by Steve Feasey
‘Fine, thanks,’ he projected back. ‘Just a bit nervous. Do you want a drink? I was just going off to the galley to get a Coke or something.’
‘I’ll come with you; I could do with stretching my legs.’
The two of them stood up and asked aloud if anyone else wanted anything. Answered by two shaken heads, they walked to the small galley at the back of the jet.
‘What’s up with Tom?’ hissed Alexa as soon as they were out of earshot.
‘How do you mean? He just looks a bit nervous.’
‘Tom is never nervous. I’ve seen him working with my father on lots of things and I have never seen him looking like this. I want to say something to him but I don’t know what.’
‘I’d leave him be, Alexa, He just needs to get his own head right, and you cooing over him isn’t going to help him do that. He’ll be fine.’
‘Do you think he’s worried about going up against my mother with me in tow? Because if that’s the case I think that I need to explain to him that he needn’t worry. I’m not at all sure that I—’
‘No, Alexa, I don’t think that’s it,’ Trey interrupted her. Then, as she looked over at him with a quizzical expression on her face, he had to turn away to hide the embarrassed look on his own.
‘What’s going on, Trey? What do you know that I don’t?’
‘Nothing.’
‘You’re a bad liar, Trey. What are you all keeping from me?’
‘Please, let’s just get a drink.’ He grabbed a can from the fridge and turned back towards the main cabin of the plane to return to his seat.
He didn’t look up at Alexa as she returned to her own seat. Instead he dug in his rucksack to see if he could find something to occupy him for the remainder of the flight. He rejected the handheld gaming console that he had bought a week or so before and chose instead his MP3 player, selecting a Kings of Leon album and settling back with his eyes closed, letting the music wash over him.
Martin Tipsbury turned the page of the paperback novel that he had bought at the airport and had started to read in the first-class lounge. He had purchased five books with the intention of reading them by the pool during this unexpected vacation. He never found the time to read these days and this annoyed him because it was only once he sat down with a book that he realized how much he enjoyed the exercise. Now he would have the opportunity to immerse himself for two whole weeks – Mr O’Callahan had told him that he thought he would be able to come back after a week, but insisted that Martin stay for a fortnight and enjoy himself as much as possible.
Now that he had had time to think about what was happening, he couldn’t quite believe his luck – all he had done was carry out the research that he had been asked to and now, as some kind of reward, he had been sent on an all-expenses-paid trip to the Seychelles. He smiled to himself. Maybe his luck was finally changing. He had never been a lucky man, but right now he felt as though he had won the lottery. He took another sip from the champagne flute in his hand, letting the bubbles burst against his nose, and concluded that he really didn’t care what was behind it all; he was damned if he was going to let anything, or anyone, spoil this for him.
He glanced over at his daughter and smiled. She had donned an eye mask to try to eliminate the bright sunlight that streamed in through the porthole windows on either side of the plane. Her breathing was shallow and even, and he was surprised at how quickly she had fallen asleep once they had been shown their seats.
He sighed contentedly. Philippa was actually being nice to him. More than that, she was being the nicest to him that she’d been for a very long time. He thought about the row that they had had only a week ago, following advice from his brother that he be a bit firmer with his daughter. He had shouted at her for the first time ever. She had laughed at him at the time, telling him that he was pathetic and how much she was looking forward to moving out of the house and getting away from him. But maybe he had planted a seed in her head and this newfound respect that she was showing him was the result. He determined to take Mr O’Callahan’s advice and treat the whole thing as a holiday that they could use to fix things between them.
He relaxed back into the seat and took in his surroundings again. He had never flown first class before and he was stunned by the amount of room and attention that they were given on board the plane. He’d already had three glasses of champagne and his head was pleasantly fizzing with the effect of the alcohol. He was unused to drinking and he thought that he’d better slow down before he ended up getting sick and spending the remainder of the flight in the toilet. He reclined his seat and stretched out full-length on what was effectively now a bed. A hostess came along and offered him pillows that he accepted, thinking that he would keep the books for the pool and try to get some sleep right now, like his daughter beside him.
