by Thomas Emson
She shifted against him, making her breasts move against his stomach, and the feel of her sent pulses of desire throbbing through his body. He peeled back his lips and grabbed her hair, and she gasped and dug her nails into his arms.
Her phone rang.
“Ignore it,” he said.
“I must – ” said Nadia, pulling away.
He held her. The phone rang. He said, “Ignore it, Nadia.”
“Ion, I must – ” and she wrenched free of his arms. She went to the bed where her handbag lay, and sat on the bed. She took the trilling phone out of her bag, touched the choker around her throat, and answered the call.
“Ah, good morning,” she said, a hitch in her voice.
Ion watched her, eyes fixed on her fingers as they stroked the band of material strapped to her neck.
“You have,” she said into the phone. “That’s very clever of you – it’s a compliment, you should accept it” – she crossed her legs, and Ion heard the zip of nylon at her thighs – “perhaps I’ll show you how grateful I really am one of these days” – she cocked her head and gazed at Ion, and Ion burned with jealousy – “after all this is done – yes, yes, that’s right – I don’t think you need to do anything, it doesn’t matter anymore – no, it doesn’t, we have the remains, so that’s all that matters – all right, thank you – yes, we’ll be in touch – yes, I’ll be in touch, too – good-bye.”
She tucked the phone back in her handbag and looked up at Ion, her lips wet and open.
“Who was that?” said Ion, trying to keep his voice neutral.
“One of our friends,” she said.
“Which one? A man? All the men want to fuck you.”
“Yes, they do. Some of the women, too.”
Ion, his face burning, said, “What did he want? You?”
“Yes, he wanted me, Ion.”
“And you said you’d show him how grateful you were – after this was done. That’s what you said.”
“It doesn’t matter what I said.” She stood and swung the bag over her shoulder, the action making her breasts quiver under her thin dress.
Ion’s belly tightened. He said, “What did he say?”
“Someone brought the pot in.”
Ion said, “Was it Lithgow?”
“They don’t know.”
“Shall I go and get it?”
“No,” she said, “it’s not important. It’s old clay. What was inside was of more importance, and we have what was inside. Shut that chest and bring it down. We should go.”
Ion locked Hammond in the chest.
“The vampires will feed again tonight,” said Nadia. “And they’ll bring in a harvest. We can begin the process – this one here, first. Then, Kea will rise. And from Kea we’ll awaken Kakash. And from Kakash’s blood, Kasdeja. And the trinity will have their Babylon again.”
She swept out of the room.
Ion listened to her footsteps hurry down the stairs.
An ache for her spread through his loins.
He’d have to take it out on someone.
Chapter 34
EXPERT ANALYSIS.
SASSIE, the phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear, said, “And what do you think?”
Ed Crane, his voice slithering down the line, said, “I think we should chat about them over dinner.”
Sassie switched ears. She ignored Crane’s suggestion. She opened the Jpegs of the jar on her laptop and viewed them while talking to him. She’d e-mailed them over to Crane for his opinion.
“I know it’s Babylonian, I recognized the cuneiform,” she said, “but I’m not sure what the images depict.”
Crane said, “It’s really hard to say from these pictures. I’m busy all day. Might I slip round to your dainty little apartment this evening, take a closer look at this vessel of yours?”
Sassie said, “I can see the images quite clearly on my computer screen. If you can’t help me, Ed, I’ll – ”
“No, no, no. Of course I can help. I just wanted to be more of a help, that’s all. You know that jars such as this one sometimes symbolized a womb, don’t you.”
“A womb?” she said. “Are you being helpful or lewd?”
He laughed. “Well, a bit of both, I hope,” he said, and then: “Tell me, Sassie, who’s the blurred chap in the background of these images? Did he bring the jar in to you?”
Sassie felt her cheeks redden as she stared at the distorted image of Jake Lawton. She said, “Yes, he did.”
“He looks young and sturdy. Is he sturdy, Sassie?”
