Vampyrrhic

by Simon Clark

  David’s interest increased. ‘What happened?’

  ‘He trapped the three “night faeries” in the room of the farmhouse where he’d laid the trap and cut off their heads with his sword.’

  David looked at his own sword, leaning against the cave wall. ‘You mean beheading’s the answer?’

  ‘Mmm, not quite.’

  ‘What, then?’

  ‘When he beheaded the creatures there was a gush of clear liquid from the severed necks.’

  ‘That’s what we saw when we punctured the skin of the vampire girl in your basement.’

  ‘Quite.’

  ‘Which suggests these creatures described as “night faeries” are our vampires?’

  ‘Absolutely. Anyway, Sir William cleaved off their heads with his sword. Apparently they then dropped dead on the spot, this watery fluid spurting from the severed veins.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘But — and there is always a big “but”, isn’t there?’ David nodded. Electra went on. ‘But the heads rolled back to the bodies — right back to the severed necks. There the two halves of the necks joined back together, the heads fused back to their bodies and — ‘

  ‘And, hey presto, our monsters came back to life?’ David said heavily. ‘Got it in one. But our resourceful knight in shining armour cut off the heads again and quickly put them in a sack. He gave these to his squire with the instruction that they be buried on the far side of the River Esk, that’s the river that flows through Whitby. The knight then had the headless bodies buried on this side of the river.’

  ‘Wait a minute. Isn’t there something in folklore that says that ghosts, witches and whatever can’t cross flowing water?’

  Electra nodded, the beginnings of a smile reaching her face. ‘That’s right. Apparently these night faeries did stay dead after being beheaded, once their bodies were kept well away from their heads.’

  ‘So we need to start cutting off heads, do we?’ David mused. Both he and Electra looked at the huge sword standing against the wall.

  ‘It’s the only lead we’ve got,’ Electra said. ‘But if it worked for Sir William in the thirteenth century…’

  David nodded, thoughtfully. ‘OK…after we’ve finished building the wall here we start hunting. Agreed?’

  ‘Agreed.’

  ‘Meanwhile, can you go back to the hotel and start digging up any more information that might be useful? Anything about this Sir William or any other run-ins with these creatures over the last few hundred years, OK?’

  ‘I’ll get right onto it.’

  ‘Best take Black with you, you’ll need a bodyguard.’

  Electra flashed him a grateful smile and turned to go. Then she paused

  and looked back at him, then at the sword gleaming there in the lamplight with a steely sheen. ‘Just one thing, David. You do realize that one of the creatures you’re going to have to deal with will be Bernice Mochardi?’

  David nodded grimly. ‘I know.’

  CHAPTER 37

  1

  They’re carrying me down to hell, Bernice thought. The tunnel seemed to run forever, like a great wormhole beneath the town. A cold, damp wormhole at that, and dark as the inside of Lucifer’s heart.

  I’m going to die alone down here.

  Then I’ll be reborn.

  And then I’ll go in search of fresh blood. Feeding, infecting, killing: the whole grim cycle will continue until the entire world is populated by these vampires. There will be no need for them to bear children as God intended because they will live forever. How long will it take for the population of the whole planet to turn vampiric? A decade? A century?

  Probably not much more than that.

  A high-school maths student could probably work out a mathematical formula on a cheap calculator. If one vampire bites two people in one night and those two become vampires and each bite two more people the following night, that means…

  Her mind whirred on, strangely dislocated from reality. As the strong arms held her tightly she calculated the increase of the vampires: they would spread and multiply like an influenza virus until the greatest cities on Earth lay rotting, the ruins populated by these cadaverous creatures that lusted for nothing more than their next fix of blood. She could imagine them lying in their beds that were green with mould. Windows broken to admit the north wind and nesting birds, and buzzing bluebottles the size of a baby’s fist. What do vampires dream about during the day? Probably they fantasize about their next conquest: picturing the next time they pin down a human being in the corner of an alley, tear at their clothes to bare their flesh, rip open the skin at the throat or wrist, then chew through an artery until they feel the blood hit the back of their throats in hot salty spurts.

  As she lay there in their arms as they carried her, their bare feet dryly scraping the floor, she began to see the shape of the bricks that lined the tunnel.

  Light, she thought in that distant, dazed kind of way. There’s light again.

  She tilted her head back so she could see along the tunnel. In front of her were more of the monsters, their backs to her as they filed their way into the heart of the earth beneath the town. Their round white heads gleamed like plastic footballs.

  The light came from another drain set in the street high above her. The light was yellowish, obviously cast by street lights.

  Lying there in the creatures’ strong arms as if she was nothing more than a roll of carpet, she looked up as the drain came into view. It seemed a long way off, set at the top of a brick-lined shaft that stretched above her like the throat of a well.

  At that moment she snapped out of her drowsy acceptance of her fate. She felt a prickle of near-exhilaration shoot through her arms and legs.

  Hanging down the shaft was a length of chain composed of great rusty links. Spiders had spun a silky sheath along the chain.

  The chain itself dangled so far down the shaft it almost brushed the bald heads of the vampires as they passed beneath it.

