Ten Open Graves: A Collection of Supernatural Horror

by David Wood

  “But what is it?” Brian asked.

  Donald Allan looked at him strangely before speaking.

  “I think you know that already. We are made as blood drinkers...and what you’re feeling is the thirst. Your body craves blood. But you won’t die without it...it’ll just feel like it for a while.”

  The cramp hit Brian again, tight, like a fist clenched in his stomach, forcing him to sit down hard on the toilet seat. He groaned as the pain got worse.

  “For God’s sake...what can I do?”

  “It is for his sake that you must fight it,” the other man said. “For his sake and for your own. Look inside yourself. Don’t you find it strange that you are taking this change in your circumstances so calmly? You have been turned into a vampire...a creature of evil from your wildest nightmares. And here you are, sitting in a toilet in the dark, hiding from the sun, locked in a room with a four hundred-year-old vampire. Are you afraid?”

  Brian found that he was calm, and unworried. And he didn’t feel as if the condition was abnormal.

  “Again, it is part of what we are,” Donald Allan said, “A certain acceptance of our lot. You need to use that acceptance, focus it to fight against the hunger.”

  “Talk to me,” Brian said. “Tell me more about what’s happening.”

  “I can tell you more history. Or maybe it’s only legend. Whatever, I’ll tell you as I heard it, from the one who saved me from Shoa.”

  As Donald Allan spoke Brian fought against the ravaging thirst inside him, concentrating only on the words as he listened.

  “In the old times the thirst was always with our kind. After Amro brought the Tenets of the Law down from the mountain there were those among us who tried to fight it, but they were never able to completely control it, and they had to drink, once every moon. They drank only from lowly creatures and never from the Sons of Adam, but even that was a sin in the eyes of the Lord.

  “And after Amro’s death and the fall of the temple there was only the thirst left. Kalent was the only one of the Eldren still awake, and the rest of the world belonged to the sons of Adam.

  “In the night there lived creatures like us, pale demons who were slaves to the thirst. And they knew nothing of the Tenets, and the temple was merely dust and rubble.

  “And so it went for centuries.

  “Kalent wandered the earth in all that time, searching for the place where Yoriah slept, hoping to bring the Lord’s power back to his people, but the Lord had turned his face away, and Kalent found only the night and the desert.

  “Until the time came when even Kalent, now the oldest of the old, despaired. For three hundred years he wandered in the icy wastes of the north far from the wrath of the sun.

  “And countless times he called out in his pain, crying to his Lord for forgiveness.

  “But never was he answered, and never did he meet another, not of the Eldren or of the Blood Children or of the Children of Adam.

  “And it came to pass that a great thirst came upon him, a raging heat that coursed through his body causing him to bend double almost to the ground.

  “His fingers became as claws and he tore at his flesh until the skin was burst and ravaged in a hundred places. He threw his body to the snow and rolled and crawled there like an animal until the white became pink and the thirst abated.

  “A white bear came to him, and spake, saying: ‘Why do you hurt brother. Take of my blood and make yourself whole.’

  “And Kalent looked at the creature and saw the life was strong in it. And the thirst returned redoubled. Kalent took a step forward, and another, and the beast turned its great neck towards him, offering itself.

  “Kalent’s teeth slid from his gums, bringing a fresh burst of pain, and he leaned forward to feed. But at the last he remembered the Tenets and pulled himself away.

  “He stood tall, ignoring the thirst, but a great pain took him, sending him into blackness. And he slept for many days.

  “When he awoke he found that he was not alone. A daughter of the Tribe of Dan stood over him, a Blood Child. She was uncovered and her skin was like burnished silver in the light from the Moon and her hair was as black as the darkest night. Moonbeams danced in her eyes and her lips were hot and welcoming.

  “And she danced for him, there on that cold plain, the stars framing her as she whirled and gyrated. Kalent felt heat rising in his body, warmth that he had never experienced, and a violent lust raged within him. She reached for him, taking his hand and guiding him towards her sex, towards the furnace that raged within her.

