Her Vampyrrhic Heart

by Simon Clark

  ‘Don’t take us into the river!’ Tony shouted. ‘It’s deeper than you think. We’ll be drowned!’

  Tony thought that he, Anita and Luke, poor mutilated Luke, were going to be carried across the Lepping.

  Then he knew that wouldn’t be the case. Because he now saw his mirror image in the water. In fact, he saw dozens of faces there. The sight was so extreme, so astonishing and so terrifying that he was too shocked to close his eyes.

  Tony stared at the monstrous body reflected there. Picture a whale that walks on human legs. Lots of bare human legs. He described the creature to himself in a cold way that lacked emotion. Shock had, for now, separated him from reality, so he could view this vile thing dispassionately. The whale-creature is over thirty feet long. Protruding from its body are arms. These are in motion, almost like the tentacles of an octopus. Most striking of all: the heads. The heads are connected by human necks to the whale (or whale-like) body.

  ‘And I’m part of it,’ he said aloud. ‘I’ve become part of the monster.’

  The other heads near him began to scream. He glanced from left to right at the heads of the men and women who’d been with him on the minibus. Luke screamed the loudest of all when he saw his reflection in the water. He’d realized, at last, that his head now lacked a face.

  Tony wanted to scream. In fact, it would have been utterly appropriate in the circumstances. Yet he simply gazed at his reflection when the creature lowered its massive body into the water. Moments later, it glided downwards into the deepest part of the river. It would rest there, as its harvest of new heads and limbs knitted themselves into its unnatural flesh.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Tom Westonby slept soundly until ten. As he climbed out of bed in his hotel room he couldn’t remember when he’d last slept for so long. He realized he’d be too late to catch up with June in the dining room for breakfast. Never mind, he’d phone her if he didn’t see her downstairs.

  Since he’d never intended to book into the hotel for the night, and had brought nothing other than the clothes he was wearing, the manageress had provided a toiletry pack, containing toothpaste, a toothbrush and comb for only a nominal cost, along with a T-shirt that bore the words STATION HOTEL – A PROUD HISTORY OF COMFORT & ELEGANCE.

  Outside, the hail had turned to grey slush in the streets. With it being Sunday, the bells were pealing from one of Leppington’s churches. Tom switched on the television and had almost finished getting dressed when the local news bulletin came on-screen. Pictures showed the mangled remains of a minibus in fast-flowing water. If anything, the vehicle had the appearance of being disembowelled. Its seats were on the outside of the wreckage.

  A female voice related what had happened last night: ‘A minibus returning from Scarborough, with seven young people on board, appears to have crashed before coming to rest in a stream. With the exception of one woman, all the passengers are missing. Police say that the search for survivors is continuing. Meanwhile, officers are waiting to question a youth who was driving a truck, which was found in a nearby field. Both the woman and the youth are receiving treatment at Whitby hospital.’

  Tom knew exactly where the crash had taken place. It was where the road forded a stream just a couple of miles from his house. Suspecting this was no accident, he quickly finished getting dressed. He needed to find June Valko. Circumstances were changing. The danger was no longer confined to the pair of them. The threat was spilling out like an epidemic to claim other victims. But what could he do to stop it? For now, that was a question he could not answer.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  The hospital visit started badly. Kit Bolter and Owen Westonby stood outside the room where Jez had been put by the doctors. Kit had been given a lift by Jez’s parents to the new hospital near Whitby’s Pannett Park. Owen had turned down the offer of the ride, because he intended taking the bus to Whitby with Eden Taylor.

  Owen grimaced. ‘I hate that hospital smell, don’t you? Makes you think of viral oozings and puke.’

  Kit didn’t attempt to conceal his irritation and asked, ‘Where’s Eden?’

  ‘She’s taking a walk round town while I see Jez.’

  ‘What’s your priority here, Owen? Coming to see your friend after an accident, which nearly killed him? Or going on a date with that girl?’

  ‘Are you jealous, Kit?’

  ‘Are you friggin’ insensitive?’

  Owen glared as if he’d no right to make comments like that.

