by Phil Price
Doug looked at his watch. “I will need to get back soon. Alison’s probably got the timer running and it’s her first session at book club. Best not rile her.” He looked at Jake. “What’s the best bed and breakfast in the village?”
“Gordon House. It’s only a few hundred yards away. We’ve stayed there a few times. There should be rooms. Shall I give them a bell?”
Father Stephen shook his head. “No, It’s okay, Jake. Just point me in the right direction. I will get a bite to eat and have an early night. We’ll carry this on tomorrow if we need to.” He looked at Kerry. “Will you be okay?”
“Sure. I guess, I think so. After all, I play games filled with zombies and aliens. A few vampires thrown into the mix isn’t the end of the world.” They all smiled at her twisted logic.
“I’ve got your number Kerry. I think we should talk some more soon. But if anything else strange happens. I mean anything. Call me. Straight away.”
“What about the buttons?” she said.
Jake stared down at them on the table top and pondered for a moment. He scooped them up, pushing them into his jacket pocket. “I’ll get rid of them later. I’ll throw them off the cliffs next to the hotel. Hopefully the sea will carry them away, or bury them.” Kerry nodded, before fishing her mobile out of her pocket, checking the screen for activity.
Doug stood up and walked over to the counter to pay for the drinks. Dana looked up from her book and smiled. “What’s the damage?” Dana rang up what they had on the till as Doug fished a bill out of his pocket.
She handed him the change with a warm expression on her face. “There you go. Hope to see you again. Next time try and come when it’s quieter. I’ve been rushed off my tootsies all afternoon.”
Doug laughed, dropping the change into a small wicker basket marked tips. “We’ll be back. Next time I may bring the wife. Make sure you have cake. Lots of it.”
☨☨☨
A few minutes later they were all heading off in opposite directions. Kerry hurried home as the wind kicked up once more off the Atlantic. She suddenly felt exposed. She needed the sanctuary of her room. She would give the zombies a miss tonight.
Doug drove the short distance back home, pulling onto the drive as a bin lid skittered in front of the car. He could see his wife stood in the window, arms folded.
“Hi Love. I’m home,” he muttered as he climbed out of the car. He headed for the garage, aware that his wife would be too. He pulled a small plastic bag from a drawer under the counter and removed a small alarm sensor. The door opened, sending leaves blowing around the stone floor.
“Did you get what you wanted?” she said, a touch of softness in her voice.
“Think so. I will fit it in a minute. How’s Alicia?”
Alison smiled, her face transformed. She stepped away from the door jamb and walked deeper into the garage. “Fine. She’s having a nap. Although I’m sure Jake and Katherine will be back soon. It’s almost tea time. I need to get ready too. How long will you be?” The softness in her voice now gone.
“Ten minutes.”
“Okay.” She left him alone, heading back through the garage door. Doug walked over to the far wall. He knew what he was looking for. He reached up to the overhead rack and pulled a length of wood out. It was an old piece of railing that he’d brought with him from the old house. It was planed and smooth, cylindrical in shape. He felt the weight, liking the solidness of it. Four-foot long. I can cut this in half and make two stakes from it, he thought. He carried it over to the workbench, setting it down. Picking up his saw Doug placed the wood on the edge of the worktop. A few strokes later and one piece clonked onto the stone floor. He put them together on the counter as the wind rattled the metal door in its frame. He made a mental note to make the stakes tomorrow. It would not take more than an hour, he thought. He’d fit it in somehow. Closing the garage door behind him, he made his way out into the carport. The wind assaulted him as he picked up the bin lid, buffeting his clothing as he scurried back towards the kitchen door. He walked back into the house, making sure the fuse board cover was back in place. Job done, he thought, satisfied.
