t start this again.’

  ‘Okay, but how come he’s so friendly all of a sudden? How come I’d never heard of him before?’

  ‘Your dad and I were at university with him, you know that.’

  ‘Do I?’ said April. She shook her head. Maybe they had told her. She wasn’t that sure about anything any more. She made her excuses and trudged up to bed. She’d barely slept over the past three days through worrying about Gabriel and she was drained from their reunion, especially when so swiftly followed by yet another body blow. She ran herself a bath and slipped under the bubbles. A really hot dunk sometimes helped her think, but April found she couldn’t close her eyes without seeing Layla’s face. She pushed the image away and concentrated her mind on something else: why had Sheldon been here exactly? She had a strong suspicion Sheldon was a vampire – why wouldn’t he be, being the head of a school overrun by them? – so maybe he was spying. But that actually wasn’t what was bothering her, it was the way he seemed to be sniffing around her mother and the way Silvia was reacting to him, like it was the kindest thing anyone had ever done. After all, why would her mother be interested in him? He even had funny eyes!

  She dried off and clambered into bed, checking her mobile for texts. Caro, Fiona, Davina – of course. She couldn’t deal with all that overwrought drama right now. There was nothing from Gabriel, although he was probably keeping a low profile. God, why am I always making excuses for him? she wondered. She was too weary to think about it. But as she lay down, she couldn’t stop thinking about Layla. DI Reece was right; she hadn’t really liked the girl, but she had seen the fear on her face – she was terrified. And what had April done about it? Nothing, that’s what. But what could she have done, even if she had made the Fury connection earlier? Called the police? Confessed to the vamps that she was a Fury, not Layla? But how could she have known they were going to do that? She tortured herself, imagining Davina leading Layla away after the party. Had they tied her up? Or just used threats? Somehow the idea of being locked up in the catacombs was more horrible than having your throat ripped out. Alone in the dark, surrounded by corpses. Had they forced her into the noose, or simply left it for her? God, that was the worst thought. Locked in that windowless tomb, pressed in on all sides by whispers and grinning skeletons, facing starvation or a swinging rope. But no, that couldn’t be right, the door was wide open, wasn’t it? Perhaps the vamps had left it that way, so Layla’s corpse would be found, like gamekeepers leaving snared rats and crows hanging to rot as a deterrent to the others
. This is our territory, leave it alone or you will suffer the same fate. What sort of evil was surrounding her? She turned over, pulling the duvet up around her ears. It took a long time for April’s mind to let go, spinning down to twitching, disquieting dreams of chase, darkness and a bird’s yellow beak stabbing at her eye.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘Jack the Ripper was not a psychopath,’ said Miss Holden. ‘At least not in the classic sense. He wasn’t committing his crimes because he was unable to control his urges – which is the usual definition of a psychopath – in fact he was acting deliberately and methodically.’

  April and Benjamin exchanged glances across the history class. The serial killer was an especially gruesome choice of subject straight after Layla’s death. Why was she talking about this now? The whole school was subdued, talking in whispers. April was getting used to the sideways glances and muttered conversations when she walked by. ‘See that weird girl who got attacked by Marcus Brent? She found another body.’ She wasn’t surprised to see someone had set up a Wall of Layla outside the refectory, fast becoming a Ravenwood tradition. The first one had been a Wall of Milo in honour of Layla’s late boyfriend and it had quickly been covered in pictures of Layla along with written tributes and poems. ‘Milo and Layla – together at last’ was a strong favourite.

  April’s mind jumped back to the lesson when Miss Holden’s voice reminded her of her dreams, of being chased through dark streets.

  ‘The Ripper was only out of control in the sense that he couldn’t resist this urge he had to kill,’ said Miss Holden. ‘And he clearly wasn’t that bothered about getting caught – in fact he wanted people to see what he had done. He laid his victims out carefully as if they were on display, and as if they were supposed to give people a specific message.’

  Like a warning, perhaps? thought April.

  Miss Holden was trying to use the Ripper case to show how something as commonplace as a handful of murders – which were a depressingly ordinary event in Whitechapel in the 1880s – could change society so much, leading to reforms in the police service, leaps forward in forensic techniques and a massive change in the way the media reported crime. But today, it had taken on a different meaning. After Layla, Marcus and the other murders, the long-ago terror of the East End felt very close to home, very easy to visualise for most of the students. April began to wonder about Miss Holden’s real motivation. Surely she would know that they would all be thinking about Layla that morning?