Night is Watching

by Lucy Cameron

  ‘The creature however was sad. He knew the day would come when the woman would learn what he really was and then he would lose her. He was, after all, a creature of the night, to be feared and hated, not loved. However, as it turned out the creature underestimated the woman and her love for him regardless of who, or what, he was. On the night she discovered the truth, she did not run, she did not leave him, but embraced him and said her love had not changed.

  ‘Years passed and inevitably the woman grew older. The creature could not bear the thought that one day he would lose her. He would beg and beg her to join him but she would always refuse, for this woman was deeply religious and however deep her love was for this creature, it was not deeper than her love for her God. She would not give up her seat in paradise for him. This angered the creature for he had seen enough to know God would easily give up His love for her. She would not be persuaded. He soon realised he did not want to waste the time they had together with anger and instead vowed to treasure every moment.

  ‘There was one thing this man, I, had never considered, had never entered my head, and that was the possibility of procreation. Nosferatu are not living, we create through the exchange of blood, so when my love told me she was pregnant I was floored. Not for one moment did it enter my mind she had been unfaithful, for I knew she had not, would not, could not, be.

  ‘We went into hiding, afraid and curious as to what would happen and, after nowhere near nine months, our daughter was born.’ Kier pauses, swallows hard. Something like pain ripples across his face.

  ‘I use the word daughter in the loosest sense of the word. She was a collection of all that was wrong, all the bad in both of us, condemned to us in a tiny bundle and we called her Kate. She was God’s cruellest trick played on his most devoted pilgrim. She tried, my love, oh how she tried to love this little creature who screamed and fought and found no comfort. Kate aged at an alarming rate, had no tolerance of sunshine and an unstoppable bloodlust. She was both human and Nosferatu, unable to speak or communicate, and so very angry at the world, and who could blame her?

  ‘My love could find no solace. She no longer believed in a God that loved her and at the same time had seen what I was at its most basic level. I could do nothing to comfort her, nothing to comfort either of them.

  ‘Over time, my love slowly lost her mind.

  ‘It was me who found her when I rose one evening, hanging from the beams in the old barn we had tried to make home. All her note said was “sorry” for which there was no need.

  ‘The pain, Rhys, oh the pain. I have never felt anything like it. It tore me in two. I wished I were dead. I wished the helpless creature we had created were dead. I wished she had never been born.’ Outside the rain starts. Kier stops. Lets his words settle. His chest rises sharply.

  Rhys listens, but he sees a different image. Something similar but not the same. An image inside him – usually locked away. It isn’t an old barn Rhys sees but an old bedsit. Rented out by the council to those they should be looking after. To those who are beyond help, just needing somewhere to pass away the final few moments of their wretched lives.

  It is a rope and she is swinging, so in that way it is the same.

  Rhys is the one who finds her. It is not a case. He is not called there by a distressed neighbour. He’s just dropping in to see how she is. He tries to do that as often as he can, not often enough.

  Not enough for his mum.

  She is never good. Some days she is bad. Some days she is worse. The doctors are supposed to help. They haven’t, couldn’t. The creak of the rope sticks in his mind the most. There is no note, there is no need. Just one of Jenny’s dresses on the dirty single bed.

  Rhys calls his dad. His dad is drunk, pretends he doesn’t care, pretends it isn’t his problem. In many ways it isn’t, hasn’t been for years. Dad is angry. Dad is always angry.

  ‘She’s still alive. Kate.’ Kier’s words pull him sharply to the present. ‘After all these years, she is grown now and aged beyond anything comprehensible. She must remain in the dark and has no comprehension of what the sunshine will do to her. Oh how many times I have wondered would it not be fairer just to let her meet her fiery maker. That’s why we chose this house you know, because there is a wonderful network of caverns beneath it.’

  Kier lets out one dry laugh. A single blood-red tear rolls down his cheek. He dabs it with the handkerchief. Rhys watches the spot spread on the cloth, like a flower opening its petals.

  ‘I no longer chose a companion based on love. Why would I do that again? Nor indeed do I allow a choice to be made. You are a safe choice, Rhys, and an interesting one. Many things have changed since that day I found her hanging in that barn.’

  ‘Get out of my car,’ is all Rhys can say. His voice cracks.

