Dark Harbour: The Tale of the Soul Searcher

by Joseph Kiel

  She turned from Danny and laid herself down against the sand, her cheek pressing against the fine crystals of the beach. Danny sat down next to her and just watched her, like a would-be angel looking over a bedridden hospital patient diseased by demanding and conflicting affections.

  ‘I don’t know how to tell him I don’t want to be with him. How can I tell him something that would destroy him?’

  He placed his hand on her arm. She wore a deep indigo sleeveless top that fell perfectly above her hips. On the front of it there was a silver V that contained a glittering array of dazzling sequins, a garment that appropriately represented her celestial name and her mysterious nature. Her skirt was a rain cloud grey emblazoned with delicate swirls and frills. She was timeless, her sophistication and tenderness not needing to be accentuated by any vogue.

  ‘It’s okay, Stella. I understand,’ he whispered to her.

  ‘Do you? Do you understand that destroying him might destroy you along with it?’

  ‘You have to do what you want. Never mind anyone else. Do what’s right for you.’

  She sat up all of a sudden and looked into Danny’s eyes.

  ‘You’ll understand the truth about us eventually. One day you’ll discover it. And I’ll help you do that.’

  Danny smiled to her. ‘So thrive my soul,’ he whispered.

  He felt that he could already guess the truth, for there was no other explanation he had for the depth of feeling for her. And yet he sensed that she was already aware of it all, that she’d peered within his soul and seen that aching, a force that had guided both of them so their paths would entwine like this. There was only one thing that that could possibly mean.

  ‘You’ve got sand on your cheek,’ he said to her as he brushed his hand against her face.

  As he did so, she took his hand and pulled him over. Danny fell into her, and pushed her back against the sand as he glided his body over hers. He kissed her. This was the fix that Danny wanted.

  He paused for a moment and propped himself above her, looking down into her violet eyes. Pinned beneath him, within his very clutches, and with a knowing smile that beamed back at him, he felt that he’d finally harnessed his emotions. Finally he had them under his control.

  Even that infernal goblin inside was now dressed like a concert pianist, ready to deliver the performance of his lifetime, an arrangement that should be reserved only for the ears of angelic beings within their heavenly realm.

  Danny ran a hand over her waist, as he felt the edge of the fabric to her skirt. Sliding his fingers upwards, he then ran his hand up beneath her top, pressing his palm against her warm flesh. Her skin felt so smooth, as though he had in his hand a fallen peach from a paradisiacal tree.

  As her body slowly rose and fell, he gradually moved his hand further upwards. She stared back into his eyes calmly, watching the passion within him run free.

  ‘So then, lost one, are you going to tell me?’ she suddenly asked him.

  ‘Tell you what, my found one?’

  ‘What you’re thinking you want to do to me.’

  ‘Why don’t I just do it?’

  ‘Yes. I’d really like you to. I’d really, really like you to do all the things you’ve ever thought about doing to me. Because when I look in your eyes right now, I don’t see you drowning anymore, Danny. And I’d like to be an island for you to run wild on. I’d like you to find some reprieve.’

  ‘I’d like to be on the island. Forever.’

  ‘So would I,’ she replied. ‘Because I understand how long forever is. Waiting for what you want is something, it seems, that never comes.’

  The sadness was back in her voice. It was a powerful feeling that overrode Danny’s lustful energy. He paused for a moment then rested down beside her, his arm draped over her waist, holding her tightly.

  ‘Ever thought what it all means, Danny? Ever wondered what the meaning of all this desire is? Imagine if you could look beyond it, to perfectly understand what it is your soul wants, and you know that you actually have everything you need, but still… still you’re forever haunted. One taste of that bliss and you’d know that to taste it again is worth waiting forever. You just can’t let go.’

  Her voice was low and crystal clear, delivered from a perfect centring of herself, as though she’d been privy to some pure, universal wisdom. Her words carried Danny away from the moment, like a waft of temple incense. Suddenly it was like he didn’t know where he was.

  She sat up.

