Red Eye - 02

by James Lovegrove

  “Yeah,” said Tina. “I’ve been through a whole heap of shit this past couple of days on account of Redlaw—literally, when we were in that sewer. Thanks to him I’ve been close to getting killed, more than once. I figure I owe him for that. Let me get in a couple of licks while you’re catching your wind.”

  Berger was unconvinced. “I don’t think it’s appropriate.”

  “You don’t, huh?”

  “You’re a civilian.”

  “And you’re soldiers, therefore it’s all right? That doesn’t stand to reason.” She turned and appealed to Farthingale up on the terrace. “Mr Farthingale. What do you think? You think they should have all the fun?”

  Farthingale deliberated. “My view, is Tina, you’re currently a witness to these events. If you join in, you become an accessory.”

  “So that’s a no, then.”

  “On the contrary. As an accessory, you’re more deeply involved. You’re complicit. That ensures your loyalty and your silence. Look on it as an expression of your commitment to me. After this, we’re bonded, you and I. You know about me what I know about you, so neither of us can incriminate the other without incriminating themselves.”

  “A stalemate, kind of.”

  “More of a mutual insurance policy. It’s perfect.”

  “Great.” Tina held out a hand to Berger. “So give me that, please.”

  Berger was reluctant to hand the Cindermaker over.

  “Give her the gun, warrant officer,” said Farthingale.

  Grudgingly she complied.

  Tina hefted the Cindermaker by the barrel. She approached Redlaw, who was doubled over, his ribcage heaving. The snow around him was a mass of crimson spatters.

  “I wondered how long it would take you, Tina,” he said thickly, head still bent. His whole body shivered uncontrollably. Droplets of his own blood were freezing to his skin. “To finally get stuck in.”

  “Just waiting for an opportunity,” she said, moving round him. “Jeez, you’re a mess.”

  “I can take punishment. It’s one of the things I do best.”

  “Maybe you even like it.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  She was behind him now, between him and Child. She had the air of someone gloating, relishing the humiliation of another.

  “When is enough enough?” she said.

  “When it’s served its purpose.”

  “And has it?”

  “Not for me to judge. But I’d like to think so.”

  Tina paused, then continued her circuit of Redlaw until she was in front of him again.

  “Don’t hold back,” he said to her, finally looking up. His face was hideously distended. One eye was almost completely closed, while the other had been damaged internally so that the white of the sclera was now red.

  She struck him with the gun, nowhere near as hard as Berger had, but it sent him reeling. Redlaw collapsed onto his back. He rolled and writhed in the snow.

  Child stepped forward to get him back on his knees. As he yanked Redlaw upright, he noticed two things.

  Redlaw’s wrists were no longer zip-tied.

  Redlaw had a knife in his hands.

  It was Jacobsen’s combat knife. Child couldn’t have known this, just as he couldn’t have known that Tina had been secreting the knife up her sleeve and had dropped it into the snow when she walked behind Redlaw, or that Redlaw, flat on his back, had retrieved it and used it to cut through the zip tie.

  All Child knew was that, somehow, he and his teammates had been suckered.

  And then the knife was embedded in his inner thigh, and Redlaw twisted it and pulled it out, and all at once blood was jetting from Child’s femoral artery, and he clamped a hand over the wound but the blood spurted between his fingers, unstoppable, and he sank to his knees with a horrified groan.

  Next second, Redlaw was making a dash across the snow to Abbotts, and the knife whipped through the air, low to the ground, and—snick, snick—both of Abbotts’s Achilles tendons were neatly severed and he collapsed like a broken chair.

  “Tina! The gun!” Redlaw yelled, and Tina tossed the Cindermaker to him.

  At the same moment, Berger went for her own sidearm. She had been startled by the abrupt reversal of fortunes, the shift in the status quo. The girl and Redlaw—in cahoots all along? The whole thing just a charade? A feint?

  Her pistol came up out of its holster.

  But the Cindermaker was already levelled, Redlaw up on one knee, holding the bloodied grip with both hands.