  The door opened and Jez’s father stepped out. ‘You can both see him now. I thought you’d like to have some time alone together, seeing as you’re such old friends. I remember when you all got bikes that Christmas, and you’d ride up and down the village street for hours. The Three Musketeers, that’s what everyone called you.’ Mr Pollock’s eyes had tears in them.

  ‘Thanks, Mr Pollock,’ Owen said.

  Mr Pollock held a cap in his big, powerful hands, which he anxiously turned round and round. ‘You know what the police are thinking, don’t you? They know my lad was driving illegally. They found the truck upside down in a field not far from that smashed-up minibus. They’ve already made up their minds that he caused that accident. But it’s not true. A nurse told me that my lad saved a woman’s life. Jez isn’t a criminal … he’s a hero.’ A tear rolled down the big man’s cheek. ‘Sorry, lads. You’ll be wanting to see Jez. Thanks for coming. You’re good boys. Jez couldn’t have a better pair of friends.’ With that, Mr Pollock walked away.

  Jez lay propped up in bed. A bright orange cast encased one arm. Both of them stared at the teenager in shock. Kit even thought they’d entered the wrong room.

  ‘Hey … you’ve got to write on my cast. That’s the rule.’ Jez’s voice came from a mass of purple and green bumps. ‘Write what you want. Make it bloody rude.’

  ‘Jez … Shit.’ Owen stared at the bruised face. ‘You look like the Elephant Man.’

  ‘Or an alien from outer space.’ Kit decided to be cheerful and jokey for Jez’s sake. ‘Man, your face is puke-tastic.’

  Jez seemed half asleep, his movements were sluggish. He raised the arm that was in the cast. ‘The bone snapped. They had to fix it with steel bolts. Doctors are turning me into a cyborg … that means I’m now part man, part machine. I’m going to live for ever.’ He grinned. ‘I’m going to be the first immortal guy from Danby-Mask. Half man. Half robot.’

  Kit and Owen exchanged glances. Jez’s odd manner disturbed them both.

  ‘Are you in pain?’ Kit asked.

  ‘Nopey nope. They’re giving me pills … they make me feel sooooo good.’

  ‘The painkillers are making him …’ Owen made a circular motion with his finger. ‘Cuckoo.’

  ‘I heard that, guys.’

  ‘The main thing,’ Kit said, ‘is that you’re not in any pain.’

  ‘Broke my arm … bashed my head on the steering wheel … knocked cold. But I still got him.’ Jez grinned.

  ‘Got who?’

  ‘The monster. The one that your mojo pod filmed. I got the monster. I hit the gas and wham! Drove the truck into him.’

  Owen smiled. ‘Great, you got him.’

  ‘You’re the number one monster killer,’ said Kit.

  ‘Nobody believes me.’ Jez sighed. ‘You don’t either, do you?’

  ‘Of course we do.’ Owen’s tone clearly revealed that he was humouring his friend. ‘Human race one. Monster kingdom zero.’

  ‘The monster would have got the girl. But I got him. Rammed him with the truck. He must have run off. Slithered off perhaps … or whatever monsters do. They gave me prunes for breakfast. I hate prunes.’

  ‘Maybe we should leave you to get some rest?’ Kit suggested.

  Owen tapped his friend’s foot where it was covered by the sheet. ‘You’re looking groggy, pal.’

  ‘Nobody believes me,’ Jez repeated. ‘I banged my head. They’re keeping me in for observation. That’s standard procedure. Just in case I go: aaargh.’ He pretended to go
into convulsions.

  ‘Did the woman tell the police what happened?’ asked Kit.

  ‘Yep. Said I saved her life. Said the monster got everyone in the bus. It was going to get her, too, but I arrived and, POW! Smacked the truck into it.’

  ‘What did the police say about this woman’s story?’

  ‘They don’t believe her, either. They say she’s confused. Out of her head … gaga.’ He sighed. ‘Prunes. Who feeds a sixteen-year-old prunes?’

  ‘We should be going,’ Owen said. ‘We’ll come and visit you tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow might be too late. I might be gone …’ He chuckled. ‘I’m going home tomorrow morning.’

  Kit patted his friend’s uninjured arm. ‘Take care, mate.’

