by steve higgs
The Horror of the Truth. Tuesday 28th September 1247hrs
The phone rang for ages and just as I was going to hang up it was answered by the all too familiar voice of Obsidian Dark. ‘This is Obsidian.’
‘Obsidian, this is Tempest Michaels.’
‘How the hell did you get this number?'
‘That’s not important, Obsidian. I need your help and I think you need mine. Ambrogio is using you.’
‘Ambrogio is a god,’ he cut in over me. ‘You have no idea what you are dealing with, but you will find out soon enough.’ The last remark was delivered with a half chuckle.
‘I am starting to get tired of the threats, Nigel.’
‘Don't use that name,' he spat. I probably shouldn't be provoking him if I wanted information, but he seemed disinclined to help anyway. ‘I am Obsidian Dark, and I am a vampire.'
‘So, how come you are up and talking to us in the daylight?’ asked Frank calmly.
‘Err?’ replied Obsidian
‘Basic stuff really, Nigel. You would be dust if you were a vampire. It’s the middle of the day.’ I added.
‘I have been drinking the blood of my master's victims. I am a half vampire now you fool. I have the strength and speed and soon will join my master in immortality!' he was thundering down the phone. ‘You can try to spoil things as you spoilt them last night, but you will fail you pathetic meat sack.'
I looked at Frank with my best is-he-making-this-up face, covered the phone and said, ‘Half vampire?’
‘Lore regarding turning vampire is conflicting. There is a suggestion that drinking the blood from the dead victim of a vampire can pass on supernatural vampire traits and begin the turn,’ he whispered quickly.
‘Okay, Nigel. Role play time will be over soon and when I catch up with you, I will enjoy slapping you around, vampire strength or not.’
‘This is your fault. Ambrogio was going to turn me last night, but you and your family ruined it.’
‘Ooh, what happened.’ I goaded
‘Your parents survived,’ he responded with an audible sneer that chilled my spine. ‘But don’t worry, they will get theirs soon enough. Until then we have your poisonous little bitch to use for the ceremony tonight. Why don’t you join us at the crypt and we can kill you too?’ click. He disconnected.
‘Bother,’ I said. It was the only response that seemed to fit.
‘Bother,’ echoed Frank.
They had Poison. We knew that much at least now which was a step up from just suspecting. Did they plan to kill her? It certainly sounded like they did. If there was some daft ceremony or shite vampire hokum planned for tonight, then we had only a few hours to find her, but we had no idea where they might be.
‘Frank, he said come to the crypt. I think he meant it.’
‘You think he actually wants you to come along?’
‘Well, maybe if he really intends to kill me, but what I mean is they actually have a crypt. That is where they will be doing whatever it is they are doing.'
‘Well, of course, there is a crypt, Tempest. How else could Ambrogio sleep?'
Obviously.
‘Traditionally…’
‘Focus, Frank,' I interrupted before he could get started again on vampire lore. ‘Poison is missing, probably kidnapped by these dicks and we need to find her right now.' I banged the desktop with my knuckles as I said the last word. I was agitated, nervous energy coursing through me, making me want to act.
‘You’re right. Of course, Tempest. So, what do we do?’
‘We get everyone on this,’ I said, my brain whirling as I planned. ‘We call in everyone we can, including the police and we find Poison before darkness falls.’
On the west wall on my office is a map of Maidstone and the surrounding countryside. I put it up when I moved in as I had it lying around at home and thought it might be useful. I had not looked at it since but now grabbed a marker pen and went over to it.
‘Frank help me out here. The first victim was found here,’ I said, putting a black blob on the map next to Chilwell Castle. ‘The second here and the third here.’ Two more blobs. ‘The fourth and fifth victims were found together out in Chart Sutton.’ The blob this time was quite a distance out from the other three, which made them look more like a cluster.
‘But they were picked up outside of a nightclub in the town centre,’ injected Frank, getting involved.
‘That’s right. So, it would be about here.’ Another blob not far from the first three.
