Night is Watching

by Lucy Cameron

  ‘What’s Harry got to do with this?’

  ‘Harry. Nice name. Kids always respond so much better once you know their names.’ Kier sits back, takes a long slow drink of his gin. A rage starts to open in the pit of Rhys’s stomach. ‘Harry, Louise… Jenny.’ Rhys feels something crush his windpipe. ‘Too much? Okay, a different tack, perhaps. Want to touch my fangs?’ Kier grimaces, exposes long, razor sharp incisors. Only for a moment but it is enough. ‘Will that convince you? I can assure you they are very real.’

  Instantly he is next to Rhys, the cool rush of his skin everywhere. Incisors glinting as the disco globe pulsates above the dance floor. Cramp surges up Rhys’s neck.

  ‘Get the fuck away from me.’ He is gone. Back round his side of the table. As if he never moved.

  ‘As you wish.’ Kier straightens his collar. Rhys pushes thoughts of Jenny, his family, far from his mind. Kier is playing with him, looking for a rise he won’t get, for a reason Rhys can’t yet understand. The rage is bitter as he swallows it back down.

  Kier Finnegan. Rhys has a name. He can run it through the database at work. Has Rhys arrested him before?

  ‘Feel free. You will be wasting your time and taxpayers money.’

  He’ll go to the hospital, demand to see their records; tell them what kind of nutjob they’ve employed.

  ‘Oh please, yes they employ me; I can assure you my record is impeccable. What do you think they will tell you, other than to go home and have a nice long rest? Hospitals are dangerous places to talk crazy, Rhys.’

  Who is this creature… no, this man, he is just that, a man. A man with expensive dental work and mind trick movement. It is okay. Rhys is okay. It’ll all be okay?

  Kier knows the names of his family. That is not okay.

  If he is just a man, what does that mean for the dreams? They are not okay.

  ‘What is this?’ Rhys tries a different tack. ‘What do the dreams mean?’ Kier looks at him, intrigue on his face.

  ‘You mean you don’t know?’ Rhys shakes his head. This seems to anger Kier. He drops his gaze. When he looks back, something has changed within his eyes. He is the creature from the nightmares. There is something cold and hard. Something has shifted. Rhys feels ice start to weave its way into his blood.

  ‘What do you want from me?’ An edge of panic in his voice.

  ‘It’s not hard to figure out, Rhys.’

  ‘If I asked, would you leave me alone?’ Is this the kind of thing a crazy person asks? The kind of thing a crazy person asks another crazy person who has just told the first crazy person he is a Nosferatu?

  ‘Only in exchange,’ says Kier.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘You know.’ Rhys does. It turns his stomach.

  ‘My family? Are you crazy, are you threatening them in some way?’

  ‘Not all of them, no. Please, you make it sound so crude. It’s not my fault that I find that wife of yours almost as enchanting as you.’ A distant look passes behind Kier’s eyes. ‘She would do, yes, she would definitely do… If I’m honest, which I feel I should be if this is to work, I am more than a little lonely.’ Kier dabs a mock tear. Chuckles. ‘You try living with Arthur for fifty years,’ Kier can’t be older than thirty. ‘He can’t half be a drag. Especially since we moved back here and he’s taken a shine to some old crone across the street. You would really think he’d have learnt better by now.’ Kier sighs, shakes his head. ‘There really is no telling some people.

  ‘Then I saw you. More than saw you, I felt you, the night that we came to view the house.’ Kier’s face looks far away. ‘A wave of utter sadness that, for a moment I thought might overwhelm me. Then I realised where it was coming from. It was coming from you, Rhys.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Please stay away from me and my family. This conversation is over.’ Fuck this. Lonely? Whatever. It is clear. This Kier is crazy. Dangerous. Delusional. There is nothing to be gained by this. He can sort everything out himself. Perhaps the dreams will stop now. Now he’s put a name to a face. Now there is a physical, if crazy, man to attach it to.

  ‘I have overstepped the mark mentioning your family. Good. That makes it easier for me. Now please sit down. This conversation is not over.’ Rhys looks over his shoulder, a big mock gesture.

  ‘I’m sorry. For a moment then I thought you were telling me what to do. Who do you think you are?’ Rhys presses his palms onto the table. Leans across to Kier. ‘You are not right in the head. I should arrest you for…’ Kier cocks his head. Looks at him. Where are the right words?

