“On my mark then; 3,2--“
He didn’t get any further.
“You’ve made a terrible mistake coming here Detective.” Mrs White stood before him and Hayes behind her. “You should have left well alone.”
For a moment Graham couldn’t speak but he kept trying and then he found the words. “She’s my daughter, of course I came.”
“Which is just what Mrs Kable said,” Mrs White said.
Graham didn’t even realise Park had gone. The first he knew about it was when he heard screaming in the next room. When Mrs White and Hayes turned to see what was happening he seized his chance. He pushed past them with such speed that Mrs White was knocked to the floor and Hayes spun fully back around on himself.
“Get him!” Mrs White shouted.
Graham didn’t stop to see what Park had done. The wall near the stairs had been sprayed with a fine mist of blood and whoever had been screaming had stopped.
He took the steps two at a time. He could hear someone following him, getting closer with every beat of his heart. He reached the landing and realised he had no idea which of the seven doors she was behind. It was a toss up between wasting time trying each door and letting the person behind catch him or calling her name and alerting more people to his presence.
“Bridget?” he shouted.
He stood on the spot, waiting to see which of the doors the reply would come from. Everything seemed to slow down except the man behind him who was now on the landing.
“Daddy!” came the quickly muffled cry, from the third door on the left. Graham pictured a dirty old priest with his filthy hand over his daughters mouth.
He felt the pull of his coat as the man behind tried to grab him. The fabric ripped as Graham pulled away. He ran to the door, charged into it, but it didn’t move. Desperately he tried for the handle but it wouldn’t turn.
“Did you think we would make it that easy for you Kable?”
Graham turned around. Hayes was walking towards him, in no rush at all. “Why are you doing this?”
“The glory of god Kable, why else?”
“She’s eight years old,” Graham said. “What sort of god would want this?”
“Ours is not to reason why Kable. Our orders come from above.” Hayes walked up to him and knocked on the door. “The boat is here. Bring her out.”
“I won’t let you take her,” Graham said. The door handle started to turn. If he could rush Hayes then he might be able to wrestle Bridget from whoever had hold of her.
“You have no choice Kable. I don’t want to hurt you but if you try to stop me I shall.”
“You expect me to stand here while you take my daughter?”
“I’m afraid you don’t have much choice.”
The door opened and Graham saw a small pale face looking up at him. She had lost weight. Her eyes were sunken and red. There was no sign of recognition.
He charged at Hayes but the man was as solid as a rock and for the second time that evening it was only himself that got hurt. Hayes grabbed his wrist and pulled him up. “I thought you were better than this Kable.”
Graham felt his arm twist painfully. There was a sickening snap, followed by intense pain, as something inside of him broke.
“Take her down,” Hayes said to the man who had appeared at the door behind Bridget.
Graham found himself forced to stare at the peeling and faded red wallpaper while Hayes still had his arm. “Bridget,” he said and forced himself to endure the pain in his arm in order that he could see her.
She watched him all the way down the landing but didn’t say a word. He could only hope that Park would be able to get her downstairs.
“Now then Kable,” Hayes said. He pulled him up so they were face to face. “What to do with you?” He shook his head. “You really should have kept out of this business you know.”
“And forgotten my daughter?” Graham said. “Do what you’ve got to do but I will not stop until I have her.”
Hayes looked at him, nodded and sighed. “I believe you Kable. You’re just the sort of bone headed fool who would. But you won’t get her.”
Bridget should have been down stairs by now but he couldn’t hear Park fighting for her. He couldn’t hear anything at all. He tried to pull his arm away from Hayes but he didn’t move. He wondered if the man was a vampire too, he seemed as strong as Park was.
The ground began to shake. Plaster fell from the ceiling like snowflakes and behind him a picture fell and smashed on the floor. It was evidently as much a surprise to Hayes as it was to Graham. Hayes spun turned in the direction of the noise and momentarily loosened his grip on Graham’s wrist.
