by Will Hill
“It’s a girl,” he whispered.
The Operator nodded. “What do we do?” Jamie asked.
McBride said nothing. Then he shouted across the clearing, in a calm, even voice.
“We are not going to hurt you,” he said. “Come out. I repeat. We are not going to hurt you.”
There was no movement from the edge of the clearing. The girl didn’t appear, but nor did they hear the burst of noise that meant she had run.
McBride turned to face the spot where the girl was hiding, and motioned for Jamie to do the same. He placed his T-Bone on the ground, and held his empty hands out for her to see. Jamie followed his companion’s lead, placing his weapon carefully on the ground and reaching towards the darkness at the edge of the clearing. They stood still, and waited. Eventually there was a rustling noise from where she was standing, and the snap of a branch. Then the girl emerged from the undergrowth, and took a hesitant step towards them.
She was a teenager, roughly Jamie’s age. She had blonde hair, cut short and angular so it fell across her forehead, and was wearing jeans and a dark T-shirt. She stared at them with an expression that was not fear; rather it was caution. She took another small step forward, her eyes flicking constantly to her right and left, then there was a blur of movement above her as Larissa dropped from the sky like an eagle, and effortlessly lifted the girl into the air.
She screamed as her feet left the ground, then she was moving through the air and into the clearing. Larissa dropped her from a couple of feet up, and she landed in a heap in front of McBride, who leapt forward and pinned her to the ground. The vampire floated down to the ground next to Jamie, and watched as the Operator wrapped his arms around her waist and held the struggling, squirming teenage girl still.
“Let me go!” she yelled.
She whipped her head backwards and it connected squarely with the bridge of McBride’s nose, breaking it. He grunted, pain shooting through his head, and his grip loosened. The girl shoved his arms down and pushed herself loose. She leapt to her feet, looking wildly around for an escape route, and then Larissa stepped forward, pulled her arms behind her back with one hand, and lifted her casually off the ground by the nape of her neck with the other.
“Hold still,” she said. “I’m not going to hurt you if you hold still.”
McBride got unsteadily to his feet. Blood was streaming from his nose and dripping steadily on to his uniform. He walked over to where the girl hung, suspended in the air by Larissa, and Jamie joined him.
“What’s your name?” asked Jamie.
The girl grimaced, and didn’t answer.
“This will be easier if I know your name,” he said, calmly.
‘It’s Kate,” she spat. “Kate Randall.”
“I’m Jamie,” he said. “Pleased to meet you.”
She glared at him, and didn’t respond.
“In a few seconds I’m going to ask my friend to put you down,” Jamie said. “Please don’t run, or attack any of us. We really do mean you no harm, but we’ll protect ourselves if we have to. OK?”
No response.
“I’m going to take that as a yes,” he said, and nodded to Larissa. She smiled at him, and released her grip on the girl. Kate fell to the floor in a heap, but her head came up immediately, her eyes flashing with anger.
“Who are you?” she asked. “Are you with them?”
“No,” said Jamie. “We’re not with them. We’re here to stop them.”
Kate laughed. It was a dry, brittle sound, with no humour in it.
“You’re a little bit late,” she said.
Then she burst into tears.
As McBride knelt down and tried to comfort the crying girl, the sound of footsteps crashed through the undergrowth, and Jamie heard his name called through the darkness. It was Morris’s voice, and he shouted in response.
“Over here!”
The crashing and thudding increased, then Morris and Stevenson burst into the clearing, their weapons drawn. They skidded to a halt, taking in the scene before them; Jamie standing next to Larissa, McBride kneeling beside the weeping teenage girl, the pale body of the man lying on the ground.
“What happened?” demanded Morris, striding over to Jamie.
Jamie explained.
“Jesus,” said Morris, and shook his head. “What a mess this is.”
Stevenson went to McBride and knelt down beside him. Kate was starting to compose herself, the tears drying up, her weeping diminishing to small gulps of air. She looked at the two men in their black uniforms crouching beside her, then over at Jamie.
