by Raquel Lyon
I placed a consoling hand on his arm. “Then of course I’ll come.”
“Me too,” Beth said. “I’m not going to be able to concentrate in my lessons anyway. I’d probably get my ass kicked, and I’m not in any hurry for that.”
***
The funeral at Carleigh Cemetery was a solemn affair. It passed without ceremony or tears. Afterwards, the small group of friends and distant family broke up and departed in different directions.
I stared down at the brass plate decorating Lorn’s final bed. I’d seen far too many deaths since arriving in Fosswell, and I prayed that we wouldn’t be adding Jimmy’s to the tally too soon.
Sebastian’s arm drifted around my waist, steering me towards the car, and as I turned, I saw something out of the corner of my eye.
“I’m sure I have a stalker,” I said, staring past the nearby graves.
Sebastian stopped abruptly and followed my gaze. “What makes you say that?”
“I saw something—or someone. Over there, behind that statue. It must be half a dozen times I’ve seen someone watching me. I’m not imagining it.”
“I never said you were. But I can sniff out a human at two hundred metres. I promise you, there’s no one there.”
“I never said it was human.”
***
“I’m glad you’ve come. There isn’t much time, and I always think it eases a passing when loved ones are around,” the doctor said upon our arrival at Carleigh General. “It should be safe. He’s heavily sedated.”
“Thank you, Dr Shaw,” Sebastian said, then followed Beth and me through the doors Connor was holding open.
Jimmy was the only patient on the private ward. His lonely bed stood at the end of an empty row with the curtains drawn secretively around it.
Our approach was tentative.
“Let me check the state of play,” Sebastian said, grabbing a handful of material and poking his head around it. “Yeah, it’s okay. He’s asleep.”
A faded Jimmy lay wired up to machines and drips with his wrists and ankles shackled to the bed rails. Bubbles of saliva had oozed from the corners of his mouth. Dark curls rested on pale blue sheets, almost blending in with his skin tone, and his previously handsome face was barely visible behind the welts that disfigured it.
Sebastian spoke softly to Beth. “I’m afraid his condition has worsened since yesterday. He’s foaming at the mouth already. There’s no help for him now. Better say goodbye quickly.”
“I can’t do this,” she sobbed. “I thought I could, but I can’t.” She reached out to stroke Jimmy’s cheek, and a solitary tear trickled down hers, landing on Jimmy’s chin.
I stretched over to remove her hand just as Jimmy’s bloodshot eyes flew open, and with a snarl, he bit down hard on my wrist.
Sebastian was quick to react, rushing to prise Jimmy’s jaws away. “Can we get some help in here, please?” he shouted as he and Connor tried to contain the situation.
Too late. Jimmy’s sharp teeth had pierced my skin, and the pain kicked in.
Chapter Twenty-Five
THE DOORS flew open, and the doctor rushed in accompanied by two orderlies. By the time they reached our end of the ward, Sebastian had successfully levered Jimmy’s jaws away from my wrist, and Jimmy had flopped peacefully back against the pillow.
But I wasn’t peaceful. I was in pain—mega-pain. Blood seeped from the bite wound and began dripping down my arm.
Dr Shaw took one look at the damage, eased me onto the neighbouring bed, and instructed one of the orderlies to collect supplies. “Lie back and try to relax. We need to get this seen to,” he said.
“I’m okay,” I managed to murmur. But the room started to spin, and my vision flickered in bright changing colours. It was like viewing the world through 3D glasses, closing each eye in quick alternation.
“You know what Mr Lovell is and why he’s here. Those are two very good reasons to tend to this immediately.” The doctor was insistent.
I stole a look at Beth’s worried expression. I knew what she was thinking, and I was beginning to wonder myself.
“It’s not as bad as you think, Doc,” Sebastian said. “Sophie’s a tenderfoot, so I doubt that the strain will pass to her, and the virus only strikes our kind. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
I didn’t feel fine. My arm felt as if it were on fire, stiff and immobile, a leaden weight pulling on my shoulder and pulsating with shooting pains from my wrist to my elbow. It took away my breath and made me want to hurl. But as the doctor wiped the blood away from the wound and placed strips of butterfly stitches over the worst cuts, the pain began to subside and normality slowly returned.
