The Vexation of Vampires (Penny White Book 5)

by Chrys Cymri

  Once she had shut the car door, I backed out onto the road and headed off. There was a field just outside Beckeridge, hidden behind a small group of trees. I parked nearby, changed into the boots I kept in my car, and walked past the trees.

  After double checking that no other human was in sight, I pulled out my pocketknife. Sunshine picked out the holes in the wooden handle, and I regretted that time in a dragon’s stomach had dulled the once bright green. The blade had come through unscathed, and I admired once again the flowing design on the grey-black metal as I opened it half way.

  Green-blue wings appeared in the sky twenty minutes later. I slid my iPhone back into my pocket and watched as Raven spiralled to the ground. He arched his neck as he strode up to me. ‘Resplendent Penny, good as it is to see you, this is far from your usual abode.’

  ‘My neighbours are working in their garden,’ I explained. ‘And I didn’t want them to wonder why I was standing in the middle of weeds, talking to myself.’

  ‘Or perhaps speaking to the weeds.’

  ‘Even worse.’ I narrowed my eyes. ‘How are you?’

  Raven snorted. ‘As handsome as ever, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘No, really, how are you?’

  ‘Ate well, slept well, enjoyed a quick flight to see you.’ He yawned, his blue tongue curling back from sharp white teeth. ‘The merpeople have a new opera to celebrate my rescue from the deep. Mount up, and I’ll take you to hear the performance.’

  ‘Raven, you weren’t well the other night,’ I reminded him. ‘The churchyard at Caer-grawnt? Remember?’

  His horns twisted, a sign of puzzlement. ‘All I remember is a sermon about togetherness and the fine voice of your Associate. Why would I have spent any time in the churchyard?’

  ‘You really don’t remember? You kept asking what your name was.’

  Raven laughed. ‘I know who I am, tantalising Penny. Even a search dragon is given a name by his matriarch, just before she tries to eat him. Why should I be asking for another one?’

  A sudden breeze blew around my chest. I shivered as I tucked strands of hair behind my ears. ‘You don’t remember a thing.’

  ‘There is nothing to remember.’

  ‘Then why do you have scrapes on your hind legs?’

  The dragon twisted his long neck to study the scratches marring his smooth hide. ‘No idea. Probably gained them at some point when landing at the search dragon settlement. All those sharp rocks. Come along, Penny, merpeople and singing. You enjoyed our last visit.’

  His head lowered down to mine, and I stared into his bright blue-green eyes. A mingled scent of wood smoke and leather drifted across my nose. I felt myself wavering, my legs itching to press against his muscular neck, my chest aching to feel the upward thrust as he kicked us into the air. ‘Raven,’ I said, forcing the words out, ‘we need to know what’s wrong with you.’

  ‘Then go home. I trust your regrets will be good company.’ Raven backed away. ‘I doubt the merpeople will put on a second performance.’

  His take off and climb into the sky was as smooth as ever. I forced myself to unclench my fists. Raven had not always been truthful with me, but I was certain that, this time, he felt he had nothing to hide. I walked back to my car, rubbing my forehead and longing for a good slug of whisky.

  <><><><><><>

  I had many plans for Thursday, my day off. A long lie in was at the top of the list. So a sudden weight on my pillow, and the touch of cold tentacles on my cheek, was an unwelcome start to my morning. ‘It’s not even 8am yet,’ I grumbled without opening my eyes. ‘Find someone else to jump on.’

  ‘Awake.’

  ‘I am now. And you’re not to invade my bedroom once I’m married.’

  ‘Dragon,’ Clyde said dismissively. Then, with a plaintive tone, he asked, ‘Help?’

  With a groan, I rolled onto my back and opened my eyes. The colours trailing from Clyde’s eyespots were orange and green. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Nation. Community.’ I could feel the shudder through my pillow as he struggled to speak. ‘Help.’

  ‘I thought everything was okay?’

  The sudden flow of colours was beyond my ability to understand. ‘All right, all right, I’ll get up. Let me ingest some caffeine and then try again.’

