by Paul Magrs
I left your precious remains with them.
Cleavis is canny. He’s no fool. He would have realised your ashes are potent still.
Because they are, my love, aren’t they? In the right conditions, if there is enough of them left, they can be used, can’t they? In a ritual? To bring you back?
Say it’s true. Let me know.
I know it’s true. I’m sure it is.
And your ring! That’s how I was reminded, this morning. Looking into my aunts’ drawerfuls of glinting treasure. The image of your silver and ruby ring popped into my head. I know how you jealously guarded it. How you’d had it for centuries. Somehow I knew that much of your ineffable power was bound up in your ring.
But where is it, eh? Where did it go?
They’ve got it. I know they have. Brenda and her fancy man.
I reel with the thought of it. How dare they add insult to injury like this? But what do they care? It’s a job well done. They’ve cleared away the trash. Collected up the booty.
Well, I’m going round there. I’m having it out with them.
New Year’s Day
Dear Kristoff,
I went round there yesterday lunchtime.
All bundled up in my heaviest sheepskin like it was armour plating. Ready for a good scrap. I thought, maybe that was what I was needing. Get it all out of my system.
BANG BANG BANG on the side door.
Leena had been outside, setting out wonderful mangos and bananas and pomegranates in a display. They looked ravishingly bright in the hoar frost. She saw my look of determination, storming into the alley. She followed a little way. ‘Erm, Effie . . . are you okay?’
‘The ring. My beloved’s ring. They took it.’
‘Oh!’ she said. She was still clutching a pineapple to her apron, looking confused.
BANG BANG BANG I knocked again, harder this time.
‘You mean your gentleman friend? The one who . . . vanished.’
I scowled. ‘He never vanished, Leena. They killed him. Them two upstairs.’
She looked suitably shocked at this. ‘Brenda said he just went away! And that’s why you were so mopey lately.’
‘Mopey!’ I launched a new attack on the B&B’s side door. Then I stopped and looked at Leena. She was a member of the inner circle. I looked at her with new, searching eyes. We were in the same cult. We were committed to Qab together.
An unspoken communication flew between us. We both knew it.
I told Leena, ‘Brenda is in league with a very wicked man. He has turned her head. She is completely under his thrall. Together they have reduced my beloved to a heap of ashes. And they have stolen his precious ring.’
‘Oh!’ said Leena again. She really isn’t the brightest soul. But then her face cleared of confusion. ‘How can I help?’
And there we have it, I thought. The unswerving loyalty of the cult of Qab. I was impressed, all of a sudden.
I felt stronger and even more resolute.
I am woman, Brenda. Hear me roar.
And I’m a proper woman, too. Not some chucked-together composite of left-over parts!
The door opened at last. Almost hesitantly, as if she knew that I was there with my heart brimming with bitterness.
She was standing in the gloomy hallway, looking harried and confused. ‘Effie! What are you doing here?’
‘I’ve come to have it out with you, lady.’
‘I didn’t think you were talking to me any more!’
‘I’m not. Not properly. I’ve come to ask what you did with his remains. His ashes. And his ring. These are very important to me, Brenda.’
‘His . . . ?’ Brenda looked worried. She spied Leena over my shoulder and lowered her voice. ‘Let’s not have a barney about this in the street, lovey. We don’t want the whole harbour seeing. Come inside.’
She left her guests to breakfast alone and led me up her side stairs, slamming the door on Leena. Leena’s antennae were twitching, I just knew. She’d be keeping tabs on me. She’d report to the other ladies of Qab if I didn’t come out of there again.
Did I really feel frightened, being alone with Brenda?
Entering her sitting room in the attic felt like coming back to somewhere I’d been exiled from.
She hovered round me. Great galumphing Brenda. She was nervous around me. Inspecting me.
She was astonished by my youth and my beauty. Yes, my beauty. I’d never been that before. But I was just then, I knew it.
I hoiked off my furry hat and my sheepskin gloves and tossed them on to her green armchair. I let her get a good look at me.
Lap it up, ducky, I thought. Take a look at me now.
‘I can’t stay long,’ I told her. ‘I merely want some answers.’
