by Simon Clark
SIXTY-THREE
‘Run, Tom. Go away. Don’t come back. You’ve got to go now.’ Nicola oh-so-gently whispered the words. Her eyes were completely white apart from a black dot in the centre of each one. Those fierce pupils fixed on him. ‘You must go while I can still stop myself.’
‘Stop yourself from what?’
‘You know what, Tom. Hurting you . . . hurting you.’
Nicola stood near the church door. Her skin had become alabaster – a whiteness that was eerily luminous. While her veins were now the blackest of black.
He gripped hold of her hands. ‘You can still fight this. The Viking gods are finished. They aren’t worshipped any more, their temples have gone. They’re nothing. Please, Nicola. Don’t let them do this to you.’
‘I . . .’ She gasped with pain. ‘I don’t think I can stop this happening to me, Tom.’
Mrs Bekk’s eyes filled with tears as she witnessed her daughter’s transformation. This was agony for her. ‘I told you it would be like watching the death of someone you love.’
‘Mrs Bekk. We both love Nicola. Help me stop this happening to her.’
‘I can’t, Tom. There’s nothing we can do. Your bride is becoming a vampire.’
Chester watched in horror. He was flanked by the others in the church – Joshua, Phil, Rachel, and the rest. They were appalled. Bolter, on the other hand, rubbed his blistered face in glee. He could have been a man who’d just realized he’d won the lottery jackpot.
‘Get her out of the church,’ Bolter shrieked happily. ‘Get it out of here!’ He pulled open the big timber door. ‘Get that bastard monster off holy ground. That’s right, isn’t it, priest?’
‘We’ve got to help her.’ However, even Joshua sounded doubtful as he stared at those egg-like eyes of Nicola’s.
‘She’s a vampire. Get her out!’
Tom raised a clenched fist.
‘Go on,’ screeched Bolter. ‘Hit me again. Keep hitting me. But you can’t stop her becoming a vampire by beating me up, can you?’
‘He’s right,’ Chester said. ‘She’s changing by the minute.’
Bolter shoved his blood-smeared face towards Tom. ‘Everyone’s going to find out what the Bekk family really are. They’re a pack of dirty, disease-filthy vampires.’ His voice became gloating. ‘These two bitches are going to be locked away in some big laboratory. There’ll be iron bars, electric fences—’
‘Shut up.’ Tom got ready to punch that grinning face.
‘Scientists are going to sweat themselves into a frenzy when they get their hands on your wife, Tom . . . aren’t they just?’
‘I’m warning you!’
‘I’m only saying what these people are thinking – even the God-loving priest there. Scientists are going to autopsy that bitch of yours while she’s still alive.’
Bolter’s words stung Tom. He wanted to beat the brains right out of the man’s ugly head. However, Tom’s big problem was this: I know that Bolter is right.
Meanwhile, Bolter poured on the torture. The sadist enjoyed his moment of glory: ‘Listen, Westonby. The scientists and the doctors are going to carve up your pretty girl bit by bit. They’ll cut away her skin. They’ll pop out her eyes. They’re going to yank out her guts. Then they’re going to formaldehyde them, and they’re going to get all those bits of flesh that you love so much, slice ’em nice and thin, then whack ’em under a microscope.’ He laughed in Tom’s face. ‘And then they’ll make television documentaries about your beautiful vampire wife.’
‘No!’ Tom grabbed hold of Bolter and hurled him through the door.
Straight away, Tom went to Nicola, holding out his arms so he could protectively embrace her.
‘Don’t touch me.’ She flinched away from him. ‘You can never touch me again. It’s impossible.’
Bolter squealed as he stumbled back into the church: ‘Good news! The rescue team’s here. We’re getting off our poxy island. And the vampire bitch will be going straight to autopsy hell.’ He beckoned with a furious, hyper intensity. ‘Come-see! Come-see!’
Tom strode to the door where he flung Bolter aside. His heart pounded as all kinds of ideas stormed through his head: I can help Nicola. There must be a way to stop her turning into a vampire. We could stay in the church. Maybe sacred ground’s the antidote. Perhaps the vampire curse will burn itself out here. And Nicola will be my Nicola again . . . She’ll be OK . . . She’ll be saved . . .
