by Simon Clark
Whenever Tom entered an English church, which might have stood for over a thousand years, he felt as if he was walking into a storehouse that had gathered a quiet power into itself. This feeling of his didn’t flow from any particular religious faith. For Tom, it seemed as if the ancient stone walls had soaked up the emotions of the people that had worshipped and married under a roof that had weathered many centuries of brutal storms.
Tom watched over Nicola as she slept on a long bench at the back of the church. Meanwhile, Joshua, in his gleaming priest’s collar and white spectacles, quietly lit the candles. These were tall columns of cream-coloured wax that stood in brass-candlesticks as high as his shoulder. He also lit a pair of candles that stood at each end of the altar. Soon a pleasantly soft glow filled the church.
Although Tom hadn’t been inside St George’s before, it still had a familiar air. The building followed the pattern of many a traditional rural church. A central aisle led through bench-style pews to the altar beneath the main stained-glass window. The roof was supported by huge archways of stone. Lining one wall were the medieval tombs; these took the form of oblong sarcophagi, with carvings of their occupants lying on top: lords and ladies in pale marble. The figures lay on their backs, hands pressed together on their chests in prayer.
Tom watched the Reverend Joshua Gordon Squires glide through the church. He lit yet more candles that flanked the aisle. Their light gleamed on the dark skin of his shaved head. The man resembled an ebony angel: one that radiated an aura of protection.
This was a likeable man. A trustworthy and dependable one, too.
‘What you saw out there in the floodwater was Helsvir.’ Tom spoke softly. ‘Nicola’s family believe Helsvir is a Viking dragon created out of the bodies of human corpses. The god Thor ordered it to become the guardian of the Bekk family.’ Tom waited for Joshua’s reaction.
Joshua beckoned Tom to sit beside him on a bench near the wall. Above their heads was the stained-glass window of St George fighting the dragon. A halo shone around the knight’s head as he drove the lance into the monster’s body.
Joshua plaited his thick, muscular fingers together then spoke in that deep voice of his: ‘You thought I’d dash ridicule all over that statement of yours, didn’t you?’
‘Viking gods. Dragons made from dead men. It takes some digesting.’
‘And I will digest it – I will. Why should I ridicule the gods of ancient Europeans when I believe that my Saviour is born of a Virgin? That He died on the Cross, and that three days later He rose from the dead.’ He pointed at the image of St George. ‘I am the parish priest of a church dedicated to the patron saint of England. St George killed the devil dragon. If I was to doubt what you tell me, then I would poison my belief in the goodness of that man.’ He touched his white collar. ‘Tom, it is my life’s work to believe in remarkable events, miraculous individuals, and I believe that pure evil can manifest itself in our world as a living creature.’
‘Like Helsvir?’
‘Yes, my friend, just like Helsvir.’
‘Then God help me. I don’t know if I’ll have the courage to fight it.’
‘Let me tell you about courage. It’s not about doing some flash-bang heroic act. Courage is about steadfastly holding on to what you love and what you believe in.’
‘But when it actually comes to fighting that thing . . .’
Joshua spoke softly; his words had a mesmerizing power. ‘When I was a teenager I did crazily bad things. I thought I was brave stealing booze from supermarkets, throwing punches at policemen. Then, when I was seventeen, my mother died. After the funeral I came home and found my mother sitting on the sofa . . . and the ghost of my mother asked me this question: “Joshua, when are you going to have a change of heart?” After that, I did the bravest thing I’ve ever done. I went to church. I listened to hymns and to prayers . . . and that’s when I got even braver. Me, big bad Joshua Gordon Squires cried and cried until I couldn’t shed another tear. After that, I found my real courage – and that was the courage to have a change of heart.’ He fixed Tom with a stern gaze. ‘If you tell me, Thomas Westonby, that you don’t believe I saw the ghost of my dear, beloved mother, I’ll smack your head right over that altar.’ He smiled warmly. ‘Now, you tell me what’s been happening to you.’