  “‘Come my Lord,’ she said. ‘Together we will bring back the old strength. We shall spill our blood and our seed will bring forth the Eldren once more.’

  “And Kalent rose up with her and together they danced in joy until the snow was packed hard under their stamping feet.

  “And she was comely and she was radiant and Kalent pulled her towards him and threw her to the ground where she lay, pliant, underneath him. The lust was huge within him as he tore off his clothing, and she smiled as he lay with her.

  “Her hands stretched towards him and the moon shone in her eyes. And he wanted her, and she wanted him, but the Tenets shone strong in his mind, and he pushed her away, averting his eyes from the sight of her.

  “And when she saw that she was spurned the Blood Child let out a scream which sent flurries of snow dancing around her and the stars stopped in their dance. Her body flowed and melted like wax on a candle, the very form of her being remolded and reformed until the great serpent himself stood before Kalent.

  “And the Serpent’s claws brought steam where they sat on the ice, and his eyes burned red, a deep red so hot that Kalent had to stand back lest he be consumed. But there was a smile on the face of the Serpent as he spoke, saying: ‘Come my Lord, and see what I would give you.’

  “The Serpent took Kalent to Uraon, the highest of the high, and bade him look over the lands beneath saying: ‘All this will be thine, all this and more. All I desire is that you bow down and pay homage to me as your brother Shoa did in the time long past.’

  “And Kalent looked down on the land, seeing the Adamites spreading like a plague on the face of the earth, their buildings belching noxious fumes, their waste polluting the land, their babies eating of the flesh of the Lord’s creation. And Kalent waxed greatly angered, but he held his speech.

  “And the Serpent showed him a vision, a land where the sun had been removed from the sky and the cold stars shone in their full glory, a land where the pale brethren of the Eldren sang and danced in the hills and where Yoriah once more walked.

  “And the Serpent spoke, saying: ‘This I can give you, if you will only be mine.’

  “But Kalent remembered the Temple and the light of the Tenets, and he turned his back on the Serpent.

  “A fury flamed in the Serpent’s eyes and he lifted Kalent in the air, the great talons piercing Kalent’s body, burning and charring the ravaged flesh. And Kalent screamed as the Serpent cast him from Uraon, down to the sharp stones below which tore his body and broke him so that he could no longer walk. And the Serpent laughed, a booming which shook the rocks down from Uraon to fall over Kalent’s stone tomb that encaged and encased him in earth and stone.

  “Yet still Kalent lived.

  “And the Lord saw that he was still true and took pity on the first made. And while Kalent slept the Lord brought him forth from the stone and took from him some of his blood. And the Lord blew the breath of life and made thereof a Sister of the Blood.

  “And it was she who brought our kind back to the ways of the Lord and it was she who rebuilt the Temple. She was called Rokar, and she was our Redeemer.”

  When Margaret got back to the Manse Tony was still standing in the doorway, pointedly looking in the other direction.

  “It looks like Bill and the policeman were called away,” Margaret said, trying to keep her voice light. The boy looked at her and she saw that he recognized the lie…and the need for it.

&n
bsp; She had forgotten how intelligent the boy was...she would have to be careful not to patronize him.

  “I don’t know about you,” she said, “but I could do with a bath, a change of clothes and some rest. I’m too tired to think about anything else just now.”

  Tony wasn’t talking. His eyes were wide again, the fear close to the surface. Margaret realized that she could get herself into trouble with the police by taking the boy away from the Manse, but he could be in more trouble if she let him stay here alone.

  “We’ll go to my place,” she said, taking the boy by the hand and leading him away from the Manse. And although he took her hand, the fear didn’t leave his eyes, and he still held tight to the poker.

  Margaret had no idea what time it was, only that it was still early morning, and she thought that it was still before six o’clock...an obscene time in the morning to be up and about.