He lay back on the bed, a lazy smile of satisfaction playing on his lips.
After a short time, and once the Necrotroph lying next to him was certain that Martin was asleep, it sat up and raised its chair into an upright position. It looked at the gently snoring carcass next to it and struggled not to let the contempt that it felt for this pathetic excuse of a man show too clearly on its human host’s face. How dearly it would have loved to perform the possession right now and put an end to this hideous charade. But it would have to wait. It would have to wait for the right time.
Philippa Tipsbury stretched her neck and climbed out of the seat to go to the bathroom. As she did so, the paperback novel that her father had been looking at earlier fell to the floor between their seats.
She looked down at the book, noting how he had abandoned it after only a few pages. A sly smile formed on her face. She bent down to retrieve the book and placed it back on the shelf between the two seats.
She inwardly vowed that he would never finish this story or any other book again.
The body of the dead woman lay draped over his legs. The head lolling down towards the floor drip-dripped blood into a neat circular pool that moved inexorably towards the leg of the huge, ornate chair that Caliban was sitting in.
The ancient vampire licked at his fangs with the tip of his tongue, savouring the last of the blood that was there. Grey, paper-thin eyelids closed over yellow irises and black elongated pupils. The feeding had filled him with the power and energy that his kind had craved throughout the centuries and he slowly moved his head from side to side, flexing his neck, feeling his strength growing. He pushed the body to the floor, wiped his chin as he stood up and revelled in the feeling of invulnerability that surged through him.
Caliban heard footsteps approaching the great hall that he occupied towards the top of the tower and wondered who would dare to interrupt him at this time. He ran the palm of his taloned hand over the top of his bald head and drew himself up to his full height, ready to face whoever was on the other side of the door.
He motioned with the finger of his left hand and an inky black tendril emerged from somewhere within the shadows behind his throne-like chair. It snaked along the ground and wrapped itself around the outstretched arm of Caliban’s victim, dragging it back into the obsidian darkness. The constant thrumming noise that emanated from the shadows rose to a gabbling din of excitement for a moment before a hiss of annoyance from Caliban restored it back to little more than a background whisper.
The vampire opened the door and looked out at the figure of the Maug demon that stood in the doorway. The creature peered at him from beneath its beetled brow, unwilling to lift its chin to face him fully.
‘Why do you disturb me now?’ Caliban hissed. ‘Could it be that you do not understand me when I say that I am not to be interrupted at this hour?’
‘She said that it was important, my lord,’ the creature mumbled.
Caliban waited.
Gwendolin pushed the massive demon aside and stepped into the room. With a slight motion of her hand the heavy door slammed shut in the guard’s face.
The hag that stood in front of Caliban bore no
resemblance to the sublime and resplendent beauty that had once been Lucien’s wife and Alexa’s mother. No longer human, the dark powers that Gwendolin had so zealously sought out had consumed her. Gone was the white alabaster skin, the elfin eyes and the strong but delicate features that had once won his brother’s affection and devotion. Instead, these had been replaced with the grim death-mask of a nethercreature consumed with bile and hatred for everything that it had once been. She had come to Caliban after his brother had tried to kill her, seeking him out and describing her plans, her schemes, to wreak havoc on the human realm. Over the years she had immersed herself in the dark arts so completely that she now wielded immense power and had become the most important individual in the vampire’s empire.
Caliban waited, trying to keep his growing irritation in check, knowing that she would not be rushed. He turned his back on her and returned to his throne.
‘Well?’ he said, once he was seated again.
She took a few steps in his direction, looked up at him and smiled, revealing blackened teeth that had eroded to such an extent that they were little more than glistening stumps peeking out from the gums.
He smiled back, deliberately revealing the full length of his fangs in the hope that this might prompt her out of her silence.
‘We have had some success,’ she said.
‘Some success?’