The arrival of a rescue team would spoil everything. Yet if he could hide her away in the church, he might find the means to smash the Viking curse. Joshua would help him. Wouldn’t he?
Tom snuffed out the candles next to the door.
Chester was bewildered. ‘What are you doing, Tom?’
‘We can’t be rescued yet.’
‘Can’t be rescued? We want to be rescued!’
Joshua agreed. ‘Son, these people need warm food and sleep.’
Rachel hugged her children close. ‘Why not give Tom a little more time? He and Nicola saved us from that animal. We owe them the—’
‘No way in hell.’ Bolter was enjoying this. He finally had power over these people. ‘That vampire bitch’s got to be locked up.’ He smirked. ‘Won’t anyone think of the children?’
Tom looked out over the floodwater. Bright moonlight clearly revealed a rescue team dressed in orange survival suits. They carried inflatable boats downhill to the water’s edge. Soon they’d reach the church here on its island.
Maybe there’s still time to help Nicola before they arrive? After all, they’re bound to search the flooded houses before they come here. With that thought in mind, he gently closed the door – not wanting the bang of timbers to alert the rescuers.
‘What are you doing?’ Chester must have wondered if his friend had gone mad. ‘This isn’t a safe place, Tom.’ He shot a glance in Nicola’s direction that packed a hell of a lot of meaning. Meanwhile, her eyes acquired a hungry gleam as she watched the baby in Rachel’s arms. ‘We’ve got to signal those people with the boats.’
‘No.’ Tom shook his head. ‘Please wait a while. I really believe I can help Nicola beat this.’
‘Tom, are you crazy?’
‘You heard what Bolter said. He’s right. The government will lock Nicola away; they’ll do experiments on her. They’ll want to find out why she’s turned into . . .’ He sighed as words failed him. ‘Don’t you see? The military will cut her to pieces just on the off-chance they can find some way of making a weapon out of her.’
Chester said, ‘What if Nicola attacks the children? Can you live with that on your conscience?’
Tom pleaded with them, ‘Don’t draw the rescue team here yet.’ He snuffed out more candles, so the light wouldn’t be seen. ‘We can hold out until the morning. That gives me a few more hours to find out how to make Nicola human again.’
‘Just look at her, Tom.’ Joshua was trying to make him see what was obvious to everyone else. ‘Look at the skin. Look at her eyes. All the colour has gone. She’s already been transformed.’
‘I’m begging you. Don’t bring the boats here yet. Just give us a few more hours together . . . I don’t want to lose her.’
Rachel spoke up: ‘I’m frightened. I’m more frightened than I can say. But let Tom stay here until the morning. We must give them a chance.’
‘I have an office here in the church.’ Joshua was relenting. ‘Nicola could remain there. She’d be away from the children.’
Bolter sneered, ‘That gives her the chance to kill us all . . . or to turn us into her vampire pals – that’s how it works, doesn’t it?’
Chester appeared to be struggling with his conscience, then he sighed. ‘OK, OK, we don’t let the rescue team know we’re here. Give Tom and Nicola until morning.’
Bolter grabbed the flashlight from the table. ‘You’re a bunch of jerks. I’m going to bring those people over here – NOW!’ He brandished the flashlight. ‘Hey! Does anyone know how to spell SOS?’
Wi
th a screeching peel of laughter he raced towards the entrance to the tower. Seconds later, the clatter of his feet rang out as he ran up the spiral staircase.
Tom knew he had to catch up with Bolter. Whatever it took – the man must be stopped from bringing the rescue team to the church.
SIXTY-FOUR
Tom Westonby climbed through the hatch at the top of the church tower. The powerful stench of the flood hit him – that thick, dark soup of mud, river water, rotting plants and engine oil from the cars it had drowned. Moonlight seemed to blaze as bright as the sun. He knew this was an effect of the adrenalin pounding through his veins to ramp up his senses. Also, he clearly heard the lap of water. Soft clicking sounds, as if dozens of lips were gently kissing the gravestones in the cemetery below.
Bolter stood on the flat roof of the church tower. The roof itself was so small it could be easily crossed in eight paces. Tom’s heightened senses captured the scene. Bolter fumbled with the flashlight switch, trying to find the on-button. He was film on fast-forward. His movements were incredibly quick. They were totally uncoordinated, too. The thug must have gulped down a few of his pills on the way up here.
