Vampire Wake (Kiera Hudson Series #2)

by Tim O'Rourke

  “How could you be so dumb, Kiera?” I whispered to myself. Whoever they’d been, they had run away – not tiptoed. The gap between each mark was too far apart for them to have been tiptoeing away. No, they had been running and fast, leaving only toe prints behind. But why? Who had they been running from?

  Standing, I followed their tracks through the maze of trees. Ahead I could hear the rippling sound of the moat and realised I was heading towards the wall that surrounded the manor. I continued to follow the footprints left behind by Kayla’s secret friend and whoever the other happened to be until they came to an abrupt end in front of a large bushy area that scaled the wall before me. Pulling the branches aside, I lurched backwards at finding a black iron door set into the ground. The last time I’d seen anything like it had been the grate in the floor at the police station in The Ragged Cove.

  “A hatch to the hollows,” I whispered, bending down to inspect it. There was a black metal ring pull and taking hold of it, I yanked as hard as I could. But like the summerhouse door, it was locked fast. Beneath the ring pull there was a lock.

  “But where is the key?” I said, standing and brushing soil from the knees of my jeans. “And why are the Vampyrus coming in numbers from The Hollows, going only as far as the tree line surrounding the summerhouse then running away again?”

  Covering the door with the brambles and bushes, I wondered where I might find the keys to the summerhouse and the door leading below ground.

  “The gatehouse!” I said aloud, and palm-slapped my forehead again.

  But that creep Marshal might be there. I could ask him what he was doing on my balcony last night. What did I have to lose, I thought to myself, heading for the gatehouse.

  I walked for about ten minutes or so, when I came across a circle of weeping willows. Their branches hung so low that they made a curtain of leaves. Pulling them apart, I stepped into the circle and gasped. Hidden behind the branches was a small circular graveyard. There must have been sixty or so gravestones. Closing the gap on the branches behind me, I stepped slowly between the graves, looking down at the inscriptions written upon them.

  In loving memory of Joshua Edwards

  1704 – 1716

  There was another, and the inscription upon this headstone read:

  Karen Turner - Sadly missed

  1833 – 1848

  And another:

  Richard Baker

  Gone too soon

  1927 – 1935

  The dates on the graves spanned the centuries and the most recent I could find was dated from 2009. This one read:

  Our precious Lucy

  May your wings give you flight now

  1996 – 2009

  Standing in the centre of the tiny graveyard, gooseflesh ran up my back and the hairs at the nape of my neck stood on end. Although each of the gravestones and graves had been immaculately kept, and the whole setting hidden behind the branches of the weeping willows was tranquil and serene, I couldn’t help but feel spooked. It was the dates carved into the blocks of grey stone that upset me so much. All of the people buried here hadn’t lived passed the age of sixteen – they had all died as children.

  Being careful not to stand on any of the graves that had been so tightly laid next to one another, I made my way out of the tiny surreal graveyard and back into the woods. Closing the branches over just how I’d found them, and my heart aching for all those poor children, I couldn’t help but wonder why they had all died so young. And of what? Why be buried here, hidden away in the grounds of Hallowed Manor?

  With my heart feeling like a lump of stone in my chest, I made my way towards the gatehouse.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Passing the front gate to the manor, I could see that the drawbridge was up. Glancing through the iron bars of the gate, I could just make out the moat. The water looked dark and choppy. I wondered how deep it was, and whether my phone lay at the bottom of it. In the distance I could just see the sun setting low over the moors and it looked like a thin strip of silver ribbon on the horizon.

  Turning away, I crossed the wide, gravelled drive and approached the door to the gatehouse. It was a single story building constructed out of black slate, with a thatched roof that looked as if it could do with some urgent repairs before winter arrived. There was a stone chimney and a column of black smoke spiralled up into the sky. The door was made of wood, which had faded almost to grey and was warped at the bottom. Clenching my fist, I rapped on the door with my knuckles. There was no answer or sound from inside.