  At that moment she knew this was it. This was her one God-given chance to escape from these monsters. And to escape whatever fate awaited her at the end of this subterranean journey.

  2

  With her free arm she reached up and grabbed the chain. The creatures carrying her carried on walking. The chain snapped tight and she felt a tremendous wrench at her shoulder as if her arm would be torn out by the roots.

  She heard herself yelp with pain. But still she held on.

  The vampires stopped pulling. She saw a face close to her own look round to see what had stopped their progress. In the dim glow of the street light funnelled down the shaft the creature’s face gleamed with a sick yellow colour; beneath a pair of black eyebrows that bristled thickly were a pair of deep-set eyes that glared with pure menace. (Eyelashes — long and girlish — eyes that are hypnotic; eyes that are fascinating to look at.)

  Those vile eyes glared back at its companions. The creature appeared angry at being delayed.

  He’s probably hungry for me, thought Bernice, shivering. He’s probably imagining tearing open an artery and longing for the spurt of warm blood in his mouth…but I’m not going to let go. I’m never letting go…

  They’ll have to rip my skin and drink me dry right here.

  With a ponderous slowness, as if thought travelled at a sluggish pace through the neural pathways of whatever brains they possessed, the creatures looked at each other as if expecting one of their own kind to have the answer.

  Bernice held on grimly to the chain that clinked inside its sheath of pure white spider web.

  With ponderous slowness they released their grip on her body.

  They obviously couldn’t work out immediately why they could no longer make any progress along the tunnel.

  Bernice looked up into the shaft above her. Iron loops had been set in the wall to form hand-and footholds that would have allowed workmen to climb down the shaft to inspect the ancient sewer, if that’s what it was. The chain itself was fixed to a h
eavy baulk of timber that ran across the top of the shaft, perhaps four metres above her head.

  Still holding onto the chain, she tried to haul herself up, using the iron loops as footholds.

  In twenty seconds she could reach the grating above her head Then, God willing, she could heave it open before hauling herself panting out into the street and the cold sweet night air.

  The vampires had other ideas.

  She’d barely put her feet on the iron hoops set in the tunnel wall when one of them grabbed her around the waist, his long bare arms, knotted with purple veins, wrapping tightly around her.

  ‘Let go! Let go!’ she screamed.

  He pulled her downward. Her elbows and shoulders gave those cracking-knuckle sounds, only hugely amplified. She screamed in agony; it felt as if muscle would rip from bone.

  But still she held onto the chain.

  The creature pulled again.

  It pulled in an implacable robotic way, no expression altering the cold stone face. The eyes gleamed like ice in the deep-set sockets.

  At that moment she knew she couldn’t keep her grip on the chain more than a few seconds. But there was nothing else she could do to save herself: this was her only escape route. She screamed and raged against losing it so easily.

  She glanced round; more of the vampires tried to grab hold of her, their hands groping out towards her. Some of the hands were long and thin; others were rounded and pulpy — the fingers could have been white slugs sprouting from the fists.

  Only they couldn’t grip her properly because of the confines of the tunnel. There was only room for the one who held her to get a firm grip.

  She smelt its breath; a stench reminiscent of unemptied dustbins in the heat of August, that stink of discarded cheese sweating hard, and of maggots and putrefaction.

  It pulled again. A huge tendon-creaking pull that brought piercing screams from her mouth.

  Then the chain went slack.

  As simple as that.

  It could have only lasted for a split second but a subjective eternity passed as she stared dumbfounded at the chain in her hand as it slackened and the links began to pour down over her arms.

  Then she looked up.

  The force of the creature’s pull had brought down the supporting timber beam.

  It plummeted down the shaft towards them.

  Bernice balled her body in the creature’s arms, tucking her head down as far as she could.

  The sudden release threw the creature off balance so it bent at the waist; the top half of its body now covered Bernice.

  And only just in time. The heavy chain pelted down across the creature’s back followed by the debris of the timber and a dozen or more dislodged bricks. They came down with a full-blooded roar like a mini-avalanche, cascading down upon the creature’s broad back. More bricks smashed down onto the bald skull.

  One second later Bernice lay in the debris with the stunned creature on top of her. It didn’t groan or react to the pain in any way but clearly it’d been dazed by the impact.

  Bernice struggled out from under the body. Then she was on her feet. The fall of debris had taken the other creatures by surprise and they’d stepped back into the tunnel to avoid the tumbling bricks.

  Now Bernice’s hands found the metal rungs set in the brick wall. She’d already climbed out of reach by the time the vampires had gathered their dazed wits and rushed her.

  Their outstretched hands clawed up at her, but all they did was brush the soles of her feet as she climbed towards the glow of the street light filtering down through the iron grate above her.

  For one crazy moment she wanted to pause and laugh down at their dead white faces. To pour down a torrent of tormenting insults. But she locked her attention on the grate above her and climbed.

  It wouldn’t be long before they did recover from their surprise and followed.

  The iron hoops were slippery with moss; she forced herself to concentrate on gripping them tightly in her hands and placing her feet carefully.

