by steve higgs
I typed his name into google and had results a nanosecond later. There were a number of options, yet none of them were what I wanted. I tried again with a cross-reference for work history and opened a separate window for social media feed to see what I could find out about the person's friend group.
The work history listed a dozen firms going back over twenty years. Some periods of employment had been quite brief but I spotted what I had hoped to see instantly. I already knew the name of the firm because two of the victims had worked there. Mark Tanner and Erica Carpenter both worked at Inspirations Web Developers in the early nineties and so had Nigel Havers. It was enough to convince me I was right although I checked for more connections anyway. Ten minutes later I had found a link between him and more than half the people that had been targeted by the Klowns.
Nigel Havers. Better known as Obsidian Darkness. The man who had been most closely involved with the Vampire serial killer had escaped the Police and justice and was still on the run. Except he wasn’t running, he was attacking.
Back then he had been dating Angela Barclay. Now she was dead and so was the man she had started seeing after Nigel fled. She had been coming to see me. Had she known? Or just suspected? The victims were girls he had gone to school with, people he had worked with. People, who given the comparative ages were most likely in supervisory positions and had thus somehow caused the anger fuelling his determined spree of retribution. Was it really that simple? He was going after everyone that had ever upset him, or gotten away with some injustice in his eyes? No wonder I was high up on the list. He had been setting the Klowns to hurt girls that had spurned his advances, or dumped him years ago, targeting old bosses that had made him work, or pulled him up for being lazy. I was guessing, but between the lines, I knew I was right.
When the Vampire ran into a stake in the dark and died, I had wondered for days afterward whether any of the disbanded Brotherhood of the Dead would come after me, pay me a visit in the night but none had, and I had all but forgotten about them and about Obsidian Darkness. I had allowed myself to believe that he had left the area, if not the Country. It was what I would have done in his position. Yet he had recruited an army of maniacs that were coming after everyone that he perceived might have wronged him and I was high on that list as were Big Ben, Jagjit, Basic, Amanda, Frank, and Poison plus very possibly my parents. All of us had been involved in taking the serial killer and the wannabe vampires down.
Obsidian had reinvented himself, given himself a new name and had enough resource or money or whatever it took to stay out of Police custody for the last month. Where was he now though?
I turned the chair away from the desk and stood up. Then I remembered Sophie.
Oh, Lord. I had walked out on her, just abandoned her at a restaurant. She was unlikely to forgive me this time, but I had to call her and apologise nevertheless. I heard earned a good shouting at if nothing else. I needed to call the Police, but they could wait two minutes.
I walked over to the mini-fridge by the window. I kept milk and a couple of bottles of sparkling mineral water in it (plus two cans of ready-made G&T just in case). As I opened a bottle of water to quench my thirst, I called Sophie.
While I waited for it to connect, I took a long draft of the water. It was the first water I had drunk all day, most unusual for me as my normal routine involved several litres a day.
I heard the phone connect and Sophie’s voice. She sounded angry. ‘This had better be good, Tempest.’
I was staring out the window over Rochester High Street. The Blood Fest Halloween Festival was getting underway in the grounds of the Castle just around the corner. It had attracted a crowd that was beginning to build in numbers. People were going by in both directions, shops were open late, expecting a boost to their trade from the extra visitors. On the other side of the street was a figure half in and half out of the shadows. He stood out because in contrast to everyone else he was not moving, and I was staring because I could see enough of him to tell that he had on bright red trousers. On the top half was a grey hoody, the man's hands were tucked into the large pocket at the front. He was moving forward, coming into the light.
‘Tempest!' yelled Sophie, trying to get my attention. I disconnected. Staring up at me was a Klown's face shrouded in the hood of his top. From street level, no one would be able to see his make-up unless they looked directly at him. To avoid detection, all he need do is keep his head down and his hood up.