“See how quickly she mends,” Sebastian said proudly.
“Amazing,” the doctor answered. “I’d love to study her further.”
“In your dreams, Doc.”
“Seb?” Connor interrupted. “Look.”
Everyone’s attention quickly turned from me and fixated on Jimmy.
“How strange. It seems today is the day for miracles,” said the bemused doctor, rounding the bed to study Jimmy’s printout. “His vital signs have stabilised. I wouldn’t believe it if I weren’t seeing it with my own eyes.”
“I would,” Connor said. “Some of us have been on the receiving end of Sophie’s healing powers before.”
And all eyes were back on me. “What?” I said. “What are you all staring at?”
“It’s you. You’re the cure. Or should I say, your blood is,” Sebastian said, amazed. “I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me earlier. All this time we’ve been searching, and the solution’s been right under our noses. The power of healing is your gift, Sophie. It’s the reason you were chosen. You will heal the world.”
“Exaggerate, much?” I puzzled, but Sebastian was so excited he wasn’t listening.
“I need to phone Father. We’ll get started on a new antidote tomorrow, but right now—let’s celebrate.”
“I want to stay with Jimmy,” Beth said.
“Let him get some rest, eh? You’ll see enough of him soon.”
Beth sighed and resigned herself to leaving. “Okay,” she murmured before giving Jimmy a kiss on the cheek.
Outside the hospital, the boys were in a good mood. “Fancy a race?” Sebastian asked Connor.
“Bring it on, dude.”
And before I could protest, Beth and I were swept off our feet. We arrived at the club seconds later. Tyron’s Porsche was parked down the side street again, and I tried to draw Sebastian’s attention to it, but he was too high with happiness and deep in excited conversation with Connor to pay my observations any heed.
The club was dead, quieter than I’d ever seen it, but then I’d never been there so early. Muted easy-listening music was wafting from the speakers, an old man was sitting at a corner table reading the sports pages with a half-drunk pint of beer at his side, and a middle-aged woman was propping up the bar, nursing an empty shot glass. She motioned to Martin for a refill. He was busy changing the optics but stopped to pour her another measure disapprovingly.
“Champagne, Martin,” Sebastian ordered, approaching the bar and climbing onto a stool.
I touched Sebastian’s back. “Back in a minute. I need the loo.”
“Sure, babe. Make it your best, mate, none of that cheap fizzy crap. Okay?”
Sebastian’s attention never left Martin, but Connor looked up at me and smiled. I felt his gaze follow me all the way to the door.
I made my visit as brief as possible. For some reason, prickles on the back of my neck wouldn’t go away. But in my hurry to get back, I flung the bathroom door open and ran straight into the side of one of Tyron’s men.
He sniffed deeply. A look of satisfaction filled his black eyes, a chilling grin widened above his square jaw, and his arms enveloped me like a great steel cage. Before I knew what was happening, my feet were scraping along the carpet as I was physically dragged down the corridor to the office.
Vincent was
sitting at his desk, tapping away on his laptop with Tyron bent over his shoulder, pointing at something on the screen.
Tyron looked up as we entered. “Durus. You’ve brought me a pet. How kind.”
“Yes, Master. A foxy one, too, if you know what I mean. The kind that you’ve been seeking,” Durus said with satisfaction as he deposited me in front of the desk.
“Reeaally! You’re sure we have the right one this time?”
“Oh, yes, Master. That exotic beauty was very tasty, but this one is positively mouth-watering.”
“Thank you, Durus. You’ve done well. I shall see that you are rewarded. Sophie, you’ve been keeping secrets from me. Quite well, too, it appears. This changes things somewhat. It seems you will be required for more than just one night of pleasure.”
A look of shock and realisation passed over Vincent’s face. Tyron encircled me, lifting my hair and peering into my eyes. I felt sure he could see into my very soul.
