by Helen Harper
I was beginning to think I’d have to give up and come back on another occasion when there was a rattle from the other side of the door. It opened a fraction, then Reverend Knight seemed to gain confidence. He swung the door open wide, jumped out and thrust a wooden crucifix towards me with a sharp yell. I remained where I was. He slammed the crucifix against my chest. Unfortunately for him, I didn’t writhe, or scream, or spontaneously combust.
‘Begone demon!’ he shouted.
‘Good afternoon,’ I said politely.
His hand trembled. ‘Begone!’
‘I’m not a demon, Reverend. Or a vampire. I’m a detective investigating a possible crime and—'
‘Leave this place immediately.’
He was very, very scared. I felt sorry for him, but I couldn’t walk away. This was my job. ‘I’m afraid I can’t do that.’
‘I’ll call the police.’
‘Reverend Knight,’ I sighed, ‘I am the police. But if you want to call someone else, that’s fine. I’m happy to wait.’
His eyes searched my face, then his shoulders sagged and he withdrew the crucifix. ‘I thought this would work,’ he said. ‘Maybe you’re not evil.’
‘It’s been my experience so far that we all have a capacity for evil. I would certainly never profess to being good. I instinctively distrust anyone who is confident enough to boast about themselves in such a way.’
‘You died. You didn’t fake your death for some police operation. I’ve thought about it and thought about it. And then I thought about it some more. You were dead. You passed away.’
I didn’t flinch. ‘Yes.’
‘You shouldn’t be alive.’
I raised my shoulders. ‘Probably not. But I am. I can assure you that it wasn’t my doing. I’m as surprised about it as you are.’
Knight gripped the crucifix in one hand and raised his other hand towards me. He poked me with his index finger. ‘Solid flesh,’ he muttered to himself.
‘I bleed too,’ I said cheerfully. ‘And not just monthly. If you cut me, I’ll have a wound like anyone else. In fact, apart from the whole resurrection thing, I’m exactly like you.’
‘You are not like me at all.’
‘You didn’t tell anyone else about me, did you?’ I asked gently. ‘You didn’t report me to the church authorities.’
He started. ‘How did you know that?’
‘Because they’d have come here asking questions if you had.’
He swallowed and looked at his feet. ‘Yeah,’ he mumbled. ‘They would do that.’ He sniffed. ‘I thought about informing them. I also realised they might think I was crazy or, worse, a big fat failure. It’s bad enough that you were killed in front of my own church.’ He shrugged helplessly. ‘I made such a big deal about coming here. I asked for this posting. I was so sure that I could make a go of it. I know supes don’t get on with the church as a rule, but I was convinced that with the right person in place, genuine inroads could be made. We could start a conversation.’ He sighed. ‘It’s not working out that way.’
I might not be religious but I understood exactly what he meant. I’d thought much the same during my detective training. I’d been convinced that I’d be a super-duper investigator who would solve complex crimes through my dedication, hard work and clever ideas. It took me a while to realise that, no matter what grandiose ideas I had about myself, harsh reality would not match up to my imagination. And I wasn’t as capable as I wanted to be. Not yet, anyway. It had been a hard lesson.
‘This is just a suggestion,’ I said, ‘but perhaps all the signs you’ve posted outside the gate, which are trying to stop people from joining the supes, aren’t a good idea.’
He raised his head and met my eyes. ‘Part of my role is to counsel members of the public and prevent them from approaching any supernatural being,’ he said bleakly.
‘Have you had any success?’
Knight’s expression was resigned. ‘None.’
I offered him a sympathetic smile. ‘People follow their hearts. You can’t change that.’
‘But that’s exactly what I’m supposed to do,’ he protested.
I put my hands in my pockets. ‘Do you remember the man I was here with last time? The vampire?’
‘Yes.’ His tone was wary.
‘It just so happens that he’s Lord Horvath.’
Reverend Knight stumbled. His hand reached out to grip the door frame and steady himself. ‘Seriously?’
‘Yep.’
He shook his head in dismay. ‘How could I not have known that?’
