by Nick Moseley
Great, Trev thought, as if this evening wasn’t shaping up to be terrifying enough, you now want to add public speaking to the mix?
‘If you think it’ll help,’ he said, somehow keeping his enthusiasm from overwhelming him.
‘You’ve gone up against the shadows and survived,’ Mac said. ‘It’ll be good for them to hear that. Give them a bit of hope.’
‘Right.’
‘Cool.’ Mac turned to Barton. The Custodian had his remaining two team members with him, standing in their own group a little apart from the Veil Security staff. ‘Are you taking over, or am I still in charge?’
‘You know these guys, so I’m happy for you to take the lead for now,’ Barton said. ‘But remember, this is a Custodian facility, so I’ve got the final say.’
‘Understood,’ said Mac. He walked forwards and addressed the group, giving them a quick run-down of the situation and dividing them into two teams. Trev was on the ground-floor team with Barton. Desai was on the walkway team with the other two Custodians. Mac finished up by introducing Trev and Desai and explaining that they had some advice on fighting the shadows.
‘Well,’ Trev said. He cleared his throat. ‘Um. So these “shadows” are basically ghosts, but composed of negatively-charged psychic energy rather than the usual positive.’ He aimed a pleading look at Desai, hoping she’d step in and help, but she just gave him a discreet thumbs-up. ‘You don’t want to let them touch you. The slightest contact will numb that part of your body, and if they get hold of you it’ll kill you.’
The guards shuffled and exchanged worried glances. Mac’s idea that Trev would “give them hope” was being shot down in flames. Desai’s thumbs-up had changed into a palm-down, see-sawing motion.
Trev cleared his throat again. ‘We can fight them with vapour weapons. Although they can’t actually be destroyed, I don’t think, just fended off. And every person they kill becomes another shadow.’
The guards were murmuring now, and Desai’s hand had shifted into a vigorous thumbs-down. Despite the cold, Trev was sweating.
‘Mishti and I discovered that putting a jolt of energy through your vapour weapon as you strike hurts them, though,’ he said. ‘The ones we fought escaped back into one of the conduits after they were hit that way a couple of times. So, er, that’s our best tactic.’
‘Yeah, but we’ll use up our energy much more quickly doing that,’ one of the guards pointed out. ‘What happens when we can’t use our vapour weapons anymore?’
‘We’ll die, probably,’ said Trev, flustered.
Desai put her head in her hands.
‘But look, we don’t have to go all out,’ Trev said, desperately trying to win back his mutinous audience. ‘We need to fight within ourselves. Work in teams, or pairs, maybe. Make the most of our energy reserves. It’s just one night we have to get through. We can do this.’
‘Nights are pretty long at this time of year,’ someone said.
Trev frowned. ‘Whoever that was, you’re not helping.’
‘Sorry,’ said the voice, which sounded suspiciously like Oscar.
‘Right, look,’ said Barton, stepping up beside Trev. ‘This isn’t an ideal situation, we all know that, but we’re stuck here and we have to deal with it. We aren’t a bunch of defenceless civilians though, are we? Vapour weapons will hurt these things, as Trev – eventually – told us. We organise. We work together. Trev’s idea of working in pairs is a good one.’
Trev started. ‘Is it?’
‘Yeah,’ said Barton. ‘If everyone goes charging about fighting alone then we’re going to struggle. We need to be smarter than that. Back each other up. Conserve energy. It’s going to be a long night, but if we do those things we’ve got a very good chance of coming through it.’
‘All right, you heard the man,’ said Mac. ‘Let’s get ourselves sorted out. Make sure you’ve got your torches handy.’
‘We won’t need them once the vapour weapons fire up,’ Trev muttered. ‘It’ll be like a bloody disco in here.’
‘Do people even still say “disco”?’ Oscar asked, strolling up to him. Everyone else was moving into position, checking their weapons and equipment.
Desai walked past. ‘Inspirational,’ she said as she went by.
‘Yeah, proper Braveheart stuff, that was,’ Oscar agreed. ‘Especially the part where you said “we’ll probably die”. They were eating out of your hand at that point.’
