by Tim O'Rourke
“But how would that be possible?” I asked him.
“I don’t know,” he said again.
“But you were one of the last people to have seen her the night she disappeared back at the Cove,” I pushed.
“She had gone by the time I got back to her,” he said, and I could see that he was struggling to find the right words to comfort me. “Phillips and Taylor took her. They told you as much themselves.”
We kept moving upstream towards a large hill that loomed against the night sky like some giant ogre. The water sloshed about our shins, and the cold wind snatched at my long hair that bellowed about my shoulders.
Not being able to hold back my fears anymore, I said, “Luke, I think I’m changing.”
Slowing beside me, Luke looked at me and said, “How?”
“Back in the tunnel,” I started, not being able to meet his gaze, “I lashed out at one of those vampires and I threw him nearly a hundred yards or so back down the tunnel. But not only that, I think that I pushed him so hard that my hand actually broke through his skin, because I ended up with his blood all over my hand. I shouldn’t be that strong, right?”
“What else?” Luke asked.
“Well, I can pretty much see in the dark now,” I said. “It’s like I’m kinda seeing in black and white. I can distinguish shapes, faces, stuff like that. I wouldn’t need a torch in the dark to see my way, that’s for sure.”
“What about your eye and the nightmares?” he asked. “The eye doesn’t bleed anymore,” I said, “and the nightmares are less, but when they do come, they are different.” “In what way?” “It’s like I can control them somehow,” I tried to explain to him, not that I really understood it myself. “I still have visions and when I do, it’s like I’m looking through a video camera. I can turn it around, up, and down – get a three hundred and sixty degree view.’
“What did you see in the last vision you had?” Luke asked me, stepping over a series of rocks that jutted-up out of the frothing water.
“I saw Kayla,” I told him. “She was lying in what looked like a hospital bed. She was scared and calling out to me, but…” “But what?” Luke asked, taking my hand and helping me over the rocks so I didn’t slip and fall straight on my arse. “There were these creatures,” I said lowering my voice so none of the others could hear me. “What kind of creatures?” “I’m not sure. They were huge, though, and covered in hair,” I said. Then looking into my eyes, he said, “Just like me when I changed back in that room at the manor?” I remembered how he had looked in the dark of that room, lying on the floor, completely covered in black, bristling hair, his mouth full of jagged fangs. Then looking at him, I said, “I guess.”
“They are probably the Vampyrus that are guarding Kayla,” Luke said, turning and heading after the others.
“I guess,” I said again, but deep inside I wasn’t sure. Sloshing after him, I pulled at his arm and said, “So do you think I’m changing then – you know – the Vampyrus side is starting to come out?”
“Perhaps, perhaps not,” he said, looking at me. “I know that the other half-breeds developed their abilities during adolescence, but it’s hard to know for sure as only three of you ever lived past the age of sixteen.”
“I’m twenty,” I groaned, “Shouldn’t I have noticed something by now?”
“I guess so,” he said, and again, I got the sense that he wasn’t sure what to say.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him.
“I just don’t know the answers to your questions, Kiera,” he said, his voice soft and caring. “I know that you are confused and scared and I hate seeing you like this. I wish…I just wish I could help you.”
“You do help me,” I whispered.
“How?”
“By just listening to me,” I half-smiled. But Luke was right, I was scared and confused. How I wished that my friend Kayla was with me. I missed our girlie chats and better than anyone, she would understand what I was going through.
“Maybe…maybe…” Luke started then stopped.
“Go on…tell me what you are thinking…please,” I said.
“Isidor has been through it,” Luke said. “What I mean is, that he must have had to come to terms with being a half-breed. Maybe you could talk to him about the confusion you’re feeling.”
Looking ahead in the dark, I watched Isidor as he walked alone up the stream, his head cast down, crossbow slung across his back. He cut a lonely figure in the moonlight. Isidor seemed okay, but I knew that Potter didn’t like him, and I couldn’t understand why. Then looking back at Luke, I said, “Maybe I will try talking to him. After all, his mum went missing too.”