I grabbed a rule from the desk to join the blobs by opposites using a fine-nabbed pen. All the points intersected just in the river not far outside Aylesford and not far from the site of the first murder.
Frank and I studied the map for a few moments. Frustrated, I said, ‘I don’t think that helps us much.’.
Frank, ‘Hmmmd,' to himself, so I allowed him silence to focus his thoughts. ‘His crypt will be underground, so in a basement or something similar I expect, but it could be in a cemetery if there are ones with enclosed crypts.’ I peered at the map. There was nothing like that until you went at least half a mile towards Maidstone. It seemed like we were stretching.
Frank and I were still staring at the map when the bottom door opened again. I stepped to my left and opened the top door hoping that it was not Vermont Wensdale back again. To my happy surprise, it was Amanda. From my vantage point staring down at her, I could see the top of her head and the top bit of cleavage. I gave myself a mental slap for focusing on her flesh and was able thus to meet her eyes readily when she looked up at me in the next half second.
I got a slim smile and a, ‘Hello'.
‘Amanda. Glad you are here. It would appear that Poison has been kidnapped.'
Her smile froze and then dropped. ‘What?’
‘I just got off the phone with Obsidian. He claims that he has her and that she will be killed tonight in a ceremony to turn him into a vampire. Ambrogio is behind it all guiding his movements.’
‘It is probably not just Obsidian, Tempest,’ said Frank. ‘I expect it is the whole top tier of the club.’
‘Amanda, can you get people on this?' I knew the answer, of course, they were the police after all. ‘I think Ambrogio is hiding out somewhere still pretending to be a vampire.' I heard Frank make a noise and held up an impatient hand before he could remind me that Ambrogio is actually hundreds of years old and impossible to kill. ‘Given his level of psychosis, there is a very real chance he has made a crypt to sleep in. Obsidian's girlfriend fingered him for handling the coffin and taking it somewhere, so we need to find it and we need to find it right now.'
‘Okay. What evidence do you have? A ransom note, an email? Anything?’
‘Not a damned thing you can use,’ I had to admit. ‘I spoke with Obsidian on the phone. He confirmed he had snatched her last night and that they plan to kill her tonight.’
‘Okay. I need everything you have on the girlfriend, so we can pick her up for questioning. I also need the two of you to complete an official report of the crime down at the station and I need whatever evidence you have that this person has been kidnapped. What is her actual name?’
I had no idea. ‘Frank?’
‘Err, Ivy Wong,’ he stuttered.
Ivy. Poison. Obvious.
‘We need to get to the station then.’
‘I need to find the crypt.’
‘But you have to report the kidnapping.’
‘But I don’t have any evidence.’
‘Nevertheless,’
I cut her off, ‘Amanda I can’t go with you right now. I am going to work out where this crypt is and then I am going to get her back. Please do whatever you can to put people on alert. This whole vampire thing has gotten way out of hand. People are dead, and more people are going to die if no one stops them.’ This was frustrating, but I was not going to spend hours at a station trying to explain why I thought Poison/Ivy was in danger when I had no evidence.
Amanda considered this but e
ventually nodded and assured us that she would do what she could. Then she left and Frank and I went back to staring at the map. There was a thought itching at the back of my head, but I was struggling to make it coalesce into anything tangible. Something about the grounds at Chilwell Castle.
Then my thoughts rearranged themselves slightly and I caught a glimpse of the memory I was trying to find. ‘We need to go to my house, Frank. I think I know where the crypt is.’
‘Hold on. A few seconds ago, we had no idea. Now you suddenly do?’
‘I’ll explain on the way,’ I shot back as a reply. I had already grabbed my bag and pocketed my car keys.
I was almost at the car when the phone rang, so I plipped it open for Frank to get in but wandered away a bit so that my conversation would be more private. The call was half expecting, so to see Mrs. Sweeting-Brand flash up on my phone's caller ID was no great surprise.
I squinted my eyes against the expected tirade when I answered as she had come across as a person that had limited patience or need to remain polite.
