by Tim O'Rourke
“No, I don’t,” I whispered back, a strange sense of excitement racing through me.
“Yeah, you do,” he said, “or you wouldn’t be here now.” Then, leaning into me, he covered my lips with his. His stubble felt rough against my face as did his hands that worked their way around the back of my neck so he could pull me even closer against him.
My heart raced in my chest and the urge to just give into him was suddenly so overpowering that it made me feel dizzy. Then, knowing in my heart that what was happening was wrong, I pulled my lips from his, and pushed him gently away.
“I can’t,” I whispered. “I just can’t.”
“Why?” he asked, and he didn’t sound angry – just confused.
“Why do you think?” I said, doing my best to not look at him.
“What about what happened in the gatehouse?” he asked, coming close again, close enough so I could feel him brushing against me.
“That was a mistake and you know it,” I told him, trying to make my voice sound as hard and indifferent as possible – but I knew that it wasn’t working.
“What about the summerhouse?” he reminded me. “Was that a mistake, too?”
“I thought I was going to die,” I said, then realising how bad that must have sounded to him, I tried to take it back. “Look, I didn’t -”
“Just forget it, Kiera,” he said, moving away from me.
“It’s just that I have feelings for Luke,” I tried to explain.
Looking back at me, he lit a cigarette, and said, “But he’s so boring, don’t you think?”
“That’s your friend,” I reminded him.
“I know,” he said, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean that.”
“What did you mean then?” I asked him, wrapping my arms around me.
“Nothing,” he half-smiled.
Taking a step closer to him, I said, “Who was it, Potter?”
“Who was what?” he said, looking back at me over the glow of his cigarette.
“Whoever it was that hurt you?” I said.
“Why must I have been hurt, for crying-out-loud,” he snapped, pitching out his cigarette.
“It’s just that I thought…” I started.
“Well you thought wrong, sweet-cheeks,” he almost seemed to growl as he came towards me. “I never let anyone close enough to hurt me…but you should watch your back.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I said, watching him head for the broken-in doorway.
“Isidor,” he said looking back at me. “I wouldn’t trust him as long as I’ve got a hole in my arse.”
“Why not?” I said feeling suddenly bewildered.
“Think yourself a great detective do you?” Potter said, now almost seeming to gloat. “Don’t you think it’s a bit odd that since wonder-boy appeared on the scene those vampires seemed to know every move that we make?”
“Well, erm…” I couldn’t believe what he was trying to suggest about Isidor.
Then coming so close as if to kiss me again, Potter said, “Don’t you think it’s just an incy-bitzy bit of a coincidence that he showed up just moments after Kayla was snatched by Phillips? He then completely wiped out all of those vampires, then confessed to knowing the person – your mate, Sparky – who then murdered all those half-breed children, killed the old woman, and took Doc Ravenwood.’
“But,” I started.
“Think about it, Colombo,” he said, “I don’t think Murphy trusts him, either.” Then gently kissing me on the mouth again, he turned, left the outhouse and disappeared into the darkness.
No, it’s you that Murphy doesn’t trust, I thought, reminding myself of the conversation I’d overheard between them. Then, making sure that I couldn’t be seen by Murphy and the giant, I made my way back to the signal box.
Chapter Thirteen
I arrived back at the signal box to find Luke awake. He was sitting with his back against the far wall. Isidor was still asleep on the floor, and Potter sat away from them, staring at me from within the darkness.
“Where did you get to?” Luke asked me as I closed the signal box door behind me.
Snatching a sideways glance at Potter then back at Luke, I lied and said, “I just needed a leg stretch.”
Then, holding out a hand towards me he said, “Are you okay? You look kinda…”
“I’m just tired,” I said, taking his hand and sitting beside him on the dusty floorboards. “I didn’t sleep too well.”
“Nightmares?” he asked, leaning forward and kissing me on the forehead. I could see his concern for me and I hated myself.
I nodded.
“Want to talk about it?”
“No, I’m okay,” I half-smiled. “Maybe later.”
Then the door to the signal box swung open and Murphy stepped inside with that lopsided walk of his. “Pack up, we’re leaving,” he almost seemed to bark at us. That same gritty determination I’d sensed in him since the death of his daughters, now almost seeping from him.
Dusting down his trousers, Potter stood and said, “Sarge, you’ve led us across pretty much all of England over the last few weeks and we’ve followed you without question – but where are you taking us? Aren’t we meant to be finding Kayla?”
Glancing around the room at us, Murphy said, “I know where Kayla is, our search for her is nearly over.”
Scrambling to my feet and going to him, I said, “Where is she?”
“Not far from here,” he told me.
Gripping his forearm, I stared at him and said, “Where, exactly?”
“I’ll show you,” he said, turning away and running one of his powerful hands through his silver hair.
Coming to stand next to me, Luke said, “But Sarge, how did you find her?”
“We haven’t been the only ones searching for her,” Murphy said, not looking back at us.
“Who else then?” Potter said, looking across at Luke and me with a puzzled look on his face.
