Kingdom

by Andy Tilley

  ‘Stayed chilled now ‘cos I’ll be in ‘n’ out before you know it.’

  I know it’s crappy but at least it’s a start and kind of current, especially amongst the gang bangers and scum classes who I intend to make my staple diet. Keltz stays silent and hard to read for a moment then merely nods his head to his left, in the direction of a couple of teenagers who are busy kicking a ball to one another along the woodland path. Keltz is challenging me, I’m sure he is, so maybe he doesn’t think that this is such a bad introduction after all. Time to try it out.

  Snap, click, Booh!

  ‘Stayed chilled now ‘cos I’ll be in ‘n’ out befo…...’

  The lad’s head is suddenly cram packed with energy, instantly reaching some kind of critical mass, exploding with so much vigour that I panic as much as he does! I’ve got to get out, reel myself back too quickly though and I just know that I’ve hurt him. So fast is my retreat in fact, that I’m out of there in time to catch the action; the boy midway through a shock reflex that jerks his face so hard into the tree that he spins to the ground, moaning and swearing loudly through split lips. His pal helps him to his feet and supports him as they struggle past our bench, no doubt on the way to the hospital to see if a stitch is needed to stop the bleeding. I can hear the injured boy trying to explain that there was definitely someone there, that his lips will be okay but Christ how his eyes are burning. I don’t feel good at all about this and for me, school’s out for the day. Keltz knows it too.

  ‘So how d’ya think that went dude?’

  His taunting sarcasm stings but I don’t bite.

  ‘I guess you were going for that hip rapist kind of sound? Not good was it. Look, we’ll call it a day shall we, pick it up again tomorrow. In the mean time though, if you do get a bit peckish then there’s a little slight of hand that you can use to get yourself a nibble without causing any alarm.’

  I’m sat back next to my mentor and I’m listening intently because I can’t imagine developing the level of finesse that I’m going to need to feed at leisure any time soon. And god forbid I should need to coax someone into to doing my bidding!

  ‘You know that very first moment when you’re entering the eyes, there’s a kind of rush of images from outside? Well they’re real time, the most recent optical inputs that the brain is busy processing and it’s that process that you’re hacking into.’

  I do recall these sliding scenes that Keltz is describing but I hadn’t paid much attention to them, never sure if they belonged to me or not. As I entered the boy just now for instance, and before that crushing panic set, I did fleetingly see his feet trapping the football ready to pass it back to his mate. But what use can that be when it comes to feeding from him without smashing his face into a tree?

  ‘All you have to do is scoop them up on your way through. Sounds tricky I know but believe me it isn’t and by the time you’re in you should have a good bundle of snapshots with you. No need for the booh and all you have to do is hold a moment or two then let them all go. Those images will do two things. Firstly, continue on to where they were going and lead you straight to the soul. Secondly provide you with the diversion you need to grab a slice of pizza without the victim ever knowing! Confuses the mind see, this little double take. Clever or what?’

  It is indeed clever, fiendishly so. Keltz calls it ‘doing the domino’. I wonder if this is perhaps some reference to the ‘domino effect’; a nice and concise description of those stacked frames of reality collapsing back into someone’s déjà vu experience. But it’s not domino as in ‘the domino effect’ at all and Keltz grins as he explains that it is in fact domino as in the phrase ‘Domino’s? I’d like a garlic bread and a thick crust Hawaiian with extra chillie please.’ Fast food for silkies is what it is and I can’t wait to get me some!

  ‘Now that sounds like something even I can manage Keltz. Fancy a stroll back to the hotel and maybe I can try it out on the way?’

  ‘Sure, why not. But first there’s something I want you to see. Those two pigeons near the bin.’

  ‘Very good of you to point them out but I’ve seen a pigeon before thanks.’

  Keltz laughs and his guttural snort reminds me of how much I already value the friendship of this scrawny, ginger haired man.

  ‘Funny guy eh? Just grab the one on the left and follow me.’

  Snap click and I’m flying. This is a magnificent creature! Wings beat effortlessly and soon they’ve pushed me high above the trees, climbing steeply in pursuit of Keltz. The park is already nothing more than a grass stain on the housing estate below, a mass of back yards and washing lines scrubbing away at it. Higher we climb, into the endless blue air above a smoking haze of evening cloud that is not yet thick enough to rain or prevent the Irish Sea from shimmering into view. Here Keltz finally stalls and we turn our wings toward the steady breeze here, tip and tilt to hold position.

  ‘Look to the west Kingdom.’

  Feathers spill the cool breeze as I turn to my right and so I tumble, but not far. Steady again I focus these fantastic eyes and immediately spot what Keltz wants to show me. Pinned just behind the horizon, somewhere between the sea and the sun, there’s a dark cloud but its form is too precise, too geometric to be a weather system. Even so, that is exactly how this thing makes me feel; like a storm is gathering. This is the reason why Keltz has brought me so close to the seaside.

