London Under Midnight

by Simon Clark

  Then Roma saw why the guy ran. A group of men and women pursued him. But what a surreal bunch they were. One guy was dressed in a business suit, another wore some kind of uniform; a cop or security guard maybe. Then came a woman in a suit in black with white trim; then came a lithe young woman who moved like a cat. Her hair was tousled; her clothes were in rags. The expressions on their faces showed pure glee. They exulted in the pursuit of their yelling victim. Bizarrely, there was even a guy in a clown costume with white clown make-up on his face. How did the people get into the sewer? Why were they chasing the man? Didn't they know the kind of diseases they could catch wading through that crap? Their faces were splashed with matter; their hands slid across the slimy walls as they balanced themselves. Even those shitty stalactites brushed their heads as they chased their victim.

  The young guy bounded down the brick steps. Even as she watched his feet skidded out from him and he fell down on to his rear so he sat there amid the gushing water. In that position he faced the webcam lens. Roma estimated he was a dozen feet from it. The man's pursuers reached the top of the waterfall. There they simply leapt off the top to drop the ten feet or so on to him, just like a group of surreal birds of prey. He vanished under the mass of bodies. They shoved each other aside to grab an arm or a leg. She saw the men and women sink their teeth into the man. Briefly he emerged from the scrum of bodies. She clearly saw his expression of agony as the young woman chewed on his throat. There was such an expression of joy on her face.

  The foam at the bottom of the waterfall turned crimson. Roma tasted blood in her mouth; for one wild moment she thought she'd somehow magically fallen through the screen into that London sewer and those bloody waters had engulfed her mouth. Then she realized she'd bitten her tongue without noticing. The dental anesthetic still numbed it. In shock she grabbed the water bottle and swilled her mouth. At that moment she took her eyes off the computer screen.

  When she looked back she let out a yell of shock. A face had filled the screen as one of the killers loomed in toward the lens. It must be the face of the girl that moved like a cat. Her beautiful almond-shaped eyes stared at her through the glass. Beneath her eyes were deathly blue rings. Her forehead was spattered with her victim's blood. And as the eyes narrowed Roma knew the creature was smiling at her, even though she couldn't see the mouth. The camera wasn't two-way; it was impossible for the woman to know she was being watched. For the rest of her life Roma would insist on that fact. Yet at that moment, as her blood ran cold, she knew that by virtue of some force she would never be able to understand that she-creature gazed through Roma's eyes into her mind. And knew all about her - right down to the last intimate secret of her soul.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Elmo Kigoma wasn't coming. The pressure of trying to persuade Elmo to rush over to the apartment hit Trajan hard. He pressed his hand to the head wound as the pain flared up again. 'Get a taxi. I'll pay the fare… No, as I was telling you, April Connor is here, and she's with one of those creatures - the same kind that attacked the guys in the park. Please, Mr Kigoma… there's something wrong… we've tried waking her… no, she's breathing. But we can't wake either of them.' Trajan battled with the pain in his head. 'Mr Kigoma, how can we help her? What can we do?'

  Ben watched the one-sided conversation with growing impatience.

  Trajan continued. 'If you ask me, neither of them are entirely human now. Clearly, we don't know how to help them. We can't call the police for obvious reasons. So, please, Mr Kigoma. You're the only one who can help them. I'll pay whatever you ask. We need an expert… no, we need you here now. No, we can't…'

  Ben reached for the phone. 'Trajan. Let me try.'

  'It won't do any good. He's hung up.'

  'But why won't he help us?'

  Trajan closed his eyes as the headache pounded. 'He told me he has to work. Something to do with… conversing with the ancestors and the gods of his homeland, who in turn will appeal to Edshu.' Trajan grimaced. 'Whoever Edshu is.'

  'Elmo told me about Edshu. Trajan, you should take a painkiller.'

  'I need to stay focused. What's Edshu?'

  'A central African deity that's known as the trickster god. His purpose is to cause strife amongst humanity.'

  'Some kind of devil?'

  'Edshu's more subtle than that. Tell me where the meds are, Trajan and I'll get you something for your head.'

  'No.'