‘If it makes you feel any better,’ I told him, ‘it took me a while to realise who he was, too. Anyway, I could speak to him and ask him to chat to you about a way forward. Maybe you could come to some sort of arrangement that would help you both.’ I doubted very much that Lukas would be pleased with my suggestion, but he couldn’t pretend that St Erbin’s Church wasn’t here. Perhaps some good could come out of it.
‘Why would you do that?’ Knight asked, his eyes narrowing. ‘What do you want in return?’
‘I’m not asking for anything in return. If you don’t want me to—'
‘No!’ He released his hold on the door frame and straightened up. ‘If you could arrange a meeting, I’d be very grateful.’
‘I can’t promise anything,’ I said. ‘But I will try.’ I smiled, glad that we were on a better footing. ‘Now, I have a few questions for you about another matter.’
Knight frowned ‘I thought you didn’t want anything in return.’
‘I don’t. I would be asking these questions regardless. I’m investigating a complaint made by a member of the public, and you can help.’
He knitted his fingers together. I knew that he was secretly pleased to help. At the end of the day, we all want to be useful. ‘Go on, then.’
I drew in a breath. ‘What do you know about ghouls?’
Reverend Knight recoiled. ‘Why are you asking about them?’ he whispered.
I knew from the look on his face that he knew exactly why I was asking about them. ‘An attempt was made recently to exhume a body from one of the graves here.’
Knight shrank further into himself. ‘Yes. Julian Clarke. Poor boy.’
‘Did you preside over his funeral?’
‘No. That was my predecessor.’
‘But,’ I pressed, ‘you have no reason to think that Julian’s body wasn’t in the coffin when it was buried?’
‘No.’ He spoke so quietly I could barely hear him. ‘The Clarkes were very … vocal when they realised his coffin was empty. I tried to stop them from going ahead with the exhumation. The graveyard has had problems with ghouls for decades, centuries probably. I’m not supposed to tell people about it unless they specifically ask. If the ghouls can’t feed here, they’ll move elsewhere. It’s the church’s thinking that it’s better to confine them to one area. Bodies are mere vessels, after all. It’s the souls inside those vessels that concern us.’
I had the sense that he was parroting what he’d been told, but it certainly wasn’t my place to question his beliefs or the church’s practices. ‘How do the ghouls operate?’
Knight threw me a baleful look. ‘You’re in Supe Squad. And you must be a supe yourself. Don’t you already know all this?’
‘I’m new,’ I said, splaying out my hands. ‘I don’t really know anything at all. Educate me, Reverend. Don’t leave anything out.’
He sighed distractedly. ‘There’s not much to tell. As far as I’m aware, there is only a handful of ghouls in London. They reside underground between Soho and Lisson Grove, along with the other supes who aren’t vampire or werewolf. They feed on corpses. Typically, one ghoul requires a minimum of one corpse per annum to survive. They dig into the earth, burrow underneath a new coffin and…’ His voice trailed off.
‘Dine?’
Knight nodded. ‘You know when they’ve been because there’s always a small pile of earth like a molehill.’ He swallowed, his Adam’s apple
bobbing nervously. ‘It’s happened twice since I started here.’ He looked ashamed.
‘Have you ever seen a ghoul?’
‘No. Frankly, I don’t know what I’d do if I did.’
I didn’t blame him. Nothing about the ghouls’ actions was easy or simple. ‘Can you show me Julian Clarke’s grave?’ I asked.
Knight pointed. ‘It’s this way.’
My gaze followed his finger and I exhaled in relief. Julian Clarke had been buried on the opposite side of the graveyard to where I’d been killed so I wouldn’t have to go near that spot. As much as I’d come to terms with my murder at the hands of my own boyfriend, there was a lingering trauma that I had no desire to confront yet. ‘Lead the way.’
We picked our way along the path. ‘When a body is exhumed,’ Knight told me, ‘a temporary tent is erected to protect the scene. Nobody wants to go strolling past on their lunch break and be confronted with a corpse rising out of the ground. Death is the final taboo for a lot of people – we don’t like thinking about it, or talking about it.’ He glanced at me. ‘I’m not talking about the grieving process, you understand. Even in my line of work, death itself is a difficult concept.’ He paused. ‘Which brings us full circle back to you.’
