Dark Harbour: The Tale of the Soul Searcher

by Joseph Kiel

  If only he could break out of this nightmare. If only he could move a limb and wake into the real world of the relative again. No matter how hard he tried to move his arm, it just would not move. Vladimir began to think that he might be stuck in this paralysis forever and never be able to walk around in his real world, never be able to do his work again.

  Rain splashed against Vladimir’s bedroom window and suddenly he was awake. He sat upright in his bed, and saw the sprays of water smashing against the glass like a tidal wave. He looked at his digital alarm clock. It was thirty-seven minutes past nine in the evening. Just how long had he been sleeping?

  He sprang out of bed and flung open his wardrobe. Each garment was hung up neatly and he reached first for his black shirt. As he grabbed the hanger with his left hand, he winced in pain. His bandage was stained from the weeping of his wounds while he’d slept. It really needed changing but he didn’t have time.

  As he assembled his Halo of Fires suit on his body, he felt himself becoming the immaculate Vladimir again, slipped into his role of karmic angel.

  He knew that someone had already been killed today; he had to get going before any more fell away from his world.

  Chapter 14.5

  The rain lashed down relentlessly like the tears from a defeated army of angels, an army that was now retreating for it had given up on the town. It had chased away the last of the seaside daytrippers long ago as darkness had engulfed the amusements. If there were any other stragglers, then the sight of Devlan and his glowing red eyes emerging from the mist would have easily been the deciding factor in convincing them that Floyd’s Amusements was not the place to be right now.

  Wandering around the complex, Devlan’s clothes were completely soaked and the sea wind bit ferociously against his face. Devlan hated being wet. He really, really hated it. It had been years since he was last out in the rain. Too many cold memories. He could still feel those miserable shiverings in his bones to this day.

  Whenever he got involved with Floyd, he would always end up in these dreadfully unpleasant situations. He should have known better. He should have known that Floyd’s foolish scheme would only drag him down. Perhaps there was a part of him that knew all this from the start, born of a tired hopelessness. Devlan just wanted something to do, just wanted to feel needed again.

  He knew the Fires were going to be coming for him, and that they would intend to kill him. Amongst the putrid smells in the warehouse, he’d also smelt Floyd’s deceit. No doubt The Harbour Master had asked his servant to dispose of Devlan. If there was a job too difficult for Floyd then he would just get someone else to do it.

  Devlan stopped walking. There wasn’t much point searching out Henry; they would get to him sooner if he stayed in one place. He removed his gloves and tossed them onto the drenched tarmac. Holding a hand in front of his face, he squeezed his fingers into a tight ball as the raindrops fell from his fingertips.

  Coarse hair sprouted all the way up his arms and his fingernails were like thick, black claws, curling round into sharp points. Completely hideous, but good for defending himself, as they had proved so many, many times over the years.

  Two large figures appeared from nowhere out of the streaming black rain, as though they were two of the angelic warriors passing over in the skies but had fallen with the raindrops. One of them was standing downwind from Devlan and the bitter smell of whisky carried through the slimy air. The other stood on his opposite side, like a sprinter at the mark, ready to run away. He was that giant meathead Clint; the other was Jake.

  Either of them on their own would not have been a problem at all for Devlan. Both of them together possibly made it a bit more balanced. Nevertheless, he much preferred that it didn’t come to that.

  ‘Where’s Maristow?’ Devlan asked, his voice muffled by the penetrating wind. Opening his mouth wide to project his words, they surely would see the large canines protruding from his rows of teeth.

  Neither of them answered. The shadowy figure of Jake began gliding silently towards him. Tentatively Clint did the same.

  ‘We shouldn’t be getting caught up in this,’ Devlan went on. ‘This is all between Maristow and Floyd. Why don’t we just let them sort out their thing and we can all go our own ways?’

  ‘We know what you did, Devlan,’ Jake said.

  ‘Floyd’s playing you. You want me to take you to him? I know where he is, where he’s keeping those two lads.’

  ‘We already know where they are. Henry is on his way now.’