  Ben's impatience grew. 'Trajan, I know you want to stay awake in case there's any change in April's condition, but you'll be no good to her if you're in so much pain you can't think straight.'

  Trajan was angry at what he saw as his own weakness. 'Okay, but keep an eye on her, won't you?'

  'Painkillers?'

  'By the kitchen sink, you can't miss them.'

  'Stay on the couch, I'll get them.' Ben brought the pills from the kitchen with a glass of water. 'What else did Elmo tell you?'

  'Basically, he was insisting he shouldn't be disturbed because he had to undertake some ritualistic procedure; that's going to take until late this afternoon to complete.' He swallowed the pair of bright pink pills. 'During the hours of daylight April and the guy in the cloakroom are going to be comatose. But he warned us, too. This ritual he's performing - if it works - has its own dangers.' He began to feel drowsy.

  'Go on.'

  'Hmm?' He rubbed his forehead. 'Mr Kigoma is of the opinion that if the ritual works we might lose April.'

  'And if it doesn't?'

  'Then as soon as she wakes, she's likely to attack us…' The last word tailed off to a sigh. Trajan had fallen asleep with the glass of water still in his hand. Ben eased it from his fingers then lifted the man's feet on to the couch. The slow rhythm of his respiration induced a drowsiness in Ben; however, he couldn't allow himself to relax.

  'Check on the patients,' he told himself. With Trajan sleeping in the lounge he went directly to the cloakroom. Crammed into a sitting position against the wall with the coats piled over him, the stranger was still comatose. Ben hurried to the bedroom. April, the woman he secretly loved, still lay curled under the bed. The way the creatures retreated from the dawn earlier suggested whatever had befallen April made her incredibly sensitive to daylight. The stranger had locked himself in that lightless cell under the coats. April had drawn the bedroom blinds, then crept under the bed like a nocturnal creature that couldn't abide the sun.

  Even though his position was uncomfortable Ben knelt there; he found it difficult to take his eyes off her. Her face was relaxed, the eyelids lightly shut. Although she breathed there was an aura of death around her. Her stillness tormented his imagination. What if she never woke up? Then again, Elmo Kigoma had warned that they would be in danger if she did. Ben longed to touch her face, only he couldn't bring himself to make physical contact with that skin. Will it be corpse-like to the touch? Will the flesh be soft, or possess the hardness of rigor-mortis?

  To expel the unpleasant thoughts he paced the apartment. Trajan still slept. The stranger in the cloakroom hadn't stirred. Ben made toast and forced himself to eat a few slices. Hunger was the last thing on his mind but his body still needed fuel. After that, he made himself a coffee then returned to the bedroom where he sat on a chair by the bed. Was he guarding April? Or was it a vigil? He didn't know. There was simply an instinct to be close to her. Outside vehicles rumbled along the street. Inside, there was silence. His thoughts were slippery now. He recalled images from last night when the men were slaughtered by the creatures. Almost instantly, the scene of bloodletting would be replaced by a yearning to crouch beside April and run his fingers through her hair.

  He straightened in the chair. 'Whatever you do,' he murmured, 'don't go to sleep. Stay awake.' By now, it was noon. Outside the sun shone. London went about its usual daily business. Just a short stroll away, Oxford Street would be swarming with shoppers. Cafes would be starting to bustle. After thirty hours without closing his eyes sleep had become an unstoppable force. As he dozed he dreamt he foll
owed April along a city road. She was healthy and beautiful and irrepressibly 'normal' again. In the dream he hurried after her.

  He nearly caught up with her when she turned a corner. Although he only lost sight of her for a split-second by the time he'd rounded the corner she was a hundred yards away. He caught up with her again, almost to the point of being able to put his hand on her shoulder, but then there was another of those corners of the damned. A second later she was a hundred yards away, so he had to play catch-up all over again. Next time I'm close I'll call her name. She'll stop when she knows I'm here, he thought. But she was never so close again. The faster he moved the further she receded into the distance, until she was forever rounding the next corner the moment he caught sight of her.