For the next two days and nights we followed Murphy as he led us further across the hills and the Cumbria Mountains. We slept during the day in any deserted outhouse or shed that we could find. But Murphy was always the first up at twilight, racing ahead of us, calling back into the night, “This way! This way!”
On the third day, we settled in a derelict signal box that was situated next to a disused railway line. Again, I felt exhausted and starving hungry. Using my long coat as a blanket, I lay down and listened to the sound of my stomach rumbling with hunger.
Luke lay beside me, and within moments of his head resting against the dusty floor, his eyes were closed and he was asleep. Potter sat on the other side of the signal box, his knees drawn up and his head slumped against his arms. Isidor sat away from him and was reading a book that he had taken from his rucksack. I hadn’t had the chance of speaking with him like I’d planned, I’d not found the right moment – or built-up the courage. I didn’t know what was stopping me – but there was something. Murphy had positioned himself by the door again, as if he were on guard. I decided that I would wait for him to fall asleep, and if Isidor were still awake, I would speak to him about being a half-breed.
Struggling to keep my eyes open, so as not to drift off, I looked at Potter. Although he was slumped against the wall, he looked taut and tense and I sensed that he was troubled about something. He had been quiet the last two days, barely speaking to anyone. He had either walked alone behind, or got ahead and waited for the rest of us to catch up. Sometimes, I caught him giving me a sideways stare, but when he caught me staring back, he would quickly look away. Pulling his coat about him and closing his eyes, I wondered what was going through Potter’s head.
I lay for what seemed like hours – just watching him, and my mind went back to what had happened between us at the gatehouse and then how he had kissed me in the summerhouse when we believed that we were both going to die. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about it. The passion it stirred inside of me left me feeling scared and confused – and I’d had enough of those feelings to last me a lifetime. And what of Luke? Every time those confusing feelings that I felt for Potter came to the foreground, I would feel pangs of guilt for Luke. I felt as if I were betraying him and he deserved better than that. Maybe it was a good thing that Potter had kept his distance – perhaps seeing me and Luke share that kiss beneath the tree in the woods had made him think that I wanted Luke and not him.
Trying to rid my mind of Potter, I opened my eyes again and looked at Murphy, who still sat by the door. Although his chin was slumped against his chest, I could see that his eyes were open. Isidor was still reading his book, which he held close to his face, so as to read the words in the gloom. Knowing that it would be some time before they slept, I rummaged in my coat pocket and pulled out my iPod. It seemed like forever since I’d listened to any music and I missed it – like so many other aspects of the life I’d had before. Closing my eyes for just a minute or two – it wouldn’t hurt just to close them for a second – I started to listen to Will Young sing Jealousy.
Chapter Eleven
…I was underground. No, it was a cave of some sort. Huge and vast like a cavern. Water dripped from overhead and ran down the walls. drip-drip-drip…I was alone…but wait a minute, there was someone close by. Somebody was hiding in the shadows.
> “Who’s there?” I called out.
Silence. Just the constant dripping.
Then I caught a glimpse of something. It was large and covered in sleek dark hair. It slinked backwards and forwards in the shadows.
“What do you want?” I shouted.
Silence.
I tried to move forward, but something was holding me back. Looking down, I could see that my arms were chained to rock..
“Hey!” I hollered. “Unchain me!”
Silence.
Yanking on the chains, they rattled like shards of broken glass in a box. Then something else rattled, no rumbled, and I knew that it was the sound of my stomach leaping with hunger.
I tried to call out again, to demand that I be freed, but my throat was dry and sore as if water hadn’t passed my lips in days. My lips felt swollen, blistered, and cracked. Looking ahead of me, the shadows moved again and out of them stepped not the hairy black shape that I’d seen, but my mother. Her black hair curled around her shoulders in long ringlets. Her lips were blood red and her eyes shone a brilliant hazel just like mine. She wore a black dress that clung to her perfectly, just like an extra layer of skin. Her hands were held out before her and they dripped blood onto the cave floor.
