Ofelia (The Book of Davoth 1)

by Martyn Stanley

  ‘Right, right! Gimmee a second.’

  With that, Kerry scuttled back off to the room where Ofelia was lying drugged and unconscious on a hospital bed.

  ***

  Victor was standing by the front door now. When Mike appeared, Victor gestured towards Amy. ‘What did you do to-’

  Mike grinned, showing a rapidly elongating pair of fangs. ‘Oh, nothing you wouldn’t do Vic. I’m sure.’

  If Victor was surprised, he hid it well. ‘And there I was thinking Ofelia and I were the last. I might have known.’

  Mike shrugged. ‘You were. But Ofelia has been busy. There are a dozen of us, you won’t get away with-’

  ‘You’re lying!’ Victor snarled. ‘When did Ofelia turn you? What has she really told you about being a vampire?’

  ‘She told me enough.’

  Victor laughed now, a low grumbling laugh, like crunching gravel. ‘You think you can stop me? The closer to their prime they are turned, the stronger a vampire is. The longer a person lives with the immortal paradox - the stronger a vampire they become. I’ve walked this earth for over three hundred years. I am going to kill you. I will give you one chance though. Stand down. Accept me as your Master. I can teach you so much. Wealth, power, eternal life; they are all within your grasp. All you need do is swear allegiance to me.’

  Mike paused, searching for a clever or witty answer. For a moment he felt like he was in a Hollywood movie and this was the final showdown, but it wasn’t, this was real life. There was no audience to impress with a witty put-down. There was just him, and Victor.

  He shrugged. ‘No. If I owe anyone my allegiance, it’s Ofelia.’

  Victor grunted and lurched at Mike. He was fast. Faster than a man had any right to be, but Mike was faster. The combination of years of martial arts training and the supernatural abilities granted by the immortal paradox made him a formidable opponent, even for Victor. As Victor clawed at his throat, he turned, grabbed Victor’s hand and twisted. As the ancient vampire grimaced and fought back, Mike’s fist slammed into his face. Victor reeled from the blow, staggering back.

  It had been like punching solid steel, and Mike found himself grimacing and shaking his hand. Once Victor had regained his composure, he flung himself forwards, arms outstretched, groping for Mike’s throat. Again, Mike was too fast. This time he spun and whipped a spinning back kick off his right leg, right into Victor’s groin. The kick struck home and Victor squealed like a pig. As he bent double though, he gripped Mike’s foot and twisted. The move should have sent Mike sprawling, but he went with the twist, launched himself into the air and landed a roundhouse kick with his left foot right onto Victor’s temple. Despite finding his foot suddenly released, Mike still ended up on the floor, but he rolled almost instantly back up to his feet. Victor looked less confident now, backing away and glaring nervously at Mike. Seeing Victor weakened, Mike advanced, throwing a flurry of punches at Victor. The first was dodged, the second blocked, but the third slammed square onto Victor’s nose. Before he could regain his composure, the next punch hit Victor square in the mouth - bloodying his lip. Mike swung low for the next shot, smacking Victor in the ribs, weakening him further. Victor shrugged off the pain and dived at Mike again - clawing for Mike’s throat. This time Mike reached up, grabbed Victor’s wrists and rolled back. As his back hit the floor, he planted his foot in the centre of Victor’s chest and used his leg to throw him across the room. Victor slammed into the medieval suit of armour at the foot of the stairs, sending it scattering into its individual pieces.

  The move had left Victor bloodied and bruised. He dragged himself to his feet while Mike stood and faced him again. This time Victor picked up the long sword that had been attached to the ornamental armour. Mike wavered now. Victor had the look of a wounded Lion, hurt, cornered and all the more dangerous for it. Victor made a probing slash with the sword - forcing Mike to jump back. Then he lunged and jabbed the tip of the sword at Mike’s abdomen. Despite executing another well-timed dodge, Victor was just too fast. The tip tore through Mike’s coat and pierced his skin. Suddenly Mike felt wet around the belly. He looked down and saw his clothes soaked in blood. He was beginning to feel cold and light-headed. When Victor slashed again, this time aiming for the shoulder - he couldn’t move fast enough. The blade cut deep, forcing Mike to his knees. Mike’s breath was shallow, and the pain crippled him. Victor lined the blade up against Mike’s neck. ‘There are three ways to kill a vampire. Burn them until there’s nothing left, pierce their heart or slice off their head. Nobody will take Ofelia from me; I’ve waited too long. There was a dynasty of vampires, pulling strings behind the scenes - all over Europe! We could have ruled the world, but Ofelia put a stop to it. She never fought another vampire, you know. She was never a warrior. She was more of an assassin, sneaking around in the shadows and slaying her prey when they felt safe. I wonder- Urgh!’