  ‘Speaking some home truths?’

  ‘Screw you.’ Kier raises an eyebrow. Pouts.

  ‘If you will let me finish, as I fear you have reached the end of your attention span. I will cut straight to the point, it’s quite simple. Join me.’

  37.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Rhys laughs out loud.

  ‘You aren’t deaf, Rhys, any more than you are stupid. Join me.’

  ‘Join you? As in become another nutter at large in the community.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh what, as in become a demon of the night and we can creep around in the shadows sucking the blood of virgins and princesses?’ Kier flinches. Rhys laughs. He can’t help it. People turn and stare. The laugh is a loud, crazy, desperate sound that echoes round the bar.

  ‘I’ll tell you what, that’s great, brilliant, ten out of ten.’ Rhys steps from the booth. ‘You can go back and tell your mates you really had me fucking going.’ He ducks in close to Kier’s face. ‘But mention my wife or family again, come near me again and I swear to god, it’ll be the last thing you do.’

  The move happens before Rhys sees it. Kier grabs hold of his wrist in a hard, icy ring.

  Rhys can no longer breathe.

  His knees buckle. The wind rushes through his hair. The light swivels into a tiny pinprick and disappears.

  And there she is.

  She takes the remainder of his breath away.

  He may have cried out loud, he can’t be sure. Fire burns through his body as she stands before him. So real he could reach out and touch her.

  So he does.

  He reaches out and touches the brown ringlets of her hair, soft, so soft. He touches her cheek. Warm and fresh like that final day. The day she let him kiss her goodbye.

  He can smell her soap. Her hairspray. The cheap perfume their mum gave her on the promise she didn’t tell their dad. He can really feel it. Her skin. The beat of her heart. She smiles the cheeky smile she always smiles. There is a twinkle in her eye. She is here for him. She always will be. She knows he’ll always be here for her.

  Her forehead creases suddenly.

  He can’t hold her. She slips through his fingers.

  ‘Rhys, don’t leave me, Rhys. Don’t leave me on my own in the dark.’

  Now he is falling.

  The arms catch him, hold him close. He feels safe for the first time. Safe and whole. There is no pain. There is no unknown.

  Rhys jerks backwards. Gasps. A deep rasp. Air rushes back into his body. He pulls away from Kier whose face curves back into focus. Rhys convulses, every muscle in his body spasms. His eyes are wide, do not leave Kier. He falls back into the seat. His wrist burns where the creature held it. A thin line of angry blisters rise.

  ‘What the…?’ No more words will come. Rhys pants. A thin film of sweat breaks out all over his body. He can’t move. He can’t even remember why he wants to.

  ‘I must say I am a little disappointed in you, Rhys. I thought you would have been more fun, more perceptive.’ The creature spits the last word. ‘You are going to have to lighten up. You are lucky you interest me enough to hold my attention. You make it all such a challenge and I like a good challenge. It can all be too predictable otherwise.’ Rhys tries to shake the water from his head.

  ‘Jenny…’ Is all he can whisper.

  ‘Jenny,’ Kier mimics in disgust. ‘My offer of course
is not a decision you need to rush into.’ He looks at his watch, ‘I can give you… say, a week?’ Playful eyes back on Rhys. ‘After all, I have all the time in the world.’

  Rhys is numb. He opens his mouth. No sound comes. Kier is inches from him. ‘Of course you don’t want to take too long.’ The sound tickles across Rhys’s skin. ‘Or I might get really bored, and you wouldn’t like me when I’m really bored.’

  Kier steps back, straightens his jacket.

  ‘It really is all rather straightforward. You come with me, your family are safe and so are you. Your entire family.’ Rhys stares at him. Kier sighs. ‘You really are no fun today.’ He turns to leave, throws a parting shot over his shoulder. ‘He’s not a very nice man, is he?’

  ‘What?’ Rhys’s mind can’t keep up.

  ‘It’s pardon, not what. That fat idiot you have the misfortune of working with.’

  ‘Quinn?’ What? Pardon? What?

  ‘Are there more? I can sort him out for you if you like? As a good-will gesture, soften up his edges, so to speak.’ Kier laughs. ‘Anyway I must dash. I have a pressing dinner engagement.’