  Sighted.

  Steadied.

  Cocked.

  “Guess you’re not interested in a fair fight?” she said.

  Redlaw fired.

  “You guessed correctly,” he said.

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-TWO

  THE THREE SOLDIERS were on the ground. One was dead—Berger, the back of her head now a ragged cavity, her brains strewn across the hillside. One was dying—Child, sitting ashen-faced and helpless in a pink slush of snow and blood. One remained alive but was crippled—Abbotts, his legs useless.

  Redlaw got trembling to his feet, covering both Child and Abbotts with the Cindermaker in case they tried anything. He reeled, swayed. Tina went to his side.

  “Easy there, old man,” she said, lending him a shoulder to lean on. “I don’t know if you’re ready for walking yet.”

  “Farthingale?” said Redlaw, searching around. “Where’s Farthingale?”

  Tina checked the terrace. “Gone. Big surprise. Must have hightailed it the moment you started hurting people.”

  “I need to...” Redlaw tried to move, but his body didn’t seem ready to obey his thoughts just yet. His head was thrumming as though the bass pipes of a cathedral organ were playing inside it.

  “You’re in no shape to be doing anything.”

  “But he’s...”

  “Getting away? Where’s he going to go? This is an island.”

  “He can get off it the same way we got on.” Redlaw steeled himself. The pain threatened to crush him completely. Darkness beckoned—the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness. But he refused to give in to it. He would not pass out. He would keep going until he had done what he came here to do.

  “Redlaw! Shtriga!”

  Vampires were running up from the shoreline—Diane, Denzel, Anu, Patti, Mary-Jo—all of them soaking wet with seawater, but their faces exultant, alight with triumph.

  “We got them,” said Denzel. “Two soldiers. Down through the ice. Nice as you please.”

  “Are you okay?” Patti asked Redlaw. “Dear Lord, your face. What did they do to you?”

  “They did what I needed them to do so that you lot had time to get into position,” said Redlaw. “Good work, all of you. Well done.”

  At that moment, Child slumped sideways with a moan. The life had almost left him.

  Abbotts, meanwhile, had begun crawling away. He propelled himself through the snow with just his hands and elbows, his legs trailing limply behind.

  “Some unfinished business here,” Redlaw said to the vampires. “Perhaps you’d do the honours...?”

  The vampires accepted the invitation gladly. Two of them fell on Child. The other three made after Abbotts, who saw them coming and accelerated his clumsy progress, arms flailing desperately, but in vain.

  “No,” he whined. “No, this is not right. Not fair.”

  “Drain them,” Redlaw said. “No comebacks.”

  Abbotts shrieked as the vampires caught up with him and pounced. His cry was high and keening, indignation mixed in with the terror.

  Child, by contrast, acquiesced to his fate manfully. So much blood had pumped out of him already that he was barely conscious. As the vampires drank the rest of it and hastened his end, he looked resigned, even relieved.

  “I didn’t know if we could pull this off,” Tina said to Redlaw. She wanted to talk, if only to blot out the sound of the vampires feasting—the chomping, flesh-rending teeth, the slobbery lip-smac
ks and tongue-slurps. “So much could have gone wrong.”

  “We did it, that’s what counts. You acted your part well.”

  “I was making half of it up as I went along.”

  “It didn’t show.”

  “Guess I’m a champion bullshitter. And you’re a champion get-the-shit-kicked-out-of-him guy.”

  “When it’s in a worthwhile cause. I’m glad you came round to our side, Tina.”

  “You guilted me into it. I’m not a bad person. I do have a conscience. Buried deep, but it’s there. I thought it wouldn’t be a problem, selling you out to Farthingale, but it turns out it was. He offered me the world, and I can’t say I wasn’t tempted...”

  “Everyone’s tempted. Nothing to be ashamed of there. As long as you don’t give in.”

  “Besides,” said Tina, “it’s a better story this way. Now I don’t become the weaselly villain of the piece. I retain my integrity.”