  Victor dropped the sword with a clang and stared down at the jagged end of a wooden cylinder sticking out of his chest where his heart was supposed to be. Mike watched awe-struck as Victor crumpled to his knees, then slumped forwards. As Victor fell, his skin greyed and turned papery. By the time he hit the floor, he’d almost turned black. As he crashed down, his flesh exploded into a million tiny dry crystals floating up into a haze, leaving a clothed, black skeleton - the stake still protruding through its charred-looking torso.

  Mike groaned and looked up to see Ofelia, standing over the blackened remains. She looked furious and spat on the crumbling corpse, then muttered something under her breath in Romanian. Before Mike could speak, Kerry charged into the room, followed by a panting Ollie and Stoney. ‘I managed to get them ou- Oh my god! What happened?!’

  Mike looked from Kerry to Victor’s remains, then Ofelia. ‘Is this what happens when a vampire dies? Will this happen to me?’

  Ofelia shrugged. ‘Only if you get burned, staked or beheaded.’

  Ollie was shaking visibly, in shock at the horror before them. ‘What the hell are we going to do about this? How on earth do we ex-’

  Ofelia raised her palm and smiled. She reached down and picked up Victor’s jacket, then shook out the crystallised remains and folded it over her arm. ‘Shhhh, I have an idea. We need to get rid of the bones before the servant comes around. To the secret room in the cellar? Mike - can you drive?’

  Chapter 32 - The Accident

  Mike drove Victor’s ancient Mercedes with Ofelia riding shotgun, while Ollie, Stoney and Kerry took on the grim task of clearing up the disgusting mess left by Victor’s death. His clothes, belongings and fragments of jet-black bones would have to be swept up with a dustpan and brush and hidden in the secret cellar.

  Driving Victor’s old classic was taking a toll on Mike. Victor had injured him badly, despite his new superhuman nature. He could tell it’d take him a while to recover. He tried to put on a brave face and drove the car according to Ofelia’s instructions. She directed him to the tight, hairpin bend between Tempest House and Chipping Brasford, overlooking the reservoir. Mike pulled into the lay-by a few hundred yards down the road.

  Ofelia got out and leaned back into the car. ‘Now wind one of the windows down and give me your phone and wallet and stuff.’

  Mike trembled softly. ‘You’re sure I can’t drown?’

  Ofelia shook her head. ‘No, you can’t drown. I spent several hours clinging to the bottom of a rowing boat as someone rowed it across the river Rhône near Avignon around three hundred years ago. If you do this right, you’ll be cold, and wet; but you’ll be out of the water in less than five minutes.’

  Mike shook his head. ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this. If it weren’t for-’

  He sighed. ‘Hang on a sec, let me give you some clothes to keep dry too.’

  Without waiting for a response, he removed his trainers, socks, jeans, jacket and T-shirt, then handed them to Ofelia. She looked at him sternly now. ‘Drive as fast as you can. Try to swerve off the road just before that barrier. Try to get as far o
ut into the lake as you can.’

  Mike shook his head again and twisted the key in the ignition. The car roared into life and he gave Ofelia one more troubled look. ‘Wish me luck.’

  She threw Victor’s jacket onto the passenger seat, then watched Mike reverse the full-length of the lay-by, then pull onto the road and drop the hammer. Soon the car was lurching along at a dangerous pace, but Mike kept his nerve. Ofelia watched the iconic classic fly off the road and half-spin in mid-air, landing in the deep reservoir on its roof. After an agonizing wait, she heard a panting, dripping-wet Mike, scrabbling up the steep, rocky bank side. She handed him his clothes once he’d crossed the road, and he dressed quickly. As they made the long walk back to Tempest House, they talked. Ofelia began. ‘Do you think we did the right thing?’