  And he is gone. Just like that. One moment he is at the end of the booth, then he just disappears.

  Rhys’s mind races. Has a man just come up to him, claimed to be a demon of the night and threatened his family? And Jenny… how did he…?

  Rhys rubs his thumb and forefinger together. Feels the silk of her hair.

  He’s going to be sick.

  Take long deep breaths.

  He had seen her, touched her. She was real. Needles prickle up his body.

  He slides quickly from the booth and runs to the boy behind the bar.

  ‘Did you see him?’ There is an edge of hysteria to his voice. He doesn’t care. His spit showers the bar. ‘Tell me, did you see him?’

  ‘See who?’ The bored boy with the knife through his neck dries a glass.

  ‘The man I was having a drink with. Did you see him?’ Rhys points to the table. One empty glass stares back.

  ‘Look mate, whoever you want to have a drink with is your business.’ The boy drops his eyes to Rhys’s wedding ring. ‘Me, I’m just here to pour the drinks and see as much, or as little as is needed.’ Rhys growls. ‘But seeing as you ask so nicely, no, I don’t think so.’

  ‘Then think bloody harder. This is important. I’m a police officer.’ Rhys fumbles through his pockets. Where’s his bloody badge? Shit. He fights down the urge to scream. Or cry.

  ‘You and everyone else who comes here,’ the boy chuckles, sends vibrations up the knife in his neck. He wipes the bar. ‘As far as I know, you’ve been sat over there on your own ever since that fat bloke and fit bird left. But if you want me to say there was some guy with you. I can… if it means that much.’ He chuckles again. Rhys fights the urge to smack his smug face into the bar top.

  Instead he turns. Runs up the steps and out onto the street.

  ‘I know you’re out here, you fuck!’ A bloke stares while his girlfriend looks away like nothing is happening. ‘Come on, where are you?’ Rhys kicks one of the large bins that line the street.

  ‘Are you hiding somewhere, watching me? Are you? Is that what you get off on?’ More people start to look. ‘You sick bastard.’ Rhys strides up the street. Turns. Heads back. Looks behind the bins. Up a side street.

  ‘How did you know about my sister? Who the hell told you about my sister? How did you make her so…?’ His voice cracks. How had he made her so real? Her perfume lingers in his nostrils. More real than any memory, any photograph. It was her – exactly as she was. Does Kier know something about her disappearance? He doesn’t look much older than Rhys, but then if what he says is true, he could be any age…

  ‘What the fuck!’ Rhys berates himself out loud. The guy is obviously crazy. With crazy comes dangerous and here Rhys is looking like the madman. He needs to be at home. He really needs to be at home.

  ‘I’m watching you.’ He shouts to nowhere in particular.

  He turns his back on the pub’s dark mouth.

  He walks away from the bar. He can’t walk away from the tiny prickles of doubt as they start to pick away at his brain.

  38.

  Anna didn’t expect Rhys home early, but now it was getting ridiculous.

  Harry refuses to sleep until Dad’s home. He’s afraid. Anna told him this would happen if he read ghost stories after dark on Halloween.

  The doorbell rang non-stop from dinnertime until after eight.

  Children laughed. Parents complained. Buckets of sweets rattled. Older kids made everyone angry throwing eggs. Harry spent a happy hour carving a pumpkin. Louise said it was gross. Harry cried. Louise said it proved he was a baby. They all made friends over toffee apples.

  Harry isn’t the only one who doesn’t want to go to bed before Rhys is home. Anna wants talk, is fed up of feeling this way. She hates it when they fall out. She hates feeling this angry all the time. She will apologise first, even though he’s the one in the wrong. Just this one last time. Rhys needs to sort himself out. Anna sighs. She needs to create an opportunity to drop into conversation the doctor’s appointment. Possibly mention her meeting with the new neighbours.

  Kier pops into her head. Not for the first time. Those beautiful blue eyes… She pushes the thought away. Throws aside the magazine she can’t concentrate on. Rhys’s key sounds in the front door.

  ‘Anna?’ He shouts. His voice shakes.

  ‘I’m here… Jesus.’ The words are out before she can stop them. A knee-jerk reaction. Rhys looks awful. His skin is pale and clammy. Grey. Dark purple circles under his eyes. Did he look like that this morning? He stops in front of her. Twitches on the spot. Agitated or alert? He doesn’t register what she’s said.