“Somebody who owed me a favour – a debt – and it was time to collect.”
“Who?” Luke asked him.
“Don’t ask me that,” he said turning to face us. “You’re like family to me. I would never do anything to hurt you -”
“But…” Potter cut in.
“No buts,” Murphy said. “I can’t tell you who it is that has helped find Kayla…”
“Does this have something to do with that trust-thing again?” Potter said, his voice sounding bitter, almost resentful.
Staring at him hard with his sharp, blue eyes, Murphy said, “Wake the kid up, we’re leaving.” Then Murphy swung the door open and disappeared outside.
I looked at Luke and he shrugged.
The thought of seeing Kayla again was too much to resist, so turning, I headed straight for the door. As I did, I heard a deep groaning sound of pain. Looking to my left, I watched Potter pull his foot back and kick Isidor in the side, as he slept on the floor.
“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” he snapped. “We’re outta here.”
Leaving Isidor on the floor clutching his side looking confused and dazed, Potter popped a cigarette into the corner of his mouth and left the signal box.
Within minutes, we had gathered outside. Murphy, as we had come to expect, was standing off to one side on his own, his pipe drooping from between his lips. Thick clouds of smoke tumbled from it and disappeared into the night sky. The moon hung high above, flat and round-looking, like a giant silver disc. Isidor stood with his rucksack and crossbow slung over his back and glared at Potter. Before another series of insults could be exchanged between them, Murphy was walking away.
“This way,” he said over his shoulder and was gone.
We followed him into the night, making our way across the deserted level crossing and into a nearby field. Potter trailed behind, silent and brooding. Luke walked beside me and I felt uncomfortable. It was the thought of what had taken place between Potter and me in the outhouse that made me feel like I had betrayed him.
But he’s just so boring, Potter said inside my head.
So taking Luke’s hand, I pushed Potter out of my mind. Looking down at me and gently squeezing my hand in his, Luke winked at me and we quickened our pace to catch up with Murphy and Isidor, who led the pack.
We walked the next two miles or so in silence. Then, reaching the brow of a hill, Murphy signaled for us to get down. On seeing his command, we instantly dropped into a crouching position and tucked ourselves behind the trunk of a large tree that stood alone on the moonlit hillside. Walking quietly over to us, he bent down.
“We’re here,” Murphy said, his voice barely a whisper, and his eyes twinkling in the dark.
“Where’s ‘here’?” Potter asked.
“The Sacred Heart Monastery,” Murphy whispered back.
“Monastery?” Isidor asked.
Then spotting Isidor’s many rosary beads glinting back from beneath his coat, Potter said, “You should feel right at home.”
Ignoring him, Isidor looked at Murphy and said, “Why have they brought Kayla to a monastery?”
Hunkering down beside us, Murphy said, “It’s a monastery in name only. It’s one of the strongholds designed to protect the Vampyrus from vampires,” he said. “Just like Hallowed Manor was.”
Glancing over his shoulder, looking down the hill I could see a large stone building set amongst the shadows of a nearby wood. The building looked very much like a medieval cathedral with a tall-looking bell tower that pointed up into the night sky.
“The local community still actually believes that it’s a working monastery,” Murphy continued in his hushed voice. “The Vampyrus who live here are believed to be monks – they are known to the locals as the ‘Deserted Fathers’. See, it suits them to live here – they live like hermits, shying away from the rest of society. They led a peaceful and tranquil existence until -”
“Until what?” Luke cut in.
“Until the agents of that invisible man took the monastery over – flooding it with Vampyrus that believe in his twisted doctrine. It has become a breeding ground for vampires and a place where they can experiment on the half-breeds like Kayla. It’s the perfect cover, you see.”
“So are you gonna tell us who led you to this place?” Potter asked, his eyes fixed on Murphy’s.
“We’ve already had that discussion,” Murphy hissed.
“But can we trust them?” Potter pushed.
“I’m not asking you to trust them,” Murphy said. “I’m asking you to trust me.”
Potter looked away, back down the hill, and I could see that he didn’t look happy with Murphy’s reply.
So, changing the subject and just wanting to get Kayla out of that monastery, I said, “So how do we get in?”
Looking at me through the darkness, Murphy said, “Like Hallowed Manor, there’s a huge wall to get over – but that shouldn’t be a problem.”
I looked around the tree trunk and into the distance at the monastery. It looked unwelcoming and sinister set against the skyline. It didn’t look like a place of worship, more like a sanctuary for the devil himself.
“So what’s the plan?” Potter asked.
“Plan?” Murphy asked, one of his silver eyebrows cocked.
“Yeah, a plan,” Potter sighed. “Like what happens when we get over the wall?”
“I don’t know,” Murphy said with a weak smile. “I’m making this up as I go along.”
Then he was gone, limping down the hill towards the monastery.
“It’s a shame we don’t have any explosives,” Isidor mumbled as if talking to himself.
“Explosives?” Luke asked.
