by Thomas Emson
There will be fenced off areas, farms, if you like.” He glanced over his shoulder at the boy vampire. “You never thought, six months ago, when you were running around the streets of north London stealing cars and mugging old women that you’d be here, today, serving a great empire.”
“It – it feels weird; like that was someone else doing those things I did.”
Haddad’s neck hurt, so he looked ahead again. They trundled along the corridors. “It was you, Jed. Back then you thought you were immortal. Now, you are.”
“I am,” said Jed.
“You will feed every night like a king. You will have women, if you want them. You can have anything.”
“Yes, I can – I’m hungry, now.”
Haddad heard the vampire sniff. He knew the creature could smell his blood. The old man said, “You can wait. You’ll sate your hunger later.”
“I’m hungry now,” said Jed, and Haddad heard the boy’s tongue lash over his lips, heard him salivate.
Haddad’s fingers dug into the wheelchair’s arms. “Control yourself or I’ll have you thrown out into the sun.”
The boy hissed. “You think I’m a slave, an animal.”
“That is what you are, Jed: an animal. There is a hierarchy.” He held his hand out flat, level with his face and said, “Here, we have the trinity, then” – his hand moved down to chest height – “we have the human descendents of Nebuchadnezzar, and finally” – his hand dropped to be level with his crotch – “down here, you – the foot soldiers.” He rested his hand in his lap. “Of course, there is one species below you, underfoot, in the dirt.”
“Humans,” said the boy.
“Humans.”
Chapter 94
FAMILY REUNION.
THEY handcuffed Murray, Richard, and McCall and led them down into the bowels of Religion. The damp smell of decay hit Murray as they rumbled down in the old-fashioned elevator. The lights in the lift flickered. The car jolted from side to side. It clattered at the bottom of its run and stopped.
The door creaked open and the heavies shoved them out into a cavern. Murray and the others looked around, their gaze lifting to the wood-panelled ceiling, over the moss-covered walls, and down to the rocky floor. A crossbar ran across a hole in the ground. Figures clustered in the shadows. They appeared piled on top of each other, and sometimes they shuffled about.
Then a voice, piercing the silence, said, “Mum! Dad!”
Adrenalin flooded Murray’s heart. Her gaze whipped from side to side. “David! David!” and she heard Richard say, “Son, son where are you?”
She raced towards the voice, breaking from the line, sensing Richard next to her. Her son, her youngest boy, reached out through the bars of a cage, and her heart almost burst. Michael stood at David’s shoulder, reaching, now, too. And they called for their mother and father, and their mother and father stumbled towards them.
Her cuffed hands reached out and grasped the boys’ hands and she cried, and the boys cried. Murray fell to her knees, no strength in her limbs, all her senses focused on her children’s touch.
“My babies, my babies,” she said, weeping, and they were saying, “Mum, mum,” and crying too, and then Richard next to her, touching his sons, the boys saying, “Dad, dad,” and Richard crying, shaking.
“How sweet,” said Nadia Radu at Murray’s shoulder, “a family reunion. Get them away.”
Heavy hands grabbed at Murray’s shoulders and dragged her away, Michael and David’s hands slipping from hers. Murray reached out as the void between them grew. No, no, she was saying, the thug hauling her away. Another man heaved Richard from his sons, Richard swearing and threatening, begging these people to take him and let his children go free.
And then Murray saying, “Let my boys go, you’ve got me. They’re kids.”
The heavy threw her to her knees in front of the woman Murray guessed was Nadia Radu.
They were near the edge of the pit and Murray started to be aware of a terrible odour coming from the trench. She could still hear David and Michael calling for her, calling for Richard, and it froze her heart.
Radu scowled and said, “You’ll be with your children, soon, the both of you. Your family will be part of a great moment in history. Look down there” – and she pointed into the pit – “and see the future of England rise from the blood and ashes.”
Murray stared down into the pit.
She saw Sassie, and her stomach turned.