  ‘What the hell is it Keltz?’

  ‘Tuatha he calls himself. Look, look at how he’s feeding now!’

  I am looking and the longer I stare the more I sense Tuatha’s sinister portent. I curse these perfect pigeon eyes for they reveal far too much, even at this distance. At the heart of the shadowy dome sits a crimson orb and from it, blood red tentacles constantly lash out. I can’t actually hear them but I can feel their sharp crack each time a life is touched, flashing white and lighting the murk as each soul is taken. Strange too this feeling that I’ve seen Tuatha’s hideous form before.

  ‘He always starts around this time, as dusk falls. Hunts through the night that one, which believe me is not good for your health. Simple rule Kingdom so listen well. You don’t go to those western isles, not ever you understand?’

  I don’t fully understand anything about this other than that I have seen enough. We both have and it isn’t only the air that gradually warms as we descend although there isn’t sufficient heat in the dying day to melt the chill that Keltz’s stern words have brought. Tuatha isn’t mentioned again until we’re sat in the hotel lounge; me cradling a cool larger and Keltz (or Donald as I have to call him in public) swirling a large whisky. It’s his third and I think he’s ready to talk.

  ‘So what’s all this about Tua…’

  ‘Used to be a good friend he did, to me and Setantii. We’d spend time over there and likewise he’d visit the mainland occasionally. Centuries we shared and grew together. But when the troubles came to his land, and even though he knew the risk, Tuatha found himself drawn to them. Once he’d…’

  ‘Risk did you say Donald?’

  Keltz empties his glass and jiggles it in the direction of the bar, refusing to answer me until the barman turns and jabs a tumbler at the optic.

  ‘You know that old saying, you are what you eat? Well when you were human Cristian, that was kind of true. Shit in, shit out would probably have been more accurate but for silkie, the saying is literal. More than that, we can only ever be what we eat.’

  This I think I already knew but hadn’t made all the connections in the way that Keltz so concisely expressed it. Back at the lighthouse I’d been amazed, initially by how complete Cristian’s essence remained within me but also by how Ruby exists here too. Not as sentient of course but she’s here and contributing to my whole.

  ‘The Troubles tainted pretty much everyone who lived on that island. Brothers, sons fathers all set against one another, all filled with hate and let me tell you, more than the few who acted had murder in their souls. Even if they didn’t set bombs or shoot guns,
it didn’t matter see, ‘cos the evil was still there and when a society becomes so polluted like that it’s time to move on, let it heal and reconcile itself. But Tuatha refused to leave.’

  Keltz’s drink has arrived. He takes it with one hand and grabs the jacket sleeve of the waiter with the other to stop him leaving. Whilst he slugs his scotch he holds a hard stare to let the boy know that he isn’t to move before the glass is empty and that only then can he trot off and pour another. I can see a cool blue fire in Keltz’s eyes and I wonder how the hell this young lad must be feeling. I’m tempted to take a peek but I still don’t have my booh! sorted so I resist.

  ‘And you know something Cristian? I’m pretty sure that he was already hooked on that dark and tasty stuff before he was pushed to the brink and it was all he had left on his plate. Not that it matters eh? Whether he chose too or not, that milk’s been spilt a long long time. Tuatha is lost to us, has become what he has become. Nothing more to me now than a dark smudge on the horizon.’

  The whisky boy is back just in time for Keltz to toast his lost friend. He’s very drunk now, or at least Donald Frasier is. What state Keltz is in I can’t be sure other than truly sad at losing a friend like this. He’s miles away, drifted to a far off place that makes him feel helpless and desperate; a place from where he can still see Tuatha yet is unable to reach out and drag him back from the centre of that grey dome. Hang on a minute. Grey dome? Now where have I…of course that’s it! Christine’s picture!

  ‘Picture?’

  Keltz is back in the room so quickly (and lucid too) that his sharp, hushed voice surprises me.

  ‘Sorry Donald, come again?’

  ‘You said picture. A picture given to you by Christine.’

  I’m pretty sure I didn’t mention it out loud. Did I? Maybe I did mumble something. Whilst I’m busy musing my hand further betrays me, reaches down and checks the neatly folded paper stashed in my pocket.

  ‘Is that it? Can I see it?’

  I can’t think quickly enough to come up with a reason why not, so long as one condition is met. Pulling it from my jeans I hold the paper across the table, halfway between us whilst I explain to Keltz my terms.

  ‘Okay you can but, and I know this is going to sound strange, you’re going to have to promise me that you won’t tell Setantii about it. I know, I know, but I gave Christine my word on this and that means a lot to me. So?’