“Yes, I knew there was something special about you. A human girl would not have resisted my advances. Your particular talents will be of great use to our cause. I see now why the Lovells are so protective of you.”
Fear made my heart hammer madly in my chest, and my brain spun with possible scenarios for escape, none of them feasible.
Vincent stood up suddenly. “No. Not Sophie. Leave her out of it.”
“Silence.”
Vincent rounded on his brother. “No, I won’t be silent. I won’t let you make her a part of your little games.”
“Stay out of it, little brother. It’s none of your concern.”
But Vincent wouldn’t let it drop. He pulled at Tyron’s collar, clenching his other fist to throw a punch. “She’s not part of this. You can’t take her.”
His fist flew. It was a fruitless attempt. Tyron caught the blow before it made contact and shook his head.
“Tut, tut, Vincent. I’ll miss you, but, hey, whatever.” And in one swift move, Tyron twirled Vincent to his chest and snapped his neck.
I stood welded to the spot with shock as Vincent’s body crumpled at my feet. He might have been a Reith, but he’d never treated me with anything but respect, and I’d begun to like him. Now he was dead…because of me.
“You bastard!” I stared coldly into Tyron’s eyes.
“Actually, he was.” Tyron glanced uncaringly at his brother’s corpse. “Father never should have kept him.”
“But how could you? Your own brother.” I knelt down and stroked Vincent’s lifeless head. My tears welled and fell silently upon his face.
“How touching. Be thankful I made it quick. I may not be feeling quite so generous when your dog-eared boyfriend comes searching for his bitch.” He took a step forward and roughly grabbed my arm, then dragged me up and towards the exit. “Better get going, actually, before your absence is noticed. Durus, start the car.”
Moments later, the Porsche screeched into motion, and the smell of burning rubber filled my nose, creating an immediate headache. Tyron pushed me forcibly between his legs into the footwell, his hand encircling my neck in a vice-like grip. I feared imminent asphyxiation. Talons sprouted from his fingertips and forced me to relive the nightmare of that night.
“Where are we going, boss? Home? Your real home, I mean?” Durus asked.
“No. No, we can’t take her to Vira. Her powers would be too great there. Carwick will do just fine,” Tyron answered. “She can be contained there. I’ll find her a cosy little dungeon to stay in.”
Dungeon? Did he say dungeon? Oh, God, I had to escape…somehow.
Tyron’s yellow talon pressed like a knife against my throat. It would surely pierce my skin if I moved, and I didn’t need another scar to add to my collection. And what was that he’d said about my powers? I contemplated his words for a moment, and all became clear.
Memories of all the times I’d tried to use my powers and they’d failed me. Every one of those times had been here in Fosswell. I could heal, that was certain, but the times I’d been of any real use had been in other realms.
Reality hit. The pendant was no good to me. I had no special abilities to aid my escape. I needed the boys. But how long would it be before they noticed I’d gone? And even when they did, how would they know where I was?
As if on cue, a loud thud shook the car, and it jerked violently before swerving back to its course.
“What the…?” Tyron turned to see the reason for the thud and let out a heavy sigh. “I should have known. Lovell.”
Lovell? Thank god, Sebastian had come to my rescue.
But from my restricted vantage point, I strained my neck up to see Connor spring from his landing place on the back of the car. His eyes glowed with rage, and he grabbed Tyron by the throat. Tyron quickly released his grip on me to defend himself, throwing punches and wrestling Connor over the back of the seat. One punch connected. Connor was thrown backwards, and he barely managed to grab hold of the spoiler. Rays of fire shot from Tyron’s eyes, missing Connor by inches and melting the metalwork of the rear wing. But Connor was quick to recover. He bounded up and landed on top of Tyron so hard that his head hit the dashboard, and my view was obliterated by his back.
I cowered, listening to the vicious roars and growls as the tussle continued. They sounded like wild animals vying for supremacy and ripping each other’s throats out.
Suddenly daylight emerged when the fight moved to the rear of the car. Both men were unrecognisable as their former selves, and I held my breath as they rolled onto the small metal area.