☨☨☨
Father Stephen found the guest house. He pulled into a parking space and climbed out of the car. Gordon’s House did indeed look inviting with mellow lighting that spilled out through the windows into the grey afternoon. He made his way to the reception with his bag slung over his shoulder. He stepped out of the windy Cornish afternoon into a warmly-lit hallway. Ahead was a small counter, covered in flyers, advertising local attractions. More tourist information could be found on a small table that led through to another room. To the right was a staircase and another room that Stephen guessed was some kind of guest lounge. He set his bag on the floor by the counter, pulling a hankie out of his jacket pocket. He pulled his glasses off, carefully cleaning them as a female voice made him look up.
“Well good afternoon. You looking for a room?” Stephen quickly digested the fact that the voice was American. He looked up to see a woman descending the stairs.
“Hello. Yes, you’d be correct. Are there rooms available?”
The woman walked past him, skirting the counter before addressing him. “Sure are. I’m Kelly,” she said, extending a tanned hand.
Stephen took it, liking the smooth, yet firm grip. “American right?” he said. “Mid-west?” She smiled. It was only then that he was aware of just how attractive she was. He put her at mid-thirties. Her brown hair was full of bounce and life, cascading around her face. Her skin flawless, tanned lightly.
“Correct. Y’all know your accents right?”
He smiled at her. “Well, I’ve seen many movies. It was just a guess. What brings you to these isles? I’ve already met one American today. At the tea room.”
“Dana,” she said. “We’re buddies. There are a few Americans in the village. And a few Australians, South Africans, and Kiwis too. Maybe Tintagel is a bit of a magnet for such folk. Although looking at the weather today, I’d much rather be back in Tennessee.” She chuckled to herself, her hair bouncing some more.
He was suddenly curious. “Did you marry a British guy like Dana?”
“Fraid not. I wasn’t that lucky. My husband is from the States. We came over a few years ago. Thought we’d try something different. We’d ran a cattle ranch near Nashville. I’m sure you’ve seen City Slickers right? That kind of thing. Getting rich dentists to round up cattle, so they can forget the troubles in their city lives. Anyways, it all got a bit much. I had a few health problems that made us re-evaluate things. And here we are. From Tennessee to Tintagel.”
“I like the how that sounds. Would make an interesting name for a novel,” Stephen said, enjoying how the recent turn of events, however strange, had led him to this point.
“Funny you should say that but I am a writer. Well kinda. Call it a guilty pleasure. I do what I can, in between looking after this place, two boys, and a husband who makes more mess than the guests.” She laughed again. It was soft and melodious.
It made Stephen laugh too. He knew that he’d made a good choice coming to this guest house. “What do you write?”
“Fiction. I’m a cowgirl at heart. My two books would probably be classed as romantic novels. Romance with a bit of bite. Not slushy trashy stuff. A love story, mixed up with bad guys and action. Is that your kind of thing?”
Stephen put his handkerchief back into his pocket as he considered the question. “Well, I read a lot. I’m a vicar. So aside from the good book, I generally read anything and everything. It’s good to have broad horizons, don’t you think?”
“A vicar? You’re not dressed like one?”
“I’m off duty. Batman doesn’t wear his suit all the time does he?”
Kelly settled onto a high stool behind the counter, firing up her computer. She chuckled. “You have a point there. So, how many nights will you be staying with us Mr Wayne?”
Stephen guffawed, his meaty hand slapping his thigh. “Ha ha
. I wish! My names Kenneth. Kenneth Stephen. Some call me Father Stephen.” He paused as he thought about her question. “I’m not sure. At least three days I think. Can I let you know as we go along?”
“Well, we’re not exactly bulging at the seams. That sounds fine to me Kenneth. Have you driven far?”
“From Birmingham. I’m down visiting a few friends and colleagues.” Kelly passed a piece of paper across the counter. Rummaging around her desk, she found a biro, placing it on the counter. Stephen took the pen and started filling in the form. A few droplets of rain water fell from his hair, wetting the paper. He grunted, trying not to smudge.
“Well, I can rustle you up a bite to eat. It won’t be much I’m afraid. The kitchen’s closed for the night.”
Kenneth looked up and smiled. “No that’s fine. I really fancy fish and chips. This is Cornwall after all. I can’t leave without having a portion.” He slid the pen and paper back to the proprietor, running his hand through his damp hair.