He grinned at me. Even beneath the crazy, garish Klown makeup, I could see it was Obsidian or Nigel or Deadface. Pick a name, he was going to jail regardless. I started moving but stopped. He was holding something up to show me. From the pocket of his hoody, he removed a pair of dog collars. They were mine.
I hit the door at the top of my stairs running full speed, nearly taking it off its hinges as I ripped it open. The stairs were a blur beneath my feet as I flew down them in two bounds and exploded out of the bottom door.
I skidded into the busy High Street having to dodge between people. Many of them paused to look at the crazy man. Obsidian was nowhere to be seen, exactly as I had expected. I jumped up onto one of the many benches that line Rochester High Street. However, the improved view over the heads of the crowd did nothing to reveal his position. I swung my head in every direction, checking the entrances to the many dark alleyways that led from the main road but there was no grey hood heading away from me in any direction that I could see.
I stepped down from the bench, my teeth gritted. I was mad now. If he had the dog collars then he had the dogs, which also meant he had most likely done something to my neighbour Mrs. Comerforth. I was going to push his teeth out with my foot. Or someone else's foot, or if I could find a way to do it, his own foot. If he had hurt my dogs I could not guarantee I would stop hitting him if I started.
I was by myself though and it was likely that Obsidian/Deadface was not. Basic was at home with his mum, Big Ben would be out shagging somewhere, Amanda was on duty… then I remembered that Frank and Poison were here. I had to find them. The crowd of people was thick and getting thicker. I wanted to run but the best I could achieve was a hasty shoving/slipping action to get between the families and groups of friends or couples holding hands. I was heading back to the office, which was not what I wanted to do but I had a spare set of body armour there and a feeling I would need it. I also had a stash of weapons that I badly wanted to get my hands on.
As I reached the bottom door to my office three seconds later, I saw that I had left the damned door open. Looking back, I should have anticipated what happened next, but at the time it came as a complete surprise. I charged up the first few stairs then felt the presence ahead of me. Our eyes connected, it was a Klown, but not Deadface. I heard a guttural growl escape my lips as I charged for him. He had the high ground and my attack made no sense, but I was beyond rational thought and I deserved what I got.
He grabbed both sides of the doorframe and raised both his huge Doc Martin boots to kick me. I feigned left then lunged right and caught both his legs on my shoulder. I was still coming up the stairs with all the speed I could muster which tipped him backward and onto the floor in my office.
He was down, and I was up.
But he wasn’t alone.
Three more Klowns were in the office but that was not the first thing I noticed. The prominent feature of my office was the stench of petrol fumes.
‘Too late, Tempest Michaels.’ said the one to my right. I turned to him thinking murderous thoughts. Brainless murderous thoughts of course because it was four on one and I had no chance. The first punch landed on the left-hand side of my face. It knocked me off balance more than it hurt me, but the next hit was on my jaw and probably from someone different to the person that delivered the first punch. I tasted blood and I went down to the floor, only holding myself up with one hand.
‘Survive this, dickhead.' I heard from behind me. They were going down the stairs, all of them. Fast.
Then
there was no air in my lungs and the air all around me was on fire. I hadn't seen the match they threw, but the fuel they had thrown about the place had caught as one and my whole office was on fire.
I was low to the ground, thankfully still close to the stairs. If I had wanted to do anything about the flames eating the walls of my office I could not have. The heat was instantly oppressive, and I needed to breathe – all the oxygen in the office was long gone. Survival meant escape. With no alternative, I propelled myself toward the stairs and in my confusion, I slipped and fell down the length of them.
I hit the bottom door with my head and fell through it and onto the cold pavement outside.
‘Christ! Are you alright, mister?’ asked a young voice from a few feet away.
It was followed by, ‘Come away, Tommy.’ From a woman’s voice.
I must look like a drunk rolling in the street. I forced myself to turn the right way up. Tommy was still looking back over his shoulder from between his parents as they guided him away.