  The streets were empty and they passed no one as they headed through the town. If Margaret had been less tired she might have thought it strange that there was no one on their way to work…no one opening up the newsagents. But for now her only thought was the warm soapy bath that was waiting for her...that, and the comfort of her own home.

  “Would you rather go to your house?” she asked the boy as they reached the main street, but he only shook his head and gripped her hand tighter.

  As they passed the local bar she noticed that the door was open. There was no sound but she guessed that there must be a cleaner inside...she was never up this early to know whether it was common or not. She considered going in, just to see another human face, but the tiredness was seeping into her bones again. She had to get home soon; otherwise she would collapse in Tony’s arms.

  And what a stir that would cause in the town…Local teacher caught in clinch with schoolboy...she could see the headlines already. She giggled, then stopped abruptly when she caught the expression on Tony’s face.

  “Sorry,” she said, “I was just thinking about something.”

  She knew how lame that sounded, but it was the best she could do at the moment.

  The first person they met was the postman, and that was just as they were turning into Margaret’s street. She almost didn’t notice him, and it wasn’t until he emerged from behind a tall privet hedge and spoke that she knew he was there.

  “Good morning, Ms. Brodie,” he said, and his voice sounded cheerful enough, but there was a look in his eyes that she recognized...a look of confusion and dismay. And he didn’t remark on the boy’s presence, as if the day was strange enough already without adding complications.

  She realized that she didn’t know his name...she’d only been up early enough to see him on a handful of occasions since she moved in.

  “Good morning. Busy this morning?” She was just making conversation, but she got a reaction that she didn’t expect.

  “I’ve never known a day like it. It’s as if the whole town has decided to sleep in. I’ve been banging on doors for half an hour now, and so far naebody at a’ has replied. You’re the first voice I’ve heard a’ morning...and glad I am for it...I was beginning to think that I’d got up on a Sunday by mistake.”

  He held a sheaf of envelopes to his chest as if they might protect him.

  “Anything for me?” she asked, but he shook his head.

  “No. Just my luck,” he said. He looked up the length of the street, left and right. “Looks like you’re the only one up. It’s going to be a long day...young Dick didnae turn up this morning, so I’m doing the whole town myself. I’d better be getting on.”

  He left with a wave of his hand. Margaret watched him knock unsuccessfully on the next door down before walking up to her own front door.

  She was mildly surprised to find that she still had her keys in her pocket. She stood on the doorstep for long seconds before opening the door, a sudden premonition of fear momentarily freezing her to the spot.

  The boy squeezed tighter at her hand as she turned the key and swung the door open.

  The hallway ahead was quiet and empty. She let out a breath that she didn’t know she had been holding and closed the door behind them, locking it and slipping the deadbolt.

  “If you don’t mind it’s a bath first for me,” she said. “You’ll find plenty of food in the kitchen.”

  As she left the room Tony was sitting down in her armchair, just staring out at the view over the loch.

  She shut the bathroom door behind her and lodged a chair up against it...not to prevent the boy coming in, but more for reassurance against anything else.

  She peeled off her clothes slowly as she ran a bath; suddenly aware of the toll the night had taken...her bruised back vying for attention with the throbbing pain from her ravaged hand. She thought about unraveling the bandage, but decided against it.

  Maybe later, when I might be able to look without screaming, but not now.

  The mirror over the sink had misted up with condensation but that was all right…she had no desire to look at herself.

  She stripped off her underwear and winced at the pungent smell of day old sweat as she dropped the offending clothing into a pile.

  Her back and shoulders complained as she eased herself down into the bath, but the heat soon permeated into her muscles and she could feel her body begin to sag and relax as she lay back and closed her eyes. She didn’t mean to sleep, but she was woken some time later by a banging on the bathroom door.

  “Miss Brodie. Miss Brodie. Are you all right.”