  “Marshal?” I called out, knocking on the door again.

  Nothing.

  Looking over my shoulder at the manor way off in the distance, I gently pushed the door with my shoulder and to my surprise, it swung open. Making sure that I wasn’t being watched, I slipped inside, closing the door behind me. There was one main room, and two smaller ones that led off it. One of these was a kitchen and the other, a poky-looking bathroom. Making sure that the gatehouse was deserted I said, “Marshal, are you here?”

  The only sound was a fire snapping and crackling in the fireplace that was set into the wall. Crossing the room, I held my hands out and warmed them over the flames. Peering around the room, I could see that it was sparsely furnished with a worn-out sofa that had the stuffing sticking out of it like a string of spongy guts. There was a small cabinet and on this there was a lamp which hadn’t yet been lit, even though the day had been grey and overcast. There was a table which was cluttered with what looked like nothing more than junk. Turning my back on the fireplace, I began to rummage around the stuff that had been strewn across the table. Snatching my hand away almost at once, I grimaced at the dirty bandages that had been left there. Picking up a pair of scissors which lay amongst the mess, I used them to turn the bandages over. Apart from being grey and dirty looking, I could see no signs of blood on them. But there was something. Holding the bandage towards the light from the fire, I used the scissors like a pair of tweezers to remove several hairs that seemed to be stuck to it. The hairs, if that’s what they were, appeared to be made of some man-made fibre, similar to acrylic.

  Placing these fibres on the table, I inspected the bandage again and noticed that parts of it were covered in a yellow gum that had crystallised. Turning-up my nose, I sniffed the filthy-looking bandage. The yellow crystals smelt of solvent – like some kind of glue. Putting the bandage to one side, I rummaged through the other clutter on the table and found a small bottle of liquid latex. Turing it over in my hands I read the label on the front.

  Great for Halloween make-ups

  Scare all your friends!

  Beneath the writing there was a picture of some kid whose face had been covered in a load of fake scares and cuts.

  “What the hell is going on here?” I whispered to myself. Placing the bottle back on the table, I found a false beard and a small bottle of Spirit gum to attach it with and a case containing blue-coloured contact lenses. Looking around the room in disbelief, I noticed what appeared to be a dead snake hanging from the back of the front door. Snatching it from the hook it had been hung from, I inspected it. The snake was nothing more than a woman’s stocking that had been stuffed with torn-up pieces of cloth and knotted at both ends. Realising what it had been used for, I slung it over my shoulder and tied both ends of the stocking beneath my arm. Looking back over my shoulder, it appeared that I now had a hump. If I covered it with a jacket and lent forward, anyone would believe that I had a twisted spine – just like Marshal was supposed to have.

  Taking off the fake hump, I looked at the make-up, fake beard, and contact lenses and knew that Marshal – if that really was his name – was trying to hide his true identity. But why? Who was really hiding beneath that disguise? And what did they have to hide?

  Then I remembered what Kayla had told me yesterday as we sat on the wall together. Kayla said she had once met Luke and that his face was disfigured. It had looked scarred as if he had been in some kind of accident.

 
“Marshal is Luke!” I said aloud as if I’d just struck gold.

  Realising who Marshal really was, I didn’t know if I should feel angry or relieved. But everything seemed to be fitting into place. He had tricked me into coming to the manor so he could protect me – that’s why he was on my balcony – he had come to make sure that I was safe. Then wanting to kick myself for not seeing it before, I said aloud, “That’s how he disappeared so quickly – he flew from my balcony!”

  But why the disguise? I wondered. Then I thought again about his disfigurement. Perhaps he wasn’t ready for me to see him like that. Did he really believe that I would be so shallow as to run from him? Be scared by him? There was only one way to find out his true reasons and that was to ask him.

  “What are you doing in here,” a gruff-sounding voice said from behind me.