Sassie and another woman huddled together in the corner of the trench. They were asleep. A human shape, but longer, wider than a normal human, seemed to be forming in the blood and soil and slime.
“What’s going on?” said Murray.
“Resurrection,” said Radu, “that’s what’s going on. Bring me one of her boys.”
“No,” said Murray. Her skin crawled with fear. She watched as a heavy with a Celtic cross tattooed on his muscled forearm pulled David from the cage and dragged him over like he was a rag doll.
A pair of thugs held Murray and Richard back as Radu grabbed David. She held the boy against her, embracing him. Then she drew out a knife and traced it across David’s throat. She stroked his chest, and he wriggled in her arms.
Murray found it vile the way this woman was touching her son and she said, “You let him go, you sick perverted bitch, or I’ll kill you, I’ll – kill you.”
Radu grabbed David’s hair, twisting his head to the side. She licked his throat. She said, “Wetting him for the vampires, Mrs. Murray.”
Murray thrashed and ground her teeth, but a thug held her fast.
Next to her, Richard begged Radu to release his son, trying to get at David. But a curly-haired thug had his arms wrapped around him.
Radu’s arm tightened around David’s neck and she pulled him against her. She put the tip of the knife near his eye and said, “As revenge for my brother, I’ll cut pieces from your son’s body and make you eat them.”
David cried and asked for his mum, and Murray, feeling sick, told him it would be all right, to be brave. Her heart raced, and sweat poured off her body. All her strength had gone. She said, “Leave him alone, please, he’s only a child.”
Crane, scuttling up to stand beside Radu, said through his broken teeth, “Go on, Nadia, cut off an ear.”
Murray said, “I’ll kill you, Crane, I’ll kill you.”
Crane laughed, showing his ruined mouth.
An alarm buzzed.
Murray flinched.
Radu’s gaze skimmed the cavern.
“What’s that?” said Crane.
“Guests arriving,” said Radu.
She tossed David into the pit.
Murray screamed.
Chapter 95
THE SKIN OF GODS.
LITHGOW’S father said, “I blame myself,” and then he paused before saying, “very rarely. But then I think: Who else is there to shoulder the responsibility? Your mother, she’s with me on this. There isn’t anyone else.”
Lithgow, forced to sit in a chair – the only piece of furniture in the room – with Keatch’s hand pressing down on his shoulder, said, “Dad, what’s going on?”
His dad said, “Don’t you think the world is a terrible place, Fraser?”
“It is at the moment, yeah.”
“Oh, this is the purge. After the purge, things will settle down.”
“The purge? What d’you mean the purge, man?”
His dad looked at him with a sad face. And then, gaze still fixed on Lithgow, he spoke to the heavy: “Keatch, give us a few moments.”
The heavy left the room.
They’d marched up two flights of stairs to get here. His dad had led the way with Lithgow behind him, being shoved by Keatch. The corridors were narrow and plain, paint peeling, damp patches here and there. This room, a box room, had no window. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling. Dust coated the wooden floor, and the room smelled musty. Keatch had plonked the chair in the middle of the room, forced Lithgow into it
.
Now, with Keatch gone, Lithgow said, “Can I stand up, stretch my legs?”
His dad said, “Your legs don’t need stretching, Fraser, sit still. Time you listened to me.”
“I’ve always listened to you.”
His dad, anger on his face, said, “You never have. That’s the problem, isn’t it. Had you listened, did as you were told, we wouldn’t be here. Me having to pull out all the stops to save your life.”
“Save my life?”
“Those interfering friends of yours, they’re going to die, Fraser. Did you want to die with them?”
“I – I don’t want to die – ”
“No – ”
“But I don’t want them to die, either.”
“Well,” said his dad, “that’s not a choice you’re able to make.”
“Dad, what the fuck is going on?”
“Change, Fraser, that’s what’s going on.” His dad’s face was red. The tendons in his throat corded and his eyes glistened. He said, “The old world is dying and a new one coming.”