  The voice was young and concerned, and it took a while before her brain reacted enough for her to realize who it was.

  She lay in lukewarm water; the soap bubbles already reduced to an oily scum. Her bandaged hand had slipped into the water at some point and was now a sodden mess that threatened to fall off and expose the carnage beneath. She sat up quickly, slopping water over the side of the bath.

  “I’m okay, Tony,” she shouted. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Through the door she heard the footsteps as the boy went back to the living room. She dried herself off briskly, not feeling nearly clean enough, and used sticking plaster to reattach the bandage to her hand.

  She couldn’t face putting the soiled clothes back on, so wrapped a large bath towel around herself before moving the chair away from the door.

  When she got to the living room Tony had abandoned the view and was staring intently at the television. His eyes went wide again as he turned towards her and she pulled the towel tighter around her body. She had forgotten that he was one of her pupils. When all this was over he would have plenty of tales to tell in the playground.

  “Excuse me,” she said, aware that she was blushing. “I’ll go and put some clothes on.”

  Tony’s head turned back to the television.

  “There’s nothing on the news,” he said, “Nothing about me I mean. Nothing about Finsburgh at all.”

  Margaret wasn’t surprised...in her experience news was only worthy for one day...two at most. They’d be on to something new by now, some other prurient nonsense.

  “I can look out a pair of track suit bottoms for you if you need to change?” she said, then apologized as Tony blushed and shook his head. “Can’t be seen wearing girl’s clothes eh?”

  As she moved towards the bedroom Tony had already turned back to the television, flicking channels, searching for any indication that someone had noticed what was happening in the town.

  Margaret’s brain was only now beginning to work. She saw by her alarm clock that it was nearly nine in the morning...she had been asleep for more than two hours.

  She considered alternative plans of action, but it all came down to the same thing...and even then it would be touch and go. Her resolve was hardening as she donned a pair of jeans and a white cotton shirt, and by the time she had brushed the knots out of her hair she knew what she had to do.

  There was no alternative but to go back to the Hansen House and search for some sign as to what happened to Brian. And she w
ould have to do it in daylight. Wild horses couldn’t drag her out there after the sun went down.

  But first she had the boy to deal with.

  When she went back into the living room he was still flicking channels on the television, and he ignored her as she went to the telephone.

  There was no answer at the police station, or at the school. She tried Brian’s number but it rang unanswered for more than a minute before she gently put the phone down on its cradle.

  “I think we’re in trouble,” she said, not looking at the boy, not wanting him to see the fear that had suddenly lodged inside her. “Maybe I should take you home.”

  “No,” the boy said, almost shouting. He leaped from the chair as if he had been given an electric shock. “He’s been there...and he’ll be waiting for me...he wants the book.”

  Tony was gripping the poker tightly, holding it in front of him like a sword, and for a moment Margaret thought he would hit her.

  “We’ve got to go to the old house,” Tony said, “And we’ve got to kill him now, in the daylight, or else he’ll just make more of them.”

  “It’s going to be dangerous,” Margaret said, but she saw the determination in the boy.

  “I don’t care. I’ve been there before...I can take you to him.”

  On impulse she moved forward and drew him to her, hugging him tight. She knew it was selfish of her to even think it, but it would be good to have company in the old house, even in the light of day.

  “Okay,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

  Tony almost smiled, but it was a grim humor that frightened Margaret almost as much as the thought of going back to the house.

  “We need stakes...pointed ones. This,” he said waving the poker in front of him, “This isn’t good enough. Stakes, and a hammer. A big, heavy hammer.”

  Jim Kerr stood in the driveway and looked up at the house that loomed over him.

  “I know you’re in there,” he muttered to himself, “And I’m going to get you this time.”

  He had twenty quarrels in the holster under his left arm and still had half a dozen sachets of the garlic granules in his pockets. And he had his can of lighter fuel...not much, but enough to get a fire going if he needed one.