  The kitchen was quiet as I stumbled over to the coffee machine. No sign of my other house mates. I placed a bowl of tea on the table for Clyde, grabbed a couple of oatcakes, and sat down with my mug of coffee. ‘All right, what’s up with the snail sharks?’

  Clyde reared back on his foot. A fierce whistle echoed through the room and made my ears ring. A moment later a flash of blue and purple wings announced Jago’s presence. He landed neatly beside the snail shark. ‘It’s early,’ he told Clyde.

  ‘Exactly what I said.’ I tipped my cup towards him. ‘Coffee?’

  ‘I’m too young,’ Jago said primly. He cocked his head, crest rising and falling as he studied the snail. ‘Go on, Uncle Clyde.’

  I crunched an oat cake between my teeth as Clyde used a mixture of colours and twists in his tentacles to talk to the small gryphon. Although James had taught me some sign language, Clyde seemed to be using a variation of his own which I couldn't follow. Jago, however, appeared to have no such difficulties.

  ‘Snails have been crossing over from the Nation and the Community,’ the gryphon finally told me. ‘Some of them have told Uncle Clyde stories that he wants to check out. He thinks they need help. Would you please go with him?’

  I swallowed several mouthfuls of coffee, hoping that would kick start my brain. ‘Why does he need me?’

  ‘You have hands.’

  The curse of possessing opposable thumbs. ‘I’m supposed to spend the day with Peter. He’s coming over later this morning.’

  Clyde slid past his bowl and bumped his shell against my hand. The eyespots searched my face. ‘Mam? Please?’

  I felt my reluctance evaporate. ‘That,’ I told Jago, ‘is Clyde being clever. All right, all right, just give me a moment.’

  Second cup of coffee in hand, I went into the study and picked up the phone. Peter answered after three rings. ‘Hi Penny. 11am still okay for you?’

  ‘I can’t come,’ I said, pouring regret into my voice. ‘Clyde needs me. We’re going to Lloegyr. Do you want to come with us?’

  Clyde had climbed up onto the desk top. As I glanced at him, he pulsed brown and yellow, showing his displeasure at the idea. But Peter said, ‘I can’t. We’re supposed to be meeting Sarah today, remember? To agree the table decorations at the wedding reception.’

  ‘You can do that on your own, can’t you? We’ve already decided what we’re having.’

  ‘Of course I can,’ he said, emphasising the last word. ‘But I’d rather have you with me.’

  ‘This is really important to Clyde.’ I tried to broadcast my reassuring smile down the phone. ‘I’ll make it up to you.’

  ‘You’ll be back for tonight, won’t you? Our meeting with Rosie?’

  ‘Yes, I will.’ I gave Clyde a glare. ‘I’ll be back by late afternoon.’

  ‘Promise,’ Clyde assured me.

  ‘There you go, I’ll be back.’ We said our goodbyes, and I placed the phone back into its cradle.

  Jago flew through and landed on the snail’s shell. ‘Me too, I want to go too. I can come, can’t I, Uncle Clyde?’

  ‘Go where?’ Morey landed on my shoulder, and I nearly spilled my coffee. ‘And why?’

  ‘You explain,’ I told Jago as I moved Morey to a bookshelf, ‘and I’ll put on some more coffee.’

  When I returned with a mug for Morey, the older gryphon’s tail was lashing against my collection of Doctor Who DVDs. ‘I can see why Clyde wants to go there, and that it can be helpful to have a pair of hands, but there’s no need for your presence, Jago.’

  Standing on Clyde’s shell meant that Jago’s head was on a level with his father’s. Their beaks were nearly touching as they glared at each other. ‘I hav
e friends there,’ Jago said. ‘I want to see if they’re okay.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Morey responded. ‘We don’t know what’s happened since the two sides called off their war. You’re not going.’

  Jago’s crest rose. ‘I’ve left the nest. Only my exemplar can tell me what to do. And he’s still asleep.’

  ‘And you know James,’ I said to Morey. ‘He’d only want to come along as well.’

  ‘So, it’s settled,’ Jago said. ‘I’m going to catch my breakfast, and then I’ll be ready.’ And he flew from the room.