“True. There is a real good chippy just around the corner. I’d always heard about English food when I lived in the States. Y’know, fish and chips, Cadbury’s chocolate. It’s one reason that I’d never go back home. Your food is so much better than the food in the States. Oh, and don’t get me started on pasties and pork pies. Although they do tend to stick around longer than I’d like,” she slapped her hips to indicate what she meant.
“Nonsense. You look fine to me.” Kenneth suddenly realised that he may be flirting with the young lady. He blushed, looking for an escape route.
Kelly smiled at him, her already attractive face radiating warmth and a touch of mirth. “Why thank you. If only my husband could be so complimentary. Are you married?”
“Yes,” Kenneth said.
Kelly slapped her thighs in resignation. “Oh well. I guess I gotta stick with him for a while longer then as you’re taken.” She winked at him, his face reddening some more. All talk of vampires, parallel universes, and crucifixes, forgotten. He looked around the reception to find something to help him change the subject. He noticed a pallet on the far wall. It was painted turquoise with sea shells etched across the front. Wherever you go, go with all your heart. Confucius, was painted in a deep mauve across the front. Kenneth walked closer, admiring the artwork. A little sticker at the bottom showed him the price. Twenty pounds.
He smiled as he noticed a few more positioned about the reception. “Are these yours? They’re very nice. And very nicely finished.”
Kelly smiled. This time a beaming smile that gave the vicar a warm feeling inside. He knew they were hers. “Well, thank you for the compliment. Yes, they are mine, Dana’s too. We’re business partners as well as buddies. Those there pallets are kinda big in the States. Lots of folk decorate their homes with them. So, we put the feelers out here last year. It seems you Brits like your arts and crafts too. We sell a modest amount. Dana has a dozen or so at the tea room. It all adds to the mix, wouldn’t you agree?” Kenneth made a mental note to purchase one. His vicarage could do with a bit of colour.
“Right then. I suppose I better get myself fed. Could I leave my bag here while I nip down to the chip shop?”
“Sure. I will set a place for you in the dining room. I need to do a few chores afterward. Just leave your finished plate on the table. I will clear up later. If you go out the front door, turn left. Fifty yards, turn left, hundred yards and you’re there. Their cod and chips are delish. Do you want a few slices of bread and butter to go with that?”
“That would be most kind of you Kelly. Thank you for your hospitality.”
She handed over his key, before heading through a door to another room. She turned to him and smiled. “Enjoy your stay, Father Stephen,” before disappearing, the door swinging shut after her.
☨☨☨
Thirty minutes later, he was stretched out on his bed. His shoes had been kicked into a corner of the room. His luggage thrown on the floor next to the bathroom. Outside the wind assaulted the land and everything on it. Kenneth could hear his window frame rattling gently. It lulled him. As did the food and pot of tea he’d just consumed. The day was taking its toll. The dimly lit room suddenly felt very cosy and safe. He drifted off to sleep. His last thoughts were of a cattle ranch in Tennessee. Wild horses running through long grass. Rocky peaks on the far-off horizon that reached up to the endless blue sky of the American Mid-West.