Connor appeared to have the upper hand; he’d pinned Tyron down and was opening his huge jaws in readiness. But Tyron fought back, heaving Connor away and throwing him off the back of the car. My heart sank when I heard a dog-like whimper immediately before a screech of brakes and a dull thud. I scarcely had time to witness the truck swerve and one tyre crush Connor’s body before Tyron forced me back down and resumed his hold on me.
“Nice one, boss,” congratulated Durus.
Tyron’s handsome mask returned, and it grinned.
I felt sick. I couldn’t breathe, and my throat was dry. Tears stung the back of my eyes and began to form pools behind my lower lids.
Connor was dead.
Chapter Twenty-Six
PAST THE OUTSKIRTS of Fosswell, the canopy of trees over the road grew denser along our route to Abertreath. I didn’t dare think about my destination. Memories of previous visits to the coastal town were happy ones. Our family used to take caravan holidays there, back when dad was alive and we had a bit of spare cash. Something told me my future memories would be rather more depressing.
I watched the pale evening light flicker through gaps in the branches until it faded into darkness and a moonless night descended.
I lost track of time. I didn’t care what happened to me anymore. All I could think about was Connor, and how he’d been there for me, again. And now he was gone. It was all my fault.
Above me, the trees thinned, and interlocking fingers of cloud parted to reveal a glaring full moon, making the silhouettes of twisted tree branches look like the shadow monsters of my childhood.
The car slowed. I guessed we’d arrived.
The smell of the ocean wafted on the breeze. Huge iron gates creaked open, and the sight of a large stone-pillared gateway passed by.
Carwick Castle dominated the cliffs at the north end of Abertreath. It was dark and foreboding. The high stone walls had stood for centuries and had seen many battles. The whole building could have been a film set for a fang-banging horror movie. Indeed, I remembered it being the setting on more than one occasion for a campfire ghost story. It was a steep, winding climb to the entrance before the car stopped.
Tyron yanked me from the footwell and threw me at the waiting men. The circle closed around me, and they bared their teeth in anticipation of a tasty meal.
“Straight to the dungeon with her. Touch her and I’ll kill you,” Tyron ordered.
Their disappointment was clear.
One of the men picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, and a couple of minutes later, I was brutally discarded into a waiting cell. The barred door slammed shut, and I turned to see my jailer securing the lock with a smug smile of satisfaction.
“I’ll look forward to tasting you later,” he said, licking his lips.
A moaning sound, followed by whispered pleas of mercy, came from somewhere to his left. I wasn’t the only occupant in these confining walls.
“Quiet in there, or today will be your last. There’re plenty more where you came from,” the vamp barked before he vanished in a swirl of mist up the facing stone stairway.
“Hello? Hello? Who’s there?” I called.
I peered over to the cell diagonally opposite mine, sure that the sound had come from there. A faint rustling noise increased in volume, and a wretched-looking girl emerged from the shadows.
“They…g-got…you…t-too?” she sobbed.
Her clothes were torn and dirty, and her long blonde hair was matted in clumps. I squinted in the dim light of the dying fire torch, and only then did I notice the bite marks, all in varying degrees of healing, covering her skin.
“How long have you been here?” I asked.
“I…don’t know. I…came here for…for a hen party with my…friends. That’s where I met him,” she stammered.
“Who? Tyron?”
She nodded slowly. “H-he was so charming. I couldn’t resist. He brought me back…here. I thought he liked me, but…he just wanted us for food, for…them.” She began to sob again.
“Us? There are more of you?”
“My friend, Tina. She was here…with me, but they took her again last night, and she…she didn’t come back.”
That didn’t sound good. Was I her replacement?
“What’s your name?”
“Kerry.”
“Listen, Kerry. We’re going to get out of here, okay? Don’t give up. I have some very special friends, and they’ll be looking for me by now,” I said, praying that I was right.
The cell stank with a musty, mouldy smell, worse than an old mop left damp and festering. The stone floor was scattered with straw, and a tatty, stain-covered blanket lay on a pile of it in the corner. There was a small opening high in the outer wall, and I balanced my foot on a protruding stone to climb up and peer through it.