  Devlan’s heart sank. Mostly he was disappointed in himself for not imagining that Floyd could stitch him up as the fall guy. ‘Whatever he’s told you, it’s all lies.’

  ‘Those kids had gone looking for you! You kidnapped them and we know why. We know that you’re a sick, blood-drinking freak.’

  Devlan shook his head and lowered his dimming red eyes to the ground, struck by a painfully old feeling.

  ‘We know what you are, Devlan,’ Jake went on. ‘We know you’re that killer, Old Shiner. We’ve let you live long enough.’

  ‘No,’ Devlan growled.

  ‘Just take a look at yourself. What the hell sort of freak are you?’

  Devlan made a strange guttural sound, almost like the purr of a motorbike engine slowly ticking over. It suddenly erupted into a tremendous growl that pierced Jake’s eardrums and made Clint flinch his entire body.

  Clint fumbled into the back pocket of his jeans and brought out his knife. He lunged at Devlan but the creature’s movements were much less sloppy and he darted out of the way, grabbing a clawed hand on the back of Clint’s head and pushing him hard into the ground.

  He wasn’t quick enough for Jake however, who sent his right fist flying into his ribcage. It was a move that usually put people in a crippled heap on the floor, but Devlan remained standing, catching Jake’s fist after the impact and then swiping his other hand against Jake’s neck.

  Jake recoiled as the salty sea air seeped into the parallel lacerations down his neck. Devlan stepped closer to him ready to spring, but Jake took him by surprise by diving into him, sending them both to the ground. With all of his strength he pinned Devlan against the tarmac, and the monster stared back at him with his wild, glowing eyes, his mouth wide open ready to sink his teeth into Jake’s flesh.

  Jake wasn’t able to hold him much longer. Clint had found his feet again, and also his blade, and he stumbled over. Seeing him approach, Devlan growled once more, and with a strength that seemed to defy the fibres of his muscles, he threw the gargantuan warrior off him and Jake went flying into some railings. He fell to the ground winded, gasping frantically for air.

  In a lightning move, Devlan was back to his feet and eyeing up the other Power. He could smell his fear, could see his hand trembling as he held the knife before him.

  Clint looked at Jake writhing on the ground, and it seemed to destroy the little courage he’d mustered. Making the most of his hesitation, Devlan stormed after him, clawing against Clint’s hand and sending the knife flying into the darkness. Another claw swiped for his face, but Clint flinched out of the way quickly enough. He wasn’t fast enough for Devlan’s next move though, as the frenzied creature launched himself at him. His claws pierced into his flesh and his teeth sank into his shoulder making Clint scream. It wasn’t the pain that made him yell though, it was the panicky fear of having this freak attached to his body. Clint imagined Devlan tearing him open and ripping his guts apart and he frantically span around, clattering into the panels of the helter-skelter.

  Still Devlan would not detach and so Clint roared harder, erupting every ounce of his fear in a desperate throe. The teeth dug further into his neck, the claws rooting into his flesh like burrowing mites. The freak would drain his nerves until Clint died of fright.

  Clint felt he was being eaten alive, but somehow he managed to reach for Devlan’s red eyes and pressed his thumbs into them. Devlan growled again and he unlocked the grip, slopping to the ground. In his relief, Clint ki
cked at him as hard as he could.

  It didn’t seem to have any effect. The creature was very quickly back on his feet and snarling as his eerie eyes stared back at the terrified Power. The freak was indestructible.

  Devlan took a pace forwards, Clint stepped backwards. Another step from Devlan and Clint was now turning to run, like a stag running from the bloodthirsty panther who could sense a kill.

  He wanted to be away from the freak, but no matter how hard he pumped his meaty legs, he just wasn’t quick enough. Devlan pounced onto his back and sent him sprawling to the ground. As Clint frantically tried to wriggle free, the monster grabbed his head with both hands, arched it back, and then smacked it against the ground, sending Clint away into blackness.

  One down, one to go. Devlan got to his feet and dashed back to the bleeding, winded Jake who’d now found his breath again and was clambering to his feet. Jake saw him approach and looked around for his fellow Power.

