by Philip Henry
His father had lots of girlfriends. None of them stayed very long. Bruises seemed to appear on their faces like welts, as if they had walked into a contaminated area when they entered the Higgins house. His father didn’t talk to them, he gave them orders. If they didn’t obey the orders, the bruises came.
When Kaaliz, or Edwin as he was then, was eleven, his father woke him up in the middle of the night and hurried him out to the forest, to a clearing. There was a body of a woman lying there, looking brilliantly pale in the moonlight. She had the bruises like the others. And some bruises around her throat that the others didn’t have. She had no clothes on and was so white in the glow of the moon that she almost didn’t look real. The boy looked at her and began to stiffen in his pyjamas. His father told him she had been in an accident and they needed to bury her.
Father and son began digging a hole. The boy stole glances at the woman’s nakedness when his father wasn’t looking. The hole was about four feet deep when his father decided it was deep enough. He said he would run back to the house and get her things. The boy waited with the body.
When his father was out of sight he knelt beside her. He touched her cold breast and ran his fingers over the smoothness and grabbed the nipple. He pinched the nipple while his other hand raked through the hair between her legs. The boy felt an ecstatic shudder surge through him and then noticed a wetness in his pyjamas. He scurried back quickly and tried to dry the wet patch with leaves and dirt. The last time he had wet the bed his father had beat him with the fireside poker. His father was returning. He scrambled to his feet and stood with his hands clasped before the wet patch.
His father ran into the clearing with her belongings bundled under his arm. He threw her clothes, underwear, shoes and (after he had taken the money from it) her handbag into the hole. He then instructed the boy to get her feet and they rolled her into the grave. She landed face down with a thump. The boy looked down at her, fascinated by the flip-side of what he had been staring at all night. His father unzipped his trousers and urinated into the grave, laughing as he sprayed her back, buttocks and hair with his piss. He zipped up when he was done and handed the shovel to his son. They filled in the grave.
The psychiatrist called this a pivotal moment.
She tried to explain to Edwin Higgins the psychological damage his father had done to him. She said his actions were the result of mental illness borne of that night. She said she would testify to that in court. She seemed to get more scared when he told her they were in his father’s house now; that was where he had taken her. He told her not to worry – the old man was long gone. He didn’t elaborate on the hows and whens.
The psychiatrist was saying all the right things and being perfectly reasonable in her pleas to help him, but there was no way he could let her go. She knew too much about him. She called it understanding him, he called it knowing his weaknesses.
He had stabbed her in the heart. There was very little blood. He cut the ropes around her hands and feet that bound her to the chair and let her fall to the floor. He just sat there and watched her for a long time. Looking at her. Becoming more and more aroused until he could stand it no more and he did what every instinct in his body had been telling him to do.
He undressed her slowly…
No one knew about that. Not even the cops who built a case against him. They knew he had kidnapped her but they had never found the body, so they didn’t know what he had done. When the prosecutor was trying to shock the jury with the crimes of Edwin Higgins, he was sitting smirking. They didn’t know the half of it.
He had been planning to tell Sin. He felt sure she would not judge him. He didn’t think she’d wholeheartedly approve either, but she had a mind thirsty for knowledge and experience. She would know why he had done it. She would probably find it fascinating. He could imagine the hunger in her eyes as she quizzed him about his thoughts and feelings as he did it.
And now that Ministry bitch had taken all that away from him.
Kaaliz got to his feet and stormed out of the lab. He looked at the creatures all clawing at their prisons. This was Sin’s legacy. These were their children. He pushed the button on the wall and the lift doors opened. He grabbed the swipecard from the desk and stood before the cages.
She had been a slim and pretty girl once. Maybe she had even modelled herself after the picture of Shania Twain on her T-shirt. Any beauty was hidden now, forever buried below the ridges and growths that had been the result of combining Che’al and vampire blood. She would look harmless from a distance (maybe that’s how Sin would have thought about it). Kaaliz swiped the card through quickly and her cell door swung open. She pounced from the cage and caught him on the arm. Her nails sunk into his skin before he levitated upwards and shook her off. Kaaliz looked down from the ceiling as the hybrid growled and screamed at him. The deep gouge in his arm repaired in a few seconds. He patted his heart and smiled. Jumping as high as she could she would never reach him, but that fact didn’t seem to register. Kaaliz imagined if he stayed above her forever, she would probably keep jumping forever. Any semblance of intelligence she had as a human was gone.