‘I’m an estate agent, not a wartime leader,’ Trev grumbled. ‘For what it’s worth, Winston Churchill was probably crap at selling houses.’
‘That glaring omission on his CV has often been remarked upon,’ Oscar said. ‘He may have helped win World War Two, but he left a trail of disappointed first-time buyers in his wake.’
Trev raised an eyebrow. ‘The first thing I’m going to do when the lights go out is perform an emergency cat-ectomy.’
‘You’ll forgive me if I don’t tremble with fear,’ said Oscar, and began washing himself.
Looking away from the cat, Trev found himself locking eyes with Lionel Vermont. The little vampire was leaning on the bars of his cell and wearing a cheerful expression which contrasted starkly with the grim faces of the guards. He beckoned to Trev. Against his better judgement but with nothing better to do except stand and endure abuse from Oscar, Trev walked over. He passed Dravine’s cell; the huge wolf-man was a silent clump of shadow against the back wall.
‘What do you want?’ he asked.
‘Now, that’s very brusque, Mr. Irwin,’ said Vermont, still grinning. ‘Everyone seems so preoccupied today.’
‘Funny old thing, that,’ said Trev. ‘So was there anything you wanted, or did you just call me over to be annoying?’
Vermont sighed. ‘Whatever happened to the subtle art of conversation?’
‘I don’t know, but if you find it, you can shove it up your arse,’ said Trev. ‘Now get to the point or shut up.’
‘I was just wondering if we were all expected to die this evening,’ said Vermont, unfazed by Trev’s rudeness.
‘It’s looking likely,’ Trev said. He couldn’t see the harm in being honest with Vermont, given that neither of them had much chance of surviving the night. The vampire showed little surprise at Trev’s response, simply nodding in acknowledgement.
‘These… shadows,’ he said. ‘They can kill you by touch?’
‘Where did you hear that?’ Trev asked. He’d been sure that his disastrous briefing had taken place far enough from the cells for the prisoners not to overhear.
‘Listening is an underrated skill, Mr. Irwin,’ said Vermont, ‘and I’m better at it than most.’ He tapped a knuckle against the bars of his cell. ‘I’ve had ample time to practice, of course.’
‘So you heard…’ Trev began.
‘Your motivational speech? Almost every word.’ He flashed his grin again. ‘It was both fascinating and hilarious.’
‘Yeah well, public speaking isn’t my thing.’ Trev decided that he’d rather take abuse from Oscar than Vermont. At least he liked Oscar.
Well. Kind of.
He turned to walk away. ‘There was something else, before you go,’ said Vermont.
‘What?’
‘I think you should be careful in whom you put your trust,’ said the vampire.
‘I don’t trust anyone in this place,’ Trev said. ‘Least of all you.’
‘Very wise,’ said Vermont. ‘You never know who might wish you harm. All sorts of accidents can happen in a melee.’
‘Who are you talking about?’ Trev said with a sigh. He kept his tone dismissive, but Vermont’s words had unsettled him. The idea that it wasn’t just the shadows who might be coming after him in the dark was an unpleasant one.
‘Oh, nobody in particular,’ Vermont replied, pushing away from the bars. ‘Just thinking about things I’ve heard, little snippets here and there, you know.’
‘If you’ve got something to tell me, then tell me,’ said Trev. ‘I’m going to b
e helping guard this floor, so I’ll keep an eye out for you. You scratch my back, and so on.’
‘I think we both know that none of the prisoners are going to survive this night,’ said Vermont. He sat down on his bed. ‘The shadows can get into our cells, can’t they? There’s no way you’ll be letting us out, and you can’t defend us through the bars.’
‘We’ll do what we can,’ said Trev.
Vermont chuckled. ‘Oh, I’m sure.’
‘You don’t seem that concerned.’
‘After spending a hundred years in prison, dying doesn’t seem so bad an option,’ Vermont said. ‘I’ve occasionally considered suicide over the decades, but we vampires are difficult to kill.’ He shook his head. ‘Have you ever tried decapitating yourself with a plastic fork?’
‘Not lately,’ said Trev.
‘I can’t recommend it.’
