The Cross vf-2

by Scott G. Mariani

  ‘Trust me,’ Ash said, and ended the call. He pressed harder on the accelerator. The engine note climbed. Green lights all the way, and every rotation of his wheels was carrying him a little closer to his own personal heaven.

  Less than a mile away across London, Gabriel Stone’s double agent inside VIA was pacing nervously in the locked office, glancing every few seconds at the time. It was getting late. Soon, many of the VIA staff would be leaving for home. The man must surely be almost here by now. Carrying it. Just to think of it was enough to make any vampire shudder.

  A growl of an engine from outside, and a squeal of tyres: far below, down in the car park, the headlights of Alex Bishop’s black Jaguar were blazing into life. It roared out of its space and skidded off, leaving a twin trail of rubber.

  Shit. That hadn’t been supposed to happen. Where was she going?

  The double agent burst out into the corridor and ran to Bishop’s office. The door was slightly ajar, and there was nobody inside. At Bishop’s desk were the telltale signs of someone leaving in a hurry: the laptop still whirring quietly, the swivel chair rolled back across the carpet, the desk lamp still lit, the polystyrene cup of VIA vending-machine blood still pleasingly lukewarm to the touch.

  ‘Now then, Bishop, where are you running off to in such a rush?’ Flicking a key on the laptop made its screen pop into life. It showed a Google Maps close-up satellite image. Green fields, white beach, rocky cliffs and, perched up high on top of them overlooking the sea, a big house that from overhead looked like a castle with its turrets and courtyard.

  ‘Bal Mawr Manor,’ the double agent read from the screen, then pressed the ‘back’ key to bring up the previous website that Bishop had been looking at: www.theylurkamongstus. com.

  The double agent took out the mobile phone and hurriedly redialled the secret number. ‘It’s me again. We’re too late. Bishop’s gone. She just left in her car, heading for some place in west Wales called Bal Mawr Manor, Newgale, Pembrokeshire.’

  ‘A minor setback,’ Gabriel Stone said on the other end of the line. ‘We will deal with her separately.’ He seemed in much lighter spirits now, which only made his insider vampire more nervous. ‘I was just on the verge of calling you myself,’ he chuckled.

  ‘What for?’ the double agent asked worriedly, gripping the phone tightly.

  ‘To suggest that you leave the building immediately, if you value your hide,’ Gabriel said. ‘Ash is downstairs.’

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Bal Mawr Manor

  Errol Knightly wasn’t a man to dwell long over an embarrassment. He was all welcoming smiles as he ushered Chloe through the plush corridors of Bal Mawr, Dec padding quietly along behind. In the library, the gracious host insisted that Chloe sit in the best Chesterfield armchair, and hollered for Griffin to bring refreshments.

  Dec couldn’t help thinking how pretty she was. She was around his age, maybe a year or so older. He kept his mouth shut and let Knightly do the talking.

  ‘Now, Chrissie—’ Knightly said, rubbing his hands together. ‘It’s Chloe.’

  ‘Now, Chloe, I gather you’ve been having a spot of vampire trouble.’

  ‘I don’t believe in vampires,’ Chloe said dryly.

  Knightly raised his eyebrows and exchanged glances with Dec. ‘Then why …?’ Knightly began.

  ‘Why am I here? Because there are plenty of people who do believe in them, and I’m not just talking about the saps who run out and buy your book. I’m talking about the kind of deranged freaks who’d kill an innocent man and drink his blood, so they could live out their twisted fantasies. I’m talking about the man who murdered my dad. I came here because I need you to help me find him.’ Chloe’s tone was hard, flat and unemotional. No more tears. Later, maybe, there would be again.

  Knightly stared at her from the edge of his armchair, stunned into silence.

  ‘That’s what you do, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Find people who think they’re vampires? His name’s Ash. You might have heard of him. It was all over the news.’

  Knightly let out a long whistling breath. ‘Look, this isn’t—’ he began.

  ‘I’ll pay,’ Chloe said quickly. ‘I have money saved for my studies — none of that matters to me now. I can sell my car. Just tell me how much it’s going to cost to hire you to help me find this “vampire”.’