Sassie said, “He was nothing,” and felt a knot of guilt twist in her belly. She brought a hand to her forehead. Her heart raced. She took a few breaths, trying to steady herself.
Crane said, “He left it there? I’m assuming he’ll be back for it. Opportunity for him to see you again, Sassie. Lucky fellow, I say.”
She said nothing, didn’t say that Jake had taken the piece with him.
After a pause Crane said, “Still there?”
Sassie said, “Are you going to flirt? Because if you are, I’ll ring back when you’re not in flirt mode.”
“I’m always in flirt mode, Sassie. I am a flirt. And I’m sure you wouldn’t have me any other way.”
“I don’t think I’d have you in any way at all, Ed.”
He laughed again. “Well done, Sassie. Sharp as a stick. I like a woman with spunk in them, preferably – ”
“All right, Ed, that’s enough.”
He sighed and said, “You are such a spoilsport, Sassie. All right, I’ll do my very best to behave, but you’ll have to forgive me if I regress – flirting is my natural state, you know.”
“Okay, I’ll forgive you. Now, about this jar.”
“This jar,” he said, “fascinating.”
“The image, the warrior.”
“Alexander the Great, perhaps?”
Sassie said, “That’s what I thought.”
“Thought right, Doctor Rae,” he said.
“But the bodies.”
“Bodies,” said Crane, his voice distant as if he were thinking of something else. But then, his tone lightened and he said, “Yes, bodies, of course. Well, um – ”
He trailed off, and Sassie waited for a few seconds.
Then she said, “Ed, are you there?”
“Yes,” he said, “I was thinking, just trying to recall – you look at this image, you see the sharp teeth? The fangs? The chest wounds? What appears to be, I’d say, a heart pinned to both ends of this double-tusked weapon our hero’s wielding?”
“Yes, yes I do.”
“Might be a vampire thing going on here.”
“A vampire thing? Like a Dracula vampire thing?”
“Dracula,” he said. “Why is it always Dracula?”
“I don’t know, it always is. Is there any other vampire thing?”
Crane said, “The Babylonians, they had some blood-drinking cults, you see. Lilith, the first wife of Adam in mythology, who drank the blood of babies. But many cultures have blood-drinking legends. Greek and Roman mythology had the empusae, the lamiae, and the striges. The word strigoï has been used to describe vampires in Romania since the Seventh Century. I could go on. Over dinner perhaps?”
She ignored him and said, “What about the cuneiform, do you have any idea what that might say?”
Crane sighed. “I really will need to take a closer look to make any sense of that. It’s unreadable here, Sassie. What do you say? Dinner at my place?”
“I’ve got the cuneiform copied out here. I could just courier it over to your room,” said Sassie.
“I’m five minutes down the corridor, Sassie. Why don’t you courier yourself along with it? Ideally I’d like to see the pot. Get my hands on it, you know?”
Sassie knew she’d have to be in the same room as him. She felt cold, and her shoulders sagged.
“All right,” she said, “I’ll sort something later today, or tomorrow.
But, in the meantime
, what does the ‘K’ indicate on the base?” She looked at the image of the underside of the vase on her laptop.
Silence on the line, and she heard him breath. Sassie stared at the image of the “K”.
Then Ed said, “I don’t know,” and then he hummed.
Sassie said, “What is it? What are you thinking?”
He paused. And then he said, “I-I don’t know, Sassie, I truly don’t,” and she heard a tremble in his voice. He didn’t know, and perhaps that scared him, she thought. Crane’s arrogance was legend. He thought he knew it all. So when he came across something he couldn’t explain, a question he failed to answer, it scared him.
It gave Sassie a shot of adrenalin, and she said, “Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll find out. But you have been helpful, Ed, and I’m really grateful.”
He said, “How grateful?” the playfulness back in his voice.
“I’m grateful, Ed,” she said, “that’s all.”
“Dinner ‘grateful’?” said Crane.
“Not at the moment.”
“Oh, coffee ‘grateful’, then?”