Kaaliz flew over to the lift. She followed him, still jumping and clawing at the air. Kaaliz asked, pleaded and commanded her to get in the lift, but his words were lost. She didn’t understand him and even if she did, she wouldn’t obey him. She had one thing on her mind: feeding on whatever was available.
Kaaliz looked inside the lift. If he went in there she would follow, but there wasn’t enough ceiling height for him to stay out of her reach. He looked around for emergency exit signs and saw none. Wasn’t there a stairwell out of this place? Someone should get onto Building Regulations about that. He stared down at the screaming hybrid and was lost for a way to get it outside.
Once again, he wished Sin were here.
Chloe armed herself with a sword before answering the door. She looked out the peephole and then dropped it into the umbrella stand. She opened the door and Sarah and Tom came in, trying to catch their breath.
‘Are you two OK?’
‘We just got into it with a couple of vampires,’ Tom said between breaths.
Chloe looked concerned. ‘Rek said you ran off, upset when you found out about… it wasn’t him, was it?’
‘No,’ Sarah said in little more than a whisper.
‘One was this girl dressed in… like a coat made out of old baby clothes. The other was…’ Tom nodded to Sarah.
‘Hal was the other one,’ she said.
Chloe hung her head briefly and then asked, ‘Did you kill them?’
‘We didn’t have any weapons,’ Tom said. ‘They killed a couple of people.’
Chloe looked at Sarah, but she didn’t meet her eyes.
Tom felt the awkwardness and took the cardboard tube from Sarah. ‘This is what they were after. Do you know what it is?’
Chloe finally took her eyes off Sarah. ‘No, why would I?’
‘The priest was on his way to give it to you,’ Sarah said. She reached Chloe the bloodied piece of paper with her name and address on it. Chloe looked at the paper, then at the tube. ‘You didn’t look to see what it was?’
Tom glanced at Sarah, then back to Chloe. ‘We didn’t want to. The vampires couldn’t touch it. We figured there must be some protection on it. Maybe you’re the only one who can open it.’
Chloe took the tube from Tom and rolled it over in her hands. ‘OK, let’s go into the kitchen and let the Daves take a look at it before we try anything.’ The two of them started moving. Chloe took Sarah’s arm and stopped her, then turned to Tom. ‘Oh, ah, you might want to go into the living room first, Tom. Second on the left.’ Tom nodded and walked through the door.
Chloe lifted Sarah’s chin and made her look into her eyes. ‘No weapons, huh?’
‘Yeah.’
‘That the only reason Hal’s still walking around?’
Sarah tried to look down but Chloe wouldn’t let her. ‘Sarah, every day you let
him live is another couple of innocent people in the morgue.’
Tears welled in her eyes. ‘I’ve known him since…’
‘I know. I’m sorry. But eventually you, or some one of us, will have to put him down.’
Sarah nodded and wiped the tears from her cheeks.
Chloe put her arm around her. ‘Come on. Let’s go and see if we can figure out what this thing is.’ The two of them walked towards the kitchen.
Tom had walked into the living room to an unexpected shock.
‘Hi, mum.’
Claire got up, walked over to him and hugged him tightly. When she released him he saw she was crying. ‘What the hell do you call this? Running away?’
‘You knew this day was coming, mum.’
She turned her back on him and shouted, ‘I know. I was training you for it. We were going to face it together.’ She turned back to him and spoke softly. ‘I thought I’d lost you.’
‘I left you a note.’
‘What note? I didn’t get any note.’
‘I put it in your movie jacket. You always go to the cinema on a Tuesday with Ciara and you always wear that jacket. You couldn’t miss the note.’