  ‘Just me and you, Jake,’ Devlan murmured. ‘Going to run away like a little girl too?’

  ‘I’m not afraid of you, Devlan.’

  ‘The mighty Jake don’t fear anyone, does he? But you should know there’s always a bigger fish.’

  Jake clenched both of his fists. He was ready to fight the monster before him, ready to destroy him. Jake, Power of the Fires, never lost against anyone, and so Devlan could be no exception. This was Jake’s chance to finally prove that he was the greatest, that he was the champion of Dark Harbour. Devlan’s scalp would immortalise his reputation of indomitability.

  With an unsteady breath he stepped forward.

  Chapter 14.6

  Vladimir slid his fingers through his wet hair and shivered as he felt the stinging rainwater trickle down the back of his neck. The cold was such a crude sensation, an irritation that came with being a member of this realm. On the level of the soul it was meaningless, non-existent, and so it was easy for Vladimir to switch it off, such were the abilities he had.

  Jeremy was bone dry of course, completely unaffected by the unsettled elements. The ghostly little boy with the purple eyes walked in deathly silence about ten feet ahead, a lost soul who was not of this world and who therefore could not absorb the pellets of rain that insisted on aiming down at Vladimir.

  The vigilante had followed the boy down the sodden path through the fields, along the riverbank where the ducks nibbled at algae, and past the caravan park on the outskirts of town. It was an unusual route, but it gradually became apparent that they were heading towards Eastgate.

  It felt like treading across yesterday’s battle zone as Vladimir walked up to The Cheshire Cat. The café was deserted. His fellow soldiers must have answered the call to battle, and were either fighting the dreadful disturbances or lying dead in the field. Where was Vladimir when they’d needed him? Lying in oblivion in a nice warm bed as he’d wandered the other plains.

  There was nothing here, nothing but a reminder of Vladimir’s failings. Such was Jeremy’s spite to lead him up this dead end. Just as Vladimir was about to turn his back on the ghostly boy and carry on into the town centre, he noticed someone… a face, slightly familiar. He sat like an abandoned rag doll across the street, staring blankly as the raindrops danced like aqueous fairies in the murky puddle before him.

  The shower continued to snap against his slickly drenched coat while Vladimir tried to remember who this person was: young man, smooth face, clear voice, sharp eyes. As the wind swept by him like an angel had just flapped its wing, Vladimir could see exactly who he was.

  So much pain had swept through the young man. In another universe, Vladimir’s soul could have followed the same path as his. He crossed the road.

  He remembered the nature of their encounter, the altercation they’d had in the pub when Vladimir had had to grab his throat to shut him up.

  Michael looked up at the silhouette of the approaching dark figure. ‘You must be Vladimir.’

  ‘You’re the pacifist, right?’ Vladimir asked as he stepped further into the streetlight.

  ‘You remember me.’

  ‘Yeah. What are you doing here?’

  ‘As much as I hate to say it, I need your help. I’m looking for my friends.’

  ‘You know Larry and Eddie?’ Vladimir asked as he sat down on the cold pavement next to him.

  ‘I bet I’m too late.’

  ‘No,’ Vladimir lied. ‘We can still find them.’

  ‘Tell you who I did find though. Managed to solve one of Dark Harbour’s greatest mysteries. Remember I was looking for that young lad Jeremy? Well, I know where he is.’

  Vladimir nodded and swallowed hard. ‘I had a funny feeling you might work it out.’

  ‘Although, he wouldn’t exactly be a young boy anymore, would he? By now he’d be all grown up, probably settling down with a wife and thinking about having kids and all that sort of stuff, don’t you think? But I don’t think it’s worth taking your advice. I don’t think he would tell me if I asked him who murdered Simon Tuckwell and his grandfather.’

  ‘Believe me now that it wasn’t Halo of Fires?’

  ‘I found out the Fires were protectors. They were too late for Ulric and Simon, but when it came to Jeremy they had to try differently. They didn’t just want to hide him, they wanted him to be able to look after himself as well, turn him into the same force that protected him. Plus, it’s easy to hide things sometimes when they’re right under your nose.’