‘I can’t explain what happened to me,’ I said honestly. ‘I don’t know why it happened and I certainly don’t understand how.’
‘How long—?' He shook his head, unable to complete the sentence.
‘How long was I dead for?’ I asked. ‘Twelve hours. And, no, I don’t remember anything about it. It’s a blank space.’
Reverend Knight absorbed this. I was expecting more questions but he appeared to be as reluctant to discuss my experiences as I was. Thankful for small mercies, I followed him in silence until we reached the gaping hole where Julian Clarke had supposedly been laid to rest.
‘There’s not much to see, I’m afraid,’ Knight told me. ‘His coffin was removed from the scene for further examination. I can give you the details of the coroner’s office that took charge of it.’
I nodded my thanks and gazed around. Julian Clarke’s headstone was ornate, with not only his birth and death dates inscribed but also some intricately carved flowers, trumpeting angels and a short quotation: The vengeance of the innocent knows no bounds. No doubt that was his parents’ doing.
‘They visited his grave every week, you know,’ Knight told me. ‘The Clarkes. There were always fresh flowers.’
I knelt down, peering into the hole to look for signs of burrowing. All I could see was dark, squelchy-looking mud and a few small, forlorn puddles. But then it could have been many months since a ghoul had been here. ‘The Clarkes are blaming the werewolves for what happened to their son. Did you tell them about the ghouls and their … proclivities?’
‘They didn’t want to hear it. I did try.’
Hmm. The Clarkes were focused on the wolves as the source of all their woes to the point where nothing else mattered. I bit my lip and stood up, sliding my phone out of my pocket. ‘Hi, Fred,’ I said when he picked up. ‘It’s Emma.’
‘I was about to call you. Uh … someone’s here to see you.’
I frowned. ‘Is this another member of the public who you don’t want to deal with?’
‘No. Not exactly, anyway. It’s a supe. He only wants you.’
I brightened considerably. Even though Supe Squad had recently been given the all clear to deal with more supernatural crime, we hadn’t had any supes themselves coming in to make a report. This could be the turning of the tide. I beamed. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can. Twenty minutes tops.’
‘Great.’ Fred sounded relieved. ‘I’ve been looking up the ghouls. There’s not many of them, and I think I’ve tracked them all down.’
‘Even better. Well done.’
‘It was nothing.’
‘Fred…’ I warned. ‘Remember what I said before. Take the praise.’
There was a smile in his voice. ‘Then you’re welcome. I thought that I’d go and knock on a few doors and speak to them.’ He paused. ‘If that’s alright with you.’
Normally, it would have been but I had the gnawing feeling that there were more pressing concerns to worry about. ‘Later. Forget what I said before. Right now, I need you to locate the Clarkes. Make sure they don’t do anything stupid.’
‘Stupid?’
‘They really dislike the werewolves, Fred.’
‘Oh.’ Then, ‘Ohhh. I’ll track them down straight away.’
‘Thank you.’ I hung up and glanced at Reverend Knight. ‘I’ve got to go. If you see any evidence of ghoul action, could you get in touch?’ I dug out a business card and handed it to him.
‘Okay. I can do that.’ He looked at me.
‘I haven’t forgotten about Lord Horvath,’ I said. ‘I’ll speak to him as soon as I can.’
Knight exhaled. ‘Great. Thanks.’
I nodded at him and walked out of the graveyard, managing to act nonchalantly. I was still not looking at the spot of my first death. Go me.
Chapter Four
I parked Tallulah directly outside the Supe Squad building and jumped out. The tiny purple Mini was in better condition than when I’d inherited her. She now had all her windows intact and she was considerably cleaner. She’d even had a proper service and MOT.