  Spinning around, I gasped as I saw Marshal standing in the open doorway. He stood, stooped slightly forward, one blue eye staring back at me from behind the grubby bandages.

  With my heart racing in my chest, I said, “You don’t have to hide from me any longer.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, copper” he said back in that gruff voice.

  Moving slowly towards him, I trembled and said, “I don’t care what you look like under those bandages. You’re still the same person that I met in The Ragged Cove.”

  Holding his hand out as if to stop me from coming any closer, he turned his head away and said, “Don’t come near me.”

  Taking his hands in mine, I could feel that they weren’t the hands of a workman – they were strong – but soft. He almost seemed to flinch at my touch. So wrapping my arm about his shoulder, I pulled him close to me and said, “I’ve missed you.” Then gently turning his head to face me, I lent forward and kissed him gently on the mouth. My heart was racing so hard and fast, I wondered whether Kayla could hear it in her room back at the manor.

  He didn’t respond to my first kiss, so I kissed him again, this time allowing my lips to linger over his. Then without warning, he was kissing me back, his strong arms wrapping themselves around me and pulling me against him. He smothered my lips with his and just like the kiss we had shared outside the Crescent Moon Inn all those months ago, they were frenzied – almost hungry. I matched his keenness, entwining my fingers in his hair as he ran his hands down my back. Without our mouths parting, he eased me down onto the crumpled sofa and ran his hands up my legs where they came to rest on my hips.

  Being with him like this released all those feelings that I’d bottled up since leaving The Ragged Cove. It was like we had never been apart. And like they had been in the Cove, my feelings and senses seemed to be ablaze when with him. He kissed my face and neck, his hands running over me and pulling at my clothes. In an attempt to match his passion, I wanted to kiss his face, I wanted to show him however scarred or disfigured he may be under those bandages, I didn’t care – my feelings wouldn’t change for him.

  So working the tips of my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, I found the knot that held his mask together, and pulled it free. The bandage fell away, revealing his face beneath it.

  Staring wide eyed up at him, I screamed, “Oh my god! You disgusting pig!”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Easy, tiger!” Potter smiled down at me.

  Swiping at him with my hand, I tried to slap his face. I couldn’t believe who I’d been kissing. But he was too quick for me, and had taken hold of my wrist in his hand. “Don’t get so excited!”

  “Excited!” I screamed, pushing him off me with my knees. “I’m not excited! You disgust me!”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” he said, standing by the table and tugging fake bits of beard from his cheeks. “You couldn’t keep your hands off me a minute ago.”

  “That’s because I thought you were someone else!” I roared at him, straightening my hair and clothes. “I should arrest you for indecent assault!”

  “Indecent assault? Me?” he said with mock surprise on his face. “It was you who assaulted me! You threw yourself at me! You couldn’t tear your lips off me!”

  “You took advantage of the situation,” I hissed. “You knew that I must have thought you to be somebody else. But oh no, you just had to be a jerk – you just couldn’t resist -”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, sweet-cheeks!” he scowled.

  “Don’t call me that!” I hollered. “My name’s Kiera!”

  “Oh, I’m sorry Kiera,” he said.

  “Why do you have to make things so difficult for me?” I said, trying to get a grip of my anger.

  “Difficult for you?” he said, sounding genuinely surprised. “Do you have the faintest idea how difficult it’s been for me, skulking around this place night and day with bandages wrapped around my face and a pair of stockings stuffed up my jacket?”

  “Don’t you go blaming me for that,” I snapped at him. “And why have you been disguised as the hunchback on Notre Dame ever since I got here?” Before he had a chance to answer, I added, “And that’s another thing – why were you spying on me through my bedroom window the other night?”

  “Making sure that you were safe – that’s what this whole goddamn thing has been about!” he said, pulling out the stocking from beneath his long dark coat and throwing it down onto the table with the rest of his disguise. “And what thanks do I get, huh? I thought you were kissing me out of gratitude for saving your bacon.”