  ‘Kiss some nurses for us.’ Owen saluted. ‘That’s an order.’

  Jez laughed then winced. ‘Ouch. Forgot about my arm. They had to pin the bone. Snappy-doo.’ With his good hand he waved at the bedside table. ‘There’s a pen. Write stuff on my cast.’

  Five minutes later Kit and Owen stood outside the hospital.

  Kit said, ‘Will you come with me to see Jez when he’s back home tomorrow, or will you be fondling Eden Taylor?’

  ‘What’s eating you, Kit?’

  ‘Because you only came to see Jez as an afterthought. I could tell that you didn’t want to be there.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  Kit’s voice rose, ‘OK, you were in the room with us, but you were thinking about that girl.’

  ‘You piece of shit.’

  ‘I’m not the shit! You are!’ Kit shoved Owen.

  Owen, the bigger of the two, pushed back, slamming Kit against the wall.

  Kit’s face burned. ‘Is that the Westonby way, huh? If you get into an argument, you start pushing people around and causing some pain!’

  ‘Why are you behaving like this, Kit? What have I done to you?’

  ‘That girl’s got into your brain. I can see what’s happening: you’re turning your back on Jez and me.’

  ‘I know your problem. You can’t get a girlfriend – that’s why you’re behaving like a cock-head!’

  Kit stormed off. After ten yards he stopped, turned on his friend and yelled. ‘I know what your brother did! He killed my uncle! Tom Westonby is a murderer!’

  THIRTY-NINE

  Tom Westonby and June Valko checked out of the hotel. Tom suggested she leave her hire car here in Leppington. They could return to the cottage in his van. At this time on a Sunday the streets of Leppington were quiet. A man, carrying a newspaper, walked with a black dog at his side. A mechanized street cleaner ambled along, sucking up rubbish left by Saturday’s shoppers. Meanwhile, a pair of crows picked at a beef burger that lay on the pavement.

  Tom and June had decided to eat lunch in the hotel. That way they could talk about their plans for this evening. Although the plan lacked finesse, Tom knew that June would be powerful bait. There would be a result tonight. He was certain one or more of the vampires would come to the house again. What happened next was anyone’s guess. He knew June was hopeful she could communicate with her father – or rather communicate with the creature he’d become. Meanwhile, Tom gambled that Nicola would appear: the woman he’d loved, and who he’d seen transform into one of those vampire-like creatures.

  Tom had also been thinking hard about the news report he’d seen on television. A minibus carrying seven people had been found torn apart in a stream not far from where he lived. After he and June climbed into the van, he sat staring into space, the ignition key still in his hand.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ June asked.

  He glanced across at her. The woman’s electric blue eyes were sparks of fire.

  ‘I keep thinking about the accident last night.’

  ‘The one involving the bus?’

  They’d spoken about that, too, and he’d explained how he believed that the tragedy was no road traffic accident. What was more, he believed it tied into what had been happening in the Lepping valley for centuries: specifically, that there were supernatural creatures in the valley, which were capable of causing harm.

  He said, ‘The more I think about the accident, along with the fact that most of the passengers are missing, the more I’m convinced that those things are responsible.’

  ‘Vampires.’ She spoke with conviction. ‘We said we wouldn’t be shy about using the name to describe them.’

  ‘OK, vampires. I think either they attacked the bus, or it was Helsvir.’

  ‘If they’re killing innocent people then we must do something.’

  ‘No. They’re not killing – they’re recruiting.’

  Those blue eyes widened. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Until you arrived, those creatures – the vampires and Helsvir – had done nothing for years. Like I said, they haunted the forest like ghosts. They were harmless. They weren’t seen by anyone. They didn’t interfere in human lives. All that’s changed now.’

  ‘You said that my arrival triggered the change.’

  He nodded. ‘I’m sure that’s the case.’

  ‘Then I should leave.’

  ‘But once a finger pulls a trigger and the bullet leaves the gun it doesn’t matter about the trigger. It’s been pulled, the bullet’s on its way. There’s no stopping it.’ He sighed. ‘Sorry. I’ve lived alone for so long that sometimes when I talk it sounds peculiar even to me.’