  Mike shrugged. ‘I dunno. I’ve never killed anyone before. I-’

  ‘You didn’t! I killed him. He was about to kill you - if he’d succeeded I’d have been locked up in the basement again with Stoney, Ollie and Kerry for company. He’d have kept them and fed off them, bled them dry. He’d have used me to sell his vampire serum to the wealthiest, most evil despots in the world. The world would have become a dark place, ruled by wealthy, powerful vampires. That’s what the old guard wanted.’

  ‘What about us?’ Mike asked, ‘What do we want?’

  ‘To survive. To hide, to observe history as it passes us by. I don’t want to establish a vampire dynasty. If I thought you did, I’d kill you.’

  Mike shook his head. ‘I don’t. But what about Jules? I want to live forever, but I don’t want to-’

  ‘Shhhh, don’t think about that now. If she wants to be turned - I turn her. I can do it again. I know how it works now. But I won’t share how to do it. That secret is mine.’

  They walked in silence under the moonlit sky for a moment. Then Mike turned to Ofelia, ‘Hang on a minute. How did you-’

  ‘Kerry. I don’t think Victor realised she was there. She unplugged me from all that stuff. I get woken up by small Irish girl slapping me in the face and shouting “Wake up Ofelia!”. If Victor had realised she was there, he would have captured her too and I think you’d be dead. I’d still be asleep, chained up. I suppose if you hadn’t led him out of the cellar she wouldn’t have been able to free me. We were lucky.’

  ***

  When Mike and Ofelia finally made it back to Tempest House, Stoney, Kerry and Ollie had already cleared up the mess Victor had made - hiding any evidence in the cellar and locking the secret door in the wine rack and the gated security door. They met Mike and Ofelia as they crunched up the gravel drive, having clambered over the gates.

  Ofelia was leading the way when Stoney shouted from a cluster of bushes. ‘Pssst!’

  Mike grabbed Ofelia’s elbow and gently tugged her off the drive. Stoney, Kerry and Ollie were cowering behind a bush. Ofelia shrugged off Mike’s hand. He winced when she did. The battle with Victor and the impromptu stunt driving had taken a serious toll on him. ‘What happened? Did you clear up what was left of Victor?’

  Ollie frowned at Ofelia. ‘Yeah. We had to get out though. We’d just finished when it looked like that servant was about to come around.’

  Kerry piped up now. ‘How’re yer going to explain all this? Yer vampire mate’s s’posed to be abroad, and you’re s’posed to be in Switzerland or somethin?’

  Ofelia raised her hands. ‘Shhh. I’ve got it worked out. Victor never made his flight. They find his car and his jacket in the reservoir. They send down divers, but they don’t find him. They’ll just pronounce him dead. I can hold out at Mike and Julia’s for a few days then turn up here again, claiming Switzerland wasn’t for me.’

  Mike shook his head. ‘It sounds perfect but-’

  ‘Shhh.’ Ofelia scolded. ‘There’s no other way to deal with this. I need to think. I still need to get my page back if I’m going to complete the ritual, but I think I know where it is. Ollie - remember that scrap of paper we found with the address of a London bookshop? I’m convinced they have it.’

  Ollie looked up. ‘That Bercow Partners place? Maybe while you’re waiting to make your reappearance, you and Mike should pay them a visit?’

  Ofelia smiled. ‘I think that would be a good idea. Come on, we should leave. We don’t want to be seen.’

  Chapter 33 - Bercow Moore & Partners

  Ofelia lay low at Julia’s for a week. Mike’s injuries, though severe, had more or less healed. Now he was driving Julia’s Fiat 500 through the backstreets of Greater London. They saw their destination as soon as they turned into Whitlow Street. They parked a distance away and walked the last five hundred yards to the shop. Bercow Moore & Partners Est.1743, was an ancient-looking shop signed with gold writing on black paint, though the paint was peeling and the wood cracked. An inch thick layer of dust on the inside obscured the window. There were no books on display. There was simply a dark green velvet-covered shelf with a yellowing paper notice.

  Ofelia and Mike read the notice then looked at each other. Mike put a hand on the doorknob. ‘Shall we give it a try?’