  He’s already snatched it! Busily unfolding it, nodding and agreeing to keep it to himself. I suppose this rather half hearted acceptance of my demand will have to do. Not that I need have worried though because before I can protest he’s given it back to me and judging from his complete lack of interest in what he’s seen, I doubt he’ll even remember this tomorrow.

  ‘Cute. Yeah, she’s a cute kid your sister. And don’t worry about Setantii, I won’t mention it. You have my word.’

  I know he’s telling the truth and I feel a lot better about what just happened. Still, I’d rather change the subject, push the whole incident further into obscurity.

  ‘So I’m thinking that my idea of preying on the criminal fraternity isn’t such a good strategy after all then.’

  ‘Oh definitely not Christian. Forget about all this soul sucking vigilante stuff. No, you need to stay on a more wholesome diet, for at least a few decades. Long enough to build up a good reserve that won’t easily corrupt should you try something a little more exotic shall we say. Simple folk is what you need. Good, honest, hard working people that are too busy in their lives to develop any really deep, negative passions. Boring I know, but think of them as your five a day vegetables if you like. Oh, but not that you should actually go after vegetables, or anyone with a mental problem. They will really screw you up!’

  I know I shouldn’t but as black as this thought is I can’t help laughing out loud. It’s good to laugh with Keltz again, especially after all this, frankly depressing, talk of bad men and their poisonous evil. Good to leave it behind finally, lesson learnt.

  ‘So when will Setantii be joining us? Soon I hope.’

  ‘Hard to say. You have to remember that she’s spent the last ten years cooped up in that old woman, looking out for you. My guess is she’ll take her time, stay free for a while and enjoy herself again. But she’ll be in touch I’m sure, in some form or other. When she’s taken care of a little business that is. You want another beer?’

  ‘No not for me thanks. Think I’ll give Domino’s a ring.’

  Snap click.

  Chapter 33

  If there’s one thing that Thomas has learned during the past decade it’s this; keep moving. The problem for the fugitive Chevaliers on this occasion though has been one of timing, both their luck and trains finally running out at Lancaster. This logistical hiccup couldn’t have come at a worse time. Staying under the silkie radar had until this morning been an exercise only in stealth, the purpose of which was the concealment of an elaborate double cross. When that particular cat leapt out of the bag the rules of the game changed; cat versus mouse now, in a mad dash to the safety of the lab. Of course Thomas knew that Lancaster was to be the end of the line when they boarded the last train from Edinburgh and consequently he’d been able to set plan B in motion hours ago. Even so, the instant that he and his daughter stop moving and step from the carriage onto the empty platform, fear pricks him. He huddles his daughter under his jacket as they walk. The guard harrying them out of the bright ticket office isn’t helping calm to his nerves and neither is his lack of sympathy to Thomas’s suggestion that they should sit in the waiting room to watch the window for their friend’s arrival. All too soon then, the Chevaliers are stood still again, silent and exposed on the shiny cobbled apron of the station forecourt. Trying to get his bearings before the station lights are turned off, the only landmark that Thomas manages to register is a monolithic silhouette towering above them; a castle backlit by the pollution of the city it once ruled. It’s well past midnight, although Thomas can’t be sure in which century they’ve been dumped. The rain stopped at Penrith but there’s a damp, steady wind (too lazy to go around them) cutting through clothing to chill their bones. The safety of the Manor is more than sixty miles to the south and there’s no sign of the get away car he summoned from the train.

  ‘Shouldn’t be too long now princess. Here, take my scarf and cover up those ears. They’re turning blue!’

  Christine accepts the scarf but isn’t yet ready to smile. Dad immediately regret’s his choice of adjective.

  ‘Hey now come on little’un, try and cheer up eh? Look, I know it’s disappointing but the doctor has some new eyes ready for you at the lab doesn’t he.’

  ‘But they’re not blue are they daddy.’

  The man at the station has herded father and daughter into a stone walled pen before abandoning them. This parking and turning circle has been scooped from out of a steep wooded bank that wraps itself more than half way around the space making it feel very claustrophobic. The only colour in the gloom is yellow, thick letters daubed onto the floor telling people where travellers can be dropped and where taxis might appear if you wish hard enough. Thomas and Christine have had to climb up from the platform (twenty feet above the track now) and further twenty foot ascent remains if they are to get to the granite bridge carrying the main road into the city. The only thing that connects them to the relative safety of that high street is a glistening tarmac slope, walled with fortifying blocks of sandstone holding back the trees and bushes gathered on the slopes above it. Deserted and dimly lit (with only the occasional iron coach lamp dribbling a feeble glow into orange pools) the chute seems more like a Victorian rat run than a twenty first century thoroughfare, a huge wrought iron gate (that hasn’t closed for decades) marking the exit at the top. Frozen in this pen Chevalier stares at the gate, willing his ride to turn through it, drive down and collect them. Somewhere on the bank a branch snaps, crisp leaves rattle. It’s time to move.