  ‘I’ll need to sort things out with Sam first. And then…’

  ‘Yeah. You seem to know best with everything,’ Danny said as he propped himself up.

  Danny really hated hearing that name. Why did this perfection have to have this imperfection? He wished that Samuel would just disappear gracefully and allow their romance to blossom, for there was no doubt in Danny’s mind after listening to Stella’s words whom he would love like he could no other, for whom his commitment would be as boundless as the sea before him, and his love as deep.

  ‘I’ll be in touch. You’ll find me again soon.’

  With that, her light sank into the night, the moon disappearing beyond the horizon, Danny lying by the shoreline as the venomous waves slithered towards his feet.

  ‘A thousand times the worse to want thy light,’ he quoted to no one.

  It felt like it wouldn’t be much longer before Danny would be back here again. Except, the next time he would be as a bloated corpse with his brains leaking out of his head and his flesh in tatters from having been nibbled at by the fishes.

  Chapter 8.4

  Trailing after the fast-footed Vladimir through the back streets of Dark Harbour like two lost sheep following a shepherd, Eddie imagined what their meeting with the Halo of Fires Seraph, Henry Maristow, would be like. Presumably, he was the one setting this test for them.

  Would this master of darkness make them go through some sort of strange initiation process? Maybe they would be made to drink blood, or have a symbolic tattoo etched onto their arms, or maybe they would be made to burn their hands in a fire so that they’d carry a scar as their ‘badge’ for the rest of their days. What actually did happen was an anti-climax in comparison: they sat down with Henry and had a cup of tea.

  The grandness of Clarence Hotel hit them immediately when they walked into the building, that it was almost as if they were stepping into a prince’s palace. Even at this time of night, a harp version of one of Schubert’s sonatas was being quietly piped throughout the luminous reception foyer from speakers that were impossible to locate, as if it was the pure majesty of the building itself that naturally generated the music.

  They walked along a shimmering marble floor that was like a solid layer of clouds and Vladimir led them into another lift. Eddie wouldn’t have been surprised to find another angel up there, ready to give an inside opinion on what Eddie was doing wrong with his life, ready to tell him how much of a fuckup he was. He would surely tell him how he should have found the right course at college, that he should have worked harder, that without any direction in life he was just a useless tosser, not even capable of taking care of a stray dog.

  But Eddie had finally come somewhere. Already he’d taken small steps with Halo of Fires: chasing down that druggie, digging Danny’s hole on the beach, stealing and burning the car last week. Eddie was already a vigilante. He was already something.

  Upstairs they followed Vladimir through a grand mahogany door with an ornate chambranle that Eddie could only glimpse the detailing of, whisking leaves in the breeze or perhaps they were feathers floating down from the sky. It was less a door and more a gate. Beyond it was Henry Maristow’s office, a pristine and airy room with lines and lines of filing cabinets. The leader of the Halo of Fires organisation was standing by the window. He turned and greeted them with surprising warmth but his face didn’t seem used to smiling.

  As they sat down at the desk, Eddie felt himself holding his body precisely, crossing his hands neatly on his la
p, his eyes open full. He’d even taken off his baseball cap.

  ‘I think we should have a brew then,’ Henry said. ‘How many sugars do you have?’

  ‘None,’ Eddie said.

  ‘Three. Please,’ Larry replied.

  ‘Very well,’ Henry said as he walked out of the room.

  Henry seemed surprisingly easy going. He was more like a kindly old uncle, or Ebenezer Scrooge after he’d been visited by the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, than the boss of a professional vigilante organisation.

  After shuffling back into the room with a tray of teas, Henry then asked the students what their hometowns were like, what football teams they supported, what they thought to their college courses, and he listened keenly to all their responses. He contrasted comfortably with Vladimir’s dark intensity.

  The vigilante master was dressed exquisitely, like he was about to leave for an evening at the opera. He wore a perfectly fitting grey pinstriped suit, with a white handkerchief in the breast pocket. The buttons on his jacket were all done up, as was the top button of his shirt which had a burgundy tie around it.