  ‘So what do you plan to do with this information?’

  ‘This was supposed to be my Journalism project. Supposed to help in getting myself a first.’

  ‘A true Kolley Kibber, eh? So this was all goddamned college work?’

  ‘It wouldn’t be a good idea if I broadcast to the world where Jeremy is to be found. There’s a reason he’s hidden, after all.’

  ‘Maybe certain people have worked it out by now, but even so, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t.’

  ‘Are there many others that know you’re Jeremy?’

  ‘Only a few.’

  ‘Why? I mean, why did you become who you are? Where’s the young boy my brother met?’

  ‘Do you really think I was supposed to see my brother and grandfather murdered and not turn out this way? Every day I miss them, and every day I see their killer in my mind. I won’t rest until I’ve found him. I won’t rest until there’s no one else that suffers like I did.’

  ‘They turned you into a revenge machine. The perfect candidate, just like Larry. You were exactly what they needed for their organisation.’

  ‘They were exactly what I needed for me. What do you think, squaddie? You think you know what to do to save someone like me? You think I even want it any other way? Answers in your book?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. I don’t need your sorrow. Don’t need anything from anyone. Especially not now,’ Vladimir said as he got to his feet again.

  ‘So, what do we do? How can we find them?’

  ‘I’ll find them,’ Vladimir replied as he gazed down the street, although it seemed like he was gazing elsewhere.

  Michael lifted himself to his feet. ‘I need to help my friends. I need to save them. Please.’

  Vladimir lowered his head for a moment. Michael could see his blood-black eyes were far away, far within a realm that was beyond his understanding.

  ‘Your brother…’ Vladimir began. ‘He knew my brother?’

  ‘He did.’

  ‘Simon had a friend called Oli. I met him once.’

  ‘Oliver. That’s him.’

  ‘Good kid.’

  ‘He’s dead too.’

  Vladimir looked up, his eyes coming back into focus. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Michael continued to look closely at Vladimir’s eyes and he could have sworn that for a moment a faint purple glimmer appeared to swell within them, like a firework igniting the lonely night sky and then fading away.

  Another silence crept along. Vladimir appeared like a completely different per
son to the one in The Waggon that evening. He could now see light in the darkness. Perhaps somewhere within the cosmic wasteland, the young Jeremy still roamed.

  ‘I won’t tell anyone what I know,’ Michael said. ‘About you. You have my word.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Vladimir replied.

  ‘You never know, maybe one day I’ll need to call on you to return the favour.’

  ‘I doubt that.’

  ‘Just help me find my friends then.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Vladimir replied before turning away. ‘Follow me.’

  Chapter 14.7

  As promised, Floyd was there waiting for him. He had a green yo-yo in hand which he examined as though he was looking at an alien artefact. He twitched the disc from his hand but it only returned halfway up the string. He yanked it again, too hard, and it completely uncoiled and span messily. Floyd tossed it away in annoyance and then he saw his old acquaintance.

  Henry’s eyes followed the yo-yo as it slid across the ground and disappear beneath one of the many old fairground rides within this strange curiosity barn.

  ‘I got it off one of your young apprentices,’ Floyd said. ‘Where did you find those two? The funny farm? Are they part of some sort of government scheme to get retards in employment?’

  Henry fixed his gaze firmly on Floyd as though his eyes were trying to cut into the monster’s brain. ‘Where are they?’

  ‘You’re so noble, Maristow. Doing this knight in shining armour thing. Kids!’ he called out. ‘He’s come to rescue you, kids! Everything’s all right now!’ His whole body now jittered around in a bubbling excitement, as though he were performing again for his ungodly audience, shining like a true master of destruction.

  ‘What did you do to them, Floyd? Why? Why did you take them?’

  ‘You know goddamned well why.’

  The old Seraph nodded. ‘Okay. Yeah, let’s put an end to your silly game.’

  He reached into his trouser pocket and brought out the counterfeit indigo gemstone. He held it up for him. ‘Here it is.’