  Ofelia shrugged. ‘I’m sure he has the page. What do we have to lose?’

  Mike reached out with his left hand to rattle and twist the doorknob. It was locked. Ofelia crossed her arms and scowled. ‘What now?’

  Mike continued trying the knob and began hammering on the door with his right hand. ‘Open up! We need to speak to you!’

  Eventually, a grizzled old man leaned out of an upstairs window and called down in a cracked voice. ‘What do you want?’

  This threw them. For a moment neither knew what to say, then Ofelia had an idea. She took a gamble. Looking up and smiling she called up to him. ‘We have a message for you from Mr. Drake.’

  The man’s face went milk white. ‘Victor? I saw the news, he’s dead!’

  Ofelia noticed the twitch of nervousness in his expression. He had to know. He had to. ‘You know Victor, why would you think he was dead just because you saw it on the news? Open up, I’ll explain everything.’

  It took a moment for the man to descend the stairs and open the front door. When they entered, he hastily locked it behind them.

  The interior of the shop was gloomy. Every surface was covered in a layer of dust. A few leather-bound tomes punctuated the mostly empty shelves. The air smelled old and musty. They stood in the centre of the room. The proprietor, a bald man wearing an ancient brown suit, spoke first. ‘What’s this about?’

  Ofelia thought she had the measure of him by now. He was being cagey, but her instincts were screaming at her that this man was working in collusion with Victor. She concentrated and thought of the taste of blood. It took a moment for her fangs to elongate. ‘You know what Victor has been striving for.’

  Mike saw Ofelia’s fangs out of the corner of his eye and realised where Ofelia was going with this. He followed suit, allowing his own fangs to descend. ‘Victor can now create more vampires. He can now turn people.’

  The man looked from Ofelia to Mike and back again. Ofelia continued, ‘The authorities know about Victor. They’ve been monitoring him for some time. Tempest House isn’t safe anymore. He needs to lie low for a while and stay secret.’

  The shopkeeper’s expression turned to one somewhere between hope and anger. ‘What about our deal? When-’

  Ofelia interrupted him. ‘In time. Victor wanted to turn you himself. Once the dust has settled he’ll pay you a visit. For now, we need the page.’

  ‘Why?’ the man asked, confused.

  Ofelia shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea! You know Victor, he tell you what to do, but he doesn’t always tell you why.’

  The man they presumed was Bercow grunted, then vanished behind a green velvet curtain, returning moments later with Ofelia’s page, still in its plastic wallet. He held it out and Ofelia took it. Bercow shrugged, ‘Can’t see I would’ve ever had a sale for it, anyway. Loads of people in the underground occult scene would give their right arm to become a vampire. I never heard of an
y vampires wanting to be cured. Well, except-’

  Ofelia leaned closer. ‘Except what? What exactly do you-’

  ‘The page? Victor asked me to put it on the market for him ages ago; pretending it was from the Russian copy. He told me he’d heard a rumour that there was a vampire in Eastern Europe somewhere that wanted to be cured. The ritual on this page can only be performed at Stonehenge, so he’d intended to use the page to lure this other vampire to England and meet up with them. Maybe convince them to change their mind.’

  Ofelia frowned, ‘But how would he know-’

  ‘Oh, Victor owns a full copy of “In Libro De Davoth”, minus that single page. S’full of spells for more or less anything and everything: huge section on vampire lore. If I recall there’s a spell for protecting your home from vampires? Oh, I remember! You get nine identical rubies, bathe them in vampire blood, then call on Davoth and chant an incantation... Then you bury eight of the stones, in the shape of a heptagon, with the eighth buried at the centre. Then when a vampire enters the heptagon, the ninth stone, which you keep with you, glows red and gets warm - wherever it is. T’be honest, I thought it was a daft spell. If you’ve already got vampire blood, seems a bit like shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted.’

  Ofelia folded her arms, ‘But how did you get hold of the page then?’

  Bercow shrugged, ‘Vic told me the Romanian bloke who’d bought the page had crashed his car near Stonehenge. I’ve got contacts in the force; I’m their main contact for black market occult stuff. He told me to get it, then hold on to it until he asked for it back.’

  Ofelia looked at Mike. The meeting had been illuminating. Suddenly a lot made sense which hadn’t before.