  Although not very tall, Henry had quite a bullish frame. His broad shoulders and large hands were in contrast to his narrow feet. He could have been a boxer when he was younger, dancing around on his tiptoes one moment and then socking his opponents out cold the next. Not that he would be able to do that now though, for Henry’s movements were slow and steady, as if he had to summon the energy from deep within in everything he did.

  His hands, however, seemed to belie his inertia, for they portrayed a restlessness as he used them continuously to emphasise his words, waving them gently in front of his face then clasping his fingers together, as he did now, like a priest leading the congregation to prayer.

  ‘Now then, Lawrence and Eduwart, let’s talk about why we are all here tonight,’ he began, leaning forward in his tall, black leather chair.

  Vladimir hovered in the background, pacing up and down the room with his ever-pent up energies.

  ‘Let’s go over your reports,’ he went on. Henry put on his reading glasses before picking up a manila folder in front of him. He pulled out a printed sheet.

  Eddie suddenly felt self-conscious. He hadn’t imagined that they’d look into him to this extent. Where had they got this information from? Perhaps the filing cabinet in Henry’s office had reports on everyone in this town, the eternal observations of angels as they recorded every thought and action.

  ‘Young Lawrence Stewart, six foot two. Played football and rugby at secondary school. Reasonable GCSEs, a couple of A Levels. Student of Sports Studies at Dark Harbour College. You have two older brothers. Your parents died when you were four months old. You and your brothers were looked after by an aunt for most of your childhood. When you were fourteen you were absent from school for several months. The official reason was that you were ill in hospital.’

  Henry looked up from his prompt for a moment before then turning to Eddie who further stiffened his back.

  ‘And young Eduwart Jansz the Dutchman. Six foot three, one older brother, one older sister. Your father lives on the continent, your mother is an invalid. Your school report says you were a disruptive pupil who wouldn’t apply himself. Your academic achievements were therefore damp, but, like Lawrence, you have a flair for sports.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Henry placed the piece of paper down on his desk and then pressed his fingertips together in front of his chest.

  ‘So, by whatever mystery the universe has in play here, the point is you’ve made acquaintance with my boys and assisted them in their work.’

  ‘We have,’ Eddie said.

  ‘What do you make of us?’

  ‘Some of your other guys are like Rainier Wolfcastle, but I like your style,’ Eddie replied.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because there’s so many knobheads out there and they’re spreading. And everyone else just fits in with them. Nobody cares anymore.’

  ‘But you care?’

  Eddie was quiet for a moment. ‘Look, I get it. The world is going to hell. Might as well help everyone on their way.’

  Henry looked to Vladimir and an unspoken thought passed between them.

  ‘And you Lawrence?’ Henry asked.

  ‘I think there’s a lot of victims out there. Too many.’

  Henry nodded, then looked down at the manila folder once more. Eddie sensed that it contained more than the details that Henry had read to them. He also sensed that Henry had garnered a lot more from the brief answers they’d just given.

  ‘Vladimir said you have another job for us. A test,’ Eddie said.

  ‘Yes. We have a task for you.’

  ‘What is it?’ Larry asked.

  Henry picked up his mug of tea and took a sip. ‘Yuck. I didn’t brew it long enough.’

  Their gaze remained fixed on Henry. In the pregnant pause that followed, the ageing man’s eyes seemed to be focussing on something behind them, or perhaps on something that was far beyond them all. He gently eased himself out of his chair and waddled over to the wall from which hung a great many pictures. Some were in frames, while others were tacked up there with pins or blu-tack, some with curling edges as they’d faded and frayed through the years of sunlight streaming onto them. Henry came to a stop as his eyes fixed on a Polaroid photograph right in front of him.

  ‘I would like you to find someone for me,’ he resumed. ‘An old acquaintance of mine has suddenly gone missing, blipped off our radar screens, and his disappearance is worrying me somewhat. Unfortunately I don’t quite have the resources to comb every inch of this town in order to find him.’

  ‘What would you like us to do to him?’ Larry asked.