His jerky, high-speed hands suggested that those illegal, home-cooked amphetamines were roaring through his body. Bizarre muscle twitches made his blistered face look like a living creature that was completely separate from him. His mouth chewed the air, while his eyes bulged so far from their sockets they resembled sticky, wet domes.
‘How’d ya make this work?’ Bolter’s voice was a motor running out of control. ‘How d’ya switch it on!’
‘Give me the flashlight, Bolter.’ The moment the thug found how to work the on-switch would be the same moment that the rescue team saw the light at the top of the tower. They’d be here in moments. When they found Nicola they’d take her away. That was, if she didn’t attack them first . . . Either way, the consequences would be terrible. Tom would lose his wife of barely an hour. ‘Bolter. Don’t switch that thing on.’
‘I’ll do it!’ he screeched. ‘Those bastards over there won’t be able to miss this light when – whoosh! – it goes blazing out all over the place. They’ll come across . . . They’ll take your dirty bitch away . . . Damn it! How do you make this work? Do you press, or slide the switch?’ In nothing less than a wild frenzy, he tugged and pressed the switch. Sweat poured down his forehead. The eyes jutted from his face like they were just about to go pop.
Tom crossed the roof. He was determined to get the flashlight from him. He wanted to do this calmly, because if Bolter started yelling like crazy then the rescue team would certainly hear. Tom caught glimpses of people in fluorescent orange suits preparing the boats. Soon they’d fire up the powerful outboards.
Tom spoke gently: ‘Bolter. Please give Nicola a chance.’
‘Why should I?’
‘Your family haven’t always hated the Bekks.’
‘They have.’
‘Listen—’
‘We’ve hated them for a thousand years. The Bekk rats are thieves, liars, swindlers.’ He battled with the flashlight switch; his fingernails started to bleed. ‘Make this bastard work.’
‘I’m begging you. Give me this one chance to save Nicola.’
‘I know what you’re scheming. You want us to give her enough time to make the full change into a vampire. So she can rip out our throats.’
‘The Bekk family aren’t evil.’
‘You freaking idiot, Westonby. They conned you. Nicola Bekk duped you into marrying her, just days after meeting her. Witchcraft, man. They’re all evil.’
‘Mrs Bekk was engaged to your uncle.’
‘What!’
‘Didn’t you know?’
‘That’s a lie.’
‘They were going to get married.’
Bolter froze. The only part of him that moved was his face. Tremors ran through its flesh. Muscles actually vibrated under that blotchy skin, while the red blisters on his jaw seemed to pulsate like a row of strange little hearts.
‘Mrs Bekk told me.’ Tom spoke calmly, trying to damp down Bolter’s anger. ‘Your uncle loved her. If they’d been allowed, they’d have got married. Mrs Bekk would have been your aunt.’
‘Liar!’ Bolter lashed out.
The heavy flashlight slammed into the side of Tom’s face. The explosion of pain made him stagger. Even so, he tried to rip the flashlight from Bolter’s hands. But he found he couldn’t even keep his balance never mind tackle the thug. When the moon started racing around the sky that’s when he realized he was spinning.
I won’t be able to stop him. He’s going to signal the boats. The thought flowed through his head so clearly. He knew he’d failed Nicola. He wouldn’t have those precious hours that would have allowed him to find a way to break the curse. To stop her turning vampiric.
‘Bolter. Don’t . . . . please . . . you don’t have to . . .’ His voice slurred.
When Bolter grabbed him by the throat he couldn’t stop himself from being pushed back against the low wall that enclosed the roof of the tower. Seventy feet below him, the flooded graveyard gleamed in the moonlight. Tomb markers jutted up through the water. Rotting teeth of stone.
The blow had dazed Tom. He felt something wet running from a gash in the side of his face. Although he tried to stop Bolter from pushing him, his strength had gone. His knees were giving way.
Bolter rammed his bulging eyes right up to Tom’s. ‘Switch on the light for me, or I’m going to let you fall off the top of this bloody tower. Then: pop, pop, pop go Tom’s bones. Drip, drip, drip goes Tom’s blood. Gone, gone, gone goes poor Tom’s life.’
Tom panted; his head was spinning. ‘Bolter . . . no light. Give Nicola a chance.’