Tom told him everything. How he’d seen Nicola dipping her feet in the spring-water pool in the garden, and how after that first sight of her he’d followed her into the wood, where he now realized he must have had the first bruising encounter with Helsvir. Yet, for some reason the monster had spared his life. Joshua listened patiently as Tom described Chester Kenyon’s reaction to his relationship with Nicola, and that Chester claimed she had deep-rooted mental problems. What’s more, the village as a whole believed she was insane. In fact, they didn’t even believe she was capable of speaking. He went on to describe Nicola’s torment at school. That her own mother had convinced her that Danby-Mask hated the Bekk family, and that its population were only biding their time before they killed the last of the Bekk line. That as a child, Nicola even found it terrifying to walk by the church.
‘Tom, you’ll recall that I confessed that I am open-minded. I want you to know that I believe you.’
‘Thank you. Most people wouldn’t – and I’m sure that would include priests, too.’
‘Ah, I am not your typical parish priest. My bishop often exclaims: “Joshua. You’re a maverick. You run your parish in such a way that would make other priests fall down in shock. But I like you, Joshua. Yours is difficult work, but you win success after success.” So yes, Tom, I am a strange priest and an indisputably eccentric fellow, as my bishop and my wife would both verify. Yet with all my heart I strive to do what is right. Even if I do achieve that rightness in unorthodox ways. Do you follow?’
‘You’re saying the ends justify the means?’
‘Exactly, my friend. Take Mrs Bekk. I know the lady tried to burn down this beautiful church. All that happened before I moved here, yet I know she resorted to such desperate action through some misplaced sense of revenge against the village. Even so, it took me a long time to get to the bottom of this vendetta. The people of Danby-Mask are very secretive. That secrecy is a result of their shame at the spiteful ways they try to harm family Bekk.’
‘They don’t show much shame when they shout abuse at Nicola, or beat me up for being with her.’
‘Which is very wrong of them. However, I have been quietly plotting in a most benevolent fashion. I am endeavouring to heal the rift between family Bekk and Danby-Mask. Slowly, but surely, I have won most of the villagers round. I’m persuading them to stop bullying the family. Nevertheless, there are still a few violent and stupid men who continue to behave badly. But, eventually I will succeed. I have absolute faith in bringing the villagers and this lady and her mother together as friends.’ He solemnly nodded in the direction of Nicola as she lay fast asleep on the bench.
They continued their conversation in the candlelit church. Joshua’s dark eyes never left Tom’s face. Tom felt good talking to the priest; as if he was at last able to release secrets that had troubled him. And as he put into words what Nicola meant to him, he really began to feel the depth of his emotion for her. He explained that he’d fallen in love with Nicola. That he’d never met anyone who could match her personality. And that he was determined to marry her.
Joshua glanced at where Nicola lay sleeping on the bench. ‘Does the lady want to marry you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then who can stop you being married?’
‘Everyone.’
‘Everyone?’
‘My friend Chester’s against it. My parents are against it, because they believe the lies they’ve heard about Nicola being mentally impaired in some way. Mrs Bekk warned me there’ll be terrible consequences if I marry her daughter.’
‘Do you believe there will be?’
‘Before I marry her I think Helsvir will hunt me down.’
‘It rea
lly is so dangerous?’
Tom sighed. ‘I’ve seen what Helsvir can do. That thing rips people to pieces then adds them to its own body. With everyone it kills it grows bigger. Stronger.’
‘Does this lady’s mother control the animal?’
‘No. Nicola does. Or at least she’s in control for part of the time.’
Joshua gave a faint smile. ‘Problem solved. Wake Nicola; ask her to send Helsvir away forever.’
‘I wish the solution was that simple.’
‘Oh? Isn’t it?’
‘Nicola takes control of Helsvir when she’s in a trance. That’s the twist here, Joshua. She doesn’t even believe it’s real. She thinks the monster’s just a family legend. But she’s the one who commands it, even though she’s commanding it when she’s asleep.’
‘I see. Then you have to find a way to slay the beast. Just like our St George.’
‘If I do, there’s another line of defence stopping me from making Nicola my bride.’
