by Amy Cross
Ducking under a line of tape and making my way around the side of the church, I can't help thinking about those flashes last night. I swear I heard Madeleine screaming, and I saw her body burning, but I was tired and I guess I must have imagined the whole thing. Still, it all felt so real and so vivid, and I have no idea how the images got into my mind in the first place.
When I reach the spot where I saw her on fire, I find nothing but a patch of scorched ground. At that moment, the wind picks up a little, blowing charred and blackened leaves past me.
She wasn't here.
She can't have been.
This is all just a massive coincidence.
“Shame, isn't it?”
Startled, I turn to find a middle-aged man limping over to join me. He has a rake in one hand and a black plastic sack in the other, and he seems a little disappointed as he looks over toward the ruined church.
“I can't even begin to imagine why someone would want to burn this place,” he mutters, as he drops the sack and leans the rake against the tree. Turning to me, he holds out a gloved hand. “Cy Goodson, I'm the... Well, I'm supposed to be the custodian of this place, but it doesn't look like I'm doing a very good job.” He smiles as we shake hands. “Then again, what can anyone do to stop a bunch of vandals? I guess the church has always been a target.”
“Was anyone hurt?” I ask as he limps past me and heads toward the ruins.
“The police didn't find any sign of that,” he replies, reaching the steps and making his way up slowly to the empty archway that once held a door. “They didn't find any sign of much, to be honest. All they could tell me was that someone tried to burn the place down, and to be honest, I could've figured that part out by myself.”
He steps through the archway and into the ruined church.
“Not that there was much left to destroy,” he continues. “The place has been in ruins for years. Thirteenth century, that's what it is. Almost a thousand years old, one of the most beautiful churches of its kind.” There's a trace of bitterness in his voice now. “Look at it now. Wasted. Hated. Abused.”
Making my way past the steps, I head around the crumbling wall and join him in what's left of the church itself. It's clear that this place has been abandoned for a while, with ivy covering the walls as the forest starts to reclaim the place. There's no roof. Instead, when I look up I see the slate-gray sky high above.
“Were there screams?” I ask.
Cy turns to me. “I'm sorry?”
“Last night,” I continue, trying not to panic even though so far this entire scene matches those flashes of vision I experienced. “I mean... Did anyone report hearing screams?”
“Well...” He pauses, with a faint frown. “The police didn't mention anything about it. Then again, this place is quite a way out of town. Why, did you hear anything?”
I turn and look at the spot where, in my mind last night, I saw Madeleine burning.
“Come to think of it,” Cy continues, “why are you here? No offense, but you don't look much like a hiker.”
Turning back to him, I realize that he seems a little suspicious.
“I just... I heard about the fire,” I tell him, forcing a smile, “and I wanted to...”
My voice trails off as I hear Madeleine's screams echoing through my mind.
“You don't know anything about what happened out here, do you?” Cy asks. “If you do, you should go to the police. Even if you tell them anonymously, I'm sure they'd appreciate it if you could help them catch the sons of bitches who did this. People need to learn that there are consequences if they go around attacking our heritage.”
“No, I don't...” I pause. “I don't know anything.”
And that's true. I don't, not really. I can only imagine the reaction I'd get if I went stumbling into a police station and starting babbling about some random girl I met on a coach, and about all the weirdness on the ferry, and if I then topped the whole tale off by talking about seeing visions of her burning to death right here in front of the church. They'd lock me up in a padded cell, because the story truly does sound insane, and maybe they'd be right. Maybe I really did imagine most of it.
Maybe I should be in a padded cell.
“Are you okay, my friend?” Cy asks. “You look... I don't know, like you've seen a ghost.”
I turn to him, but I honestly don't know what to say.
“Maybe there's no point trying to save a place like this,” he continues, looking around. “Maybe the glory of its past has no bearing on its future. Nothing lasts forever, not even churches, so maybe it should just be left to rot. There's a bunch of campaigners from the city who're trying to raise money, they think if they restore this place they'll be able to get it up and running again as a church, but I'm starting to think...” He sighs. “I'm starting to think that some things just run their course. Even very old things, even things that counted for something once. They just reach a point where it's best to let them go. Don't you agree?”
“I should get out of here,” I tell him, taking a step back. “I need to...”
I pause, and the truth is, I feel I need to go somewhere – anywhere – and get my head together. I need to work out what's real and what isn't, because I'm veering between acceptance and denial. One moment I'm convinced Madeleine doesn't exist, the next I think she's some kind of fantasist and freak, and then in-between there are flashes where I actually start to consider the possibility that she was telling the truth.
“Sorry,” I mutter, turning to leave, “I just -”
Stopping suddenly, I see a figure standing in the distance, watching us from between the trees. Whoever it is, it seems to be a big man, tall and broad.
“Oh, that's just my friend,” Cy tells me. “Mr. Cole. He hung back while I came to talk to you. He's always been a little more cautious, that's just in his nature.”
I stare at the figure for a moment, before turning back to Cy.
