Dead Water

by Tim O'Rourke

  I zipped up my coat, and climbed from the car.

  “What about me?” Potter asked.

  “Stay here,” Murphy ordered him.

  “Why?” Potter said, looking hurt and left out.

  “Because, I’m not planning on tearing the campsite owner a new arsehole, that’s why,” Murphy said, climbing from the car.

  “What’s that s’posed to mean?” Potter snapped.

  “It means I want to find us a place to sleep for the night without all hell breaking loose,” Murphy barked before slamming the car door in Potter’s face.

  Chapter Seven

  Potter

  Miserable old fart, I thought to myself as Murphy walked away from the car with Kiera. The old guy was getting crankier by the day. But Murphy was the least of my problems, we had always bitched at one another. It was my relationship with Kiera I was most worried about. How would I ever convince her it was just her I wanted – the person I loved most? I had fucked up a lot in my life, but this was the mother of all fuck-ups. If you could win the gold at the Olympics for the biggest screw-up, I’d be up there on the podium, clutching the gold, silver, and bronze medals.

  How would I ever get her to listen to me? If only Kayla were here. She might be able to convince Kiera for me. But I had to tell Kiera; that was the whole point, wasn’t it? How? I’d tried telling her, hadn’t I? I even told her how hot she looked in the police uniform. All women want to hear that kinda shit, didn’t they? I must be missing something – but what? Fuck if I knew what it was, I thought, scratching my head.

  I took a cigarette from the crinkled packet in my pocket. There was only one left. Bollocks! I peered through the window and out into the night. There wasn’t going to be a shop for freaking miles. Then, through the darkness and slow falling snow, I saw what looked like a small kiosk, the kind of place visitors to the campsite could buy maps of the local area, throwaway raincoats, and that sorta shit. Pushing open the car door, I climbed out. I looked back over my shoulder to see Kiera and Murphy talking to a thickset-looking guy standing in the open doorway of the cottage.

  “Sorry, but we’re closed for the winter,” I heard the guy at the door say. “You’re out of season by about three months.”

  “We only want to stay a night,” Murphy said, fishing a roll of bank notes from his pocket.

  I didn’t doubt for a minute that Murphy would convince the campsite owner to let us use one of his caravans for the night. Murphy had his own unique way of convincing people to give him what he ultimately wanted. I looked away and headed through the wind and the snow to the small kiosk. It was locked up and the lights were out. Just like the guy said, we were out of season. Leaning against the wall of the kiosk was a Coke dispenser, and next to that was a cigarette machine.

  “A tenner for a pack of smokes!” I breathed, reading the price printed on the front of the machine. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I knew I didn’t have any money on me, and I wasn’t going to go begging from Murphy.

  I peered around the side of the kiosk and could see the others still talking outside the cottage. Turning back to the machine and extending my claws, I punched a hole in the front and grabbed for a pack of the cigarettes. Before I’d even had a chance to snatch a packet, a hideous alarm started to screech. It was ear-splitting.

  “What’s going on?” I heard the campsite owner boom.

  I glanced around the edge of the kiosk again to see the guy step away from Murphy and Kiera and come rushing over to the kiosk.

  “Shut the fuck-up!” I hissed at the machine, pounding the top of it with my fist. The alarm continued to scream its high-pitched wail into the night.

  Knowing that I would never be able to silence the damn thing before the owner got to me, I reached inside and grabbed as many packs of smokes I could hold and began to stuff them into my coat pockets.

  “What’s going on here?” a voice suddenly boomed from behind me.

  “Your freaking machine’s throwing a fit, that’s what’s going on,” I snapped. “It swallowed up my money quick enough and then wouldn’t pay out.”

  “The front of it is smashed!” the man hollered, looking down at the machine.

  “Probably the reason it’s broken,” I said, looking at him. “Kids these days! I don’t know – bloody vandals the lot of them. Prison – that’s what they need.”

  “What kids?” the man asked, reaching behind the machine and switching off the alarm.

  “The kids who vandalised your machine,” I told him. “Christ knows how kids are being raised these days. They were probably stealing the smokes for their parents...”

  “Who are you?” the campsite owner suddenly cut in.