‘So the pagan forces that both protect and entrap the Bekk family have been very cleverly devised.’
Tom gave a grim nod. ‘Should I somehow find a way to get rid of Helsvir and leave the valley with Nicola, then it triggers a curse. Nicola will undergo a transformation. Mrs Bekk warned me that Nicola would become inhuman. In fact, she’ll become what amounts to be a vampire.’
‘A vampire?’
‘I’ve seen her brothers and sisters. They suffer from the same condition. They’ve turned into these strange white figures that . . .’ He gave a helpless shrug. ‘That, for the want of a better word, haunt the forest. They only appear at night, and they drink the blood of animals.’
‘And no doubt people, if they get the opportunity.’
Tom ran his fingers through his hair. A feeling of utter desperation gripped him. ‘You see, Joshua, there’s nothing I can do to save Nicola. She’s trapped.’
Joshua put a hand on Tom’s shoulder; a gesture of reassurance. ‘Human beings have clever minds . . . We are far cleverer than we suppose. We must use our minds like we’ve never used them before. We need to outsmart this pagan magic.’
‘How?’
‘First of all, let us sum up the situation. One: you love Nicola. You intend to marry and leave this place.’
‘If that’s what she wants.’
‘OK. But, item two: there is an obstacle. This creature called Helsvir is programmed to prevent that happening. If it kills you, Nicola will lose the love of her life and will stay here with her mother. Item three: there is an additional obstacle. If you escape with Nicola, and so put yourselves beyond the reach of Helsvir, the curse of being transformed into a vampire is activated. Nicola will become this undead creature and will return to the valley, just as those ancient gods wish.’
‘Which means I can never win. Even if I destroy Helsvir, the vampire curse claims Nicola anyway.’
‘You’re a fighter, Tom. So fight!’
‘But I’ve seen the kind of creature she’d turn into. A walking corpse. A lump of bone and meat that doesn’t have thoughts and feelings. It would be better if I left without her.’
‘Tom. Fight for the woman you love – and who loves you.’
‘How?’
‘Remember what I told you, Tom. Human beings are smart. If you want to be with this woman for the rest of your life, you must figure out a way to beat Helsvir and beat the vampire curse.’
The silence after Joshua had spoken lasted for only a second. Then there was a piercing scream.
Nicola had woken up. Her wild, terror-struck eyes gulped in her surroundings. Then she saw the huge stained-glass window of St George slaughtering the dragon.
Before Tom could reach her, she’d raced through the church door and out into the dangerous night.
FIFTY-SIX
Outside the church there was the flood, moonlight and madness.
Tom followed Nicola when she fled in panic. The church had frightened her as a child. So when she woke to find herself in St George’s beneath the looming image of the knight impaling the dragon she must have felt as if her mind would explode in sheer terror.
There weren’t many places she could run. The church stood on an island created by the flood. A fringe of dry earth perhaps ten feet wide ran around the building. Nine tenths of the graveyard had been drowned. Moonlight revealed the uppermost tips of tombstones, sticking up above the surface. Beyond the graveyard were the village roads, resembling canals – flanking those, the flooded houses.
As for Nicola, she was nowhere in sight. The nightmare scene of the flooded landscape must have pushed her even deeper into panic. He only hoped she hadn’t blundered into the water. Fierce currents whirled cars and whole trees along the street. If she’d gone into that torrent, she wouldn’t stand a chance.
‘Nicola? It’s alright. It’s me – Tom!’ He ran round the church, following the strip of dry land that hugged the walls. ‘Nicola!’
Bright moonlight illuminated the way ahead. But he still couldn’t see her. When he sped round the end of the church what he did see immediately was the second boat that Joshua had mentioned earlier. A dozen people were crammed on to a small dinghy; Chester Kenyon worked the oars; Mrs Bekk sat in the prow.
Then all hell broke loose. Suddenly, a plume of white sprayed into the air fifty yards behind the boat. The explosion of water looked like a bomb going off, churning up a mass of bubbles, and from those bubbles a pale object surged towards the boat.