I wasn’t sure it made much difference to the car herself. I was beginning to think that she genuinely did have a mind of her own and that she was still miffed that I wasn’t Tony, her previous owner. At odd moments her brakes would feel loose and, when it had been raining last week, her windscreen wipers had resolutely refused to work. The mechanic I’d spoken to assured me that she was in good nick, and that I was imagining things, but I still wasn’t convinced.
Out of deference to Tony’s memory, I’d keep her around for a while yet but she was living on borrowed time. All the same, I gave her bonnet a pat as I passed it. I didn’t want Tallulah to know what I was thinking. Five weeks into my tenure at Supe Squad and I was treating an ancient car that belonged in the scrappers’ yard as if it were an actual person. Goodness only knew what might happen if I hung around for five years.
I waved at Max, the friendly bellman who worked at the hotel next door, and opened the main door to Supe Squad. Then I gaped. Instinct made me fling my arms up in front of my face, though it wouldn’t have done me any good. Not when there was a satyr five feet in front of me, pointing a loaded crossbow at my head.
‘Boom,’ he said gently. His long ears, which pointed upwards and were covered with soft golden down, quivered.
I glared at Kennedy. I’d seen him around a few times since our first meeting in a werewolf bar when I’d been tracking down Tony’s killer. While I genuinely liked the alcoholic satyr, I didn’t appreciate being greeted by him in this manner. Especially when it was on my own turf. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
He gave me a congenial smile. ‘Proving a point.’
I dropped my hands and balled them into fists. ‘What sort of fucking point?’
‘The sort that tells you that you might end up getting yourself killed if you don’t do more to protect yourself.’
Unbelievable. ‘Lukas sent you, didn’t he?’
‘If by Lukas you mean Lord Horvath, then yes,’ Kennedy replied.
I ran an irritated hand through my hair. ‘You’re the supe who’s here to see me?’
‘I am.’ He continued to grin.
‘You’re not making a crime report?’
‘I am not.’ His grin grew. ‘I’m here to teach you a few new skills.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘I appreciate the thought, but I don’t have time for this.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘You don’t have time to learn how to keep yourself safe? DC Bellamy, I expected better from you.’ He lowered the crossbow. ‘Come here, Emma.’
The back of my neck prickled. ‘You can try and use my real name to compel me all you want, Lee Oswald,’ I snapped, using his real name in return. ‘
It won’t work.’
Kennedy’s expression didn’t alter. ‘I was merely testing out a theory. You know, it’s not smart to give away all your secrets. You don’t know that you can trust me.’
‘No,’ I said flatly. ‘But I trust me. Thank you for the offer of tuition, but I’ll manage.’
‘While one might successfully argue that success in battles is to break your enemy without fighting, I’ve been told not to take no for an answer.’
I ground my teeth. ‘Look, Kennedy, I—'
‘I cleared your schedule for the next hour,’ Liza called out from behind the satyr. ‘He’s all yours.’
I counted to ten in my head. Then I told myself that the path of least resistance was often the best one to take – and I did need some help with using the crossbow. Although whether that help should come from a whiskey sodden satyr with a penchant for philosophy remained open to question.
‘Fine,’ I snapped. ‘But one hour only. I’ve got things to do.’
Kennedy reached into his leather jacket and took out a silver monogrammed hip flask. He unscrewed the lid and took a long swig. ‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘This will be fun.’
***
Kennedy had already cleared a space on the third floor in the room where all Supe Squad’s ancient weapons were housed. He’d even hauled a dummy up the stairs and set it in the centre of the room to use for target practice. I stared round as he handed me the crossbow.
‘Show me what you can do.’
I sighed but I did as he asked, checking the crossbow over and making sure the safety was off and it was cocked. I raised it up and squinted at the target.
‘Wait,’ Kennedy said.
‘What?’
‘Your angle is all wrong. If you shoot now, that bolt will smash through the window, fly out into the street and quite possibly kill someone by accident. I don’t suppose that will go down well with all your cop buddies.’
‘How can you tell the angle from where you’re standing?’
‘I’ve been doing this a long time. You might be surprised.’
I grunted; very little surprised me these days. I adjusted the crossbow and squinted again.