  Kier looks at him and nods. He leaves without fuss or comment. The cold air caresses the wet lines on Rhys’s face as the car door opens, then closes.

  He is left with the single blood-red teardrop on the handkerchief beside him.

  49.

  Anna doesn’t want to call him. She really doesn’t. Rhys has left her no choice. She’s furious. More than that, she’s scared. Out of her depth. No idea which way to turn. Needs someone who knows Rhys, her, them. Or used to. Someone who will understand.

  Louise jams something under her door. Refuses to come out or let Anna in. Anna walks away. Goes back downstairs, leaves her to it. She shouldn’t, she should persist. Say she will kick the door down. She doesn’t have the energy to fight anymore.

  Harry still shouts. Pulls at the front door. He cannot reach the top bolt she’s thrown across. He wants her to let him out. He wants to be with his dad. Dad understands. Dad can see the man is bad. A realisation dawns. He needs her to open the door, let Dad back in. The bad man will get him if he’s out there. Harry has missed the sound of the tyres screeching off the drive. Harry cries. Pulls and kicks at the door until he’s retching. Then stops, comes to her for comfort. Falls asleep exhausted. Again.

  The house is strangely quiet then. Anna picks up the photos and candles that were knocked from the fireplace. There’s a crack in the glass of their wedding photo. She takes her guest’s half finished wine through to the kitchen.

  Rhys was so furious, so angry. He has so much hate for this man. She watches the red swirl against the white sink until all that is left is an oily stain. It scares her to see that anger in him. Watch him flit from anger to tears. Listen to him talk with more passion than she’s ever seen. Talk such nonsense. She can appease Harry. He’s eight. He knows no better. It breaks her heart to hear a grown man talk about demons as if they are real. To believe they’re after him. That they will kill his family.

  That makes her truly afraid. Are they safe? Safe from him? Is this what the families of those slaughtered by their husbands while they slept would have asked were they able? Rhys will have access to guns and knives. She’s cold suddenly. Turns up the thermostat.

  Then the phone is in her hand and she’s calling. The phone rings for a long time. He answers just as she’s about to hang up.

  ‘Hey.’ His voice is soft, gentle. It doesn’t sound as if she’s woken him.

  ‘Hi.’ She feels stupid. Stupid for calling. Stupid. Vulnerable. Afraid. He waits. Says nothing. Gives her the time she needs. ‘Can you come over?’

  ‘Sure, give me half an hour.’ The line goes dead.

  Detective Constable Dan Davies. They used to all be friends, Rhys and Anna, Dan and his wife, Sandy, although Sandy wasn’t his wife then, just his on-off girlfriend. Rhys and Dan trained together, hit it off. They used to all go for meals, laugh and drink. Tell secrets. Share fears. They even had a holiday together.

  Rhys was always the better pupil, more studious, more committed. It was more important to him. Dan had that cheeky smile, and could look at you in a way that made you feel like you were the only girl in the world. He would also listen, Dan, really listen and pay attention, make you believe he gave a shit. Anna saw him do i
t dozens of times, with dozens of women, but still believed it was different when he listened to her.

  It was one night, one time, one stupid mistake the best part of a decade ago. Anna was stuck at home with Louise, felt like she was going out of her mind. Rhys was all over the place, having a daughter making him think more sharply about his sister. He’d been offered a job working missing persons. Dan had not. Longer working hours, more time away from home. Then one night, only one night, Dan came over and smiled at her like she was the only girl in the world.

  Anna turns on the coffee machine. She feels sick thinking about it even now. She’d told Rhys about Dan, as soon as it happened. And he forgave her. The one proviso was neither of them had anything to do with Dan ever again. And it worked, for ten years it worked. Then Rhys was transferred to King’s Mill.

  Anna had only seen Dan once in that time. Recently. They’d bumped into each other in the street, if you’d believe that. Anna knew Rhys wouldn’t.

  ‘It’s good to see you, Anna.’ Dan had said. And smiled that smile. Who else can she turn to? Really, who else would understand?

  The knock is soft when it comes. Dan looks tired, ruffled. His shirt isn’t buttoned correctly. This is how they always look in the middle of a case, any case. Something else is priority. That’s why he’ll understand. Wouldn’t judge. Will he?

