The Vampyre Quartet

by G. P. Taylor

  Jago hesitated as he heard another voice.

  ‘I have to find them. I need to explain,’ Hugh Morgan said.

  ‘I think he knows already. But believes you are just like your father,’ Henson answered. ‘I have been tracking them down all these years, waiting for a time such as this. They need to be stopped.’

  ‘But it’s my father, flesh and blood,’ Hugh Morgan said quickly. ‘I can’t see him dead even if –’

  ‘Even if he is a murderer, even if he would even risk the life of your own son and turn him into a monster?’ Henson asked.

  There was a long silence as Hugh Morgan thought of the consequences to the answer.

  Jago hid in the shadows of the doorway.

  ‘I saved him from the bombing. I went to London to warn Martha, but didn’t get there in time. I snatched the boy from the explosion and saved him from the blast,’ Morgan said as Jago edged nearer the entrance.

  ‘Then he doesn’t know that it was you?’ Henson asked as he got from the chair, screeching the wooden legs across the floor.

  Jago heard the clatter of a kettle as it was swung across the fire to boil.

  ‘I couldn’t resist seeing him. I had to know what he was like. My father had forbidden me to meet him. I couldn’t believe he was just like me. I followed him to Whitby and even managed to speak to him in the carriage of the train.’

  ‘Then you are in a dangerous dilemma, Hugh,’ Henson said seriously. ‘You have to decide between the life of your son or loyalty to your father.’

  There was again a long silence. The tunnel blew a chill wind as if a grave had turned.

  ‘Then it will have to end,’ Morgan said.

  ‘Your father plans to use the boy for an evil purpose. Strackan needs the blood of the line in order to live. It should have been your blood as the only heir. That is why your father allowed you to be with Martha Barnes. Once she was having your child then your blood was of no use. The Lyrid of Saturn is with us again. The comet has come and gone. On Friday night the sky will come alive with meteors and three stars will be in conjunction. At midnight Strackan will come to Hawks Moor and demand blood for blood.’

  ‘How can we stop him?’ Morgan asked.

  ‘We can’t. It can only be Jago. He is the heir of the blood line,’ Henson said.

  ‘But there is no time to prepare him – surely my father knows that?’

  ‘He has been prepared. Julius Cresco saw to that. He had him drink from the Cup of Garbova on the night he came here – I am sure of that. I could see it in the lad’s face,’ Hen-son answered slowly.

  ‘Cresco?’

  ‘I remember hearing that he had been appointed as guardian to the boy. It was just after they had taken Martha to London,’ Henson said. ‘The Lyrid of Saturn has been planned for all this time. The boy grew up surrounded by Vampyres and he wasn’t even aware.’

  Jago listened to what the man said. He felt betrayed and angry. The one person he had loved in the whole world nearly as much as his mother had been Cresco. It had been his face that had smiled at him, walked him to school and looked after him whilst his mother worked. Now he knew the man was a cheat and a liar. He was a Vampyre just like Morgan and even Strackan. The love was nothing more than a trick to bring him to this place and this time.

  ‘Madame Trevellas told my father that she had poisoned the girl,’ Morgan answered.

  ‘Biatra is fighting the venom. I saw her last night. But I think it will soon take over her. If she is bitten again then there will be no turning back for the girl. Are you sure Draigorian is dead?’

  ‘I heard my father crying. When I went to the shrine, there he was with Rathbone. The painting of the Vampyre Quartet had changed. The face of Pippen Draigorian had appeared. My father said he had to be dead.’

  ‘Then Jago found the book and the knife and was brave enough to kill him,’ Henson answered.

  ‘But Jago is too young to do such a thing. A boy of inno cence,’ Morgan said as he looked at the kettle steaming over the flames.

  ‘Killing a Vampyre that wants to die is quite simple. Destroying Strackan will take cunning,’ Henson replied as he pulled the kettle from the flames and poured the brew into the two cups on the table.

  ‘I would kill him myself for what he has done to my family. Burn down his labyrinth and dig him from the ground where he hides from the light,’ said Hugh Morgan.