“Perhaps. When I can get the jar over to you.”
“Oh dear, ‘perhaps’. That’s not very hopeful is it?”
“It’s the best I can do, Ed.”
“Ah well, I’ll just have to settle for sex ‘grateful’. How’s that?”
“It’s just a thank you ‘grateful’, I’m afraid.”
He chuckled, and his laugh trailed off. Sassie was about to say goodbye when Crane went, “By the way, where did your sturdy chap find this treasure?”
Sassie said nothing. She stared at the screen and thought of Jake Lawton and his steel-grey eyes and his scar-flecked face.
Chapter 35
THREE’S COMPANY.
LITHGOW said, “Why didn’t you tell the fucking cops where the house was, Lawton?”
Lawton said, “I want to go and have a look. See if Jenna’s body’s there. See if it’s anything to do with this stuff.”
“It is, I’m telling you. That woman shot Hammond. I’m fucked if I’m going back there. Tell the cops, let them sort it out.”
“I might do after I’ve been over there, after you’ve shown me the way.”
Lawton had no intention of telling the cops. He was keeping well out of their way. They were sniffing around a little too much, looking to nail him for this shit. He’d been out all day, wandering, not going home in case Birch and his troops were waiting for him.
Lithgow said, “No, no, no, no. No way. Tell you what, Lawton – I’ll tell you where it is, draw you a fucking map – yeah, that’s what I’ll do, man, draw you a fucking map. I’ll even top-up your Oyster card, pay for your journey. How’s that? How’s that? But there’s no way – no fucking way I’m coming. Oh, oh, even better: I’ll tell the cops myself.”
“And then,” said Lawton, “they’ll know you distributed the drugs, that you’re the heart of this mystery. They won’t leave you alone then, you know.”
“I’ll get my dad on to it.”
“Daddy can’t save you from this one.”
“I’m not coming with you. Take her instead,” he said, gesturing to Sassie.
Sassie looked up from her white wine. They’d been sat in Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese a quarter of a mile from Sassie’s office for two hours.
The old tavern, rebuilt after the Fire of London in 1666, provided booths where they could conspire. Lithgow cradled a pint of lager and Lawton glanced now and again into his Bells and water. He’d ordered it, but not touched it yet. He was trying to test himself, putting temptation right there in front of himself to see how long he could abstain.
Lawton looked at Sassie and said, “Sassie’s not coming.”
Sassie straightened in her seat. “I am,” she said.
“It’s too dangerous,” said Lawton.
“Yeah, right,” said Lithgow, “then it’s too dangerous for me, too.”
“Go home, Sassie; I’ll let you know what we find.”
“No way, Jake, I’m coming with you.”
“There,” said Lithgow, “she’s coming with you. That means you don’t need me. You see? She wants to go – I don’t.”
Sassie had called Lawton earlier and told him about vampires and blood-cults. She asked him where he got the jar, and this time he told her. He told her about how this all stemmed from the deaths at Religion. He told her about Jenna.
Sassie told him, “My blood’s just run cold,” and asked to meet.
He said he’d be going to the house that night to see what he could find. Sassie still wanted to meet up with him, so he said, Where? And she suggested the pub, which stood a few minutes away from the campus.
Ignoring Lithgow, Sassie said, “Where d’you think the bodies that disappeared from that morgue might be?”
Lawton shook his head. He dropped his eyes to the whisky. He licked his lips and imagined the liquid scalding his throat. He knew this wasn’t thirst; he’d known thirst. Out in the desert he had to drink twenty litres of water a day. In Basra they put their bottle in a wet sock to keep it cool.
“Do you think the bodies might have been stolen?” she said.
Lawton looked at her. A flicker of fear flashed in her eyes.
“I don’t know?” he said.
Eyes still fixed on Lawton she said, “Do you think – do you actually believe that – ”
She couldn’t finish, but Lawton knew where she was going. His skin goosepimpled, and he shivered. She was hinting at something impossible. But the thought gripped his insides and twisted. He couldn’t believe what he was thinking.