  “He’s with us,” Murphy said, suddenly appearing around the side of the kiosk. Then, glaring at me, Murphy quickly added, “I thought I told you to wait in the car?”

  “I’m not a freaking pet dog,” I shot back.

  “What’s going on here?” the man cut in again, looking ever more confused with each passing moment.

  “You’ll have to forgive my nephew,” Murphy said, looking back at the man. “He is a little bit simple – you know, has learning difficulties.”

  “Retarded, you mean?” the man asked, eyeing me, now with some pity in his eyes.

  “I’m not a freaking re...” I started.

  “And I’m his social worker,” Kiera cut over me, taking me gently by the arm. Then, looking at me, she smiled sweetly and added, “Come on back to the car, Gabriel. You’ll be safe and warm there. Let Uncle Murphy pay for the damage you’ve caused.”

  “This is un-fucking-believable...!” I started.

  “Shhh now,” Kiera hushed gently, easing me away by the arm. “Don’t get yourself upset, Gabriel. We’ll find some other place to stay tonight. Then tomorrow you’ll be safe and sound back in your secure unit.”

  As Kiera led me around the side of the kiosk and back towards the car, I heard the campsite owner speak to Murphy and say, “Jeez, I didn’t realise you had...a...”

  “It’s okay,” Murphy cut in. “It’s been a long drive and my poor nephew has become rather upset and confused.”

  “Look, I’ve got a couple of spare caravans you can use for the night. They’re not much, they haven’t been cleaned since last summer, but they’re warm, and I’ll switch on the hot water at the pump so you can all freshen up,” the owner said, sounding apologetic.

  “Please don’t put yourself to any bother on our account,” Murphy started.

  “No bother at all,” I heard the owner say. It looks like you’ve got enough to deal with. And besides, I wouldn’t be able to rest knowing that I had turned you and your troubled nephew away.”

  “Troubled!” I hissed at Kiera, yanking my arm free. “I ain’t troubled.”

  “Just be quiet,” Kiera hissed at me. “You want somewhere warm to sleep tonight, don’t you?”

  “I’d rather sleep standing up in the freaking snow!” I spat.

  “That can be arranged!” Kiera shot back.

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I whispered at her, as Murphy and the man headed back towards the cottage.

  “Enjoying what?” she said, from the corner of her mouth.

  “Watching me being humiliated like this,” I said back. “You’re not my freaking social worker!”

  “So what am I?” Kiera snapped, looking at me. “What exactly do I mean to you?”

  Everything, I wanted to say, but before I’d had a chance, Murphy was jangling two sets of keys in my face.

  “Cheer up, Gabriel – we’ve got ourselves a place to sleep tonight.”

  “Awesome,” I growled, watching Murphy and Kiera turn and head towards a row of desolate-looking caravans in the distance.

  Chapter Eight

  Potter

  We reached a row of static caravans. They stretched away to the right and left, into the darkness. Murphy held the keys up and checked the door numbers, which were printed on little plastic tags.


  “Twenty-four and twenty-five,” he muttered to himself.

  “Over here,” Kiera said, heading towards two caravans that stood apart from the rest. These were bigger than the others and looked more like mobile homes. This must be where the more discerning camper stayed, I thought to myself as I followed her.

  “You take twenty-five,” Murphy said, handing Kiera the key to the mobile home.

  Kiera took it, heading up a short set of concrete steps which led to the door. She opened it, switched on the light, then stepped inside.

  “See you later, alligator,” I said.

  Kiera closed the door without saying anything. Perhaps she hadn’t heard me, I thought.

  “See you later, alligator?” Murphy grunted. “What’s that s’posed to mean?”

  “Forget it,” I said, heading up the short set of steps to our mobile home.

  Murphy followed, slipped the key into the lock, and pushed open the door. He flicked on the light, closing the door behind us. The mobile home was long and narrow. There was a sofa running down the length of the far wall, and I guessed it opened out to form a bed. There was a small T.V. set mounted on the wall with an iron bracket. On the other side of the room was a kitchenette with a cooker and fridge. To the right of Murphy, were two narrow doors set into a dividing wall. Murphy pushed one of them open.