‘Are you okay?’ asked a voice by my ear. I turned my head to see a set of men’s feet and looked up. He offered me his hand and helped me off the floor.
‘Thank you.’ I looked back up at my office on the first floor just as one of the windows cracked and flames licked out and upwards.
‘Fire!’ shouted a woman’s voice from somewhere behind me.
The crowd had spotted it now. People drawn by the spectacle were gathering at a safe distance. The man that had helped me to my feet was now tugging at my jacket, trying to pull me back as if he was concerned I might try to go back in to the burning building. I pulled away but offered him my hand to shake in thanks.
The office was gone. Nothing would escape the fire, but I had bigger issues. I needed to find Deadface and the rest of the Klowns and beat them to death. I started towards the Castle with the man calling me back and asking where I thought I was going. I rudely ignored him.
I pulled my phone from my pocket, thankful that I hadn't lost it in the scuffle upstairs. Who should I call? I had not the time or patience to explain this to the Police, so I called Amanda. As I did so, I was jogging through the crowd, sticking to the buildings where there were less people. I wanted to get to Frank and Poison. If they were here, they were in danger and were probably oblivious to it.
Amanda's phone continued to ring with no answer. I rounded the corner by the North Gate, so the Cathedral was now to my left and the Castle dead ahead of me. There were stalls set out all over. Frank and Poison were here somewhere, but there must be a hundred stalls and at least ten thousand people. I cut the phone off and shoved it back in my pocket. Then I pulled it out again, there was someone else I wanted to call.
He answered immediately. I had to cut him off as he started talking and I had no time to listen. I explained what I needed, listened as he promised to do what he could and I disconnected.
Frank's shop was behind me now as I came into the Castle grounds. I was betting they were at this end of the event. The Cathedral bell tower chimed for 2000hrs just as a PA from the stage delivered a short burst of feedback and an announcer started talking, welcoming one and all to the first annual Rochester Blood Fest.
The Big Fight. Friday, October 28th 2000hrs
I spotted Poison's blue hair through the crowd. An overhead light caught it for a split second. She was serving a customer, handing over a bag and smiling at them. Probably wishing them a horror-filled night or something. Their stall was facing towards me, comic books and memorabilia adorning the canvass rear wall and all over the table top front counter. It was sandwiched between a stall selling t-shirts and clothing, where I could see a pair of heavily tattooed and pierced ladies making a killing and a stall selling hospital blood bags that contained some kind of vodka cocktail. I barged through a small gap, heading directly towards Poison, then saw the grey hood step through the back of the stall where the canvass overlapped.
Back in the street, I could hear a fire engine making its way towards my office. The sound of its siren was bouncing off the walls of the old town's buildings, making its location hard to pinpoint but it was there somewhere.
‘Poison!' I bellowed at the top of my lungs. The sound was absorbed by the crowd around me. In my haste, I shoved a man over and left him behind me as I moved to the next obstacle. Ahead of me, Deadface lifted both hands above his head, a knife gleaming in each of them. The customer she was serving pointed to behind Poison, laughing just as the blades began to descend.
She thought it was all part of the evening’s entertainment!
Poison turned, screamed and ducked out of the way. I was nearly there. The twin blades dug into comic books on the front on the stall, piercing several of them which then came away attached to the knives when he yanked them back out of the wood.
Poison darted under his arms, kicking him in his side as she went. The customer, a young woman with her boyfriend was watching and enjoying the show. With three paces left until I would reach the stall, a gap in the crowd finally appeared. Deadface was chasing Poison and did not see me coming. I took two fast strides and leaped across the counter to tackle him around the waist.
I collided as much with Frank as I did Deadface though as he beat Deadface back with a shield he had produced from beneath the counter. The three of us went down to the floor which was about as dangerous as it could get. I had no idea where the knives were in relation to my body, but I had hold of something, so I hit it as hard as I could. I received a kick to the face that shoved me to one side. There was light above my face suddenly.