“We complement each other pretty well,” he explains with a faint, amused smile. “I'm the friendly, chatty one who's good at lying, and he's the one who broods. That kind of twin approach has always served us just fine over the years. Whatever we're tracking, whoever we're after, we find that we always get there in the end.”
“You do, huh?” I reply, glancing back at the distant figure.
He's still watching us.
“One thing you might not guess about him, though,” Cy continues, “is his speed. My word, that man can run. In fact, I've never seen him give chase to anyone and not manage to haul them right back. He has a wonderful sense of humor, though, that really belies his appearance. Of course... You don't have to meet him at all. You could just be completely honest with me about why you're really here, and then you can go on your way.”
I pause for a moment, and suddenly I feel as if I really need to get out of here.
“I'll let you get on with your work,” I tell him, before turning and making my way around another of the ruined walls. “Thanks for -”
And that's when I see the dead body. Just a few feet away, partially covered by a pile of leaves that has already begun to blow away, an elderly man is flat on his back with a patch of blood smeared against his face. His glassy eyes are staring straight up toward the gray morning sky, and his mouth is hanging open.
Behind me, footsteps crunch closer across the charred ground.
“That's the chap who came up a few hours ago with the rake and sacks,” Cy explains. “Shame. If he'd just come a few hours later, we'd all have been gone and he could have got on with his work. Instead, he decided to get an early start.”
I turn to Cy, and now his smile has grown.
“Relax,” he continues. “We just want to ask you a few questions about someone you might've bumped into recently. A mutual acquaintance, if you like.”
I pause for a moment, before turning and hurrying back toward the forest. Before I can manage more than a few steps, however, another figure steps into my way and I find myself staring into
the eyes of a man with a scarred, slightly charred face.
“Like I said,” Cy explains, “my friend Mr. Cole is much faster than he appears. Still, I understand if you choose to run. Most people do. Just don't feel bad when he hauls you back for questioning. I'm afraid you're caught up in something a little bigger than you might have realized.”
Seventeen
The handle of the rake smashes into my jaw, sending me slamming back against the church's ruined wall. Slumping down against the cold forest floor, I feel for a moment as if I'll never be able to get up again.
“She must have told you something,” Cy continues, watching from a distance as Cole towers above me. “Where she'd been. Where she was headed. Who she was planning to meet.”
I open my mouth to reply, but the pain in my chest is too extreme. I think I might actually have a few fractured ribs.
“Why did she come here?” he asks. “Why Ireland? Why Dublin?”
“I...” Taking a deep breath, I try to stay calm. “I brought her,” I gasp finally.
“Come again?”
“I brought her,” I continue, managing to sit up a little and lean back against the wall. Wiping my lip, I realize I'm bleeding from a cut just above my chin. “I met her on the coach and -”
“You've told us that already,” he replies, interrupting me, “but something about the whole thing doesn't quite add up. What the hell was someone like Madeleine doing on a coach? The whole thing seems strangely... mundane.”
“She was confused,” I stammer. “She seemed lost, like she didn't really know what she was doing?”
“Is that right?” Cy pauses, before turning to Cole. “Maybe she was more badly hurt than we realized.” He turns back to me. “The last time we caught up to Madeleine, she was injured. I'd never actually seen a vampire in such an awful state before. You must understand, we're trying to help her. She's the most wonderful creature, and usually she'd never need anything from the likes of us. While she's hurt, however, she seems to be acting somewhat... irrationally.”
I try to get up, but Cole steps closer and I quickly realize that any further attempts will simply lead to more pain.
“I don't know where she is now,” I gasp. “Please, you have to believe me...”
“Are you working for her enemies?”
“What -”
He swings the rake at my face again, knocking me back with a thud.
“What enemies?” I stammer, feeling a sharp pain on my cheek.
“There are those who seek to tear her down,” he explains. “Isn't that a strange thing about the world we live in? No matter how beautiful or how majestic something might appear, there will always be those who seek its destruction. If you've never seen a vampire in all its glory, you've never really seen nature at its finest. Popular culture might paint them as an aspect of humanity, but really, they're something else entirely.” He steps closer, towering over me. “Why do so many people persist in seeking gods in the heavens, when we have gods walking the planet all around us? To worship a vampire is to accept mankind's true place in the world. And that's Mr. Cole and I have to find Madeleine. For once, she might actually need our help.”
Shaking my head, I try to get up. Cy quickly places his foot on my right hand, however, and the prospect of more pain causes me to instinctively pull back.
“She's dying,” he continues. “We've been researching the situation and we believe she can be helped, but only if we catch up to her before it's too late. As her familiars, we are usually restricted to mundane tasks, but right now we must rise to the greatest challenge of our lives.” He crouches next to me. “Please. If you've spent any time with her at all, you must understand that she needs our help. Then again, I'm struggling to understand why she didn't just kill you. At a time like this, she must need all the blood she can get.”
“She said I invited her in,” I stammer, as I try to work out whether I have a chance to get out of here.