  “That’s the crapper,” he said. He peered behind the second door and added, “The bedroom.”

  “I’ll take the sofa,” I said crossing the room and flopping down onto it. The cushions were soft and spongy. I lay back, placed my fingers behind my head, and crossed my feet at the ankles.

  “What’s got into you?” Murphy mumbled. “You’re about as much fun as the plague.”

  “You told that guy I had issues,” I scowled.

  “You do,” Murphy said, turning on the hot tap over the sink. A stream of steaming water tumbled out. “The hot water’s on so at least we can shower.”

  “You think it’s all just a big laugh, don’t you?” I said, looking at Murphy.

  “What’s that?” he said, turning off the tap and taking his pipe from his pocket.

  “Me and Kiera,” I told him. “It’s not funny.”

  Sighing, Murphy sat at the end of the sofa and looked at me. “Okay, so I’ve been taking the piss a bit...” he started.

  “A bit!” I scoffed. “You’ve been rubbing my nose in it all day. I’m just looking for a bit of advice here.”

  “I’m not your father,” he said, holding a match over the bowl of his pipe.

  “But I thought you were my friend,” I said.

  Blowing thick jets of blue smoke through his nostrils, Murphy looked at me and said, “Only you can sort this thing out with Kiera. No one can do it for you.”

  “I’ve tried,” I told him.

  “How?” Murphy said, his pipe drooping from the corner of his mouth. “Telling Kiera her butt looks nice in police uniform ain’t going to get you anywhere. She isn’t some old tart you’re trying to get your leg over with. I thought she meant more to you than that.”

  “She does,” I said, swinging my legs over the side of the sofa and sitting up.

  “Then tell her,” Murphy sighed with despair.

  “I don’t know how, that’s my problem,” I said, dropping my head. “I’ve never been very good with words.”

  “Who’s talking about words,” Murphy said. “You need to show her, Potter.”

  “What you mean? I should go over there and...” I started.

  “No, for crying out loud, “Murphy interrupted. “Stop thinking with your goddamn dick for once!”

  “How then?” I said, feeling confused.

  “How about if you stopped jerking around with all those other women?” Murphy barked at me. “That would show her how much you loved her, for starters.”

  “But nothing happened,” I shot back at him. “I went in search of Sophie because I wanted to figure out what in the hell was going on in this new world we found ourselves in.”

  “You just don’t get it, do you?” Murphy said, shaking his head slowly at me.

  “Get what?” I said, exasperated.

  “Why didn’t you take Kiera with you? Why didn’t you go with her and find out what was going on in this place? You’re meant to be a team, aren’t you? You’re meant to be together. How do you think Kiera feels knowing that instead of trusting her to help out, you went running back to some old tart who gave you the boot years ago?”

  “But...” I started, but Murphy was on a roll and wouldn’t let me finish.

  “The first time I met you, Potter, you were in the gutter,” he said. “And it was that girl Sophie who put you there. She crushed your fucking heart without as much as a second thought. She treated you like a piece of dog shit. Once she realised what you were, she scraped you from the sole of her fucking boot. You meant nothing to her. She didn’t respond to any of the letters you sent her, she didn’t come looking for you – she did jack-shit!” Murphy stood up, his pipe gripped in his fist. Then pointing through the window in the direction of where Kiera’s caravan was, he said, “Kiera’s twice the woman than that Sophie ever was. You didn’t see Kiera go running for the hills when she found out you were a Vampyrus. She did the exact opposite. Kiera came to you, helped you...loved you, and how have you repaid her? Huh? Fucked off back to your ex – that’s how. And if that wasn’t bad enough – the cherry on top of the cake – you then go and try to get your leg over with a freaking werewolf!”

  “I didn’t realise...” I started, no longer angry but scrambling for excuses.

  “Whatever, Potter,” Murphy snapped. “But one thing is for sure, if you want to get Kiera back, you need to man-up. Stop sitting there feeling sorry for yourself. Grow a fucking backbone and show that girl how much she means to you.”

  “But...” I started again.