Graham took the opportunity and pulled himself free. His wrist throbbed and it wouldn’t be any good to him if he had to fight, but that wasn’t important now. He caught Hayes off-guard and managed to push him away. Then he was free and running down the hallway.
The house continued to shake as he ran down the stairs. He didn’t know what was causing it or if it would stop. His only concern was that he had to get to Bridget.
Downstairs the house was deserted. There was no sign of Park except for the copious amounts of blood on the furniture and walls. Graham didn’t think that it belonged to the vampire. He checked the other door and found it led through to a large kitchen but there was no sign of Bridget there either.
The shaking was getting worse. Pieces of the ceiling as big as his hand were falling down now and the air was filled with dust. He ducked beneath the door frame into the hallway and turned back to see the stairs collapsing. If Hayes was still up there he was trapped. Despite himself Graham felt a momentary impulse to go back and try to help him. Instead he ran out the front door.
It was obvious where they were taking her but even if it hadn’t been he could hear a soft voice in his head and a gentle tug at his heart telling him, ‘it’s this way daddy. Please hurry’.
The boat at the end of the pier was an ocean going ship. Painted black it was an unusual sight on the river this far into Lunden.
He looked around for Park but saw no sign of him. He might have been laying somewhere hurt but Graham didn’t have time to go back for him. He started to run towards the boat.
A few feet away from the house the ground was no longer shaking. Graham looked back just once when he heard an almighty crash and saw the house crumble. It was as if the force field Park had described had been the only thing keeping the building standing.
Ahead of him the boat began to groan as the steam engines came to life. Graham picked up his speed, ignored the painful throbbing in his wrist and ran onto the pier.
Graham was not an athletic man and the weeks of worry and alcohol had left his body withered and weak. The boat was already pulling away as he reached the end of the pier but with uncommon strength he jumped. He caught the side of the boat by the tips of his fingers and painfully clawed his way up.
He was barely on his feet before the first shot was fired. He caught a glancing blow and felt the skin tear from his shoulder. A second shot caught him just above his right knee before he was able to throw himself behind a stack of boxes.
When he peaked out from behind the boxes he saw at least a dozen men, all dressed in priestly frocks and all holding large guns. Graham couldn’t see a way past them and, even if he managed to find one, what were the chances that there weren’t more guards inside? The only other option meant abandoning his daughter though so he had to try.
The men began to approach him. When they were just a few feet away Graham realised that he had to either run now and try to get to Bridget or they would catch him. He didn’t think the men with guns would be as indecisive about his fate as Hayes had been.
The boat was picking up speed and he could hear the water rushing past below. They passed The Tower and moved into more open water. It would keep opening until they passed the Isles and reached the sea. Graham picked a direction and counted to three.
He heard the first shot he’d started to move. The first f
ew missed him by a wide margin but they were just getting closer quickly. There was a black door a few feet in front of him and he thought that, if he could reach it, he might be alright. But he didn’t even get close.
His shoulder exploded in agony and blood and he was spun around by the force of the impact. He tried to grab onto the railing around the edge of the deck but the fingers of his shattered wrist were already swollen and incapable of gripping anything at all.
Graham watched the men approach. His vision was blurry and he couldn’t think of anything except the pain. Pain like he had never felt before and would do anything to stop.
One of the men, Graham couldn’t focus well enough to clearly see his face, grabbed him by the collar and effortlessly lifted him up. He pushed him backwards and Graham added vertigo to the terrible new sensations he was experiencing. He couldn’t do anything to stop them.
He fell.
The side of the boat rushed past him.
He was wet with blood before he hit the water.
It was like hitting solid rock but then it gave way and drew him in. The icy cold water stung but that was a minor pain compared to the rest. He couldn’t breathe. He tried to fight it but he was too weak and the river swallowed him up.
About the Author
J.M. Robinson is really James Loscombe in disguise.
It is an open pen name used for publishing fantasy fiction.
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Terror in the Night Page 15