  When Ben opened his eyes a dark figure loomed over him. From the shadows above him the face appeared as an oval shadow set with two brilliant eyes. Its mouth opened. Gold glinted. Ben remembered the stranger in the cloakroom with the weirdly drawn back lips and gold-tipped teeth. The man stared at the wall above Ben's head as if he saw something that mesmerized him, then the eyes swept down to meet Ben's. They pulsed with an uncanny glow. Archaic phrases like 'witch fire' and 'ghost lights' spat into his brain as he tensed, ready to protect himself from attack.

  Yet the figure stood there as if it was a staff of wood driven into the floor. The creature's jaw dropped open as it drew in a deep lungful of air. 'We can't exist like this. Take us back to the island. I can protect her there.'

  Ben stood up. 'Protect who?'

  'Her… April Connor.'

  'Who does she need protecting from?'

  'Herself.' The figure drooped as its strength expired. 'The island is our only hope.'

  'What happened to you?'

  The man either couldn't or wouldn't answer. His eyes drifted back to stare at the wall.

  Ben kept his distance but he pressed on with the questions. 'What's your name?' No reply. 'What have you done to April?'

  'I didn't hurt her. I saved her. Our only chance is to go back to the island.'

  'What island?'

  'In the Thames. Downriver.' He gulped as if speaking hurt. 'Toward the estuary. A little island…' His speech became dreamy. 'There's a magic there. We could stop the worst… we were controlling it.'

  'Give me the name of the island.' Again no reply. 'Can you tell me what happened to you?'

  The man took a step backwards; his eyes were closing. The body was a husk that lacked even the strength to remain on its feet. As soon as he reached the wall he slowly crumpled as his knees bent. Moments later, he sat with his back to the wall with his head sagging forward until the chin rested on his chest. Ben crouched beside the man, ready to check for a pulse. Only there was an unnerving quality to the skin that persuaded him not to touch it. The dilemma of whether to check for life-signs or not was put on hold the moment he heard the knock on the door. As he moved from the bedroom to the hallway a wall clock revealed he'd slept over four hours. When he pulled open the door the daylight nearly blinded him. For a second all he could see was a silhouette, then he recognized the figure standing there.

  'Thank God you've come.'

  'That remains to be seen.' Elmo Kigoma stepped inside. 'Because what you do next will be so unpleasant you'll wish to God that I hadn't come at all.'

  TWENTY-FIVE

  'Thank God you've come.' Trajan spoke the words even as he was waking up on the couch. The rest had recharged his vitality because he added sharply, 'Why didn't you come when I telephoned earlier?'

  Elmo Kigoma entered the lounge with an air of quiet dignity. 'Ben Ashton also thanked God for my appearance, but whether you'll still be thanking God in the next few minutes is another matter. Also the ritual I conducted took, by necessity, several hours. You've both slept?'

  'Some.' Ben raised the blind to admit the afternoon light.

  'Good, because you'll have a long night ahead of you.'

  Trajan was on his feet. 'Have you seen April?'

  'Ben showed her to me. The stranger, too.'

  'What's happened to them?'

  'They've been taken.'

  'Taken?' Ben shook his head.

  'Taken,' Elmo repeated. 'I was born in a village in the Congo where the fields ended the jungle began. Edshu would take people into the jungle for a while. When they came back it would always be at night, and they'd be stricken by a hysterical hunger for human blood.'

  'They'd become vampires?'

  'Vampire is a term used by your culture, but, broadly, that is what they are.' Elmo gazed out of the window. 'London has a population of millions. This isn't only a feeding ground for Edshu's vampires, it's a breeding ground. Those they kill are also taken away to a secret, hidden place, where the transformation has time to occur.'

  'When you were asleep, Trajan, the stranger became conscious. He talked about an island in the river. He wanted to take April back there.'

  'Over my dead body,' Trajan said with feeling.

  Elmo shook his head. 'You might have to think the unthinkable, gentlemen.'

  Trajan paced the room. 'But you're telling us that April has become a vampire?'

  'For want of a better term,' Elmo said. 'Vampire is apt. They feed on blood. They shun the daylight.'

  Ben frowned. 'And you're saying this trickster god, Edshu, has transformed people in order to attack the living?'

  'Edshu is more sophisticated than that. His desire is for mischief. He doesn't want to destroy human beings, no, he'd rather human beings destroy one another. So in my country he would trick tribes into waging war on one another. Edshu could breathe on this city and turn it to dust and its population with it, but that isn't Edshu's way. He would rather plant in your mind the compulsion to destroy the city.'