‘No shit.’ Trev peered through the bars at Vermont. The vampire was leaning against the wall of his cell, his face in shadow. ‘So who’s the person I have to watch out for?’
‘I’ve said all I intend to say,’ said Vermont. ‘Goodbye.’
Trev gritted his teeth and walked away. He was fairly sure that Vermont was just toying with him out of spite, but the damage was done. There was enough doubt in his mind to distract him.
‘What was that about?’ Oscar asked as Trev returned.
‘Just a bitter vampire trying to wind me up,’ Trev replied.
‘About what?’
‘It’s not even worth talking about. All he said was–’
The room was plunged into darkness.
The guards reacted quickly, torch-beams popping into life and sweeping around the cell block. Trev unholstered The Twins without activating them.
‘Here we go,’ he murmured.
They heard the first scream a few seconds later.
Thirty-Seven
It came from the upper level. Trev heard Mac’s voice, calling out orders. The prisoners began to shout, some wanting to know what was happening, others demanding to be let out of their cells. One or two just yelled incoherently. The expectant quiet of the previous few minutes was transformed into an atmosphere of panic.
‘Steady now,’ Barton said, his voice loud enough to carry over the noise. ‘Eyes open. Watch your partner’s back.’ He grabbed his radio off his belt and spoke urgently into it.
While Trev had been distracted by Lionel Vermont, Barton had organised the ground-floor team into pairs. Unfortunately there were an odd number of guards, so Trev was left with Oscar.
‘I’d rather watch your back than your front,’ the cat observed. ‘It’s your best side.’
‘Just make sure there aren’t any shadows creeping up on me,’ Trev replied. He was itching to activate The Twins to settle his nerves, but he wanted to conserve his energy reserves for the fight he knew was coming.
‘Sounds like all the fun’s upstairs,’ said Oscar. He’d switched on his aura and was outlined by its white glow.
On cue, there was a thunderous boom from above them. Mac’s shotgun, Trev thought. He couldn’t resist taking one shot at the shadows just to be sure that it wouldn’t work on them. Coloured light slanted down through the walkways as vapour weapons flared into life.
‘I’d keep your eyes down here,’ Oscar said.
Trev gave himself a mental kick. Oscar was right. He’d feel pretty stupid if a shadow caught him off guard because he was staring upwards instead of paying attention, although he wouldn’t feel it for long. He’d be dead.
‘Don’t look up there!’ Trev shouted to his companions. ‘Stay alert!’
The guards – almost all of whom had been distracted by the battle above – began guiltily shining their torches around the lower level. The sound of clattering footsteps and crackling vapour weapons on the first floor intensified. Following his own advice, Trev kept his eyes in front of him. He sidled towards Barton.
‘It’s all happening up there,’ he said to the Custodian when he reached him. ‘Any idea what’s going on?’
‘Mac says that one of the prisoners is down,’ Barton replied. ‘Two other shadows have attacked the guards but they’re holding their own so far.’
Trev nodded. ‘It’s quiet down here for now. Should we send someone to–’
‘Look out!’ Oscar bellowed.
One of the guards, a sturdy middle-aged woman wearing a Veil Security baseball cap, had wandered a couple of steps away from her partner. She had her back to an empty cell and although her torch was still aimed forwards, her eyes had become drawn to the walkway above.
There was a flicker of green from the cell behind her.
Oscar’s shout was mostly lost in the noise from the battle overhead, but the guard caught enough of it to turn in the cat’s direction. As she did so a shadow, its green eyes blazing in the darkness, emerged from the empty cell and grabbed her by the shoulders. She had enough time to register a surprised expression before the life went out of her eyes.
The shadow released her body and it fell face down. The creature stepped over it and moved towards the woman’s partner, a tall blond man. He’d also half-turned at the sound of Oscar’s shout, and looked back in time to see his colleague die. In the face of the shadow’s green gaze he panicked, dropping his torch and vapour weapon and scrambling away.