Fourteen
Eddie sat in the shadows, looking out across the open expanse of grass that separated the forest from the lake. The inn was clumsily sat at the edge of the water, a misshapen collection of wooden structures. Lanterns hung on front porches that meandered around the inn’s perimeter. Many windows glowed in the darkness, hundreds of candles trying to fight the oncoming night. Eddie’s yellow eyes shone in the forest. His grey skin sallow and lifeless. He could smell a cacophony of aromas drifting across the grass. They twisted around the trees before assailing Eddie’s senses. Many of the smells were sour, making his nose twitch. However, a few made him almost drool. His keen eyes could see movement and activity through the windows of the main rooms. He guessed that maybe a hundred humans were in there. Of that hundred, a handful would be promising. He would wait. He had all the time in the world. Or worlds. Elias was elsewhere. He’d told Eddie what to do before he left. To Guzman, this was sport. This was fun. The chase, the hunt that would result in a good feed. That would bring more of his kind into their family. A flock of birds flew across the surface of the lake, their calls carrying on the wind to Eddie’s hideout. The sun was about to set. Its milky appearance almost hidden by the low clouds and mists. The doors to the inn suddenly burst outwards. Men spilled out onto a patch of dried grass that faced the forest. Eddie watched with interest as two men squared up to each other. A dozen men circled them, jostling for position as the fight sparked. The bigger man landed a stout punch to his opponent’s face. Eddie could hear the snap of bone as the smaller man crumpled to the ground. He could barely make out what ensued next as the bigger man was lost from view. The crowd closed ranks around the two men. He could hear the sound of flesh being pounded before another sense hit him. Blood. Sweet blood. Eddie knew that the smaller man was now bleeding, the aroma leaving little doubt that he should stick around the Tacklebox Inn tonight. The crowd dispersed, leaving the prone figure sprawled out on the grass. The last man spat loudly on the wooden porch before slamming the inn door shut. The evening had grown darker. Eddie could still make out the fallen man. He was not moving, although Eddie sensed he was still alive. He moved from his hideout to the edge of the forest. Guzman scanned his surroundings until he was satisfied the coast was clear. In the blur of an eye, Eddie had covered the open ground, dragging the man back to his hideout. He laid him on the forest floor as the young man started to come around. Eddie looked down at him as he groggily opened his eyes. Eddie could see he was a fair-looking lad, with a mass of blond hair. His nose had a nasty split across the bridge that was oozing blood. The blood was starting to drip down into the man’s eyes, forcing him to turn over and clumsily wipe at them.
He sat up, facing away from Eddie as he tried to come around. He touched his split nose and winced. “Fuckenhell. That hurts like a bitch.”
“Do not fear. You will soon feel no pain my friend.”
The man tried to look around to see who was addressing him. He could make out Eddie’s form stood in the shadows. “Who are ya?”
“Just a friend. A friend who saw you take a beating. I moved you away before they killed you. You’re safe now. Safe with Eddie.”
The man rose to his feet, shakily walking over to the figure in the shadows. The figure’s head was bowed, as if in prayer. “Well, thank you for your concern, friend. My name’s Hagen. Did you say your name was?” His voice died in his throat as Eddie raised his head, locking eyes with the young man. Hagan’s mouth tried to mouth the words that he wanted to say. Words that would never come out. He’d spoken his last words as a human. He stood there swaying on his feet
as Eddie approached, his canines appearing from beneath his full lips. is yellow eyes shining bright in the darkness.
☨☨☨
“I’m not missing my first meeting Doug. You can drop me up there. I’m sure the rain will have eased off by the time I leave.”
Doug looked out of the window. “Love, it’s pelting down. And windy. You really want to go out in this?”
“I’m not going to be sat outside. I’ll be fine. And anyway, you’ve been out today, gallivanting around while I looked after Alicia.”
“But you enjoyed it.” Doug could sense a row coming on.
“That’s not the point Douglas. I did enjoy it. But you left me little choice in the matter. I had to see to Alicia. You were not here. It’s always the woman who has to take care of things. Well you’ve had your fun. It’s time I had some ME time. I’ll get my coat. It starts in ten minutes.” She trudged off upstairs as Doug walked to the cupboard under the stairs. He slipped on his coat and grabbed his keys off the shelf.
“I’ll be in the car,” he shouted upstairs. A grunted reply was all he needed. He pulled the front door shut and quickly walked around the corner of the house to his Micra. By the time he slammed the driver’s door shut, his hair was already wet. He started the car as the wind and rain rocked it violently. He backed up a few feet to make it easier for Alison to get in. He sat waiting, the heater on full, the wipers on intermittent. He contemplated his evening as his wife came out of the house, slamming the front door. Her red jacket in stark contrast to the grey sky behind her. She too, was wet by the time she blustered into the car. Alison clicked her seat belt into place, settling her ample rump into a comfy position.