  ‘You will never guess what just happened.’ His eyes dart around the room. She rises in concern.

  ‘Rhys?’ She goes to lay a hand on his shoulder. He steps back, winces.

  Is he still that mad at her?

  ‘Rhys, do you feel okay? What on earth has happened?’ His brow furrows. Has he heard her? Has he been drugged? Is he having some kind of seizure?

  ‘No, I do not feel okay. I feel very far from okay and not in the sick in the mind way you keep inferring, oh no.’ He starts to pace the room. ‘I feel like everything has become clearer. Well kind of.’ He runs his hands through his hair. Drops to the sofa. Rises again. ‘At the same time, not clearer at all.’

  He goes to the window. Pulls back the curtains.

  ‘Do these windows lock?’ He tugs at the handle. It doesn’t budge. ‘Good. Good. Don’t unlock them. They need to stay locked.’

  ‘Rhys.’ Anna’s concern rises. What’s he doing?

  ‘Have you seen him today?’ His finger leaves a greasy smudge on the window as he points across the street.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Him. Kier Finnegan. Have you seen him today?’

  ‘No.’ Why is she lying? Rhys pulls the curtains tight. ‘How do you know his name?’

  ‘A very good question.’ Rhys paces out of the room. Into the kitchen. Anna follows and finds Harry at the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘Harry, go to bed please.’

  ‘But, Mum…’

  ‘Now!’ It’s not up for discussion.

  Rhys is pouring himself a large glass of wine as she enters the kitchen.

  ‘How do I know his name?’ Rhys turns as he speaks. Leans back on the worktop, ‘I know his name because I’ve just met him in a bar.’

  ‘Good, that’s good right?’ It is good. As long as Rhys apologised. Did not behave like a lunatic. Again.

  Shit.

  Has Kier mentioned he saw her earlier? Is that why Rhys is behaving like this? Why on earth did she lie?

  ‘No, that is not good.’ Rhys takes a long drink. ‘It is very far from good,’ he looks her dead in the eye. ‘Do you want to know why? Go on ask me?’ She braces herself. She’s done nothing wrong. Rhys continues.

  ‘The man is insane. I
use the term “man” in the loosest sense of the word.’ Rhys takes another long drink. ‘Do you know what he told me?’ Rhys starts to laugh. A manic laugh that causes little butterflies to dance in the base of her stomach.

  ‘He told me he is a Nosferatu. A demon. Can you believe that? One grown man to another. There we were, sat in the bar having a drink, and that’s what he said. It wasn’t even a Halloween prank, before you ask, because I sure as hell did.’ Rhys’s eyes are wide. Anna’s mouth opens. She realises she has no idea what to say.

  ‘Rhys, are you…? Is this…? Why are you doing this?’ Anna has met Kier. He is most definitely a man and not a mad one. She is a good judge of character. What has Rhys said to him? What has he done?

  ‘And do you know what else the madman said?’ Rhys stares into the space above her head. ‘He’ll refrain from… he will do me the massive favour of, not hurting my family, you, if I join him. If I join him and became a creature of the night.’ Rhys raises his wine glass in a mock toast.

  ‘That makes him crazy, right? Cuckoo, gone in the head. Him, not me, him.’ He taps his temple violently. ‘A crazy man who knows where we live, thanks to you. Hi my name’s Anna, we live across the street.’ Rhys comes close to her face. ‘A crazy man who thinks he’s a Nosferatu and knows exactly where we live. Where we sleep.’ His face twists.

  ‘And guess what else. It was him all along. In the dreams. He admitted that.’ A finger jabs at Anna. ‘I told you that, Anna. I told you and you didn’t believe me. I told you, him, there, all of those times in my head, everywhere. So real.’ His laughter stops abruptly. ‘And then there was her.’ Rhys rubs his fingers together softly, thoughtfully. ‘How did he know about her? How did he make her so…’ His face crumbles.

  Anna shakes as his tirade crashes over her. Is it fear or anger or both that’s causing her heart to hammer in her chest. Something close to panic starts. What is going on? She hardly recognises the man that stands before her. Who does he think he is taking whatever issues he has out on her when all she ever does is support him?