Claire smiled. ‘I bought a new jacket on Monday. I wore it instead.’
Tom let out a snort of disbelief then dropped into the nearest armchair. Claire sat on the sofa opposite him. ‘How did you find me?’
‘I was a vampire for over a hundred years. I read The Book of Days to Come a lot. The North Coast is where it all goes down. The final battle. The vampires and the humans. And the chosen one.’
Tom leaned forward. ‘Yeah. The chosen one. Not the chosen one and his mum.’
Claire looked hurt.
‘Mum, I love you, but you’re human now. You can be… You should just go home.’
‘We trained for this together and…’
Tom got to his feet. ‘No,’ he shouted. ‘This is my fight.’
Claire smiled. ‘You sounded just like your dad, then.’ She looked away briefly, then turned back to her son. ‘This is everyone’s fight, Tom. A thousand years of vampires ruling the earth is everyone’s problem. Even a broken down old housewife like me can help. I’ve still got some moves.’
Tom knelt down and kissed his mother’s forehead. ‘I know you have.’
‘Come on, shall we go and see what Chloe’s planning?’ Claire stood up and put her arm around her son.
‘How do you know Chloe?’
‘She helped us escape when you were ten. Don’t you remember?’
‘I thought this house looked familiar.’ Tom cleared his throat. ‘Listen, mum, Sarah’s in there.’
Claire smiled. ‘Who’s Sarah?’
‘Would you believe she’s Kaaliz’s daughter?’
Claire stopped in her tracks, lost in thought for a few seconds. Tom didn’t see his mum scared very often, but now he saw it he didn’t like it. ‘Who… who’s her mother?’
‘Her name was Anna.’ Tom looked at the concentration on his mother’s face. ‘She worked as an undertaker’s assistant. Her family…’
‘Oh, shit! I know who you mean. I sort of introduced him to her. OK, there’s a conversation I’m not looking forward to.’
‘You won’t have to. Kaaliz killed her a few nights ago.’
‘Oh, no.’ Claire let it sink in for a few seconds, then her eyes brightened. ‘Wait, if she’s his daughter that means…’
‘She’s a dhampir, yes.’
‘Well, that’s something we’ve got going for us. Wait a sec, this isn’t Sarah who you used to play with when you were young, is it?’
Tom nodded. ‘Yeah.’
Claire shook her head. ‘How did I never know who her mother was?’
‘I think she laid low after what he did to her. Anyway, mum, when we get in there, don’t act… well, just…’
‘You like her.’ Claire smiled again.
Tom exhaled through his nose then said, ‘Yes, I do.’
‘I always thought you did. Is she pretty?’
‘She’s beautiful, mum.’
‘Aw, that’s sweet. Don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you.’
They walked through the door into the kitchen. The Daves, Chloe, Lynda and Sarah were all huddled around the table where a large piece of paper was spread out. The Daves were examining it closely.
Chloe looked up and saw them enter. ‘You didn’t kill him after all, then, Claire.’
Sarah walked over to Claire with her hand outstretched, ‘Hi, Mrs Ford. Wow, you still look the same.’
Claire ignored the proffered hand and hugged her. She released her embrace and held her by the shoulders as she looked at her. ‘Just look at you, Sarah Hughes. All grown up.’ She turned to Tom quickly and said, ‘You weren’t doing her justice when you said she was beautiful.’
Sarah blushed. Tom slapped his forehead and dragged his palm down to cover his eyes while he shook his head.
Lynda looked at the boy closely. Tom was her half-brother. Some of their facial features were even similar. He looked like one of her own children. Lynda wondered if Claire had told him. Lynda’s eyes raised for a second and she and Claire exchanged a knowing glance. He doesn’t know. Claire’s eyes said it all. Lynda gave a nod no-one else in the room noticed. The secret would remain between them. She’d like to get to know her half-brother, though. Maybe one day when this was all over she would.
‘Er, we got the tube open,’ Sarah said. Claire and Tom followed her over to the table. The Daves were examining the extremely small and faded writing with magnifying glasses.
‘What is it?’ Tom asked.