  ‘Then you have changed your mind? Your words have to be more than a shibboleth, a meaningless pronunciation. They have to have the resolve of your actions. You may even have to kill your father,’ Henson said, and then spoke again: ‘Have you heard enough, Jago? Lurking in darkness is not a good thing to do.’

  Morgan sat up in his chair and turned. He looked nervous and uncomfortable.

  ‘He’s here?’ he asked.

  ‘Has been for some time. I felt the draught when the grave opened. I had Ebenezer Goode keep guard for him. ‘Step into the light, Jago. Meet your father.’

  Reluctantly, Jago left the darkness. He crossed the threshold of the room and stared at Hugh Morgan.

  ‘Jago …’ Morgan said nervously.

  ‘So you knew all the time?’ Jago asked. ‘When you saw me on the riverbank, you knew it was me? It was you in the street when mother died? You were the man in the train?’

  ‘Yes,’ Morgan said as he looked to the floor.

  ‘But you didn’t tell me and let me wonder all this time and I thought you were a Vampyre like your father.’

  ‘It is what we both are, Jago. It is our inheritance,’ Morgan said. ‘Thankfully we will live normal lives and not have to drink blood. Yet we are different from people. We know things.’

  ‘What he’s trying to say is that you have the senses of a Vampyre but not their need to kill,’ Henson said.

  ‘See things? Know things?’ Jago asked.

  ‘Speak to dead people,’ Henson answered with a bemused shrug of his shoulders.

  ‘And there are Vampyres everywhere?’ Jago asked.

  ‘In all walks of life, in all towns … and in every aspect of society. Some are quite benign and live their lives sapping the energy of those around them like a leech. Others have a lust for blood,’ Henson answered. ‘But,’ he went on, ‘the Vampyre Quartet are different. They were seeded by Strackan himself. The oldest creature from hell. That is why they have to be stopped.’

  Jago looked at Morgan.

  ‘And you – what are you?’ he asked.

  ‘I am your father and I loved your mother. If I had my way we would have been married. But I was to weak to stand up to them. They insisted she go away and I agreed. It is the most regretful decision of my life,’ Morgan answered.

  ‘Did I come to Hawks Moor when I was a child?’ Jago asked, knowing he had seen the place before.

  ‘Your mother ran away from London and brought you to me. Cresco soon found her and took you back. It was good to see you,’ he said with regret, unable to look at Jago.

  ‘This is all very good, but happy families will not have us rid of the problem,’ Henson said. ‘Where is Biatra?’

  ‘She was captured by Ezra Morgan and Rathbone. Before that, she had changed. She killed Bartholomew Bradick,’ Jago said reluctantly as he gripped his hands into tight fists. ‘I should have stayed. I left her behind.’

  ‘What could you have done? If the transformation is complete it would have done no good. Did you anoint her wounds with the balm?’

  ‘Just as you said,’ Jago answered ‘But the venom was too strong.’

  ‘There is more bad news,’ Henson said as he went to the mantelpiece and took down a dried crow’s claw and put it in his pocket. ‘Things have taken a curious development.’

  ‘Staxley – Griffin – Lorken?’ Jago asked.

  ‘You know?’ replied Henson.

  ‘Only what Ebenezer Goode said when he saw me. He said that they had given themselves to Strackan at the gates of Streonshalgh Manor.’

  ‘That is what it looked like. They made
no fuss and offered their necks quite readily. But that is what I warned you of. Mrs Macarty is not to be trusted.’

  ‘Was Madame Trevellas there also?’ he asked.

  ‘That is true,’ Henson replied as he saw Morgan shiver with anger. ‘Her name is not welcome in this place. She was the one who took my wife and my son forty years ago. I have a dream long dead that I shall stare into her face and have her repent.’

  Jago saw Henson slip his hand back to his pocket . The man eyed him wildly as he stared and stared. Jago didn’t know what was happening. He looked at Morgan, who by now had got up from the chair and was standing against the fireplace.

  His hand reached out for the metal poker that stood in the dusty rack.

  ‘What do you want from me?’ Jago asked as he wondered what they were going to do.

  ‘Stay where you are, Jago – don’t move!’ Morgan said as he tightened his grip on the iron poker.

  ‘But why?’ Jago asked – and then he felt a cold, dry hand slip around his neck and grip it tightly.