  ‘No, I understand. You’re saying that when I arrived at your house I set some change in motion.’

  ‘I believe so. It’s like the vampires and Helsvir were harmless germs. For some reason, however, those harmless bugs have mutated into a killer disease.’

  He watched two crows sweep down on their black wings. They’d seen a dead rat on the ground. One bird snipped off its tail. The other went for the eyes.

  June paid no attention to the feasting birds. Instead, she rested her hand on his arm. ‘You still haven’t explained what you mean by recruiting.’

  ‘For years the vampires have been harmless. Now they’ve become active. In fact, they’re downright aggressive. On Friday night one tried to drown me in the river. After that, they laid siege to the house, and even tried to break in. When that failed, one climbed down the chimney so it could get a good look at you. But …’ He took a deep breath as the realization grew teeth, so it could gnaw at his peace of mind. ‘But they’ve decided they need to be stronger. So they’ve started to increase their numbers. Although I’m not sure yet if it’s the vampires doing it, or whether it’s Helsvir.’ He gave a grim smile. ‘You’ll need a strong stomach when I describe Helsvir in detail.’

  ‘Helsvir is this dragon creature? The one created by the Viking god?’

  Tom nodded. ‘He’s an ally of the vampires. And he’s powerful, vicious and extremely dangerous. He makes himself bigger and even more powerful by attacking people and incorporating their bodies into his own body. Somehow he can glue limbs and heads to himself. I told you that you’d need a strong stomach. He makes those birds cute and cuddly in comparison.’ Tom nodded in the direction of the crows that were now using their beaks to tug out the rat’s wormy intestine.

  ‘So, why do they want to become more powerful?’

  ‘They’ve got big plans. They’re building up their army.’

  ‘Why?’

  He started the engine. ‘Are you sure you’re not a reporter, June? You can’t stop yourself asking questions.’

  ‘I’m asking them,’ she said firmly, ‘because I believe you know more than you’re telling me.’

  ‘I’ve had a long time to speculate, and guess, that’s all. The vampires and Helsvir are mysteries bundled up in yet more mystery. No living person knows exactly what they are or how they think.’

  ‘But you suspect they’re building an army. So why are they doing that?’

  ‘Armies exist to protect a country’s citizens.’

  ‘So, who will this vampire army protect?’

  ‘You, Miss Valko. They will
protect you, because you are the last of the Bekk bloodline. Your DNA is valuable to them, and must be preserved.’

  ‘Then they only want to safeguard my blood, not me?’

  ‘Of course, armies exist for reasons other than protecting national borders and people.’

  She nodded. ‘Sometimes they’re used for invasion, too.’ She bit her lip as the realization sank in. ‘So will I be responsible for starting a war?’

  ‘For all our sakes, June, I hope it won’t come to that. Because I don’t know if it’s a war that the human race can win.’ With that, he drove away from the hotel, and joined the road that would take him home.

  FORTY

  Her eyes were open. There appeared to be no light entering the cave. She could still see, though. To her, darkness wasn’t darkness any more. How she got inside the cave she didn’t know. Tree roots had burst through the rock above her – a deadly tangle of witch hair.

  ‘I’m …’ she whispered. ‘I’m … my name is …’ For a long time she lay on the floor, gazing up at the witch hair … that’s how that tangle looked to her. At last she remembered. ‘My name is Clarissa Prior. I’m not dead … am I?’

  There were others in the cave, too. Gleaming white bodies, dressed in faded clothes. They lay on the slab of rock that formed the floor. They didn’t move. They lay there as if dead. Not a trace of colour appeared in those wide eyes. In each eye was a pupil – a fierce black spot. Those eyes stared into infinity.

  Clarissa didn’t move … couldn’t move … yet somehow she managed to whisper. ‘Why am I in a cave? How can I see when there’s no light?’ But see she did. She no longer had need for light.

  Something like a stone altar stood at one end of the cave. Animal skulls covered a block of stone. There were swords, too, leaning against the block; they were all rusted. Above the altar, a figure of a powerful, bearded man had been carved into the rock. A sacred place, she thought. Sacred to pagans.