  ‘My dear child,’ Knightly said, looking genuinely pained. ‘I’m so sorry to hear what happened to your father. But you must understand, I concern myself with the Undead. It’s obvious that this lunatic is just a common criminal. That’s a matter for the police, not for someone like me.’

  ‘The cops? Oh, sure, the cops’ll catch him. That is, when they’re done harassing me because I shot the bastard’s eye out with an air pistol, and if they can hold on to him for more than five minutes this time before he goes and does the same thing to someone else.’

  ‘You … uh, shot him?’

  Chloe frowned. ‘Please, not you as well. I shot him, yeah. And next time I see him I’m going to do a lot more.’

  ‘Hunting the Undead is not the same thing as going on a vigilante spree,’ Knightly sniffed, as though the integrity of his profession were being brought into doubt. ‘Nor am I some kind of bounty hunter.’

  ‘I’m not asking you to drive a stake into the sonofabitch’s heart,’ Chloe said. ‘I’m asking you to use whatever contacts you must have with this whole wannabe vampire subculture. I think we can find him that way. You don’t have to worry about what happens afterwards.’

  ‘I’d be an accomplice to murder,’ Knightly said doubtfully. ‘You’re talking about taking away a life.’

  Chloe reached into the bag at her feet and took out the copy of They Lurk Amongst Us she’d bought early that morning. ‘Says in here that you’ve killed hundreds of vampires. If that’s true, you should have no problem with taking a life.’

  ‘Vampires are already dead, young lady,’ Knightly said emphatically.

  ‘That’s kind of convenient, huh? Or maybe they never existed in the first place.’

  Knightly flushed. ‘I hope you’re not trying to suggest—’

  ‘You know what, Knightly? You’re an even bigger phoney than I thought you were.’

  ‘I am not going to sit here and be insulted by some little twit in my own home,’ Knightly said, getting up.

  Chloe was on her feet faster. She grabbed her bag and started heading for the door. ‘Keep the book. I won’t tell you where you can shove it.’

  ‘Don’t go, Chloe,’ Dec said. ‘Can you get that old man to lower that stupid-ass drawbridge, please? Bye.’ Then she was gone, marching off down the hallway.

  ‘Of all the …’ Knightly’s face was purple as he struggled to find the words.

  Dec jumped out of his armchair and went chasing after her. ‘Chloe! Miss Dempsey!’ She walked faster, heading through the grand entrance hall, shouldering through the heavy doors and stepping out into the evening cold. ‘Chloe, please, stop and listen to me!’

  He finally caught up with her in the floodlit archway that led to the courtyard. The drawbridge was lowering with a grinding of iron chains; beyond it, the last gasp of the sunset was fading on the sea horizon. Chloe paused in her stride and turned back towards Dec, brushing aside the blond curls that the rising wind was streaming across her face.

  ‘All right, I’m listening,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t go,’ he pleaded. ‘We can help you.’

  ‘Him? Forget it.’

  ‘I can help you,’ he said. ‘Honestly. I really want to.’

  The ghost of a smile curled her lips, and the coldness left her blue eyes for a moment. ‘Look — I don’t know your name.’

  ‘Dec,’ he said. ‘Dec Maddon.’

  ‘Look, Dec, you seem like a nice kid.’

  He flushed violently crimson. ‘I’m almost eighteen,’ he mumbled.

  ‘You don’t look stupid, either. Too smart to be hanging around this Knightly guy.’

 
; ‘I’ve only been here a couple of days,’ Dec said. ‘And all right, maybe he’s not all he cracks himself up to be. But there’s nothing about vampires he doesn’t know.’

  ‘Oh, Dec. Vampires? Give me a break, huh? There’s no such thing as vampires. Look, I have to go. There’s so much I need to do, and I don’t even know where to begin. I …’ Her voice trailed off sadly. She turned to walk away, but Dec clasped her arm gently and stopped her.

  ‘Chloe, there are vampires,’ he said earnestly, looking deep into her eyes. ‘Please listen to me, all right? I was just like you. I didn’t believe in them. But now I know the truth, honest to God. I’ve seen the fuckers. Been this close to them. I almost became one myself.’

  She stared at him.

  ‘I’m not crazy,’ he said desperately. ‘Don’t think that. I swear I’m telling the truth, so I am.’