  'Then he's equal to the devil, this Edshu. He despises humanity.'

  'Wrong again. The creator gods gave Edshu the task of testing human beings. If they're strong enough to survive the ordeals he inflicts then the gods will continue to protect humanity against the destruction of the species.' Elmo gave a grim smile. 'After all, what god would continue to prop up a failing species? Better to wipe them out and start again from scratch.'

  Ben saw Trajan's troubled expression. 'Is Trajan's doubt one of Edshu's weapons, too?'

  'Absolutely. For Edshu fear or pride or cowardice or recklessness can be a weapon that he turns against you.' His gaze appeared to casually brush against Ben. 'Jealousy, too. Jealousy is one of the most powerfully destructive emotions.'

  Trajan hadn't noticed who that final comment was intended for but Ben felt its sting. Had his emotions been that transparent to the hermit?

  'Imagine,' Elmo continued. 'If you go into battle with your brother at your side in the full knowledge that your brother will inherit your father's wealth. How hard would you fight to save your brother's life?'

  Ben felt a stir of unease that Elmo might ask him there and then to reveal his secret feelings for April so he quickly asked, 'You've completed the ritual?'

  'Yes.'

  'Did it work?'

  'Who knows? Only time will tell.' Elmo regarded the pair of them as they watched him with a desperate trust on their faces. 'My ritual doesn't involve the examination of chicken entrails to foretell the future. I didn't sacrifice goats. I invoke a far greater power. The power of visualization, or if you prefer, imagination. Today I lay on my bed and I imagined a scenario. I pictured my ancestors around a campfire with the gods of my village. There, my father, grandfather and all my uncles argued with the gods to persuade them to undo what Edshu has done because it's unnecessary. I pictured my grandfather, who was a huge lion of a man with copper bands around his neck and a spear that was as tall as a tree, who once drove away demons by tearing a thunderbolt from heaven and hurling it into their faces. I lay on my bed and I pictured my grandfather saying to the gods: "These people in the city are good. They work hard to build lives and protect their families. Life itself is a test for them; they don't need Edshu's mischief. So do away with th
ese vampires. Banish them, send them away, turn them to dust, make them shadows that vanish before the sun." For hour after hour I imagined my ancestors debating with the gods. I pictured them explaining why Edshu should be sent on away, that his test of humanity is not required here.'

  'But you can imagine anything you want,' Trajan protested. 'In my mind I can picture April growing wings and flying over the city. You can manipulate those images inside your head to do whatever you want.'

  Elmo smiled. 'If you are honest with yourself does that really happen? You might picture the woman flying on golden wings but before you can stop yourself don't you imagine her shedding those wings and falling? Or even flying away into the arms of another man?'

  Ben said, 'Okay, but did this scenario you imagined end with the gods agreeing to put an end to Edshu's tricks?'

  Elmo spoke carefully. 'At the close of the debate that I visualized in my mind it seemed to me that the gods reacted favorably to my ancestors' argument, and yet…' He paused. 'And yet they observed there would be an obstruction to what we desire.'

  'An obstruction?'

  'A man-made obstruction,' Elmo replied. 'My feeling is that the gods wish to send Edshu on his way, and to rid the city of these vampires. Only there is a human that prevents it.'

  'This visualization, as you call it, you're confident it can bring results?' Ben asked.

  Elmo smacked his hand against his forehead. 'I'm at fault for not expressing my beliefs clearly enough. I'm to blame that you doubt me. Now… sometimes a person will come to me with a problem that dogs their life. What advice can I give them when the answer is inside of them all along? So I suggest that when they retire at night they lie there and imagine they are able to converse with one of their ancestors. Perhaps a grandmother who died twenty years ago. Lie there, I tell my patient; relax, breathe slowly, then picture you are speaking with your dead ancestor. Explain your problem to them. Politely ask how it might be solved. Then allow your imagination to visualize their reply.' He walked to the door. 'Alas, we don't have time for that technique. We must resort to one that is more immediate. You'll need your courage for this, gentlemen. Quickly! Come with me.'