‘Nope. I’m going to watch you fall all the way down there.’ He grinned, and his breath had the same revolting stink as old milk. ‘After that, I’ll enjoy watching you lying there dead for a while. Then I’ll make this flashlight work. The light will bring those people across here. They’ll take Nicola Bekk away for her living autopsy. Snip here. Cut there. She’s going to suffer. Oh, I wish I could watch her there on the dissecting slab. Your wife’s gonna scream and writhe . . . Hmmm, lovely image, isn’t it?’
Bolter pushed Tom. There was nothing Tom could do to stop him. The blow had mangled his senses. He couldn’t make his arms work. His entire body was saggy, as if the life had already gone out of it.
‘Bye-bye, you tiny squirt of shit.’ Bolter’s words came in a slow ooze. He was enjoying this. ‘I’m going to watch you fall all the way down. Splat! This is going to be so amazing.’
‘Let him go!’
When Bolter heard the voice, he twisted his head back. Tom heard him gasp with shock. The man had seen something terrifying.
‘Don’t you dare hurt him!’
There – emerging from the hatchway and on to the roof – was Nicola. Her white face seemed to blaze in the moonlight. The blue had completely vanished from her eyes. A pair of vicious black pupils had fixed on Bolter.
‘You’re too late, vampire bitch.’ Bolter regained his bravado; or the drugs he’d swallowed regained it for him. ‘Tom’s taking flying lessons.’
Bolter pushed harder. Tom could feel himself begin to topple over the wall. Seventy feet beneath him lay hard ground that stood clear of the floodwater. His bones would shatter.
Bolter screeched with joy: ‘He’s going . . . I can feel it! The bastard’s going over!’
Nicola pounced. She didn’t touch Bolter. Instead, she grabbed hold of Tom. A second later she hauled him to the middle of the roof, well clear of the edge.
‘Bitch!’ yelled Bolter; then he came at her, swinging the flashlight as if it were a club.
Nicola moved faster. She flung herself at Bolter. He tried to scream, but she had the heel of her hand under his chin, and all he could manage was a feeble croaking sound. She pushed his head back as she forced him to the wall at the roof’s edge. She kept pushing until his back arched over the parapet. His feet sc
uffed and scraped at the roof as he tried to regain his balance.
Tom shook his head, trying to get rid of that dizziness. With a huge effort, he managed to rise to his knees.
Then he watched what his bride did next to the terrified man.
Nicola pushed harder – her hand under Bolter’s chin forcing his head right back. His throat rose into a thick, bulging curve of flesh. His veins plumped up. They were raised against the skin, clearly visible, and swollen with blood.
That’s when Nicola opened her mouth. Slowly, very slowly, she lowered her lips towards that plump, naked throat, which gleamed in the moonlight. She gazed at the throat in the same way that someone gazes at their lover’s face. Noticing the little details. A total adoration of each feature. In this case, Bolter’s veins, which stood proud of the skin.
She’s going to bite him. Tom stared in absolute shock. She wants his blood. The thought filled him with disgust.
‘Not Bolter,’ he gasped. ‘Not his . . . take mine.’ He managed to climb to his feet. ‘I’m your husband. You can have mine!’
With a snarl, Nicola suddenly stepped back. But only so she could rush forward.
She pushed Bolter.
Tom watched as the man toppled over the low wall. He didn’t have time to scream.
By the time Tom reached the edge of the tower Bolter had already slammed into the ground.
No . . . not quite. Tom’s eyes absorbed a deeply gruesome scene. The man hung suspended two feet or so above the earth. He’d landed face-down on a set of ancient iron railings that surrounded a group of tombs. Ornamental spikes had pierced his body; their rusty tips protruded from his back along the full length of his spine. Blood poured from his body to the ground where it trickled along one of the cemetery paths to eventually merge with the floodwater.
Bolter wasn’t a problem any more.
No. Nicola demanded his full attention now.
How am I going to save her?
SIXTY-FIVE
So this is it, he told himself. This is my chance to make everything alright.
Bolter lay impaled on the iron fence. The moon shone down on the water, and Tom Westonby stood with his bride on top of the church tower. He now had his golden opportunity. Joshua would help him find a way to break the curse of the Viking gods. A curse that had blighted the lives of the Bekk family for centuries.
