by King, Danny
The Duke found his smile again, although it had lost some of its lustre.
“Vanessa has spoken very highly of you. She says you come from… good stock.”
This was news to Sebastian. “You’re joking ain’t you? I’m a Romani from an orphanage. I’m all back catalogue and no band.”
“That’ll work for us,” Henry told him ominously.
Sebastian wasn’t sure which of them to turn away from first. All eyes lingered on him as if he were a particularly succulent cut of sirloin hanging in a butcher’s shop window.
“Look,” Sebastian smiled apologetically, “I’d love to and all that but you know, you caught me on a bad week, I’m all tapped out.” He patted his pockets to illustrate the point but assured them: “It’s a shame because normally I’m the man to see, yo!”
“The boy’s an idiot,” Boniface concluded. Sebastian warmed to him in that moment. If he could windBoniface up in such a short space of time then surely it was not beyond his considerable powers to annoy the rest of them enough to earn himself the boot before last orders.
“No honest, I mean, sounds brilliant and all that, whatever it is, save the whale or praise Jesus or whatever it is you’ve got going,” Sebastian said, second-guessing tonight’s mystery buzz word. “It’s just… you know… I like to do my own thing, plough my own furrow, fly my own flag, so no offence and all that, and seriously thanks for asking but I might just…”
As he spoke, the smoke from his cigarette found its way up Alice’s nose and brought about an unstoppable sneeze that momentarily restored her unnatural appearance. She quickly recovered but not before she’d treated Sebastian to her full-on Nosferatu, with blood-red eyes, vicious fangs and cadaverous leathery skin to knock him onto his back him for the second time in as many minutes. “Shit! Fuck! Shit!”
Sebastian scrambled away from Alice and jumped to his feet. No one else moved. No one else seemed to have noticed.
“Did you see that? Did you see her?” Sebastian jabbered, pointing an accusatory finger at Alice, who by this point had regained her composure and resembled a sweet white-haired old lady once again.
The Duke turned to Vanessa. “You didn’t tell him?” he said.
“I thought we’d break it to him gently,” she shrugged.
“She’s a monster! Miss Marple’s a fucking monster!”
“Calm down Sebastian. It’s quite alright,” the Duke reassured him, taking to his feet and approaching slowly to show him he was amongst friends.
“But she’s a zombie,” Sebastian protested, oblivious to the fact that it wasn’t just his Romani heritage that rendered him a minority in this circle.
“Sebastian, it’s cool,” Henry smiled sympathetically, joining him in the corner of the room, which was where Sebastian’s back had finally met the wall.
“But… but… but… but…” Sebastian but-but-butted.
It was then and only then that his eyes now fell upon a dusty mirror on the far side of the kitchen. The room was so gloomy that he’d not noticed it before but now that he did he finally saw the problem.
His was the only reflection staring back at him. His own.
There was no trace of Henry, the Duke, Alice, Angel, Boniface or… even Vanessa. He’d stepped through the looking glass and was now in the land beyond.
The Duke followed his gawking eyes and confirmed: “We’re not saving the whale here, Sebastian.”
“And we’re certainly not peddling God,” Henry concurred.
“We are seven,” Vanessa said stepping forwards and into Sebastian’s line of sight. “And tonight we must become eight.”
One by one they all now stood to face Sebastian, blocking what little heat there was coming off the fireplace to send the temperature in the room plummeting further.
“Oh – fuck!” Sebastian shuddered accordingly.
“Oh fuck indeed, my young Romani friend,” Henry sympathised with a wry smile. And it was heartfelt indeed. So much to take in. So little time. Henry had been there himself and remembered the moment well. All his closely held beliefs had been blown away in a heartbeat and only his blind acceptance had ensured his survival. Now it was Sebastian’s turn. But was it a gift or a curse? That was a philosophical question. And no man could answer for another.
“We have a vote before us,” the Duke announced, turning to the others in a way that suggested Sebastian was no longer part of the discussion, merely the object of it. “Yay or nay. Let us hear it now.”