“And that means killing people.”
“Yes, it does. Wiping away the scum, Fraser. Can’t you see how awful this country is?”
Lithgow, feeling tears in his eyes, said, “Might be. But it’s my country, and I happen to like it.”
His dad sneered and said, “You like it because it allows you to be a layabout. It allows you to sell your drugs. It allows you to waste your life away on parties and – and foolishness. And who’s always had to clear up your messes, eh?”
Lithgow’s cheeks warmed. “Yeah, well, what are dads for?”
“Dads are for guiding, that’s what dads are for. And now I’m going to guide you.”
Lithgow blew air out of his cheeks. “Nothing new there, then.”
“There is. I’ve not done it properly in the past. I’ve let you get away with things. Not now. If you don’t listen to me, now, you’ll die, Fraser. You’ll be swept away with the rest of the scum. Swept away or – or farmed – ”
“Farmed?”
“Yes. Don’t you know what’s happening?”
“No, I don’t, but I’m really scared that you do.”
“Nothing to be scared of. Do you know what they’re doing downstairs?”
Lithgow shook his head then put his face in his hands.
His dad said, “They’re resurrecting a god.”
Fraser looked up, stared into his father’s wide eyes.
His dad went on:
“And when that god is risen, we shall raise up his brothers, and the three shall be our new religion. And we, Fraser, we who have kept their names for thousands of years will rise up to rule this country.” His dad was shaking, spit spraying from his mouth, his face red and sweaty.
“With an army of vampires serving us, with a trinity of gods watching over us, we’ll begin a golden age – just like Nebuchadnezzar did in Babylon. When Britain is strong, we’ll grow our empire once more, we’ll make the maps red again.”
Lithgow watched his dad pant, the sermon taking a lot out of him.
And then Lithgow said, “You’re mad.”
His dad’s shoulders slumped. “Is that what you think?”
“Who are these people, dad? How’d you get stuck with them?”
“Stuck with them?” His dad paused, gaze drifting off somewhere.
And after a few seconds he said, “Twenty-five years ago I was a CPS solicitor prosecuting lowlifes, these lowlifes going through the system, being regurgitated, vomited back on the streets to begin the process all over again. Such an ugly country. Even with Thatcher at the helm.”
His dad leaned back, squaring his shoulders. “One day,” he said, “this gentlemen, foreign, late middle-aged, a trilby perched on his head, came into the office. We looked him up and down, you know. We were all still a bit racist back then. And here’s this Paki-looking fellow with a little hat strolling into the office. What the hell does he want? Well, this gentlemen asks for me, and throws this red rag on my desk.”
“Christine Murray saw it on your wall, framed,” said Lithgow.
His dad whipped out the cloth from his jacket’s breast pocket. “Here with me, now. Keeps me safe. You know what it is?”
Lithgow shook his head, his throat dry. His dad tossed the cloth towards him. Lithgow handled it. It wasn’t cloth – it was leathery. He smelled it, furrowing his brow, the odour recognizable.
“It’s skin, Fraser,” said his dad.
Lithgow flinched, and tossed the rag aside.
His dad picked it up, held it in his hands saying, “The skin of gods. The remains of immortals destroyed by Alexander the Great. Their bodies turned to ash, but this” – crushing the skin in his fist – “this survived, and this is what that gentleman, Dr. Haddad, threw on my desk.”
“That’s sick – skin – Jesus, man.”
His dad ignored him and went on:
“Haddad told me everything, told me that my family – our family, Fraser – was one of many descended from the clan who served the immortals in Babylon. He told me our time had come again, that we’d be returned to power.”
“And you accept this crap?”
“It gave me something to believe in, Fraser, something to trust in a broken world.”
“You’re a Daily Mail reader, dad, that’s all. Bring back the birch and kick out the immigrants. And you’re justifying mass murder because of those beliefs.”
His dad’s shoulders slumped. “I wanted you to believe it too, Fraser.”