  ‘Thought you would get away with my book, did you?’ the poltergeist asked as it squeezed his neck even harder with its iron-like fingers.

  ‘This is not a place for you, Sagacious the Hermit,’ Henson said.

  ‘Nice to be known by my real name. I see we have a Morgan with us?’ the creature asked. ‘Just like all those years ago in my dwelling when your father came looking for Strackan with his foolish friends.’

  ‘Leave the boy,’ Morgan said as the poltergeist felt the pulse running through Jago’s neck.

  ‘Plenty of blood for the feast,’ he said as he ebbed the flow through the vein with his clawed finger. ‘Just like your father.’

  ‘He has nothing to do with this,’ Morgan answered.

  ‘So why did your father tell me to find him? He has my book. Killed Draigorian to get it. This lad is dangerous – out of control – he will kill us all …’

  ‘Let him go!’ Morgan said as he held tightly to the fire iron.

  ‘Get the book from him and put it on the table,’ the poltergeist said. ‘When you have done that I will set him free. I will tell your father of what you have done – he shall not be pleased.’

  Morgan cast a glance to Jack Henson, who gripped the crow’s claw in his hands. He had heard of the protector of the book and the legend that it was the hermit transfigured, but never expected it to be like this.

  ‘I think we should do as Sagacious requests,’ Henson said as he stepped towards them. ‘We don’t need the Book of Krakanu. It was written by a fool.’

  ‘Fool? Fool?’ Sagacious shouted. His body quivered relentlessly as if he were about to explode. ‘I am no fool. The Book of Krakanu has every secret that is needed to destroy Vampyres.’

  ‘But what about poltergeists – how can they be controlled?’ Morgan asked.

  Sagacious laughed.

  ‘Do you think I can be tricked? This lad stabbed me twice and I should have known. Never thought he had it in him. A brave fool …’

  ‘Who needs Sagacious to tell us how to control him? That magic is quite simple.’ Henson went to the fire. ‘Get the book from Jago and give it to the creature. We don’t need his rambling words.’

  Morgan held his grip tight on the iron fire rod as he heated the tip in the hot embers.

  ‘Jago,’ he said calmly. ‘Put the book on the table.’

  Jago slid his hand into the front of his leather coat and gripped the book. He hesitated before he threw it to the table in front of the fire.

  ‘There,’ he said. ‘He can have it.’

  He felt the grip of the creature loosen from his neck as it slithered by and took hold of the book. Jago wondered what evil could transform a man to this. How could the goodness of a life be corrupted beyond belief? He watched the serpentine spine of the poltergeist tremble in obvious delight.

  ‘And you will tell Ezra Morgan where we are?’ Henson asked the creature as it reached for the book.

  ‘Of course,’ it said as its hand touched the cover, the scar of the knife still visible in its tight skin.

  Suddenly Morgan jumped forward. With one hand he thrust the burning poker into the table, piercing the creature’s hand. The poltergeist was unable to move, frozen with pain. ‘Who told you?’ It screamed as the flesh bubbled and blistered.

  ‘Burning iron holds a demon fast,’ Henson said as Jago wondered what was happening. ‘It can’t move or change shape. It will stay just as it is.’

  ‘Only until the iron is cold,’ Sagacious gasped. ‘That shall not be long …’

  ‘You are so forgetful of the way in which you were transformed,’ Henson answered as he took the crow’s claw from his pocket and dropped it in the cup of hot liquid. ‘You shall stay here until we say it is time for you to leave.’

  ‘You can’t keep me here. Strackan will search for me.’

  ‘You are beneath the chancel of the church. Strackan does not have to power to enter such a place as this,’ Morgan said as Jack Henson took the claw and tied it to a piece of red cord and looped it around the neck of the demon.

  ‘Take it from me … take it from me,’ Sagacious protested with shouts and screams as the claw suddenly gripped his parchment-like flesh. As he wailed in pain, the claw buried its talons into his skin as if the crow were still alive. It held him tightly, refusing to release its grip. The claw held the demon. It was as if an invisible bird gripped him so he could not move.

  ‘How did you do that?’ Jago asked as Sagacious slumped to the floor, unable to speak.