  “No buts, Potter!” he barked, jabbing his forefinger in the air. “The best thing that has ever happened to you is sitting alone just over there, and you’re in here sulking like some fucking pre-teen.” Then, looking hard at me with his crisp blue eyes, he added, “Women like Kiera come into the lives of men like us only once in a lifetime, Potter. If someone as special as Kiera loved me like I know how much she loves you, I wouldn’t be sitting in here feeling sorry for myself. I’d be over there in her room on my hands and knees, begging for her fucking forgiveness.”

  I sat looking at Murphy and felt as if I’d had a verbal kick-in. I didn’t know what to say. What could I say? Murphy was right.

  “Don’t throw away what you have with Kiera, Potter,” he said, his voice now calmer. “Because if you do, you’ll regret it for the rest of your sorry life. She is a good woman – she’s precious. I wish I’d had with Pen, what you have with Kiera. You’re a lucky man, Potter, but your problem is, you just don’t see that.”

  Without saying another word, Murphy stepped inside the bedroom and closed the door.

  Alone, I sat feeling almost stunned by what he had said. And only a true friend would have said what he had. Despite his piss-taking ways, I was not only lucky to have someone like Kiera in my life, I was lucky to have a friend like Murphy. Lying back on the sofa, I closed my eyes. I knew the situation I was now in with Kiera was of my own making. I’d been an idiot – a complete and utter nob-head. Murphy had been right; my loyalty to Sophie had been misplaced, she had never loved me like Kiera had. No one had ever come close to showing me the love I’d felt come from Kiera. It should have been Kiera I’d gone to for help – not Sophie. Kiera and I had been a team. Had. That word spoke of the past and it scared me. Would Kiera and I ever be a team again? I wondered, rolling onto my side.

  Something dug into my thigh. I reached into my trouser pocket and my fingers touched something made of metal and glass. I pulled it out. I lay and stared at the iPod with the crescent moon on the back. I remembered taking it from the blazer pocket of Dorsey, who had died in my arms back in the barn. I suddenly had an idea. I hoped it would wor
k.

  Chapter Nine

  Kiera

  The caravan Murphy had duped the campsite owner into letting me use for the night was comfortable. There was a tiny electric heater attached to the wall and I switched it on. I peeled off the police coat, shirt, and trousers. They were damp from the snow. There was a chair, so I pulled it across the small room and draped my clothes over the back of it. I then positioned the chair in front of the fire to dry my clothes out. Naked, I went to the small bathroom. There was a toilet and shower in the closet-sized room. Good enough. I just wanted to feel clean again. I ran the water until steam was pouring from the showerhead and had covered the mirror fixed to the wall. There was a small complimentary bottle of shower gel and shampoo sitting in a soap dish attached to the shower wall.

  I stood under the water and let it wash over my body. My skin tingled and my long, black hair clung to the sides of my face, shoulders, and back. Squeezing some of the shower gel into my hand, I looked for the first signs of those cracks again, but there weren’t any. I guessed the blood from the wolves I had killed would still be working for me, but for how long, I didn’t know. I hoped long enough for me to reach the Dead Waters.

  With my fingertips, I worked the shampoo into my hair, and it smelt fresh and wonderful – a million miles away from the musty smell of the room where Jack had held me prisoner. I washed the dried werewolf blood from my arms, hands, and from in between my fingers. I just wanted to be rid of it. I turned off the water and stepped from the shower cubicle, grabbing a towel from a rail fixed to the wall. Wrapping it around me, I wiped the steam from the mirror and stared at my reflection. I looked into the eyes that stared back at me, and I somehow felt as if I were looking into the soul of a stranger. Those fine streaks of hazel around the edges of my pupils flashed orange like the rays of a hot sun. I opened my mouth and let my fangs protrude from my gums. Then, slowly I raised my hands and released my long, black claws. Rolling back my shoulders, I let the towel drop to the floor. Standing naked before the mirror, my wings sprang from my back like two giant sails unfurling. There was little room for them in the small bathroom, and they pressed flat against the shower cubicle behind me. The claws at each tip opened and closed slowly, as if grabbing hold of air. I looked at myself, knowing that this was only the second occasion I had ever taken the time to truly study myself – get to know what I truly was. My skin was paper white in utter contrast to my long, black wings and claws. In my half-breed form, my hair was more navy blue than black.