  Before he knew it, he was spilling out the whole story. She leaned against the wall, listening quietly as he let the words flow out of him. He could understand the way she was feeling, he told her, because someone had been taken from him, too, someone close. Nobody had believed him, no matter how many times he’d repeated it detail for detail, no matter how sincere he was. Everyone had laughed at his claims — the police, the doctors, even his own family.

  ‘All except one guy,’ Dec said. ‘He was the one guy in all the world who listened to me and believed what I told him. And we were right, Chloe. Those things are out there and they’re real and we’ve got to do something to stop them.’

  The cold look in Chloe’s eyes had returned again. ‘So if there’s this one guy in all the world who took you seriously and knows the truth, why aren’t the two of you off destroying vampires and monsters together? Where the hell is he?’

  Dec was about to reply when something caught his eye: a single headlight winding its way fast up the road towards the mouth of the open drawbridge. The sound of a motorcycle engine drifted towards them on the sea breeze.

  He strained to make out the rider. Was it?

  It was!

  As the bike crossed the drawbridge and rumbled under the stone archway into the floodlit courtyard, Dec’s face split into a huge grin of recognition. ‘You’re about to meet him,’ he told Chloe. ‘Joel!’ he yelled, and took off across the courtyard.

  Chloe watched the rider dismount and take off his helmet. He was tallish, around six feet, dark-haired and clad from head to toe in black leather. Not bad-looking, either, she thought, though his face looked pale and hollow, as if he hadn’t slept or eaten in a while.

  ‘Hello, Dec,’ Joel said.

  Dec’s grin faltered a little as he looked at his friend. It hadn’t been so many days ago that Joel had gone off to Romania, but Dec had the odd sensation of meeting someone again for the first time in years, decades even — finding them changed, no longer quite the same person. He couldn’t even begin to guess at the things Joel must have seen and done on his journey. He bit his lip. ‘You all right, Joel?’

  ‘I’m hungry,’ Joel said. ‘Feeling a little tired, that’s all.’

  ‘There’s sausages in the fridge,’ Dec said.

  ‘Where’s Knightly? I want to see that clip.’

  ‘Inside. What do you think of the place, eh, Joel? Awesome, isn’t it?’

  ‘I told you to stay out of all this, Dec,’ Joel said. ‘You have no idea what’s going on. It’s dangerous. You’re just a kid.’

  ‘I am not,’ Dec hissed, throwing a self-conscious glance back at Chloe, who was walking towards them.

  Joel grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and was about to try and shake some sense into him, when he looked down and saw that he’d lifted Dec clear off the ground with one hand. Appalled, he quickly let him down again.

  Dec stared at him. ‘Jesus, man. Are you on frigging steroids or something?’

  ‘Go home to your family, Dec. Stay safe.’

  ‘But don’t you see?’ Dec protested. ‘Look at this place. It’s got everything. We can team up again, you and me.’

  ‘You and me and your new pal.’

  Chloe was getting bored watching them argue. She didn’t need to be here. With a sigh, she started walking across the courtyard to where her little car was parked.

  ‘Just like before, only better,’ Dec said. ‘You’ve got that cross, haven’t you? Think of all the vampires we can take out.’ His face fell momentarily as he thought of Kate again. ‘You’ve got to show it to Errol.’

  Joel shook his head. ‘The cross is gone, Dec. I lost it in Romania. On the battlements of Gabriel Stone’s castle.’

  Chloe froze with one foot inside her car.

  ‘Never mind,’ Dec said. ‘Errol’s got tons of crosses, so he has. We’ll find another to replace it.’

  ‘No. Other crosses don’t work on vampires. They’re immune to them. It’s just this one that can destroy them.’

  ‘Why would that be?’ Dec said with a frown. ‘Was it them funny symbols, like?’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Chloe butted in, and they both turned to look at her. ‘Did you just say you lost the cross in a castle in Romania?’

  Joel nodded.

  ‘An old half-ruined castle right up in the mountains in the middle of nowhere?’ Chloe said.

  Joel stared at her in confusion. ‘How could you know that?’

  ‘Might it have fallen off the battlements?’ she asked urgently. ‘Maybe landed on the rocks at the bottom of the cliff? It would have got smashed, right?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Joel said. ‘I don’t know what happened. I just know that I don’t have it any more.’ He turned to Dec. ‘Who is she, anyway?’