Chester saw it, too. He began rowing as hard as he could in the direction of the church island. Tom couldn’t stand there, waiting to see what the outcome would be. Though images of what Helsvir could do to that fragile boat, and its occupants, burned with a monstrous brightness in his head.
I’ve got to find Nicola, he told himself. If she goes into the water she’ll drown.
The strip of land took him to the far side of the church. That’s when he saw her. As she ran, she desperately searched for a way off the island. What’s more, she was scared out of her wits.
‘Nicola!’
Either she didn’t hear, or she was so panicked she couldn’t stop, because she ran a full circuit of the church. When she reached the main door at the base of the tower that’s when she did stop. In stunned horror, as if incapable of deciding whether this was reality or nightmare, she stared at the boat, heading towards her in the moonlight.
Nicola had also seen the creature that sped through the water – a purposeful torpedo of a thing, aimed directly at the craft. The creature radiated a predatory menace. This was the savage hunter in pursuit of its prey.
In a daze, she turned to Tom. ‘What is that thing?’ she breathed.
‘Helsvir.’
She gave a startled laugh. ‘Helsvir? Tom, that’s just a family legend. It’s not real.’
‘Helsvir is real,’ he told her. ‘And you’re wide awake . . . This isn’t a dream.’
Nicola’s blue eyes went incredibly wide. Her mouth gaped in astonishment. But here was the evidence in front of her: Helsvir. The creature was real. It was a muscular mass of arms, legs, torsos – all fused together into a weapon of vengeance, fury and destruction.
Nicola reached out to Tom. She clung to him fiercely as she watched the horror unfold.
A tall man grabbed a pole from inside the boat. At that precise moment the creature began to submerge itself beneath the liquid blackness. However, its position was marked by the churn of white bubbles as it swam. Now it only occasionally broke the surface, allowing a glimpse of a naked arm, or the flash of a stark, white face in the spray.
The people on board were screaming. Chester rowed as hard he could, driving the tiny vessel in the direction of the graveyard. Abruptly, the boat lurched. For a moment it looked as if it would roll over, then the little vessel righted itself.
A line of white foam revealed where Helsvir circled round for another attack.
The tall man used the pole to strike at where he hoped the creature would be underwater. The
tip of the shaft sent up glittering splashes as he tried to land blows on the attacker. All of a sudden, the man was struggling to tug the pole free. A dozen hands had erupted from the water to grab hold of it. Helsvir was fighting back.
The next second, the tall man toppled off the boat into the water. Bobbing there, he shouted for Chester to come back for him. Suddenly, his shouts became screams. The expression of agony on his face was clear at this distance. Beneath the surface those deadly hands would be breaking the man’s legs. He yelled in agony once more, then vanished – pulled down into the nightmarishly dark waters.
Chester did not stop. His head rose and fell as he pumped those shafts of wood. The boat shot over the submerged cemetery wall.
Meanwhile, a crimson stain briefly appeared on the water’s surface. Tom knew that Helsvir would be breaking its victim apart before performing that secret rite of weaving the dead man’s body parts into its own body. With every victim it grew more powerful.
And there were plenty of potential victims tonight.
Chester made good progress. The loss of one of his passengers had at least given them vital moments to escape. The problem was that he couldn’t see the reef of gravestones just beneath the surface. Almost immediately, the boat became caught on a stone cross.
Nicola clung to Tom. He felt her tears soak through his shirt to his chest.
‘They’re going to be killed, Tom. Help them!’
He saw a series of slab-like tombs that lay level with the surface of the water. ‘Go back into the church,’ he told her.
She shook her head. ‘No. Never!’ The place obviously filled her with dread.
‘OK, stay here. But don’t follow me.’ With that, he bounded across the stone slabs as if they were stepping stones.
The people in the boat fought to free it. And just behind them, Helsvir arrived. It could be clearly seen as it hauled itself over the cemetery wall: a massive body of corpse flesh, a whale-sized creature studded with human heads. From each head there were wide eyes that stared with cold hunger in the direction of the boat. New victims. Fresh meat.