  Fingers of doubt start to tickle the back of her neck.

  ‘Hello.’ His voice is soft. She smiles – lets him in. He accepts a coffee.

  Now he’s here, stood in her kitchen, with the furniture all the wrong way round, she isn’t sure where to start. It suddenly all seems silly. Is she overreacting? The words will sound ridiculous. He doesn’t pressure her. Doesn’t even ask why she called. He just takes his coffee and waits for her to speak.

  They stand and drink in silence.

  In an instant, the coffee is half drunk. The words form, but stick in her throat.

  ‘Rhys?’ Dan prompts. The sound of his name, said in the soft male voice starts the avalanche.

  ‘I don’t really know where to begin. It’ll sound so stupid, but it isn’t, far from it. Thanks for coming by the way.’ Anna places her cup on the worktop. Turns to stare at the black window. The bright kitchen is reflected behind her. It’ll be easier if she doesn’t look at him. She stares at her own reflection, eye to eye.

  ‘You know I’ll never think what you say is stupid, Anna.’

  ‘Okay. Shit. Okay.’ Start speaking. Start anywhere, just start. ‘Since he started on this case they’ve been getting worse, the nightmares. I guess that’s where it all started.’ She stares hard at her reflection.

  ‘For weeks, he’s being having these horrendous nightmares, not just bad dreams but terrors. Waking up drenched in sweat, too afraid to go back to sleep, becoming too afraid to sleep. Have you ever had that kind of nightmare? I never have, thank God.’ Her eyes flick to the left. Dan’s reflection shakes his head.

  ‘Then he started the case. As with every case he tells me nothing, says he can’t.’ A look left. A nod from Dan. ‘But he goes into Jenny’s room a lot and I know that means it’s bad, really bad. I read the papers so I have an idea. I’m not stupid. You remember Jenny’s room, right?’

  ‘Of course.’ Davies’s eyes drop. Anna turns to face him. Takes a deep breath.

  ‘Then the dreams seem to be seeping into reality. During the day he thinks he sees the man, the creature that plagues him in the night. He thinks he sees him in the pub, in the street, while he’s in work.’ Dan draws breath to speak. Anna holds up a hand. ‘Please, let me finish. Rhys says the man, the creature, he sees in his nightmares is real. That he lives across the street.’ What would Rhys say if he could hear her now, another betrayal, another betrayal with Dan?

  ‘And he’s on the internet, all through the night, tucked up there in Jenny’s room, researching, cramming more information into his full, tired brain. A brain that should be resting after the things he’s seen while awake. Then one day he comes out with it.’ Anna pauses. Takes a deep breath. Screws her eyes up tight.

  ‘He says the creature across the street is a demon. A Nosferatu to be precise. A Nosferatu after his soul in exchange for our safety.’ She should hear Dan laugh. Laugh like she has done. But he does not.

  She opens her eyes slowly. He has the saddest look on his face. She tries to smile. It’s lost before it meets her lips. They stand in silence. She can see Dan digest the information. Tiny flickers on his brow. What has she done? Will he think she’s the mad one, call the men in white coats? Who will look after the children then? What has she done? She could beg Dan to leave. Forget everything she’s said. Walk away and forget it. She was only joking, hilarious eh? But the words are out, come what may.

  ‘Shit,’ is what Dan eventually says. The laugh bursts out before she can stop it. His brow furrows.

  ‘I’m sorry. I was just expecting a little more.’ Dan smiles too.

  ‘Sorry, wow, that’s…’

  ‘Ridiculous, crazy, unreal…’

  ‘Sad. Serious.’

  Anna’s smile fades. She nods. Tears prickle in her eyes.

  ‘Do you think it’s happening to him?’ A genuine question asked to the wrong person. A question that has been building in her mind for days, weeks. One that finally has to be voiced or she will explode. ‘What happened to his mother. Do you think it’s happening to him?’

  Rhys’s mother is mentioned less than his sister. She, however, is not an enigma. She is, was, very real. Dan shrugs. Looks at his feet. He was the one Rhys called, when he found his Mother’s body. Dan finally meets her eyes.