  ‘One more question.’ Chloe dug in her jeans pocket and pulled out her father’s sketch. ‘Did it look like this?’ she asked, unfolding it.

  At the sight of the detailed drawing, Joel recoiled almost as if he’d been confronted with the real thing. He had to stop himself from shielding his face with his arms and letting out a cry.

  ‘That’s the one!’ Dec exclaimed. ‘Sure, I’d recognise it anywhere.’

  ‘We need to talk,’ Joel said.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  London

  Ash slipped on a pair of designer shades as he crossed the dark car park and walked inside the brightly-lit foyer of the Schuessler & Schuessler legal firm. He kept a tight grip on the attache case, feeling strangely naked without his sword.

  It was well after five, but the place was showing no sign of slowing down. Ash had never before set foot in this kind of bustling professional environment: smartly-dressed people dashing back and forth clutching files and papers, receptionists busy on phones, fat business types sitting on plush sofas scouring the Financial Times. Another time, and he’d have walked over to the shits and snapped their necks just to watch them die. Maybe some other day. He had better things to do right now.

  Nobody took the least bit notice of him as he crossed the spacious, shiny-floored lobby and headed for the lifts. In his sharp suit and with the expensive calf leather case in his hand, he could have passed for any one of the thousand high-rolling legal executives who swarmed in and out of the firm’s offices every day. The worst anyone could have thought of him was that he was the kind of flash prick who thought it was cool to wear sunglasses indoors — but then, people at Schuessler & Schuessler were pretty used to those.

  Ash pretended to consult his phone as he waited for a chattering crowd of executives and secretaries to exit the lift. When it was empty, he slipped quickly inside and prodded the button for the fourth floor. The lift whooshed quietly upwards. It was his first ever ride in one, and he disliked the sensation. He studied his strangely-attired reflection in the polished steel of the door and ran through in his mind the exacting instructions he’d been given.

  With an electronic ping, the lift stopped at the fourth floor and the reflective steel slid aside to reveal a small, bare landing that contrasted noticeably with the plush decor of the legal firm downstairs. Ash made his way towards a sign that said ‘KEILLE
R VYSE INVESTMENTS’. He didn’t try to enter, knowing that the door would be locked. Beside it was a silver intercom with a little mesh speaker and a button. Security cameras watched him from above. He straightened his tie, pressed the intercom button, and calmly spoke the words he’d been told to say:

  ‘Barry Renfield, from Northwood Estate Management. I have an appointment with a Mr Kelby.’

  The woman’s voice on the intercom sounded bemused, and for a few moments Ash was sure the ruse wouldn’t work. He’d never liked the idea anyway. So much easier just to chop down the door with the sword and get to work.

  But after a few seconds’ waiting, a buzzer sounded and the door opened with a clunk. Ash found himself in a long windowless corridor, walls and floor gleaming white. At the far end was another door, which swung open as he approached. He was met by an austere-looking female in a dark suit, her hair scraped tightly back in a bun. The nameplate on her desk said simply ‘QUECK’. Behind her was another set of closed doors that looked like they belonged in a bank vault. Ash realised that maybe the ruse was necessary after all.

  ‘Mr—?’

  ‘Renfield,’ he repeated. ‘Barry Renfield, Northwood Estate Management. As you know, my company represents the owners of the building.’

  ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘I’d prefer to speak to Mr Kelby,’ Ash said, noticing the way she kept glancing at his neck. She was flushing a little, pupils dilating. He smiled inwardly. You want to drink my blood, bitch? You have no idea what’s coming to you.

  ‘Mr Kelby is in a meeting right now,’ she told him curtly. ‘I can’t find any record of an appointment.’

  ‘I have a card.’ He showed it to her, and she frowned at it. ‘It is rather important,’ he said. ‘There’s been an issue with the rent payments.’ The irritation in his voice was genuine. Doing all this talking was making his mouth sore.

  ‘Nobody notified us about this,’ she said. With a sigh, she went back to her desk and pressed a button. ‘This is Miss Queck. I have a gentleman here to see Mr Kelby. It seems important,’ she added, glancing frostily up at Ash.