Like they got up and walked out.
He shook his head, trying to dislodge the thought.
He stood. “I think we should go. Come on, Fraser.”
“No, man, I don’t – ”
Lawton took his phone from his pocket, dialled, and said, “Police, please. Scotland Yard – ”
“All right, all right” said Lithgow, lunging at him.
Lawton shoved Lithgow back into his seat. He took the phone from his ear and said, “I’ll do it, Fraser. I’ll ring them. Are you coming?”
“All right, you bastard.”
“And I’m coming too,” said Sassie, getting to her feet.
Lawton looked at her, ready to tell her, No way. But her dark blue eyes fixed on him and he saw the will in her and let it be.
Chapter 36
FIRST BLOOD.
HAMMOND, naked and hanging upside down by his ankles, said, “Help me, please help me,” his voice like gravel.
Pain seared through his body. His right side, from shoulder to waist, pulsed and the skin was bruised. After she’d shot him, the woman had beaten him. The agony was unbearable. He’d fainted many times and after that he’d only been vaguely aware of being beaten again. And then, in his semi-conscious state, he recollected a man coming, beating him even more, and burning him with fags.
He remembered begging the woman to get a doctor for his gunshot wound but she’d spat on the injury and said, “Let it fester.”
He could feel the wound starting to rot; already, the odour of decay belched from the injury.
Hammond felt sick, and he’d already vomited. The sick pooled at the bottom of the pit over which he was hanging.
He called for help again, and his voice echoed off the walls. He scanned his surroundings.
Being upside down, he found it difficult to make sense of where he was. And the more he focused, the sicker he felt. But he could see that he’d been left in a cave that was as large as the aircraft hangars he’d worked in at Broughton in North Wales, where they designed parts for the Airbus super-jet.
He wished he were still there now, messing about with the lads. But he gave it all up three years ago, deciding to go pro as a DJ.
And look where it fucking got me, he thought.
Damp smeared the walls of the cavern and moss coated much of the rock. The ceiling was panelled wood, and it seemed to undulate now and aga
in – another sensation that didn’t help Hammond’s nausea.
He looked down at the ground. An area the size of half a football pitch had been panelled with varnished wood as well, and around this skirted the original rock. A few yards away from where Hammond hung, a cage stood.
Hammond looked down into the pit. The grave had been hollowed out of the earth. It was at least eight feet deep. The sides were slick with slime, and the bottom sprouted weeds. The earth in the grave looked pale and bloodless.
Hammond heard a rumble, and he struggled. The manacles clasping his ankles cut into his flesh. The chain linking the manacles to the horizontal post that spanned the pit rattled.
Hammond said, “Who’s there? What going on?”
He saw a wheelchair and the legs of the woman pushing it. He twisted round and saw an old man sitting in the chair. He looked ancient. He wore a trilby, a red feather or something pinned to the brim. A bowl, one you’d have pudding in, sat on his lap. The woman behind him was the bitch who’d shot him and Hammond said, “You shot me, you fucking shot me! Please, please it hurts. You’ve got to get a doctor.”
“You broke into our home,” said the woman.
“It wasn’t my fault. It was Lithgow. He made me do it.”
The woman said, “Forced you, did he, Mr. Hammond. Threatened you. Couldn’t say no, could you?”
“No, that’s right, please,” he said, but he was swaying too much and he felt dizzy and he swung away from the woman and the old man.
He froze. A girl, late teens, crouched on the wooden platform, looking up at him. She wore goth make-up, and her skin was deathpale.
Dark bags hung under her eyes. Hammond stared into those eyes and fear chilled his spine. They were green, but in the green there was a trace of red; like someone had injected dye into her iris. He shook the chill way and said, “Hey, hey can you help me? Please, please I’m really in pain. I-I’m Steve Hammond, Captain Red, that’s it, Captain Red. You know me, yeah. You come to Religion? To the goth night, there?”