Then, glancing at Luke, Isidor looked embarrassed and said, “I was just talking to myself. But you know it’s a shame we can’t just blast our way in through that wall.”
Standing, Potter looked down at Isidor and snapped, “Listen here, Houdini or whatever your name is, this is meant to be a break-in, not a break out. Explosives for crying-out-loud! This isn’t an episode of The A-Team. Jeez – you’ll be suggesting next that we build a bridge out of elastic bands and climb over the wall that way!”
“I was only saying…” Isidor started.
Ignoring him, Potter glared at Luke and me, and said, “I don’t know about you two, but I’m not standing here all night listening to this B.A. Baracus wannabe – I’m going to catch me some vampire.”
Then he was off, heading down the hill towards the monastery. I looked at Isidor and he looked hurt and dejected.
Squeezing his shoulder, I said, “Take no notice of him, Isidor. He doesn’t really mean it.”
Standing, Isidor looked at me and said, “Yeah, he does.”
But before I could offer him any more words of comfort, he too was heading down the hill as Luke and I followed.
Chapter Fourteen
Reaching the wall that surrounded the monastery, Murphy signaled for us to get down again.
Crouching, he looked at us and said, “On any other occasion I’d suggest we fly over, but we can’t risk being detected this close to finding Kayla.”
Looking up at the wall that towered over us, I could see that it was far too tall even for Murphy and the others to leap.
“What do you suggest?” Luke said, staring at Murphy.
Then flicking his wrists before us, he kind of grimaced as the tips of his fingers transformed into the animal-like claws I’d seen him brandish so many times before.
“Okay,” Luke replied, seeming to understand what it was that Murphy was suggesting. Then as one, Luke, Potter and Isidor’s hands were changing – growing as if twisting out of shape – until each of their hands had changed into long, bony claws, their fingertips capped with long, ivory-looking nails.
Looking at my hands, Potter smiled, and holding his claws before him, he said, “I was forgetting you don’t have claws, yet.”
“Yet!” I hissed. “I don’t ever want a set of those things!” The thought of watching my fingernails changing into those yellowy-looking claws made my flesh crawl.
Smirking at me, he turned to face the wall. I hated the way he looked at me like that, but before I’d had the chance to react, Luke had pulled me up onto his back and was carrying me towards the wall. Looking over my shoulder, I watched as Murphy and Isidor ran, and springing into the air, they began to climb. Their ascent was rapid and swift, and despite the sheer height of the wall, they were perched on the top of it within seconds.
Locking my arms tight about Luke’s shoulders, he splayed out his claw-like fingers, and digging them into the stone wall like a series of hooks and spikes, we raced up it. They cut into the brickwork as he began to hoist the pair of us up. He moved with the grace and fluidity of a spider as he scuttled up with me clinging to his back.
I looked over my shoulder and could see Potter staring up at me as I hung about Luke’s shoulders. It was then that I saw Potter bend his knees slightly and hurl himself up. He whooshed past us, grabbing the top of the wall with his nails, as he disappeared over and into the grounds of the monastery.
We reached the top of the wall, where Luke swung us over and scurried back towards the ground, his fingers working quickly and smoothly as they bore into the wall. At the bottom, he eas
ed me off his back and I was glad to have my feet firmly on the ground.
The others were crouched by the wall, hidden in the shadows that stretched out before us. On this side, I could see the monastery in the distance. It was a tall building, like that of a cathedral and was constructed from grey-coloured stone. The monastery looked ancient, as if it had stood on the Cumbria hills since the beginning of time. Ivory crawled up its walls around pointed-shaped windows and grabbed for the roof. The bell tower loomed over us, a crack running down the side of it, making me fear that it might just topple over at any moment and crush us.
“What now?” Potter asked Murphy as we crouched beside him.
Reaching into his coat pocket, he produced five small wooden boxes and handed one to each of us. Opening mine I peered inside, to find what looked like nothing more than a box of gunge, not too dissimilar to snot.
“What’s this?” Potter asked, staring into his box, a look of revulsion on his face.
“Queets,” Murphy said. “You know, the stuff we coated the walls of Hallowed Manor in – to keep the vampires away.”
“I don’t ever remember it looking like this,” he grimaced.
“This is queets in its purest form,” Murphy explained.
“So what are we meant to do with it?” Luke asked. “Rub it into our skin to protect us?”
“Shaking his head with a mischievous smile, Murphy said, “No, you’ve got to swallow it.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Potter hissed, throwing the little wooden box aside. “There is no way I’m swallowing that!”
“It will protect you from any vampires that might be lurking in that monastery,” Murphy explained.
“How?” Isidor asked, turning his head away in disgust at the smell of the gloopey-looking queets.
“Once swallowed, it will be in your blood within seconds,” Murphy said. “Any vampire that takes a bite at you won’t be around for long. Just one drop of your blood with that stuff in it and the vampire will be ash before it knows what’s happened.”
“Where’d you get it?” I asked.
“An old friend,” he said, and I thought of the giant shadow handing something over to Murphy in the derelict farmhouse.