“That would do it,” Cy mutters. “Absolutely. If you invite a vampire, you bind them to you in certain ways. She certainly would have had a hard time killing you in her current, weakened state. I'm sure that was very hard for her. I hope you understand your privilege.”
“You're lying,” I gasp, trying once again to stand. This time Cy doesn't stop me, and I manage to get to my feet, even if I have to lean against the cold stone wall.
“I am, am I?”
“This is all madness!” I hiss.
“You struggle to believe?”
I try to keep walking, but I can already see Mr. Cole up ahead, blocking my way. I have no doubt he'll stop me, so instead I turn back to Cy, who has taken his phone from his pocket. He taps the screen, before turning it so I can see a photo of what looks like a dead man covered in blood, on a blood-soaked bed.
“Just one of Madeleine's many, many victims,” he explains, and now his smile has faded somewhat. “Henry Tompkins, a carpenter from Macclesfield who was found drained of blood in 2001. I know what you're thinking, it's hideous to see a human body in such a state, but really... It's the natural order of things. To worship a vampire means accepting certain aspects of the world.”
He swipes to bring up another photo, this time showing a rotten corpse on a beach.
I look away, feeling as if I might be about to throw up.
“An unidentified female,” he continues. “Another of Madeleine's victims. For a while, she roamed Europe as part of a small pack. Unusual, really, since she seems to have been solitary for most of her life, but while she was in that pack... Well, let's just say that she had her fair share of kills. Always for food, though. Never for sport. As vampires go, she has always been rather restrained.”
He brings up another photo, and then another.
“She might have seemed like an attractive young lady to you,” he mutters, “but appearances can be deceptive. Then again, a wounded vampire is easy to mistake for a strong, powerful human. The stronger she gets, the more her vampire side will begin to show through.” A faint smile crosses his lips as he slips the phone away again. “We won't let her die. Such a fate would be absolutely obscene. According to all our records, only three vampires have died in the past thousand years. Madeleine can't be the next.”
He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a blood-stained knife.
“And I'm very sorry to have to tell you this,” he continues, “but part of our job is to ensure that all traces of a her life are removed from the world. We can't allow the general public to understand that Madeleine exists, or there'd be widespread panic.”
“I don't know anything,” I stammer, turning and leaning against the wall as I try to stumble away. “Please -”
“It's nothing personal!” Cy explains as he calmly follows, easily keeping pace with me. “I'm sure you'd be able to understand if the circumstances were different. And I'm sure that when we inform Madeleine of your fate, she'll be... wistful.”
“I won't tell anyone,” I reply, “I swear, I just -”
Feeling a sudden rush of pain in my ribs, I drop to my knees.
“We can't rely on your word,” Cy continues, stopping next to me with the knife still in his hand. “It's not our fault, though. The moment she revealed her nature to you, Madeleine must have known she was signing your death warrant. If it's any consolation, however, your death won't be strung out. I'll make this quick and relatively painless.”
“If you're on Madeleine's side,” I gasp, “then why did she fight you on the ferry?”
“Fight us?” He frowns. “What ferry? We flew in from London this morning, as soon as we detected her presence here in Dublin. Why? Were you and Madeleine on a ferry? Did you -”
I hear a sudden bumping sound.
“What's wrong?” Cy asks, turning to the ever-silent Cole, who seems to be troubled by something over at the far side of the ruined church. “What did you hear?”
Stumbling to my feet again, I try to make my way to the far end of the stone wall, but a moment later I spot a
flash of movement between the trees. I freeze, certain that I just saw someone, and sure enough a moment later I hear a faint rustling sound.
“Did you see a face?” Cy continues, his voice filled with concern. “Cole, answer me! Did you see anyone? It's probably just children from the local estate, they -”
He spins around and looks the other way, and it's clear now that there are at least two other people nearby, watching from the far side of the ruins.
“It can't be them,” Cy says firmly. “We know for a fact that they're hundreds of miles away. Madeleine separated from the rest of her pack before the last time we ran into her.”
Pulling a large knife from under his jacket, Cole sets off across the abandoned church, while Cy seems a little more cautious.
“What is it?” I ask, trying not to panic. “What's happening?”
“Nothing,” he mutters, but he's clearly lying. His eyes are filled with fear, and after a moment he takes another step back. “They can't be here,” he continues. “It's just not possible. We've been keeping tabs on them, we know their movements over the past couple of months, we know for a fact that Madeleine had begun to distance herself from her pack.”
Turning, I see that Cole has made his way around the far side of one of the church's walls. He's out of sight now, but I can still hear faint rustling sounds.
Suddenly an abrupt, pained cry fills the air.
“Cole!” Cy shouts. “Get back here! We're pulling out!”
He waits, but now the church and the forest have once again fallen silent.
“What is it?” I ask, still trying not to panic. “Are the -”
Before I can finish, Cole lumbers back into view, staggering as blood pours down one side of his body. The flesh has been torn from one side of his face, and his left arm is hanging from the shoulder by little more than a few scraps of meat.