“What’s happening?” she asked, simply.
Morris strode over and stood in front of her.
“Have you read Dracula?” he asked.
She nodded.
“It’s not a story; it’s a history lesson.”
Kate looked up at him, then burst out laughing.
“Wow,” she said, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “How many times have you practised that one?”
Morris flushed red, and looked over to Jamie for help. A big grin had crept over the teenager’s face, and he walked over and hunkered down in front of Kate.
“Vampires are real,” he said, softly. “They’re what attacked your island tonight. Their leader is one of the oldest vampires in the world, and he’s holding my mother captive. This had nothing to do with you, or anyone else who lived here. But you need to understand what we’re dealing with. OK?”
Kate nodded. Her eyes were clear, and her face was remarkably calm.
“Do you know if anyone made it off the island?” she asked. “My father…”
She stopped, and gazed into the distance, lost for a moment in the memory of what had happened to her sleepy little village.
“There are survivors,” Jamie said, and her eyes snapped back into focus. “I don’t know how many, and I don’t know if your father was among them. But there are definitely survivors; they ran a fishing boat aground on a beach near Fenwick.”
Relief spilled through Kate like a warm wave. Somehow she knew her father was amongst the people who had made it to the mainland; she could not have explained to anyone how she knew, but she was certain. Her father was safe.
I’ll see him soon. I’ll see him once the sun comes up. “What happens now?” she asked. “There’s no one else alive here. Ben was the last.”
She motioned to the body lying on the grass. His wide eyes stared lifelessly up at the night sky.
“We have a job to do,” said Morris. “I want you to go down into the village, lock yourself in your house and wait for morning. When the sun—”
Kate and Jamie interrupted him at the same time.
“You can’t leave me here!”
“We’re not leaving her here!”
Morris pulled off his helmet and threw it to the ground. It thudded to the wet grass, and the rest of the team jumped.
“For Christ’s sake,” he shouted. “This is not a youth club hike or an Outward Bounds trip. This is a classified military operation, I am the senior officer here, and you will do as I tell you. Is that understood?”
There was silence in the clearing; five faces were turned towards Morris, who had gone a deep shade of angry red.
“That was very impressive, Tom,” said Larissa. “Really. Very forceful.”
Kate giggled, and Jamie felt a smirk creep involuntarily across his face. Even McBride and Stevenson smiled, despite themselves, and after a moment Morris himself broke into a grin.
“Sorry,” he said. “Got a bit carried away there for a minute.”
Jamie stood up and clapped his friend on the shoulder.
“We can’t leave her, Tom,” he said. “You know we can’t.”
“I know,” replied Morris, then turned his attention to Kate. “Can you take us to the monastery from here?”
Kate stood up.
“What are we waiting for?” she asked.
Chapter 43
THE STUFF OF NIG
HTMARES
The Blacklight team, a member larger than it had been when it landed, walked through the woods. In the distance the ramparts of the ancient monastery could be seen above the trees, lit by orange light flickering off the pale stone.
Kate had guided them on to a rough trail that wound through the woods. Jamie had given her the stake from his belt, and she carried it before her like a divining rod, her fist clenched tightly around the rubber grip. Larissa was floating above them, her eyes peeled for any sign of movement, as the team walked beneath her. They crossed a large clearing, on which a football pitch had been marked out in lines of fading paint, and then the trees enveloped them again.
McBride led the way, followed by Jamie and Kate, who were walking side by side, then by Stevenson, and finally by Morris, who had again taken up the rear position.
“So how old are you?” asked Kate, her voice trembling.
Jamie could see she was trying to hold herself together. “I’m sixteen,” he replied. “You?”
“Same,” she said, and grinned at him. “My birthday was last month.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing,” she said. “My dad had to work. But he’s going to take me to the mainland next month. We’re going shopping.”