Drip-Drip-Drip
“Mum!” I managed to whisper.
Coming closer, she smiled at me, just like she had before disappearing three years ago. I wanted to run to her, wrap my arms around her, to be close to her. But I couldn’t because the chains held me fast.
“My poor darling,” she soothed as she came closer. “What have they done to you?”
“Help me,” I croaked.
“Why have they done this to you?” she said, her hands continuing to drip blood all over the cave floor.
“Who’s done this to me?” I asked her, my head beginning to pound and my throat feeling raw.
“Murphy and the others,” she said. “Look what they’ve done to my precious daughter.”
“But they’re my friends,” I tried to tell her.
“Friends wouldn’t chain you down and deny you food and drink,” she told me coming closer still, her brilliant eyes fixed on mine.
My stomach groaned again and my throat burnt.
“Are you hungry, Kiera?” she asked me, her voice filled with compassion.
It hurt too much to speak now, so looking at her with a pair of pleading eyes, I nodded.
“You don’t have to be hungry anymore, my beautiful Kiera,” she soothed. “I’ve brought you something.” Then shoving her hands in front of my face, I could see that she was holding a bleeding piece of flesh.
Recoiling away from it, I gasped and the inside of my throat felt as if I’d swallowed a box of hatpins. “I can’t,” I whispered.
“But you’re hungry,” my mum hushed. “Eat and you will feel better.”
Looking down at the lump of flesh, I could see streams of blood seeping from it and running between her white fingers. And deep down inside, I wanted to lunge at it, suck the blood from it, to cool my burning throat.
“Go on, Kiera,” she urged, bringing the flesh closer to my mouth. “Just a little bite and you’ll feel so much better.”
Although I shook my head in disgust, I couldn’t help but think the smell of the flesh was inviting. I could feel the inside of my mouth start to water and it felt so good. Maybe my mum was right, just one little bite wouldn’t hurt. I mean I’d never have to eat it again, just this once to help these agonising pains of hunger and thirst pass me by.
But another part of me, the human part was screaming at me. “No! Don’t touch it Kiera, not even one little drop! You won’t ever be able to go back! Your hunger and thirst won’t be sedated – it will grow worse!”
“Go on Kiera,” my mum coaxed me. “Would I ever give you something that was bad – something that would hurt you?”
I looked away from the flesh that she held before me, and up into her eyes. She smiled down at me, and I felt warm tears spill onto my cheeks.
“‘I love you, Kiera,” she smiled.
And hearing those words – God, how I’d needed to hear her voice say those words to me during the last few years – I lunged forward and sunk my teeth into the flesh that dripped from between her fingers and it tasted…
Chapter Twelve
…sitting up, I coughed and spluttered, trying to rid myself of the disgusting taste that was in my mouth. My tongue tasted coppery, as if I’d been sucking on a bunch of old pennies. Rubbing my throat with my hands, I lent over and gagged, but nothing came up. The images of the nightmare still raced around my mind, and I was momentarily convinced that my mum was with me.
Tucking my iPod back into my coat pocket, I whispered, “Mum?” But of course she wasn’t there and as I glanced around the beaten-up old signal box, I remembered where I was. Luke was still asleep. Potter was curled on his side, with his coat pulled up over his head. I looked at Isidor and he lay on his back, with his book beside him and his crossbow clutched in his hands. He twitched and jerked in his sleep and I wondered if he were sharing the same dream as me – like we had before. He murmured and let out a soft groan, almost as if he were weeping in his sleep. Getting up, I went to him, wanting to wake him and bring him out of that nightmare, but then I realised that Murphy had gone.