  Clyde’s body was threaded with pink and green. Morey fluffed his cheek feathers. ‘This parenting business is very challenging. How did you cope with James when he became a teenager?’

  ‘Badly.’ I stood and gathered up the mugs. ‘I still bear the scars.’

  Half an hour later, fed, watered, washed, and dressed, I was in the kitchen writing out a note for James and Skylar. Jago stood on my shoulder. Some black feathers clinging to his beak showed that he’d had a successful hunt. Morey and Clyde were just finishing their own meal, and I did my best not to watch as they consumed the last bits of the starling. The sight did remind me to slide a breakfast bar and a small bottle of water into a pocket. And, after a moment’s hesitation, a hip flask. I pulled on my boots, tied a jacket around my waist, and marched out into the back garden.

  ‘I’m coming as well,’ Morey announced, flying up into a nearby tree.

  ‘About time you two had a father and son outing,’ I said mildly. ‘Now we just have to decide how to get there.’

  ‘Call Raven?’ Morey suggested.

  I took a moment to find a believable excuse. ‘He’d be the first to remind me that he’s not a taxi service.’

  ‘Thin place,’ Clyde said.

  Morey dropped down to the grass. ‘Snail sharks can find thin places, true, but we need air crossing places.’

  ‘I think there might be one by the back fence,’ I said, keeping my tone casual and hoping that Clyde would pick up on the suggestion. ‘If I carried you over there, Clyde, do you think you could find it? A thin place which would take us through to the Community? It’d have to be tall enough for me to step through.’

  A succession of colours flowed through the snail’s body. ‘Yes.’

  I lifted Clyde and walked across the garden. He opened his jaws, and I lowered him in a straight line while his teeth sliced through the air. A shimmer followed the cut, as if reality were shaping itself around Clyde’s wishes. We stopped several inches from the ground.

  ‘And there it is.’ I tucked Clyde into my left arm and rubbed his shell. ‘Clever snail shark.’

  Morey flew over to my shoulder. ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Just in line with that concrete post.’

  ‘I’ll check it out.’ He followed the line of my finger, and vanished. A moment later he returned to his perch. ‘Yes, it leads straight through. How very convenient.’

  I somehow managed to keep my face straight. ‘Thank God for small miracles.’

  ‘I’ll go back over and scout out the area.’

  Jago took his father’s place when Morey had once again disappeared. ‘Auntie Penny, have you just done another clever thing?’

  ‘Clever,’ Clyde agreed smugly.

  ‘It’s something only Clyde can do,’ I said quickly. ‘And no one else must know about it. Do you understand?’

  His bright eyes searched mine. ‘Because other people would want him to do the same for them?’

  ‘Precisely. It could put Clyde in danger.’

  ‘Yes. I understand.’ He cocked his head. ‘I think Tad knows, though.’

  ‘I’m certain your father does. But he won’t say anything either.’

  Morey zipped over our heads. ‘All clear. You can cross over.’

  A quick look around showed that no neighbours were peering over the fence into the back garden. I stepped forward, careful to lift my feet high above the ground. No one had told me what would happen if someone tried to go through a thin place which didn't have enough clearance, and I had no intention of leaving my toes behind.

  The temperature was only slightly cooler on the moors. I closed my eyes for a moment, taking in the clean scents of heather and stone. Jago moved, his soft feathers brushing against my ear lobe. I’d forgotten he was still on my shoulder. His weight was only a fraction of his father’s.

  The Community’s cave was uncovered. The grass matting which had served as camouflage was rotting on the ground nearby. A few were-rabbits hopped around outside. They straightened into human form as we approached.

  ‘Penny, Morey, Jago, and Clyde,’ I told them. ‘We’re here as friends.’ I repeated my words in Welsh, stressing ffrindiau.

  Clyde wriggled his tentacles, and I put him down. ‘Ffrindiau. Tamar? Arweinydd?’

  One of the weres shifted back to rabbit and hopped away. Morey landed on my free shoulder, and we waited.

  Many minutes later, Tamar finally emerged from the entrance. She moved slowly, her foot rubbing up against the damaged side of her dark shell. Clyde slid over to meet her. Colours shifted through both of their bodies.