“I believe it, man – it’s just I don’t like it.”
“You’re descended from the same ancestors.”
“I’m descended from apes, man, and I like that just fine.”
His dad lunged forward, rage in his expression again: “You’re a fool, Fraser, a fool. This is your last chance, boy. Do you want to die?”
“No, I don’t.”
“You’re honoured, can’t you see? We’re honoured. Our family. Our bloodline goes back thousands of years. Back to royalty. To kings. And great kings, Fraser. Not these tree-loving hippies ruling over us these days. Kings who led their armies; kings who died on the frontline; kings who built cities of gold.”
Lithgow said nothing. He waited for his father’s fury to cool. And then he said, “I was ten, you remember? And you forced the school to put me in the football team, in goal. I hated football. I was shit. But you thought it would toughen me up, play sport. So you made the P.E. teacher – I don’t know how you made him – but you made the P.E. teacher put me in the team.”
“Yes, I remember. It was easy, really: accusations of kiddie fiddling were made against him, but we agreed not to prosecute. He owed us some favours.”
“That’s nice. Let a kiddie fiddler teach ten-year-olds. Well, he never fiddled with me, but he put me in goal that day. That was fucking abuse as far as I was concerned.”
His dad nodded.
Lithgow said, “And the other team, they scored sixteen fucking goals in the first half. You remember? I sat in the penalty box, crying – crying for you to come and save me. You marched on the pitch and dragged me off, screaming at me, calling me a coward, a weakling.”
“Well – ”
“Yeah, well.”
“You needed to be taught a lesson.”
“Didn’t work, did it,” said Lithgow. He stood up, squared up to his dad.
“No, it didn’t work.”
“I didn’t want a king, did I. I didn’t want power. I wanted a dad.”
His dad shook his head. “You don’t understand – ”
Lithgow craned his neck out, face in his dad’s face, and said, “No, I don’t. And I never want to.”
“I’m doing this for you, Fraser. You don’t see it – you never did – but I’m doing this for you.”
Lithgow turned his back, stepped away. “You told them to give me the drugs, didn’t you.”
“A task for you, to get you involved.”
“Yeah, great, th
anks.”
“We didn’t approach you directly, of course. We used that Hammond character. I had Ion query him about dealers who’d be willing to deliver the drug. I knew of your acquaintance with Mr. Hammond, and that Hammond and yourself had profited together from the sale of drugs. Hence, the situation we are in.”
Lithgow wheeled round, faced his dad, saying, “Fuck hence and fuck you. Hammond’s dead, now.”
His dad made a face. “Who cares? He wasn’t important. Fodder, that’s all. You shouldn’t have broken in, should you. A stupid thing to do, Fraser. Had you not, he might still be alive.”
“Blaming me, now?”
“Certainly.”
“Typical.”
“So,” said his dad, “you played your part – a significant part – in the birth of this new age. You, Fraser, you spread the good news, you see,” and he chuckled at that, adding: “Like a messiah – but not really.” And he laughed again. “You distributed death, Fraser. You were the enabler.
You killed those people so they could rise again. You were the spark that ignited new life on earth.” He folded his arms, looked at his son.
“Feel proud?”
Lithgow glared at his dad. He felt empty, drained. He knew he’d started this, had been responsible for this carnage. They’d played on his greed, his dad probably saying, My son, he’ll sell Skarlet if he thinks he can make money out of it.
And, true to form, Lithgow did just that.
I’ve let everyone down, he thought.
So what was new?
His dad said, “You should feel proud. It’s the one worthwhile thing you’ve ever done.”
Yeah, thanks, thought Lithgow.
“So,” his dad said, coming towards him, “will you join us?”
Chapter 96
WAKING UP.
THE vampires stirred. They groaned and stretched. They came out of the shadows. The light fell on their pale faces, their blank eyes.
Murray saw them and she shuddered. There were dozens and dozens of them, appearing from the gloom as if from nowhere.