Looking quickly around the signal box, just to make sure that he wasn’t slumped somewhere in a darkened corner, I double-checked - he wasn’t there. Once I was certain, I eased open the signal box door, stepped out, and closed it behind me. The sun was setting over the mountains, casting a thin ribbon of pink across the evening sky. Climbing down the rickety old steps that led from the signal box, I stepped onto the disused railway tracks. Looking ahead, I could see the tracks winding up into the hills for as far as I could see. Turning around, I saw the grey, chalky boot prints on the sleepers where Murphy had headed off in the opposite direction.
Keeping off the tracks, my footsteps were just too loud as they crunched over the chalky-coloured ballast, I walked in the cess and headed in the direction that Murphy had obviously taken. I hadn’t gone far, when I noticed that some of the thickest undergrowth on the embankment had been broken and trampled over. Knowing that this was where Murphy had left the railway tracks, I clawed and pulled my way to the top of the embankment. Reaching the top, I kept low and scanned the horizon for any sign off Murphy. As I crouched amongst the thorns and thistles, I wondered why Murphy had slunk away while we’d been sleeping. I knew that he hadn’t simply gone for a leak – he had come too far just for that – and knowing most men were quite happy to take a whiz anywhere that suited them, I knew that there must be another reason for his sudden disappearance.
Peeling back the undergrowth, I inched my way forward. On the other side of the embankment, I could see a dilapidated outhouse of some kind and just off to the other side of it were the remains of a gutted farmhouse. All that was remaining were three granite stone walls and part of a black-slated roof. Then, from within the remains of the farmhouse, I saw movement. Ducking low, I peered through the undergrowth and could just make out the shadow of a person moving around inside – no – there were two shadows.
Sitting on my bum, I worked my way down the steep embankment. At the bottom, I bent low and raced across the field to the ruined outhouse. Hiding in the broken down doorway, I peered around the doorframe to get a better look at who was in there.
Screwing-up my eyes, I gasped as I saw Murphy pass by one of the empty window frames set into one of the granite stone walls. I could barely see him, as the sun had dipped so low behind the mountains, it was almost dark. And although I could see well enough at night, much of Murphy was hidden by the wall. Then I saw the second shadow move towards Murphy and it was long and black. The shadow seemed too long as if it had been stretched; either that or the person it belonged to was a giant.
From my hiding place, I watched the black silhouette of the second person pass by the empty window. And I’d been right, whoever it had been was a
giant. As Murphy had passed the window, I had been able to see his head and shoulders, but when the second person had passed by it, I had only been able to see the upper part of their chest. Murphy was at least six feet tall, so whoever the second person was must have put them at about seven feet tall. They disappeared from my view and all I could see was their shadows cast across the grass and weeds that grew around the remains of the building.
They were too far away for me to hear what they were talking about and I wished that I had Kayla with me, so she could listen in on their conversation. I wanted to move closer, but I feared that I might be seen. So, crouching low in the doorway of the outhouse, I watched their shadows. I could tell their conversation was sometimes heated, as I could see the shadows of their arms gesticulating up and down as they spoke together. This went on for some time, then I saw the taller shadow hand Murphy something, which he took and stuffed into his trouser pocket.
Murphy’s face appeared in the empty window and he looked out across the field as if checking that they weren’t being watched. Jumping backwards into the outhouse so as not to be seen, I felt someone take hold of me and pull me inside.
“Get off me!” I hissed, lashing out at whomever it was that had grabbed me.
“Easy, tiger,” Potter whispered back. “You shouldn’t be out here on your own. It’s not safe.”
With his arms snaked around my waist, I tried to pull away. “You can let go of me now,” I told him. But he didn’t, instead bringing his face in closer to mine. In the gloom, and I could see his eyes shining.
“You don’t really mean that,” he whispered and I could feel his warm breath against my neck. Gooseflesh ran over my skin.
“Yes, I do,” I said, but I knew I didn’t sound convincing and I hated myself for it.
“Why?” he breathed.
“Because you’re dangerous,” I told him, feeling his arms tighten, as he pressed himself against me.
“You like dangerous,” he said, bringing his mouth closer to mine.