‘It would seem that the revenants are even more … unstable than we had imagined. As we have only managed to resurrect the one so far, it is difficult to say whether it is just this particular Draugr that is uncontrollable, or whether they will all turn out to be like this. I suspect the latter to be the case.’
‘We are in the business of chaos, Gwendolin. Surely this creature cannot be as bad as you suggest?’
The smile that had gradually slipped into a grimace finally fell completely from her face and she stared back at the vampire with a look that he found difficult to read. ‘You need to come and see it,’ she said. ‘It’s as much as we can do to contain it at the moment.’
Caliban inclined his head to one side and considered what she had said. They had worked tirelessly to raise the Draugr from their burial mounds, and each time they had failed. Gwendolin had locked herself away in her room at the top of the tower where her ancient books and manuscripts were kept, until she had emerged this morning with a new invocation that she had found buried in some long-lost script. She had reported this to him, and he had not seen her looking so excited about anything for some time. And now she was standing in front of him with a look on her face that suggested that she wished she had never come across this new information.
‘Very well, Gwendolin. Take me to see what we have.’
He stepped down, and as he went to leave, the gabble of noise from the shadows behind him rose into a loud cacophony of guttural voices and animal-like sounds that were all layered over and intermingled with each other.
‘Hush, my little ones. I will be back shortly, and then you will feed properly.’
He closed the door behind him and followed the witch down the corridor.
‘It’s freezing!’ Trey said, pulling the zip on his coat up as far as it would go. ‘Why’s it so cold? It’s nearly spring, for goodness sake!’ He was now glad that he had let Alexa talk him into buying the jacket before coming out here. It was a puffer style and was filled with eider down. It had cost an absolute fortune, but the man in the shop had said that they were about the best thing available for keeping warm in very cold conditions. Trey hoped that he was right.
‘We’re in a country called Iceland,’ Alexa said with a smile. ‘The clue might just be in the name.’
They stepped out of the airport and headed towards a car that was waiting for them at the pick-up point.
‘And it’s bloody raining,’ Trey grumbled. ‘Why couldn’t Caliban have translocated Leroth somewhere tropical? Barbados, maybe. Or Cuba – I’ve always wanted to go to Cuba.’
‘It’s just a bit of rain, Trey; you’re not going to melt,’ Charles said, shaking his head and putting his holdall in the boot of the car.
‘Ah yes, but it is this particular type of rain that I find so annoying – that fine misty rain that worms its way between the smallest gap in your clothing. It’s without doubt the worst type of rain you can get. If there was a league table of rain—’
‘Will you shut your hole about the weather and get in the car?’ Tom said, holding open the back door of the big black people carrier. ‘In case you have forgotten, we are supposed to be coming into this country with as little fuss as possible, and I really do not want to be standing out here listening to you moan about a bit of rain.’
‘Sorry, Tom.’
As soon as they were all inside, Tom, in the front passenger seat, addressed the man who had sat silently waiting for them all to embark.
‘Hjelmar, long time no see,’ he said, shaking the man’s hand. ‘Sorry about the delay, but we got held up at our end. Some idiot pushing tin almost managed to send two pieces straight into each other’s flight path!’
‘I received the message, Tom. It is not a problem. No need to concern yourself.’ The man was about the same size and build as Tom and spoke in a strong Nordic accent.
Tom twisted in his seat so that he could see the others in the back of the vehicle. ‘Everyone, this is Hjelmar Stefansson. Hjelmar, this is Trey, Charles and Lucien’s daughter, Alexa.’
‘Nice to meet you all,’ Hjelmar said. ‘Alexa, I last saw you when you were just a small child, when your father brought you here. I hope that his condition will improve and that he’ll visit us again soon.’ He pulled the car away from the kerb and followed the sweep of the road towards the exit. ‘I have located a small house a few miles outside the capital in the area that you specified, Tom. I’ve also left all the equipment that you requested there.’ He turned his attention away from the road for a moment and eyed the Irishman with a raised eyebrow. ‘Am I allowed to ask what you are doing here, Tom?’