‘Ooh, Effie love,’ she warbled in a worrisome tone. ‘I hate this. I hate this air of antagonism between us. I hated Christmas and not seeing you. It wasn’t the same this year. It all rang a bit hollow.’
I arched an eyebrow in her direction. ‘Did you expect me to celebrate the festive season with you? And today? I expect you think I’ve come round to wish you happy New Year!’
Brenda hung her head. ‘I suppose not, no. I just wish—’
‘I don’t want to go over all of that now. You made your choice. You sided with Cleavis. You both thought Alucard should die.’
‘I—’
‘If you didn’t, you’d have stopped him. Unless you are afraid of your own man friend. And that would be a very sad situation, wouldn’t it?’
‘Of course I’m not. It’s just—’
‘Just what? What, Brenda? How did you justify what Cleavis did?’
‘Alucard was no good for you. He was leeching off you. Changing you. Making you think and do things that you didn’t want to do. You said yourself – you admitted to me – you weren’t at all sure about going away from Whitby and going abroad with him. And just look at you now! Look at you! You’re so different . . .’
‘I’m fabulous.’ A shiver went through me as I said this. It was something I’d never dared think even inside my head. But the word was out before I knew it. And I was fabulous. I was gorgeous. I remember thinking: I’m worth ten of this shambling old moose before me.
‘You’ve turned into something I don’t recognise,’ said Brenda.
‘Good,’ I told her. ‘I’m glad. Now. To business. Kristoff’s remains. His ashes. His ring. Where are they?’
‘I don’t know. We left everything there. In the restaurant. My main focus was you. You’d passed out. I wanted to get you home, to safety . . .’
‘Don’t give me that. You couldn’t have been that concerned about me, lady. Come on. Tell me. Where’s his ring? He’d worn that for centuries. Cleavis would have known how precious it is. Where have you put it?’ I glared around her room.
Her safe. It’d be in there. Along with all her other rubbishy treasure and mementos of diabolical adventures past.
‘I haven’t got it!’ Brenda protested. There were tears in her eyes. Tears of frustration. She was really upset.
What a shame.
‘You’ll find that ring for me,’ I told her. ‘Or . .
‘Or what?’
Ah. Listen.
Somebody had heard us. Our shrill raised voices.
We hadn’t even realised we were shouting.
Here came Henry Cleavis at a run. In a shorty dressing gown somewhat on the feminine side, presumably not his.
‘Brenda?’ he barked. ‘Are you all right?’
He came thundering into Brenda’s sitting room. Direct from Brenda’s boudoir.
‘Henry,’ she said. ‘Go back to bed.’
He looked flustered. Newly roused from a deep sleep. The sleep of the just. I thought, fancy him sleeping while Brenda works like a drone.
He was staring at me. ‘Good God,’ he breathed. ‘I’ve not seen you this close to. Not for days. Look at you, woman! Just look at you!’
Brenda’s voice was hard. ‘I’ve said it once, Henry. I’ll deal with
this.’
I laughed harshly. ‘Deal with this? Is that what I am? Another problem to be dealt with? An old bag of rubbish to dispose of?’ I glared at Henry Cleavis. ‘I didn’t come on a social call, and I’m not here to cause problems either.’
‘Well,’ he said. ‘Good.’
‘I’ve come for Kristoff s ashes. And more particularly, his ring. I know you’ll have collected them up. You wouldn’t have left them behind. Not you.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘You’ve been after him for years. You and all your Smudgeling brethren. You wouldn’t want a single speck of Alucard to remain in the world, out of your control.’
Brenda said, ‘I’ve tried to tell her. We don’t have what she wants.’
‘I don’t believe you, Brenda.’
She pulled a face. ‘You’ll have to. There’s nothing here for you.’ Her grim expression faltered. Real sorrow showing through. ‘Oh, Effie. I hate this. We were such good friends . .
‘That’s all finished.’
‘It can’t be.’
I laughed in her face. ‘How can you stand there and even imagine I’d ever forgive you?’