Vanessa was the first to raise her hand. “Yay,” she said automatically. It would’ve been pretty odd and a big waste of everyone’s weekend if she’d vetoed her own candidate.
“Yay,” Angel echoed.
“Yay,” Alice smiled sweetly.
“Yay,” agreed Henry. “And Chen’s a yay as well,” he said, casting their sentry’s vote by proxy.
The Duke was just about to rubberstamp the decision with a “Yay” of his own when Boniface dropped a dirty great filthy bluebottle into everyone’s ointment with a resentful sniping “Nay.”
“Nay?” the Duke snapped.
“Aye, nay,” Boniface confirmed. “Next time you want to change the faces around here perhaps you’ll ask me first.”
“Nay? What’s nay mean?” Sebastian asked warily, keeping his fingers cross that it meant he could go home now.
“Just for spite? Just petulance?” the Duke raged, incensed at his former charge’s malevolence.
“Thomas was my underling. I brought him in. You should’ve talked to me first!” Boniface snarled, meeting the Duke’s glare of disgust without showing so much as a flicker of shame.
Sebastian sought a clarification.
“Nay? What’s nay mean?”
Vanessa now turned on Boniface and shouted: “I spent months on his candidature. He’s twelve generations pure. You can’t do this.”
“Can’t?” Boniface said, his snarl now turning to a strangled smile in a gloom of the shadows. “I can and I am. And there’s nothing you can do about it, not without another sanction. And I take it you didn’t bring two of them with you tonight, huh?”
The Duke watched as Boniface scrunched up Thomas’s sanction, lifted the stove’s charred lid and dropped it into the flames.
“Subtitles anyone?” Sebastian requested.
The Duke pursed his lips and let out a resigned sigh. “Our apologies Sebastian,” he said, turning and walking away. He could’ve put Sebastian out of his misery quickly and (relatively) painlessly but he didn’t like to kill in front of others. They all fed, of course they had to, but as their leader it didn’t feel dignified to do so in public, any more than it would’ve been for the Queen to deliver her annualtelevised address whilst tucking into aplate of Christmas dinner.
Vanessa now moved in and showed Sebastian her best impression of a frowny face. She felt something for him, she truly did, but not enough to stop her from killing him. He was, after all, only human, and humans were there to serve but two purposes – to feed the Coven and reinforce its numbers when necessary. Boniface’s “Nay” had limited Sebastian’s options. Vanessa was about to limit them further.
“It wasn’t meant to be like this Sebastian,” she told him with regret. “I thought they’d all accept you. I didn’t count on the fact that some people are just assholes no matter how long they live for.”
Boniface let out a sarcastic “Ha!” and got ready to enjoy the show. Unlike some of them present he actually liked the process of killing. Not necessarily in a sadistic way, but Boniface felt it was a privileged responsibility to see a person from this world and into the next. It brought him a closeness he had never known in life and made him feel like an apostle of kinds, albeit one who rode into town accompanied by a plague.
Sebastian now performed the same jig that Thomas had danced earlier, edging himself around the room and in the direction of the door. It wouldn’t take a shotgun to stop him in his tracks and Vanessa allowed him to say a few final words. It only seemed right.
> “Wait wait wait wait! Six to one, it’s a landslide surely?” Sebastian pointed out, stepping on something soft as he slid along the wall and looking down to see it was a stuffed cat.
Vanessa just smiled. “I did like you, Sebastian,” she said, as if this would somehow atone for what was about to come.
Sebastian saw an angle and ran with it. “And I liked you too… Vanessa,” he said, thanking Christ he remembered her name. He didn’t always. “All of you in fact. What good lads.” He now turned to Boniface and addressed him directly, as he was obviously the one he needed to win over. “Even you mate. You look alright, all things considered. Go on, take a day to get to know me, we could be mates.”
“You’re not my type,” Boniface glowered, breaking one of his own cardinal rules and conversing with the livestock, although his words were intended for more than Sebastian’s ears.