  ‘I hope not, I really do, for all of you.’ He reaches out. She shakes her head, hesitates. But she so wants someone else to be in charge, to make everything okay. She steps into his strong embrace. ‘Look I’m no doctor but maybe he needs to see one?’ He speaks into her hair. She relaxes against him. He smells of apples, feels like he can make everything right. ‘What you’re saying, it’s serious, for him. You do realise that?’ She nods against his shoulder. ‘You want me to have a word with the boss?’

  Anna shrugs. ‘I don’t want him to get into trouble.’

  ‘It sounds to me like he’s already in trouble.’

  ‘Thank you… for coming over,’ says Anna.

  ‘It’s no problem.’ Anna stands and lets Dan hug her for a long time, lets someone else take charge, just for a little while.

  50.

  The rain beats mercilessly on the car roof. Rhys wakes just after seven. Stiff and sore. His reflection in the rear view mirror makes him wince. He needs a shave. He needs a wash. He needs not to be wearing the same clothes as yesterday. More than all of these things he needs to see suspended Detective Inspector Andrews. Kier must be the creature Andrews seeks. Must be. Andrews said he was searching for a Nosferatu? Rhys has one. It’s too much of a coincidence for there to be more than one, isn’t it?

  Rhys picks up Kier’s handkerchief.

  The blood tear. The blood tear Kier cried.

  Rhys smiles.

  ‘Gotcha.’ He doesn’t have an evidence bag in the car. He scrabbles, under the seats, in the glovebox. Nothing that would do. He folds the handkerchief so the blood is on the inside, careful not to touch the blood. The DNA. Far from ideal but it will have to do, should be enough.

  What was that last night? A display of power? An attempt to give humanity to something inhuman? Rhys doesn’t understand. He’s not sure he wants to.

  It’s early. He can get to Andrews’s house, still be on time for work. He turns the car’s cold air blowers on full blast, shivers.

  Rhys is outside the city. Hidden within the intricate system of lanes that existed when the city was just a town. How on earth had Kier found him? He turns the radio up loud. The sound shoves out any thoughts before they can take shape. Only the image of Anna, the pain on her face, slips through. He turns the radio up a notch.

  Andrews’s street is still. As is the house. The heavy curtains still draw
n across the windows. Rhys pulls his raincoat off the back seat. Turns the collar up against the rain.

  He bangs on the front door. Waits. Bangs. Waits. He steps back. Stares up at the windows. Shields his eyes from the downpour.

  ‘What the hell’s all the racket?’ A voice from next door. A large man in a dirty white dressing gown stands on the step. ‘You trying to wake the whole bleedin’ street or what?’

  ‘Sorry,’ Rhys knows better than to extend his hand. ‘I’m looking for Mr Andrews. Any idea if he’s in?’

  ‘You the filth too?’

  ‘Do you know if he’s in?’ Rhys stares at the large man. The man scratches his belly. Shrugs.

  ‘What’s that mad bastard been up to?’

  ‘Is he in?’

  ‘I’m not his bleedin’ mother.’ The large man takes a deep snort. Spits out onto the step. Rhys starts to hammer on the door again.

  ‘Guess I’ll just keep doing this until I find out then.’ A female voice inside the house shouts something obscene about the noise, followed by the general sentiment that if the fat slob doesn’t do something to sort it out, he can deal with tired kids and a pissed-off wife for the rest of the day.

  ‘Look.’ The fat slob pulls his dressing gown tighter. ‘He was alright.’ He thumbs towards Andrews’s house. ‘All things considered.’ The phlegm rattles behind his face. He sniffs deeply. ‘But lately, since what’s her name left him – never did like her much, skinny young bitch – he’s been obsessed, obsessed with, well, what do you call them? Vampires? Nosferatu.’

  The fat slob laughs.

  ‘Not in a teenage romantic way either, in a creepy, intense, obsessed kind of way. Would tell anyone who’d listen he was looking for a killer Nosferatu. That he was going to save mankind, then seek his revenge on those who deserved it. Surprised it took you lot so long to kick him out… actually nah, I’m not… more surprised it took her so long to leave him. Mind you, she had it pretty good.’ The fat slob has obviously never been in Andrews’s house. More female bellowing from deep inside. Does she have to come down there because if she does there’ll be trouble.