Trev’s weapons activated with a crack as energy flooded into them. He charged down the cell block, passing two pairs of startled guards who were only just waking up to what was happening in their midst. He jumped, swinging The Twins back over his shoulders. The shadow’s head snapped around and it raised its hands, but Trev was carrying too much momentum for it to properly defend itself. He landed between the shadow and its intended victim and slammed both weapons into the creature’s chest, augmenting the strike with a burst of energy.
The shadow was flung backwards into the cell door behind it. As a ghost, Trev had been expecting the thing to pass straight through the bars. It didn’t. Instead it hit with a dull, almost wet impact, as if someone had thrown an armful of sodden blankets at the cell. Its boneless body seemed to mould itself to the metal; even if it couldn’t pass through the bars like an “ordinary” ghost could, Trev reckoned that it was flexible enough to simply squeeze between them, like toothpaste oozing out of a tube.
‘What the hell?’ he said as the shadow peeled itself free of the cell door. ‘I thought these things were ghosts?’
‘They are,’ said Oscar, appearing at Trev’s side. ‘But not as we know them, obviously.’
The shadow regained its footing and faced Trev. He wondered if it might speak, as the Corbyn-shadow had, but it just glared at him. He took a step towards it, raising his weapons, and it fled inside the cell before disappearing into the wall.
‘I hate these bloody things,’ Trev spat.
‘Well at least we know their tactics now,’ Oscar said. ‘Some of them distract us with an obvious attack, while another blindsides us. All that noise upstairs was just a diversion.’
‘And two more dead,’ Trev replied, ‘which means two more shadows.’
Most of the guards had drifted over to where the dead woman lay. The blond man who’d partnered her was crouched by the body, holding her fallen cap in one hand. He was trembling. Another guard appeared with a blanket, which he used to cover the body.
As if to prove Oscar’s point about the shadows’ tactics, the battle on the walkway came to an end. A silence settled over the cell block for a moment or two before one of the prisoners began shouting, demanding to be let out.
‘Back into position!’ said Barton, striding up to the group. ‘They’ll be back, and soon.’
‘Give us a bloody moment, can’t you?’ snapped the blond man. ‘Someone just died here.’
‘We may not have a moment,’ Barton shot back, then softened his tone. ‘Believe me, I know how you feel. I’ve lost two of my own colleagues today. But if we aren’t prepared when those shadows return, there’ll be more deaths.’
Barton reached out a hand and the blond man allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. He laid the baseball cap on top of the blanket and retrieved his torch and vapour weapon. The guards returned to their positions, although Barton was on the receiving end of a number of poisonous looks. He ignored them and went back to talking into his radio.
Trev shut down his weapons to conserve energy and the fear and apprehension swept back over him in a rush. ‘I’m not convinced we’re going to last very long here,’ he confided to Oscar.
‘Even I’m scared, and I’m immortal,’ said the cat, though he didn’t sound scared. ‘I’m not used to dealing with an enemy I know nothing about.’
‘If they take their victims’ souls, maybe they could kill you,’ Trev said, annoyed at Oscar’s blasé attitude.
Oscar narrowed his eyes. ‘That’s not a very nice thing to say.’
‘Just trying to make you take this more seriously.’
‘Who says I’m not serious? I just do serious in a more light-hearted way than most.’
‘Right.’ Trev rolled his eyes and tried to concentrate on the darkened cell block, watching for any hint of green. ‘Any idea how the shadows can be… well, solid?’
‘I’m not sure, but I have a hypothesis,’ Oscar said. ‘Ghosts generally can’t hang onto very much psychic energy. Usually it’s just enough to keep the soul ticking over and present an image of themselves. These shadows, though, seem to be carrying a lot of energy. Like it’s been squeezed into them. That could be the key. You know how a gas can turn into a liquid if it’s compressed? Maybe it’s the same kind of thing.’
‘How would that happen?’
‘Must be something to do with how the thing lurking in the conduits creates them,’ said Oscar. ‘I’ll be honest, I’m pissing in the wind here.’
‘If they’re solid, it seems a bit unfair that bullets don’t work on them,’ Trev said.
‘They’re not that solid,’ Oscar observed. ‘It’s like shooting at a person made of jelly, or something. And you haven’t got a gun anyway.’