  ‘Sagacious was once a monk at the abbey. He dabbled in the dark arts and found favour with Strackan and became his guardian. Anyone who deserts the path he once followed is a fool. He has reaped his reward. In this life there are secrets not even a demon such as he would understand.’

  ‘And what of you? Are you man or Vampyre?’ Jago asked Henson.

  ‘He is a man who seeks to avenge the death of his family,’ Morgan answered for him. He took a coil of holly rope from a meat hook by the fire and trussed the creature. ‘Jack Henson brought me here and told me what my father had done to you. He is a friend.’

  ‘Friend?’ Jago asked. ‘Am I supposed to trust you now?’

  ‘I can’t ask you to trust me. I know what you must feel.’

  ‘You let my mother die in the street and you could have warned her,’ Jago shouted.

  ‘It would have been worse if she had come back here. That’s what Cresco wanted her to do and that is why she sent you alone. I came to warn her – but was too late. Didn’t you see her? She put her hands in the air and gave herself to death. It had to be that way. It had to be.’

  ‘You saved me – but you could have saved her too. She loved you,’ Jago screamed, his voice breaking with tears.

  ‘The Lyrid of Saturn could not come if the mother of the child is still alive. Ask him what Trevellas did to his mother,’ Henson said as he stood between them.

  Jago turned. He was panting, out of breath, weary of the world and in need of sleep.

  ‘What … ?’

  ‘She killed her. Lured her to the edge of the cliff and killed her. I saw it all but my father wouldn’t believe me. He said she just fell and I had imagined it.’ Morgan sobbed as he spoke.

  ‘Lies, lies, to make me feel better,’ Jago shouted as he ran at him, arms flailing and punching.

  Morgan grabbed the boy and pulled him to his chest.

  ‘No, Jago … no,’ he said as together they held each other in tears.

  [ 25 ]

  Possession

  SAGACIOUS THE HERMIT struggled in a furious temper when Hugh Morgan dragged him across the floor and hung him from his wrists on the meat hook by the smouldering fire. The demon dangled like a long, black ham. His feet were just inches from the stone tiles and the thick, wolf-like claws had chattered back and forth. Jago stared and stared at the creature, unsure if it was looking more and more like a man and less like a demon. There was something about his face that appea
red to be changing. The tight, parchment-like skin seemed to be smoother. The protruding bones had dulled and shrunk back in his face and the insect eyes had diminished in size. As he hung from the hook, his hands tightly tied by the willow wands, he moaned and complained bitterly.

  ‘You go against nature. Let me out of this place. It is no good for me. Can’t you feel it? Can’t you feel it?’ Sagacious asked over and over as he shuddered and slowly span around and around, trying to break free of the bindings.

  Hugh Morgan laughed and then looked at Jago as Jack Henson took an old box from a cupboard near to the fireplace.

  ‘He can stay there.’ Henson smirked. ‘Hates it because of the seeping power from the chancel. Place has been prayed in for over a thousand years. Bound to have an effect on such a thing as Sagacious.’

  ‘You are a wicked man, Jack Henson. Evil and wicked,’ Sagacious groaned through a spit-filled throat. ‘When I get down from here I will make your life hell.’

  ‘If what I have in mind works, Sagacious, that will be your future,’ Henson replied as he put the box on the table and opened the stiff wooden lid. ‘I think this may be of some use.’

  Jago stood back as Henson lifted a small glass bottle from the box and placed it carefully on the table.

  ‘What is it?’ Jago asked as Henson took out the stopper from the silver-braced rim and cupped it in his hand as if it were very precious.

  ‘This, Jago, is the sacrament bottle from the chancel. It is a thousand years old and was buried by Brother Caedmon just before he died. I found it only last year when the roof of a tunnel collapsed. Fortuitous that it is what is needed to rid us of Sagacious for ever.’

  ‘What are you going to do to me? Magic? Sorcery?’ Sagacious squealed as he stared at the bottle that glowed red in the light of the fire.

  ‘I am going to leave you to the elements of this place. There is no magic more powerful than that which comes from above our heads. What will be the death of you shall be goodness and light – I don’t need an abracadabra or any other meaningless incantation.’