The Duke had seen and heard enough. There was no dignity in this, neither for Sebastian nor the Coven. The decision had been made. Vanessa now had to get on with it. “You brought him here. He’s your responsibility,” he reminded her. This was true. Protocol dictated the nominee was under the care of the nominator. If Sebastian had been accepted, it would’ve been up to Vanessa to turn and teach him. As it was, she now had to end things for him. As a veracious feeder, normally this wouldn’t have been a problem for Vanessa but this was a normal situation. She didn’t normally spend three months getting to know her food before dispatching it.
Sebastian made a dash for a front door but he didn’t get to within ten feet of it. Vanessa grabbed him by the arm and forced him to his knees. His death would be quick and clean. It was only right.
“Close your eyes, Sebastian. Think happy thoughts,” she advised.
“Oh God no, wait, please, you can’t, I’ve got kids!” he said, lunging at a few final straws in an effort to prolong his [admittedly] shitty life a few more shitty moments.
“No you haven’t,” Vanessa said. “You haven’t got anyone.”
It was a lie and it had been quickly rumbled but it had still bought him a few seconds. “I know,” Sebastian came clean with a shrug. “I just said that.”
From his new vantage point Sebastian spotted a couple of pokers a short tumble away. Before Vanessa could strike the killer blow he launched himself like Jason Statham at the fireplace only to land like Mr Bean. Once he’d untangled himself from the shovel and coal bucket he jumped to his feet and held out two pokers in the form of a crucifix.
“Get back all of you! Get back!” he shouted, finding his inner Van Helsing. “In the name of God, the son and the holy smoke, I command thee to get back!”
Henry wondered if he’d heard right and double-checked with Angel. “Did he just say thee?”
Vanessa faltered. Sebastian was determined to make this as hard as possible wasn’t he? Some people did that, fought until the bitter end and went out kicking and screaming, often (and curiously) those with the least to live for. It was such a waste. He would’ve made a fine nightwalker but it wasn’t to be.
“I’m sorry Sebastian, I’m afraid it doesn’t quite work like that,” she told him. Hollywood had much to answer for.
But Sebastian wasn’t done there and went straight to Plan B. “No? Well how about this then?”
He swung one of the pokers as hard as he could, catching Vanessa clean across the temple. If she’d been human he would’ve undoubtedly killed her but Vanessa merely soaked up the blow and stepped back to catch her balance. It was enough to give Sebastian a glimpse of the stairs behind her and he took it, dashing through all six of them and scrambling up to the bedrooms to look for… something… anything…
He didn’t know what. Sebastian was now living on a second-by-second basis.
No one moved for a moment. No one went after him. They didn’t have to. He wouldn’t get far.
Henry traced his finger along the gash in Vanessa’s head. It was already heeling and would be gone in another minute.
“It’s true what they say, love hurts,” he smirked.
Vanessa laughed but the Duke and his former squire looked far from amused at this debacle.
CHAPTER 8
18 was listening intently. No shots had been fired but he could tell something was going off inside the farmhouse. Even from this distance and through solid walls of brick he could hear crashing, smashing and screams of terror – and at one point he even thought he made out the words “fuck off you cunts!” – but he had no idea who or what was behind them.
He checked his watch. An hour had passed since he’d last radioed in. Where the hell was his back-up.
“Right behind you,” said a voice as though it had read 18’s mind.
18 spun around and reached for his holster. Colonel Bingham was knelt just behind him, barely four feet away. How the hell had he got the drop on him? Jesus, 18 concluded, he wasn’t cut out for this anymore. A day comes in every soldier’s life when he can no longer cut the mustard and 18’s had dropped on him from on high. This had been such a cushy assignment, such a joke of a job, that he’d allowed himself to get sloppy and start thinking about the future. It had taken his edge and if he wasn’t careful it would take his life as well.
“Glad to see you’re still here, 18,” Colonel Bingham said. “What’s happening in there?”