‘You never loved him,’ Cleavis said bluntly. ‘And believe me, he never thought anything of you. He just wanted you as a slave. That’s all he wanted from any of his women. There wasn’t a shred of human feeling left inside that stinking cadaver. It was all put on. You fell foul of him, Effryggia.’
‘You don’t know anything about it,’ I snapped. ‘What do you know about love?’
He clamped his jaw shut and drew his dressing gown tighter across his woolly grey chest.
I jeered at them both. ‘Neither of you know anything about love. How could you?’
‘Effie,’ said Brenda. She just wanted me to shut up, I know. These were uncomfortable truths.
‘You! Jumping into bed with your professor! You old hussy!’
Brenda’s eyes almost popped out. Shame flooded her face. She went a shade of puce. ‘No!’
‘What about Frank, eh? What about your poor old husband? You’ve betrayed him. You’ve betrayed him with this grizzled specimen . . . this ruthless killer!’
Brenda shook her head. ‘But you could never abide Frank. You always said so.’
‘So? You’ve still betrayed him. You don’t half pick ’em, Brenda. These horrible men of yours.’ I swung back to Cleavis. To the matter in hand. ‘I didn’t come here for a slanging match.’ Though truth be told, I was almost enjoying letting rip and having my say. ‘Give me what I came for. They’ll be in Brenda’s safe, I reckon. The revenants of my beloved.’
Brenda said, ‘Effie, we haven’t got them.’ Her voice was full of pain. Like she was being torn apart, her whole body. I reflected that she must already know how that felt.
Yet I couldn’t afford to feel compassion. I had to feel nothing.
Henry Cleavis drew closer to me. Lowering his voice till it was husky, intent. Studying me with a basilisk stare. An expert eye. ‘I won’t give you a thing. Nothing that belonged to him. It is too dangerous. Can’t you feel it, Effie? Can’t you tell? This thing inside you. This madness. This fever. It’s gone too far. You have changed for ever. It’s too late for you.
You’re spoiled. You’re ruined. You’ve taken your whole life and given it to that monster. He has scrambled your brains. He has polluted your blood. It is over, Effie.’
‘Henry, no!’ Brenda cried. A real note of despair.
I suddenly saw how much danger I was in.
Cleavis was holding his crucifix up before him. In his other hand suddenly, slipping out of his shorty dressing gown sleeve – a freshly sharpened stake.
A cold wave of realisation hit me.
Oh no, surely not. How clichéd. How awful.
I lashed out with both hands. Whhsssstt.
My nails are like razors these days. They ran through the suede skin of his face.
I felt the flesh giving way and the dark blood welling. Ribbons of old skin and white beard fibres collected like scum under my perfect nails.
The old man howled. He launched himself at me, brandishing his stake. I screeched.
Over went the coffee table.
I could hear Brenda bellowing. Inhuman, cowlike, her cries rang in my ears as she barrelled into both of us.
I staggered backwards and fell, crumpled on the carpet.
My last thought as my head connected with the teak magazine rack: Which of us is Brenda trying to save?
I woke up still alive. So that was good.
She hadn’t let him stake me on the spot.
It seemed that I was tied to a kitchen chair, still in her attic. They sloshed cold water in my face to wake me.
Henry Cleavis was sitting across from me. Grimacing and twitching.
For the first time it really hit me. This old coot was insane. He was completely crazy, after all these years of monster-hunting.
He didn’t say anything to me as I came round. My head was pounding. He stared at me. Twitching. Gurning.
Brenda hurried in with a jar of some kind. ‘I haven’t got any fresh,’ she said, passing Henry the jar.
I almost laughed. She’d brought out the Lazy Garlic. What were they going to do? Marinade me?
‘You never let him kill me,’ I said. ‘Thanks, ducky.’
She sighed heavily. ‘You know I wouldn’t. Not just like that.’
‘But the time might yet come, eh? When I have to be reduced to ashes. When you have to get the Dyson out to deal with your old friend. Just like Kristoff. Soon you’ll decide it’s time to put me out of the way.’
Brenda couldn’t bring herself to answer. Cleavis did it for her. ‘Quite,’ he said coolly.