  “Saving me from what?” I asked.

  “That’s another thing,” he said ignoring my question and removing something from his eye. “These contact lenses hurt like a bitch and then there’s the cigarettes. I haven’t been able to smoke since you got here.”

  “I haven’t stopped you from smo -” I started.

  “Oh no?” he sneered, pulling a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and lighting one up. “Knowing what you’re like, the slightest sign of a discarded cigarette butt and you would’ve been crawling around on your hands and knees trying to figure out how tall the smoker was, how old he was, what zodiac sign he was, whether he’d taken a crap that morning, and Christ knows what else.”

  “So why put yourself through all of this for me if it’s been such a nightmare for you?” I said.

  “Why don’t you ask him?” Potter said, pointing over my shoulder and blowing smoke through his nostrils. “He’s the brains of the operation, sweet-cheeks.”

  Spinning round I saw James sitting in his wheelchair by the open door to the gatehouse. He looked at me from behind his tinted glasses, then at Potter. “I don’t believe you Potter,” he growled.

  “Don’t start having a moan at me, Sarge,” he said. “She already had it figured out.”

  Looking at the chauffeur sitting in the wheelchair, I said, “Sergeant Murphy – I might have known. I guess you couldn’t have walked around as I would have noticed your limp? But I’d already figured out you could walk.”

  Taking off his cap, glasses and pulling away his fake bushy sideburns, he sprang out of the wheelchair and said, “You mean I’ve been trundling around here for the last few weeks like that guy out of the X-Men and you knew it was me all the time?”

  “I didn’t know it was you, Sarge, but I figured out last night that you could walk,” I told him.

  “How?” he said, staring at me.

  “Don’t wear shoes that are clearly scuffed on the soles and covered in gravel dust and earth,” I smiled at him.

  “Oh great,” Potter sighed in disbelief. “All this sneaking around and you go and blow it because -”

  “I needed to take a leak, okay?’ Murphy snapped. “You try wheeling yourself around this place – it aint easy you know! I was only out of my chair for a couple of minutes – long enough to sneak into some bushes and take a whiz. Anyway, you can’t talk. What was with all the bandages? ‘I said a beard, and a few scars and stuff,’ and you end up looking like the invisible bleeding-man!”

  “You try putting this crap on everyday – it ain’t
easy you know!” Potter snapped, waving the bottle of liquid latex under Murphy’s nose. “I didn’t think you would be back so soon the other night. There I was sticking on the beard and you arrive at the drawbridge with sweet-cheeks. What was I meant to do? I wasn’t in character – so I grabbed the nearest thing that came to hand and covered my face with it. Got a problem with that?”

  “Yeah, I got a problem with it,” Murphy barked, pulling the last of the fake white whiskers from his chin.

  “At least I came up with a fake name,” Potter snapped back. “I mean Marshal’s a cool name. What did you come up with? James! That’s your real name for Christ’s sake!”

  “My name’s Jim!”

  “Whatever!” Potter said. “I’m glad she’s found out. I was getting bored of all this sneaking around.”

  I looked at the pair of them and said, “You couple of amateurs. Call yourselves cops.”

  “Listen here, tiger,” Potter hissed, “we had everything under control until you came in here and threw yourself at me.”

  “Threw herself at you?” Murphy said, looking and sounding confused.

  “I thought he was Luke,” I told Murphy. “Not for a second did I think it was Lon Chaney standing over there.”

  “Lon Chaney?” Potter said, confused. “Who in the bloody hell is Lon Chaney?”

  Ignoring him, I turned to Murphy and said, “Where’s Luke?”

  Looking in my eyes, Murphy said, “He’s not in a good way.”

  “Where is he?” I said.

  “The burns didn’t heal as well as we might have wanted them to,” Murphy sighed.

  “Where is he?” I said again. “I want to see him.”

  “He doesn’t want to see you,” Murphy said, coming close with that awkward limp that he had.