“I don’t know, sir: yelling, screaming, shouting, all sorts. It’s horrible,” he told him, still trying to catch his breath.
“And that’s your report, is it?” Colonel Bingham said, raising an eyebrow.
“Who else is here, sir? Where’s our back-up?” 18 asked.
“Don’t worry,” Colonel Bingham replied.“We’ve got it all in hand.”
All at once the treeline stirred as the rest of the unit moved into position. Night scopes and infrared cameras were trained on the farmhouse in the valley below. Another Squad crawled through the trees to set up shop on the other side of the farm with a third sitting in reserve with the trucks at the rear.
Just how many men did have Colonel Bingham have under his command tonight?
“All of them,” the Colonel said, answering 18’s unasked question. “Manoeuvres are over. This is the real thing.”
*
Sebastian put his shoulder to the creaking bedroom door. It wouldn’t keep them out forever. All it could do was buy him a few seconds. But for what?
He looked around for ideas.
He was in a child’s bedroom but it was the sort of bedroom that would give any child nightmares for life. A filthy rocking horse slowly jigged backwards and forwards in the corner, next to an empty cot and beneath the gaze of legion of dust-covered dolls that may or may not have been collected from the scenes of air crashes. Sebastian might have had a deprived childhood but at least he hadn’t had this one.
Another crash and another crack appeared in the door. He’d locked it and shoved a chair under the handle but it wouldn’t hold. He had to get away and fast.
Unfortunately there was only one way out. And it was a long way down now that he was upstairs.
“Little pig, little pig, let me in,” he heard Angel whispering on the other side of the door. CRACK!
A three-foot fissure opened up in the woodwork and the door jam began to splinter. If he stayed where he was they would simply swat him aside when they forced open the door. But it he let stepped away the door wouldn’t hold for more than a few seconds. He had no choice. By the hair on his chinny chin chin he had to go for it.
Taking a deep breath he pushed himself off the door and ran full pelt at the window. He dived at it at the last moment, tucking his arms and legs in as he went and braced himself to drop into the cold hard night. But like Sebastian, that Thatchers’ knackered old window was tougher than it looked and it bounced him back and dumped him on his arse for a second time tonight.
“What the fuck!” Sebastian swore but the window didn’t have time to answer. Another splintering crack from behind him remind Sebastian that time was of the essence, so he scrambled
to his feet, hurried to the window again and this time took a moment to unlatch it.
The window swung open easily. And the ground below now beckoned.
A low flat roof led down to an easier drop and Sebastian scurried across it and jumped to the grass, which turned out to be about three foot further down than it looked.
“Oh… my arse!” Sebastian groaned when his legs crumpled beneath him and his fags took the full impact of his descent.
He looked back as he started running. No one had followed him out of the window. Was he in the clear? All he needed was a good head start and he was confident he could lose a bat in this darkness. All he had to do was get to those trees and keep going as far and as fast as he could. Nothing and no one was going stop this particularly Romani, not now he had the ground at his feet and the wind at his back.
… except perhaps the 40 strong detachment of special forces infantrymen who were watching Sebastian running straight for them through infrared crosshairs.
“Get ready,” Colonel Bingham said, sliding the safety catch from his SMG from black to red. “On my command…”
18 remembered just in time to review the target through his thermal image detector and found Sebastian easily as a large red blob in the centre of the screen.
“Wait, sir, hot body! He’s not our target,” he told Colonel Bingham.
Another set of eyes watched Sebastian as he sprinted through the darkness although these did so without the aid of modern military equipment. They were more than capable of peering through the curtain of night as though it were a bright and sunny afternoon.
“He’s got spirit. You’ve got to give him that,” Vanessa told Henry as they stood at the kitchen window and watch Sebastian fleeing for his life.
“Yes,” Henry agreed. “But he won’t get far.”
Everyone who was watching thought the same. Only Sebastian was convinced otherwise. And it would be this bloody-minded attitude that would see him through many of the horrors that were to come tonight better than all the firepower currently trained on him put together.