  I turned my head to the smaller gryphon. ‘Could we have some translation, please?’

  ‘Uncle Clyde says he comes in peace. He’s quoting from Jesus and says he’s been baptised and confirmed, so he’s one of the Community. And now he’s asking how many died after the battle.’

  ‘But there was no battle,’ I said, confused. ‘Everyone turned and ran.’

  ‘The poison,’ Morey reminded me. ‘Members of the Community had poison smeared on their shells. Removing it would have been difficult.’

  ‘That’s what Tamar is saying. The were-rabbits helped, and some of the lemmings, but any snail who got wet was poisoned. They lost nearly a hundred people.’

  ‘Can the Community survive?’ I asked.

  ‘Uncle Clyde is asking them how they’re doing. Tamar says they need more workers. They’ve been working on a fungi farm to help them have enough food. Hey, that would mean no more hunting!’

  ‘Surely there would still be some hunting,’ Morey countered. ‘They would need the protein.’

  ‘I’d like not to hunt,’ Jago said quietly.

  Morey’s claws dug deep into my shoulder. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I don’t like hunting.’ Jago’s claws were smaller, but equally sharp. ‘I don’t like killing things.’

  Morey’s voice was low in horror. ‘You don't mean to tell me--are you planning to become a vegetarian?’

  ‘And, in the meantime,’ I said to them both, ‘the snails have continued their conversation. Have you been following any of it, Jago?’

  ‘Uncle Clyde says that he’s going to visit the Nation next. They might have people who’d like to join the Community.’

  The red and brown which streaked Tamar’s body needed no translation. She backed away, her jaws opening as she bared teeth at Clyde. Jago said quietly, ‘I don’t think my tad would like me to say the words she’s using.’

  ‘Your tad,’ Morey replied, ‘wants to know why you even know those words.’

  Clyde opened his jaws and began to sing. ‘“When I survey the wondrous cross, on which the Prince of glory died, my richest gain I count but loss, and pour contempt on all my pride.”’

  Lighter colours brightened Tamar’s body. ‘She’s reminding him that he lost everything because of the Nation. He should hate them as much as she does.’

  Clyde responded, ‘“Were the whole realm of nature mine, that were a present far too small; Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all.’” Then he shut his mouth, and more colours streamed across tentacles.

  ‘And now he’s telling her a story,’ Jago continued. ‘Something about separating sheep and goats?’

  ‘Matthew 25,’ Morey said. ‘“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he
will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. Then the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’” It’s by how you act that you honour Jesus.’

  Tamar stilled to a dull grey. Then a single strand of yellow-brown swirled along the edges of her shell. ‘She says it’s because of her that he lost his wings.’

  ‘No, it’s not your fault,’ I told her in Welsh. ‘It’s mine. It all started when I used a shovel to kill Clyde’s mother.’

  Clyde glowed blue and green. Slowly, carefully, he reached out and touched her head with his tentacles. ‘“Dear Lord, our Father good and kind, forgive our foolish ways. Reclothe us in our rightful mind, in purer lives thy service find. In deeper reverence, praise, in deeper reverence, praise.”’

  ‘He says he forgives her,’ Jago added when the last notes had faded away.

  Tamar wrapped her tentacles around his. They leaned into each other for a moment. Then both snails drew back, Tamar’s colour now matching Clyde’s. Jago purred contentedly. ‘She says the Community will welcome any snail shark who’s willing to live in peace.’

  Darker colours flowed across Clyde’s body. Tamar slid backwards, her eyespots waving. I could feel the tension between them. ‘Now what?’

  ‘Uncle Clyde wants her to come with us, so she can tell people from the Nation that they can come over. But she says she won’t. She doesn’t want to go anywhere near the Nation.’

  As Tamar turned and returned to the cave, Clyde came to my side. ‘Nation,’ he told us.

  I nodded. ‘Let’s just hope they’re just as willing to listen to you.’

  Chapter Ten

  ‘Listen to Clyde, or to whoever is now in charge,’ Morey muttered. ‘At least the Community didn’t lose their leader.’