  “Which is a far better thing to have than worldly wealth.”

  “Sure. If you say so.”

  “Now...” Redlaw was feeling marginally better. Or rather, marginally less awful. “He’ll be in the house somewhere. Farthingale. Grab me my coat. Let’s get this over with.”

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-THREE

  FARTHINGALE SPRINTED FOR the safe room.

  Just a few seconds. That was all it had taken for victory to turn to defeat, for gold to turn to shit.

  Redlaw and Tina had, between them, pulled off a hell of a con. He couldn’t get over the audacity, the sheer nerve of it. If this had been some kind of devious boardroom coup, he might have seen it coming and been able to prevent it. As it was, he had been hoodwinked good and proper. Tina in particular. He’d been so certain he had her in the palm of his hand. So certain she was his thrall. How could she have resisted? Who in their right mind could turn down an offer like the one he had extended to her?

  This wasn’t over, though. Not by a long shot. As he covered the last few yards to the safe room entrance, Farthingale was already plotting how he might regain control of the situation. He could hunker down in the safe room for days, weeks even, and they wouldn’t be able to get to him. In the meantime, he could communicate with the outside world, summon help, call in favours, get the police on the scene, the rescue services, the National Guard, anyone and everyone he needed...

  The safe room door stood wide open.

  There was someone already inside.

  Clara.

  Farthingale felt a pang of shame. He hadn’t even thought about his sister until now. In the heat of the moment, his only concern had been for himself.

  Still, she was there, in the safe room. She had already taken refuge. Good. So he didn’t have to worry about her. They were both of them going to survive this.

  Clara was sitting cross-legged on the floor in a corner. She looked dazed, unsure of herself.

  Little wonder, Farthingale thought. She must have heard the gunshot and it terrified her. She probably has no idea what’s going on.

  “Well done,” he said to her. He didn’t bother to enquire about Rozetta. She was just a nurse. Let her take care of herself. “Good girl. You did the right thing, coming here and waiting for me.” He tapped the code into the keypad and the door began to swing ponderously shut. “We’re going to be fine. It’s going to be just you and me, just Clara and Howie. We’ll hole up here, nice and snug, and I’ll call in reinforcements and everything’ll be okay. Okay?”

  Clara didn’t answer, just kept staring into the middle distance.

  There was something strange about her eyes—something awry.

  Farthingale leaned in for a better look.

  Clara raised her head.

  Her eyes were no longer blue-green, like their father’s.

  They were vivid scarlet.

  “Red juice,” she said, standing.

  “Clara... Oh, no... Christ...” Farthingale went numb, seeming to shrivel inside. He took an involuntary step back.

  “Red juice, Howie.”

  Her mouth opened wide. Her teeth were not ordinary teeth any more.

  The door had shut fast. Farthingale spun round and lurched for the keypad to re-input the code in order to open it. His finger fumbled. He pounded out the digits. The door gave a loud thunk as the bolts unlatched.

  But too late. Far too late.

  “Who’s a monster now, huh, Howie?”

  And then, with a cackle and one last ecstatic cry of “Red juiiice!” Clara leapt on him.

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-FOUR

  DAWN WAS COMING. There was a faint whisper of warmth in the air. Over the past couple of days, the Big Freeze had slackened its grip on the East Coast. The ice in the reach had begun to melt and break up.

  Redlaw was standing on the terrace at Far Tintagel, the very spot where Farthingale had stood three nights earlier overseeing what he’d thought would be Redlaw’s death. He gazed out over the island, the berg-studded sea, the mainland. It was the first time since his beating that he had felt even vaguely normal. Until now, in spite of the painkillers he had found in Farthingale’s bathroom cabinet, he had been a mass of aches and soreness.

  The mirror was still showing him a face that was all the colours of sunset and barely recognisable from all the abrasions and contusions. His body moved as stiffly as though he was wearing a suit of armour.

  But he was alive.

  A winner.

  For now.