Her face creased with pain at the thought of her father, and Jamie’s heart went out to her.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” he said.
“So am I,” she replied.
They walked on in silence for a few minutes, then she spoke again.
“How did you end up here?” she asked, looking over at him.
This time he did laugh.
“That’s a long story,” he replied.
“We’ve got time.”
“No,” said Jamie. “We really haven’t. Trust me.”
They emerged into a round clearing, and McBride held a hand up, bringing them to a halt. Larissa floated down next to Jamie, and eyed Kate with a look of mild suspicion as the team fanned out in a tight line.
“What’s wrong?” Morris asked.
McBride glared at him, then held a finger to his lips.
“Something’s not right,” he whispered. “I don’t—”
He didn’t finish his sentence. Larissa tipped her head back and sniffed the night air, then gripped Jamie’s arm and turned to him, her eyes wide.
Vampires flooded into the clearing.
They emerged from the darkness at the edges, dropped from the overhanging branches. There were twelve of them, male and female; they formed into a loose line in the middle of the clearing, snarling at the Blacklight team.
Crimson spilled into Larissa’s eyes, and she bared her fangs at the group of vampires. Jamie grabbed at his belt for a UV grenade, and felt only air. There had been no time to visit the armoury before they left; the Operators were carrying only their basic equipment. They raised their weapons, and waited for the vampires to make their move.
They didn’t have to wait long.
Alexandru’s followers rushed towards them, snarling and hissing, their fangs gleaming in the silver moonlight. Stevenson was the first to fire; his T-Bone shot slammed into the chest of a man in his thirties wearing a stained yellow T-shirt and ripped khakis, obliterating his heart, and he exploded in a fountain of gore.
McBride dropped to one knee, and strafed the approaching vampires with his MP5. The bullets tore through them at knee height, sending blood and white shards of bone flying into the air. Three of the vampires fell, and slid across the damp grass, howling in agony.
The rest kept coming.
Jamie fired his T-Bone squarely into the chest of a vampire woman. She threw her head back and howled in pain, blood gushing from the round hole the projectile had made, then she exploded, and the howl died with the rest of her.
Larissa leapt forward and sank her fingers into the eye sockets of two of the onrushing vampires. Blood squirted around her knuckles as she pressed deeper, blinding them with her razor-sharp fingernails. She pulled her hands free, her arms soaked with blood to the elbows, and ducked as Morris and McBride fired in unison. The vampires exploded above her, drenching her in gore. She shook her head, blood flying in thick streaks from her long hair, and then she was moving again, back to her position next to Jamie.
Stevenson ran forward and hand-staked the three vampires lying on the ground. They twisted and rolled on the grass, their faces contorted with pain, until the Operator put them out of their misery in three splashes of blood.
The five remaining vampires backed away, hissing. Their numerical advantage was gone, and Jamie saw fear in their red eyes. Adrenaline surged through him and he charged forward, without any idea of what he was going to do. All he knew was that there were vampires to be killed, and he wanted to be the one who did the killing.
Morris shouted something, but Jamie didn’t hear him. He sprinted across the clearing towards the vampire in the middle of the retreating group, a man in his forties who looked like a roadie for a heavy metal band, a black T-shirt and blue denim vest covering bulging arms that were coated in blue ink.
Three projectiles shot past him, metal cables trailing behind them, and thudded into a trio of vampires. They exploded as he dodged between them, splattering him with blood. A dark shape swooped over him, and Larissa hauled a vampire girl up into the trees. She came back down in pieces. Larissa reappeared, a blood-soaked nightmare, her red eyes glowing brightly, her teeth bared, and she tore open the severed torso and crushed the heart that was still beating inside it. The pieces of the girl exploded, and suddenly Jamie was running towards the last vampire in the clearing.
The roadie backed away, buying himself time and distance, then leapt forward. Jamie fired his T-Bone, but the shot went wide, disappearing into the dark trees at the edge of the clearing. He threw the weapon aside, reached for the stake on his belt, and found the loop empty.