I looked up to see an arm with a cruel knife in it swinging towards me. Then the shield came over my eyes to deflect the blade with an audible clang. Frank had saved me! The shield swung up again smacking into Deadface's head. He went backward with the blow, following the motion and falling out through the back of the stall.
My phone started ringing.
I could hear clapping also. The damned crowd still thought it was a show! There were calls of bravo as Frank pulled me off the floor. I darted after Deadface but there was no sign of him, he had slipped away into the crowd. I could not pursue him alone and I knew he was after my friends. Back inside the stall, I pulled Frank into a bro hug and patted him hard on the back. We were hip deep in shit again. Behind Frank, Poison was kneeling on the grass straining hard to pull something out from underneath the counter. Whatever it was had some size and weight to it.
‘A hand here?' she asked, looking at Frank and me.
The crowd that had been stood in front of the stall were now beginning to disperse since there was no more street theatre to watch. Frank leaned down and together with Poison hauled out a large, solid oak-looking chest. It had a convincing padlock on the front hasp.
My phone rang again. I pulled it from my pocket while in front of me Frank was patting his pockets, he finally produced a large key from one of them.
Amanda’s name was displayed on my caller ID. ‘Amanda, we have Klowns at the Castle in Rochester. I need units here as soon as you can mobilize them. Deadface is here.’
‘I know, Tempest. I am on my way there already. The Klowns have attacked the Police that were assigned to you and all the others in uniform that were on duty at the event.’
‘The ones assigned…? Hold on. What are you talking about Amanda?' There had been Police following me? For what purpose?
‘Look, Tempest. I don’t have time to argue. Quinn thought you were the most likely target for the Klowns and has been having you watched and tailed for the last few days. The two plain-clothes guys were found fifteen minutes ago in an alleyway near your office. Both had been stabbed.’
That prick Quinn. He had lied to me and set me up.
‘Amanda, you knew about this didn't you?' I demanded. I was already angry, Klowns had tried to kill me or someone I knew twice in the last few minutes, my office was destroyed, my dogs had been taken goodness knows where and now I find out that Amanda and the Police have been using me as bait. She hadn't
answered. ‘Tell me the damned truth.' I shouted down the phone.
‘Tempest…' she trailed off. I disconnected. I had other things to focus on.
A scream lit the air. A few feet away a woman laughed having jumped at the sound of the scream. Her boyfriend was laughing at her. It was all very funny.
At my feet, Frank got the chest opened and showed me what he had inside. It was an arsenal. There were swords. There were knives of all sizes and shapes. There was a crossbow. There was a double-headed axe, FFS! Knuckle dusters, a taser or two. No firearms, but there was one item I was quite familiar with. I had used it just last weekend when dealing with the zombie hoard.
‘I threw that in at the last minute.’ Frank said. ‘I thought you might be pleased to see it again.’
I grinned as he handed it to me. I hefted it again, feeling the familiar weight. All I needed now was a Klown to hit with it. ‘My question, Frank, has to be, why do you have a chest full of medieval weapons under the counter of your stall?’
‘It seemed like a good idea.’ he answered with a shrug. ‘There have been so many Klown attacks, and they have come after you twice already…’
There was another scream and then another and suddenly the crowd woke up to the Klowns in their midst and started trying to get away. I heard a chainsaw somewhere. The screams were everywhere now, the crowd shoving each other in a bid to be somewhere else. The herd mentality was knocking over stalls and I saw opportunistic thieves grabbing things as they went past.
The people would be gone soon, they were running away from the Castle grounds and disappearing through the ancient North Gate in front of me. ‘Guys this is not a safe position.’ Frank and Poison were listening. ‘We need to keep the Klowns here until the people have escaped. They are after us.’
‘Why?’ asked Poison.
‘Yeah, why?’ echoed Frank.
‘Remember Obsidian the vampire-wannabe?’ The colour drained from Poison’s face as she remembered being kidnapped and drugged by him.