  Henry suddenly turned around as if Larry had cracked a good joke. He chuckled with laughter.

  ‘There’s no questioning your eagerness, is there Lawrence?’ The smile of laughter switched off in a half-moment. ‘I don’t want you to do anything to him, my boy. I want you to give him something.’

  Henry walked back to his desk where he slid open the top drawer. He pulled out an envelope that had been sealed with a red wax blob.

  ‘Just give him this letter. That’s all you need to do.’

  ‘You want us to give him a letter?’ Larry asked, somewhat puzzled. ‘Why don’t you just put it in the post?’

  Eddie noticed that Henry was already looking across at Vladimir, as if waiting for him to take to the stage.

  ‘This… person doesn’t have a fixed abode. I don’t think he’s ever had one,’ Vladimir delivered. ‘He’s very reclusive, and there’s a very good reason why he keeps himself hidden from the world. He’s not quite an ordinary person, you see. Those who do set eyes on him are usually scared numb because they think that he’s a demon.’

  Eddie was no longer able to keep his hands restrained in his lap and now began twisting the piercing in his eyebrow. Larry tried to take another sip of his tea before he realised he’d already finished it.

  ‘But we hope he’s not, of course,’ Henry calmly added, like a parent trying to reassure a child who’d just been told a bedtime ghost story. Or perhaps he was trying to reassure himself. Suddenly he seemed a little antsy. Troubled, perhaps.

  ‘I don’t think he’ll harm you,’ Vladimir went on. ‘We’ve both met him plenty of times before and not once did he ever try to eat our souls or anything.’

  ‘Explain to them how he gets his name,’ Henry added.

  ‘Nobody knows his name. His real name, that is. He probably doesn’t even have one. But he does go by a name which has steadily formed over the years. The Devil One, frightened people used to call him. Years and years of lazy, slurred speech eventually simplified it to Devlan.’

  ‘Why are people so scared of him?’ Eddie asked.

  ‘You’re best seeing for yourself,’ Henry replied. ‘If you can find him.’

  ‘What exactly is he?’ Larry asked. ‘Is he some sort of freak?’

  Neither Henry nor
Vladimir appeared willing to answer this particular question.

  ‘I imagine that you have a lot of questions about all this, so there’s a lot to talk about,’ Henry said. ‘We have a list of areas for you to look, the more insalubrious corners of this town. That’s if you want this task. I could understand if you didn’t. But it’s up to you.’

  Like a soldier about to be sent off to a foreign land to fight, Eddie sensed that a large journey was ahead of them. It felt sinister to him, yet exciting at the same time, like the hole they’d been digging for themselves turned out to be a grave and they were starting to unearth partially decomposed bodies.

  He could just say no, just leave them and go back home to his impossible essay and get back on with his boring college course. He just wished he knew exactly what was in store for them if they were to pass this test. Or if they were to fail. That’s what worried him most of all.

  He looked to his friend. Again, the look on Larry’s face suggested that the next line was not his.

  Eddie nodded. ‘We’ll do it. We’re in.’

  ‘Good,’ Henry replied. ‘Now let me have another go at fixing myself a decent cuppa.’

  He picked up his mug and carried it from the silence of the room.

  ‘So, now we’re devil hunters,’ Eddie said to Larry as they walked down the steps of Clarence Hotel.

  ‘Yeah. What’s with that?’ Larry replied.

  ‘Who knows?’

  They made their way through the town, back towards the flat. It was gone midnight but the pubs were still bulging with rambunctious revellers. Soon they’d all be queuing to get into the nightclubs. Perhaps within the shadows of one of these hives this devil person was to be found, lost in the maelstrom of nocturnal indulgence.

  Larry looked at the envelope sealed by the wax blob. In the dim light he could make out the imprint within the wax seal. It was the same symbol on their business card, two ever searching eyes peering through a flame.

  ‘Maybe we should open this. See what it says,’ Larry suggested.

  Eddie pondered for a moment then shook his head. This was a test. Maybe that was the point of it, to see if they could trust them, not find some freak they they’d probably pulled out of their arses.