‘You shouldn’t have attacked Henry,’ Brenda said. ‘You confirmed all his fears.’
I struggled for a bit. She seemed to have lashed me to the chair with an old washing line. There were still a few faded plastic pegs clipped on.
‘Listen to yourself, Brenda!’ I shouted. ‘You’re no longer your own woman! You’re his lackey! How could you? You used to be so proud of your independence. You always said that you’d never let any man tell you what to do.’
Cleavis chuckled darkly. ‘Listen! How the wicked seductress works on you, Brenda. Oh, she’s a charmer. Silver-tongued, just like her lover. He’s passed on all of his gifts, hasn’t he?’
‘Oh, shut up, man,’ I growled. ‘I mean it, Brenda. You’ve let yourself down, dear. Are you really going to let some horrid old man decide the fate of your very best friend?’
Brenda clamped both pan-shovel hands over her ears. ‘I can’t stand it! I can’t listen to it any more! It’s Effie . . . but it’s not her either. It’s like . . . she’s possessed!’
‘Possessed!’ I said hotly. ‘I’ve never been more myself, ducky! Listen to me. Look, I might have changed. I might have . . . vamped up a bit. But I’m still me! I’m still the Effie you always knew! I’m still your best pal!’
Cleavis snorted. ‘She’s getting hysterical.’
Brenda sobbed. ‘Let’s lock her up for a while. Till she calms down. I can’t stand this, Henry. I can’t stand to hear her raving on like this . . .’
It took the strength of both of them to drag me, kicking and screaming, spitting and howling, all the way to Brenda’s en suite.
I wasn’t as strong as I thought I was, though.
I was sapped of all vitality as I sat there in the tiny bathroom.
For a while I pounded on the door, but to no avail. They’d wedged it shut somehow.
What a way to spend New Year’s Eve. I’ve had some rotten ones in my time. This had to be the worst.
I cursed and kicked and they took no notice. I heard them in hissed conference in Brenda’s bedroom.
All I could do was sit on the toilet lid and wait. How long could they keep me here? How long before they decided what to do with me?
I was a fool to make myself vulnerable by going there.
This was something else I’d
picked up from you, Kristoff my dear. Stepping in where angels fear to tread. Blithely assuming no harm could come to me.
Well, it could.
I wondered if that old fart Cleavis could convince Brenda I was better off dead.
I examined the tiny window. It was four floors up. I was svelte as anything, but there was no way I could make myself small enough to get out that way.
I sat helplessly, wishing I had learned from you all your other marvellous tricks: turning myself into a cloud of black smoke. A vampire bat.
I always thought the bat you turned into was rather jolly and cute. Did I ever tell you that? You were shaped a bit like a plump robin, only more evil-looking.
Time passed. The very fag end of the year was wasting away. I listened hard at the door, and with my newly heightened senses, I realised that Cleavis had left the building. He was away on some business of his own.
I heard mention of the police, of DCI Aickmann, and something about the Walkers at the Demeter. My heart went out to those boys of mine. It sounded like Cleavis was preparing to do something about them. Was I his hostage, then?
Brenda was alone in her flat.
I could hear her moving around, dusting and hoovering. Her agitation was plain in every one of her movements. She was fretting, fretting. She was breaking ornaments, and bumping into things. I could almost hear her thinking, incredulously: I’ve got my best friend locked up in my en suite, at the behest of my elderly boyfriend. How did this terrible thing come to pass?
I could play upon her sympathies. I knew I could.
I let time slip by. I tried to be patient. I waited for her to come to her bedroom to make up the bed. I could hear the sheets crack and ruffle, and to my sensitive ears the sound was like thunder.
I knew that she was there, on the other side of the door.
‘Brenda, ducky?’ I called.
She stammered. She faltered. ‘Effie, it’s no use. I know you’ll try to cajole me. You’ll sweet-talk me and try to get round me.’
‘Oh, rubbish, Brenda. Just let me out of here. Come on, this is a waste of both our time.’
‘Henry said you’d be like this. But I know that I have to remember that you’re no longer really you. You’ve been tainted. Taken over.’