‘Mr. Michaels, I am gravely disappointed that I have been forced to make this call. I expected to hear some sort of report by now. I grow impatient with your lack of progress. Are you some charlatan dragging your feet to get more money from me? I paid for a professional service and I shall damned well have it.'
‘Mrs. Sweeting-Brand I can assure you that I will only bill you for the hours I spend investigating your case and for the expenses, I incur in pursuit of a solution. I will provide an itemised bill when I have completed my investigation, or I can provide updates with expenses and charges daily if you prefer. All of this was outlined in my terms and conditions of contract.'
‘Terms be damned, man. I want you to find the imposter and bring him to me.’ I swear I could hear her vibrating with anger from being kept waiting.
‘As I said at the time, this is not a simple case to investigate.’ There was no one else in the phone book, so it was not as if she was going to sack me in favour of a competitor. ‘The culprit has left no physical evidence that anyone has yet found, the countryside is littered with hunters trying to capture the supposed Big Foot and no further sightings have been made which means the man inside the suit has gone to ground or has abandoned his pretence. This is going to take some time. You assured me three days and it has been barely twenty-four hours.’
‘You have three days,' she snapped and then hung up. Mrs. Sweeting-Brand was easy to dislike.
My House. Tuesday, September 28th 1342hrs
I had called Big Ben from the car, given him some basic information and he had asked where I needed him to be without me having to ask if he was available. As I pulled up to my house with Frank he was pulling into the street. His car stopped next to mine and we all spilled out and headed for my house. Big Ben already had his black combat gear on complete with tactical fingerless gloves with Kevlar knuckles and a webb belt of accessories.
The dogs barked as we went into the house and wagged their tails more excitedly than usual as there were visitors. I led them through to the back door and let them out for a wee.
‘So, what are we looking for, Tempest?’ asked Frank, as I went straight to the computer and fired it up.
‘Just a couple of moments, please.' I was waiting for the computer to finish spooling and open the file I wanted. ‘I have a picture I need to look at.' I drummed my fingers impatiently on the desk as the little rainbow symbol spun away on the screen. Bull barked at the door to be let in, but before I could move, Big Ben took a pace and pulled the door open. Both dogs plopped through the gap one after the other.
The computer caught up with itself, so I could get to the file I wanted.
‘And.’ Click.
‘Here.’ Click.
‘It is.’ One final click of the mouse and I pushed back from the screen so that Frank and Big Ben could get closer.
‘I see keys, Tempest,’ said Big Ben in a mockingly questioning tone.
The picture was of the key press at Brian Grazley’s cottage with all the keys labelled neatly using an old style dynatape machine. On the third row, just over halfway along was a space labelled Mausoleum. On every hook, there were two or more keys except on the hook for the mausoleum which had only one.
‘Jagjit noticed the mausoleum when we first looked through these pictures. It just didn’t mean anything at the time. I even know where it is.’
‘Well kindly enlighten me then, Tempest,’ insisted Frank.
‘This is the groundkeeper's house for Chilwell Castle. He was the first victim that we know about. Maybe he was killed for the key. We don't know, but I was right there looking over the wall last week. The mausoleum is right by the river, just inside the castle wall and recently someone stripped back the undergrowth to get to a gate that leads out of the castle grounds and onto the river path.' Frank seemed sceptical, so I pressed on. ‘Remember the map in my office? The point of intersection was right on the river, right by the castle. It’s not conclusive, but we can be there checking this place out in ten minutes and I am going right now.’
‘Do we call the police?’ Frank asked.
‘Not yet.' I decided. ‘Let's check it out first. If there is someone there, then we can call for back up.'
‘Should we not at least tell someone where we are going? What if we arrive and it is swarming with the Vampire’s minions?’ Frank looked quite concerned.
‘Frank has a point, Tempest.’ Big Ben had been quiet until now.