I gave it to Kate.
The vampire crashed into him at waist height, knocking the air out of him and driving him to the ground. It straddled him, its knees on his elbows, sending pain screaming up his arms. He kicked his legs, but the huge vampire didn’t move an inch. It snarled, a grin on its contorted face, its eyes deep pits of crimson. Behind him he heard his companions winding in their T-Bone projectiles, and realisation hit him.
I ran too far. By the time they fire again I’ll be dead.
A dark blur flashed to a halt at the vampire’s shoulder, and Larissa appeared, her wide eyes streaming red, her teeth bared. She reached for the vampire, but it swung an arm like a tree trunk and caught her square on the jaw, sending her flying into the darkness, where she hit something with a sickening crunch. The vampire leant slowly towards him, its mouth peeling back to reveal two enormous fangs, at least an inch long, and then there was a wet crunching noise, and the vampire’s expression changed. A second later it exploded. Jamie shielded his eyes with one of his arms, and then hands were pulling at him, hauling him to a sitting position. He opened his eyes, and found Kate looking down at him, his stake in her hand, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Are you all right?” she asked, breathlessly. “Did it bite you?”
Jamie shook his head, slowly, and clambered to his feet. The three Blacklight Operators appeared at his shoulder, and McBride spun him round.
“Did you get bitten?” he demanded. “Tell me the truth.”
“He didn’t get bitten,” said Kate. “I got it.”
McBride looked at her with open admiration, and then stepped forward and hugged her. She stood stiffly in his embrace for a few seconds, confusion on her face, then gradually gave in and wrapped her arms around the black-clad man. He broke the hug, and held her by her shoulders.
“Well done,” he said. “Very well done.”
Kate flushed with embarrassment, but she smiled broadly.
A crash of noise came from the edge of the clearing and Larissa reappeared. She strode towards the others, blood pumping down her face and neck from a wide gash at her temple, her
left arm hanging at an unnatural angle at her side, pain and panic on her face.
“Are you—” started Morris, but she brushed past him without a glance and stopped in front of Jamie, grabbing his chin and tilting his head back and up. She inspected his neck carefully, and then released her grip. They stared at each other for a long moment, until Larissa turned sharply on her heels, walked over to Kate and kissed her on the cheek.
Then she sat on the grass, cradling her broken arm in her lap, her crimson eyes glowing in the dark. After a few seconds Jamie walked over and sat down beside her.
Ten minutes later, they moved on.
Beams of moonlight shone down through the canopy of the woods, long streams of silver light that gleamed and twinkled in the night air. They made their way along the trail, in the same order they had entered the clearing. Larissa held her broken arm as still as she was able to, pressing it gently to her side. She was a terrifying vision, soaked from head to toe in blood that was starting to harden and crack, giving it the look of flaking war paint. Jamie was similarly coated; he had wiped most of the roadie’s blood from his face, but his uniform was drenched, and the coppery scent of blood hung around him like a cloud, turning his stomach. Kate was pale, as the shock of the things she had seen over the course of this long, bloody night began to settle into her mind, but her face was determined, and she walked steadily. McBride had reset his broken nose, and the blood had stopped flowing. It was badly swollen, and there was a high whistling noise when he breathed, but the Operator cared little for a broken nose, and his eyes were clear.
Jamie walked next to Larissa, who was floating six inches above the ground so she didn’t jar her broken arm. Neither of them said anything, but every couple of minutes one cast a sideways glance at the other. Kate followed behind, watching them.
They emerged from the woods at the top of a wide plain, studded with low bushes and tangles of shrubs, that gently sloped downwards before them. The monastery stood at the top of the rise on the other side, a crumbling building of pale stone rising above the row of cliffs that marked the edge of the island. Jamie could hear the distant crashing of waves, and smelled salt in the air. Light blazed from the uneven windows of the monastery, the flickering yellows and oranges that came from open fires.