  Tina came out from indoors. Like him, like the vampires, she was keeping topsy-turvy hours, a night-shift existence. Redlaw was used to this, Tina had had to get used to it. Otherwise she would have been all alone during the daytime with no one to talk to and nothing to do.

  “Thinking about turning in?” she said with a yawn. “I am.”

  “Thinking about it,” said Redlaw. “But it’s always been my rule never to miss a dawn if I can. This time of day is the Creator at His most aesthetically-inspired.”

  Silvery blue was chasing the dark away westwards.

  “You had it all,” Redlaw said to Tina. “Your future all wrapped up and sealed with a bow. Do you regret rejecting that?”

  “Who says my future still isn’t all wrapped up?” said Tina. “Tick Talk’s hits are through the roof, well into eight figures. I’ve got nibbles from three news networks, two state, one national. I’ve got someone asking to agent me. I’ve even got a tentative book deal, though that’s sooo old media I’m not sure I can be bothered. No, I’m not worried about what’s ahead. I know where I’m going, and I’ll be getting there entirely under my own steam. What about you?”

  Redlaw ducked the question. “You shouldn’t have jumped the gun, posting that footage on your site when you did. That nearly sank us.”

  Tina sighed. “Are you going to hold a grudge about it forever? It worked out in our favour, didn’t it? Just remember where you are now, not how you got there. Be Christian. Forgive.”

  “I suppose you did redeem yourself.”

  “You bet your bony British ass I did.”

  The first streaks of sunlight tinged the sky.

  “You’re leaving, then?” Redlaw said.

  “Soon as I can. This is your kingdom, not mine. Yours and your fangy pals’. No reason for me to stay. Once the ice clears completely, I guess I can arrange for some sort of boat from the mainland to come fetch me.”

  “My kingdom,” said Redlaw, amused by the notion, and wondering.

  It was, he supposed.

  Farthingale was dead, killed by his sister. Redlaw had come across the body, utterly exsanguinated, in the doorway to the house’s safe room. He had applied the finishing touch with the combat knife, decapitating it, just to be sure.

  The sister, Clara, was now part of his vampire tribe. She and Cindy were becoming fast friends, somewhat to the chagrin of Cindy’s “sire”, Andy.

  Far Tintagel, if it belonged to anyone now, belonged to the vampires and their shtriga.

  A kingdom.

  Yes
.

  Maybe.

  Or a fortress. A stronghold. A redoubt. Isolated. Defensible. Separated from the human world by a moat of sea.

  Somewhere where other vampires could come. Find sanctuary. Be safe.

  A vision began forming in Redlaw’s mind. A way forward. A possibility.

  “You asked me if I know where I’m going,” he said.

  His smile was tight but brave, grim but hopeful.

  A blaze of orange light turned the snowy pine trees into Roman candles.

  “As a matter of fact, I’m not going anywhere.”

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  A debt of undying gratitude is owed to the following: Adam Brockbank, who gifted the character of John Redlaw with a surname all those years ago; Mr Satyajit Sahu, consultant haematologist at the Eastbourne District and General Hospital, for inducting me into the mysteries of ITP; Chris Field, official fisticuffs advisor; and the real Chris Abbotts of Birmingham, a true inspiration.

  J.M.H.L.

  POLICING THE DAMNED

  They live among us, abhorred, marginalised, despised. They are vampires, known politely as the Sunless. The job of policing their community falls to the men and women of SHADE: the Sunless Housing and Disclosure Executive. Captain John Redlaw is London’s most feared and respected SHADE officer, a living legend.

  But when the vampires start rioting in their ghettos, and angry humans respond with violence of their own, even Redlaw may not be able to keep the peace. Especially when political forces are aligning to introduce a radical answer to the Sunless problem, one that will resolve the situation once and for all...

  New York Times bestselling author James Lovegrove tells a very different sort of vampire story.

  ‘Difficult to put down... a thoroughly entertaining novel that I would recommend to those looking for a summer blockbuster’

  Sacramento Book Review on Age of Odin