‘Okay. So, let's tell Amanda where we are going and to send for backup if she doesn't hear from us. That good enough?' I left the question hanging for a moment to see what they thought. When they were visibly undecided, I pressed on, ‘There is nothing to tell the police at this point. If I am wrong, then we waste their time sending them to the wrong place when they could be looking elsewhere for her. Plus, we have been arrested twice in the last week and we are proposing to break and enter the grounds of a stately home.'
‘Okay,’ they agreed, both conceding the point.
I ran upstairs to get changed into more appropriate gear. I had on office wear which is not the thing for countryside paths and leaping over walls. If I was right and we had found the crypt, then who knows what might happen.
Selecting my black combat gear, I strapped on the impact vest and the same fingerless gloves as Big Ben was wearing. My feet I clad in my old, but very serviceable army boots. Not the issue ones of course, like most full-time servicemen I had invested in a better pair that would be more comfortable for long-term use. They were less well-polished than they used to be and now had old, dried mud in the welts - a crime punishable by infinite press-ups a lifetime ago.
Back downstairs and ready to go I checked my watch: 1503hrs. Lots of time before dark still. I made to go for my car keys which were hanging in the entry lobby and there were the dogs in front of me looking expectant. If I went out now, I would miss their dinner time. It was too early to feed them, plus they needed a walk. I tussled internally for a moment and concluded that I might as well just take them with me. They would sleep happily on a blanket in my car without getting cold. I could take their dinner with me and if we did find Poison or had to go to other places, I would still be able to deal with them.
Frank was looking at Big Ben and me as if he had a question, so I encouraged him to ask it. ‘Is all that gear necessary?' Big Ben and I looked at ourselves and at each other. Head to toe black with impact padding on elbow and knees, Kevlar plates on the chest and back, fingerless gloves with Kevlar knuckles, combat boots, webb belts with tools, Maglite torches - the usual paraphernalia. ‘It’s just that you look like you are off to start a coup,’ he said when we failed to speak.
‘More like storm a fortress,’ said Big Ben with a huge grin.
I said, ‘It’s what we wear. I doubt anyone will see us unless we want them to and surely it makes us look like professional security or uniformed something?’ I checked myself in the mirror by the front door. I tried a smil
e. ‘Do you really think we look like terrorists?’
Frank just shrugged.
‘Too late to change now,’ I concluded. ‘Let’s go.’
Dogs ready to go and both food and water for them in a pack by my feet I tackled the hardest subject: Big Ben and I were both combat veterans and used to being in situations where there was a tangible risk of harm, but Frank weighed about half of what I did and ran a bookshop. It was not that I felt Frank would not be any use to me or was more likely to get himself hurt. I was just used to moving around with Big Ben and our training meant we knew how to operate without speaking or discussing the next step each time. I was reluctant to tell Frank he could not come, but I would be more comfortable if he stayed behind. As Frank and Big Ben came out to the doorway, I encouraged Frank to go back to his bookshop and to wait there for news but of course, he would not entertain the idea.
What Frank said was, ‘Tempest, I think you need me more than you know. What if you encounter Thralls? Do you know how to break the blood bond between them and their master?'
‘Actually, I do Frank.' I replied dryly. ‘I saw it on Vampire Dairies recently.' I was joking of course, but Frank seemed crestfallen that I was trying to leave him behind. ‘You can come, Frank. But I don't want you to get hurt. If we find Ambrogio or Obsidian or any of the others the priority is to find and rescue Poison. With no back up the plan is for Big Ben and me to stop them or delay them so that you can get away and get help.' Frank looked distinctly nonplussed.
‘So, my job is to run away?’
‘This is vital, Frank. If no one gets help, then no one rescues Poison. Your task, if we encounter overwhelming numbers, is to find back up and bring them to us. Seriously though, no matter what we plan, it will all go to hell as soon as we find them, and I want to know that help will arrive.'
‘No plan survives first contact with the enemy,’ Big Ben recited from army doctrine.
‘What he said,’ I echoed. ‘The best case is we find Poison with Obsidian, clobber him, rescue her and this is all over before dark.’