‘No, you’re not, Hjelmar. But as soon as the whole thing is over, I’ll fill you in on all the juicy details over a bottle of that delicious Icelandic vodka that you’re so keen on.’
‘It’s a deal. But I want all the juicy details – and you’re buying.’
Trey smiled at the sight of the two men, now deep in conversation in the front of the car. They were both of a type that seemed to abound within Lucien’s organization – tough, rugged men who understood what needed to be done in almost any situation. He turned his attention to the landscape outside the window, taking in the country’s backdrop now that they had left Keflavík airport behind them. He was immediately struck by how completely bleak everything looked. It was as if the stark, hard landscape had been painted by an artist who had forgotten to include any colours in his palette except grey and brackish green. Trey had read in a guidebook that NASA had used this environment to simulate the lunar landscape when training the astronauts for the Apollo 11 mission. Looking out of the window, he understood why.
He tried to spy out a tree among the rocky terrain, finally spotting one sheltering from the cold beside a deserted farmhouse. It looked like a lanky, frightened kid hiding in the bike shed from the school bullies, dreading the next beating he was going to receive at their hands.
Charles, who was sitting beside him in the back, must have figured out what he was thinking, because he leaned across in the seat and said in a hushed tone, ‘Now you know why this place is the suicide capital of Europe.’
Trey grinned back at him, adding, ‘Can you imagine what it is like in the winter when there is no sunlight either? Sheesh!’
‘Actually, I think that Norway lays claim to that dubious badge of honour,’ Hjelmar said in a loud voice from the front of the car. Trey and Charles looked at each other in disbelief, both flushing red in embarrassment. ‘And the darkness is a good thing – if you happen to like the dark.’
Tom turned round and glared at the two of them like a father who has found his ki
ds flicking V-signs at the cars behind them. To avoid meeting the Irishman’s stare, they buried their heads in the map Charles had on his lap, and held their tongues for the remainder of the journey.
They arrived at the house about twenty minutes later. Tom opened the front door and shooed them all inside as quickly as he could, glancing into the surrounding countryside as he did so. It was nice to step into the warmth from the cold outside, and they unzipped their coats and looked around.
Trey was standing by a heater in the living room when Alexa came in and stood beside him. Nobody was talking much any more, the nervous anxiety that they all felt upon arriving here had dried up any conversation. Trey puffed out his cheeks and nodded towards the front door, where Hjelmar was fetching in the last of the things from the car.
‘You didn’t tell me that you’d been to Iceland before,’ he said.
Alexa shrugged her shoulders. ‘I hardly remember it. My father helped Hjelmar and his friends to deal with an infestation of vamps. We came as Hjelmar’s guests after it was all over. Vampires love places like this – short days and long nights – it’s a dream ticket, and they’re always trying it on here.’
‘Iceland has a strong history of magic and sorcery,’ said Charles, who’d also entered the room now. ‘It’s a key strategic point in Lucien’s empire because it is somewhat easier to open portals to the Netherworld here than in other parts of the world. That’s why we were able to locate Caliban so quickly once he’d begun to operate here – we keep a close eye on places like this.’
‘He must have known you’d catch on to his presence here.’
Charles shrugged. ‘Like I said, it’s a key strategic point, and with Lucien out of the way at the moment, Caliban must think that we’ve taken our eye off the ball.’
‘When you’ve all finished yapping you might want to help shift these bags out of the way!’ Tom’s voice barked from the hallway.
Hjelmar came into the house holding the car keys out to Tom. He dropped them into his friend’s outstretched hand and nodded sternly. ‘Jon is here now. I will go with him. The car is almost fully fuelled so use it as you want. If you need to leave in a hurry, dump it wherever you can and give me a call to let me know where to pick it up.’ He looked into the room where Trey and Alexa were standing and nodded in their direction. ‘Give my regards to your father when he is up and about again, Alexa. Nice to meet you, Trey. Maybe next time you are here I can take you sightseeing, eh?’