‘Blueprints,’ Dave answered.
Claire edged in closer and looked down at the finely detailed drawings. She tilted her head this way and that, but could make no sense of them. Finally, she asked the question on everyone’s lips. ‘Blueprints for what?’
the bishop’s gait
Coleraine, 1782
The meeting hall was filled to capacity. A long table sat on the stage where, in happier times, travelling troupes would perform the popular plays of the day. Tonight there was no entertainment and fear was the only cost of admission. Three men sat at the table. The man in the middle got to his feet and banged a gavel on the table before him. The impatient mutterings of the crowd silenced.
‘Some of you know me, some of you do not. My name is Vincent Hopkins, head of the Ministry of the Shield these fourteen years since the death of Oliver Dwyer. On my right is Frederick Hervey, Bishop of Derry and on my left, Charles O’Conor, historian and author of the book…’
‘Who cares!’ came the shout from the back of the room. Most of the crowd shouted their agreement.
‘What are you going to do about her?’
‘She killed my husband.’
‘She doesn’t stay around Ballycastle anymore, she goes everywhere!’
‘My son! She killed my son, he weren’t even of age and she killed him!’
‘No one’s safe from her!’
‘What are you going to do?’
Hopkins held up his hands and quieted the crowd once more. ‘I know of your concerns. I, too, have lost those close to me. It is my understanding that local lore forbids anyone from even saying her name aloud. Superstition tells you this will summon her, or curse your house. You call her the tempest. You think her a storm from hell? You believe her name cursed? No such nonsense is true. I defy her to come to me. I say her name without fear. Taisie.’
The assembled crowd gasped as one at his bravery. Some crossed themselves or rubbed talismans around their necks. ‘Taisie, the fair of head,’ he repeated, louder. ‘I call out to thee. If you have the power to know when your name is said aloud then come to me now. Taisie! Come before me and feel my blade if cowardice does not impede you.’ The assembled townsfolk were nervously looking around. A few pushed through the crowd and ran out the back doors.
Hopkins held out his arms. ‘Your tempest has no power but the power of fear. The soldiers of the Mi
nistry are searching for her this night and every night until she is killed or driven from our shores.’ The crowd gave modest applause. ‘To hasten her demise, we have a job for each and every one of you.’
A worried mumble passed between the townspeople.
‘Fear not. I am not asking you to take up arms against her, or do anything that would endanger your kin. I will ask Mr O’Conor to continue.’
Hopkins sat down and O’Conor stood up. Obviously no stranger to speaking to large groups of people, he spoke in a loud, authoritative tone. ‘In 1218 A.D. three knights of the round table were dispatched to our land to fight what were known then as “blood-drinkers.” To help them on their quest, the sorcerer, Merlin, made a talisman in the form of an amulet and put at its centre a crystal imbued with magical properties. A crystal that was said to be able to bring sunlight during the night.’
The townspeople gasped and whispered quietly among themselves until O’Conor began again.
‘The three knights never returned to their king and the talisman was lost. It never left Ireland. That means that somewhere in this land it is waiting to be found. I believe this crystal may be our best defence against… the tempest. We know these creatures shy away from the sunlight on fear of death. To bring forth sunlight during the night is something she would never expect. We have the chance to not only put an end to her, but to safeguard us from all of her kind in the future.’
The crowd gave a more enthusiastic cheer this time. O’Conor sat down and the bishop stood up. ‘So we ask of you all, search. Wherever your travels take you, seek out the crystal talisman. It is a light blue stone embedded in gold, on a gold chain. Do not be tempted by its opulence. No one will pay you more for it than I, and by handing it over you may save your family, your friends, maybe even yourself. We have a plan to use the crystal in ways that will make us feared by the tempest and all her kind, but we must find it first. Tell everyone you know of our quest, and tell them to tell everyone they know. The more people who are looking for it, the better chance we have of finding it. You all know where I live; the villa at Downhill. If you happen upon the amulet, bring it to me, day or night. You will be rewarded not only by me, but by your fellow men, your country and God Himself.’