  Whatever you do, girl, don’t slip. If you fall into those outstretched arms they’ll never let you go again.

  Her heart beat fast, adrenalin-fired exhilaration sizzling through her body to her fingertips.

  Another five steps and she’d be at the grate set there above her head at ground level.

  She reached the grate.

  Heaved.

  Heaved harder, pushing upward at the iron grille.

  Damn. It was set there.

  ‘Help! Let me out! Let me out!’ She yelled until her throat hurt but there was no sign of any passers-by.

  As if there would be, she thought desperately. It must be three a.m. on a Monday morning.

  She placed both feet firmly on the metal hoops, then pushed again with both hands. Just one slip could send her tumbling down into those waiting hands.

  She imagined their rough tongues greedily lapping the blood from her grazed skin.

  She paused, listening hard, the pulse in her neck beating with a squelching, thumping sound; apart from that she heard only the moan of the wind blowing through the trees somewhere outside.

  What now?

  No way could she shift that iron grate above her head; probably years of road grit and windblown dirt had cemented it into its iron frame in the road.

  She looked down.

  The first of the creatures had begun to climb the shaft. Its eyes blazed beneath the thick lines of black eyebrows. The lips had parted into a grin. The panther teeth gleamed sharply in the streetlight.

  It knows it can take me any time it wants, she thought bleakly.

  Suddenly weak, she watched it climb the brick-lined shaft sluggishly, one hand deliberately reaching up to grab a metal rung; the whole movement, although slow, was smooth and snake-like. And why should it hurry? She was going nowhere.

  She looked down the shaft, searching for a loose brick in the wall to hurl down into the smugly smiling face.

  Then she saw a dark oblong set in the wall at the same level as her feet. Only this was behind her, so she hadn’t noticed it as she’d climbed, hugging this wall.

  She saw it was an aperture, no larger than a television screen, set in the wall of the shaft.

  She shifted her position so she could get a better look.

  Yes. It was a small tunnel leading off, possibly part of the drainage system beneath the town.

  There was no time to lose.

  She would have to climb down a metre or so to reach it.

  And that thing was climbing steadily towards her. If she wasted another second it would be able to reach up and grab her feet.

  Quickly she climbed down three rungs until she was level with the opening in the opposite wall. Then she turned, her feet firmly planted on the metal hoops.

  It was risky but there was no alternative. She would have to allow herself to fall outwards across the shaft so she could reach the opening.

  Her breath roaring in her throat, her legs feeling weak and shaky from exertion and fear, she leaned forwards, arms outstretched, and leant the weight of her body on the opposite wall of the shaft.

  Beneath her the creature had almost climbed within grabbing distance of her foot.

  Along the narrow tunnel stretching in front of her was a series of pools of light admitted by what must have been drains set in the road.

  With one last look at the vampire climbing inexorably towards her she squeezed through the tunnel opening, kicking her feet as she did so.

  The entrance to the tunnel was a tight squeeze. Her long dress caught on the iron frame of the opening and she heard it tear; more alarming was the sensation of fingers curling around her ankle. She kicked furiously.

  With her hands supporting her weight as if she was exercising with press-ups she wormed her way into the tunnel.

  After one last kick she freed herself from the hand.

  Now she was fully inside the tunnel. It opened up sufficiently to allow her to move forwards on her hands and knees,
panting and grunting with the exertion. Her eyes blurred and her blood came in those great pumping squelches through the veins of her slender neck and into her head.

  She moved forwards into the tunnel perhaps a dozen paces before collapsing into a sitting position, her back to the wall.

  Turning her head back, she stared in dazed fascination. There it was, the great white figure of the vampire framed by the entrance to her branch tunnel.

  It reached in towards her, its thick arms stretching out, the fingers grasping, the burning eyes locked onto her face.

  You can’t reach me, she thought, drawing in huge lungfuls of air. You can’t reach me and you’re too big to climb through into my tunnel. I’m safe…I’m safe…

  The words I’m safe played like a beautiful melody in her head. I’m safe…I’m safe…

  Her heart seemed to expand outwards in her chest; the sense of relief was enormous.

  With the thing behind her, hissing in fury and struggling in vain to climb through the narrow aperture, Bernice once more rolled forwards onto her hands and knees and began to move away from her former captors.

  Now to find a way out of the tunnel.

  CHAPTER 38

  1

  It was dawn by the time Electra Charnwood and Jack Black climbed into the van for the short drive back to the hotel. David and the three men had made short work of building the wall in the cave and were now reinforcing it with a couple of hefty brick buttresses. By this time they were running out of raw materials so David was obtaining the bricks from ornamental garden walls that Black furiously demolished with an iron spike.

  Gales shook the trees — with all the desperate viciousness of sentries trying to wake sleeping soldiers during a surprise attack. Water loosened from leaves by the blast rattled down onto the van. Above that sound was the soulful drone of the wind itself.

  ‘Hell.’ Electra started the engine. ‘Some night.’ She looked at Black who stared impassively out through the van’s windows. ‘See anything?’