Dead Statues

by Tim O'Rourke

  “Yes,” I nodded. This time, I didn’t look at the floor but straight back at her. “Despite what you or anyone else might think, I didn’t sleep with Sophie. Not in this world. We used to be lovers once, but that was long before I had met Kiera and the world got pushed off-whack.”

  “Do you really love Kiera?” Kayla asked me, and for the first time since I’d met her, she didn’t seem like a kid anymore, but a young woman, someone I could speak on equal terms with.

  I looked at her and said, “With all my heart. I love Kiera more than I have ever loved anyone. When I saw Sophie again, I could’ve had sex with her. She asked me to. But I couldn’t – I didn’t want to. I realised I didn’t love Sophie and I never really had. The love I feel for Kiera is nothing like I’ve ever experienced before. Okay, she drives me fucking nuts at times, as she always wants to do the right thing – but that’s why I’m in love with her. She is everything I could only wish to be. She makes me a better person somehow.”

  “Have you told her all of this?” Kayla asked softly.

  “I’ve told her I love her...but...”

  “But not what you’ve just told me,” Kayla cut in. “Not what really happened between you and Sophie?”

  “I didn’t get a chance,” I said.

  “Don’t you think you should before you miss your chance?” she said.

  “What do you mean?” I asked her.

  “You said that someone is fucking with us,” Kayla said, her eyes now sparkling again. “If what you say is true about that picture of Isidor and Melody, then whoever left it led my brother to his death. You said that Kiera had been left a picture of her father with that word push written on the back. If Kiera is walking into a trap, you might not have long to tell her how you really feel, and more importantly, save her life.”

  “But what is she tells me to fuck off?” I said.

  “Then you’ll know how we all feel every time you open that mouth of yours,” she half-smiled at me.

  “Am I really that bad?” I asked her.

  “You’re worse,” she smiled. Then totally unexpected, Kayla lent forward and put her arms around me. She held me tight. “I’m sorry about what I said to you.”

  “You don’t have to say sorry,” I whispered, holding her close.

  “I just needed someone to scream at and probably will again before this is all over,” she said, her head resting against my shoulder. “I know deep down you thought of Isidor as your brother.”

  “How can you be so sure?” I whispered.

  “Because you were always there for him,” she said. “Whenever Isidor’s back was against the wall, you risked your own life, time and time again to save his. Only a brother would do that.”

  I felt her body rattle against me, as she started to cry again.

  “I wasn’t there for him at the end though, was I?” I said, just wishing I could go back and change that. Wishing I could have been standing shoulder to shoulder with him as those berserkers came through the door. With tears stinging in the corners of my eyes again, Kayla hugged me tight.

  “You saved me, Sam, and Kiera,” she whispered. “You got us safely away on that train.

  If it hadn’t have been for you, we would all be dead now. You couldn’t have saved all of us, Potter.”

  “I should’ve never left him behind,” I said.

  “I won’t make that mistake again.”

  “Then go after Kiera,” she whispered in my ear. “Go and tell her what you told me. Tell her that you love her and can’t live without her.

  Bring her back to us. I couldn’t bear to lose Kiera, too.”

  I eased Kayla out of my arms. Taking her face in my hands, I rubbed her tears away with my thumbs. Then, I kissed her gently on the forehead, stood up, and went to the window.

  Perched on the windowsill with my wings open, I looked back at her and said, “Thanks, Kayla.”

  “What for?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said, then climbed out of the window.

  Just as I was about to leap into the air, I heard Kayla say, “See you later, alligator.”

  With a lump in my throat, and unable to look back, I whispered, “In a while, crocodile.” In my heart it didn’t sound the same coming from me and not Kiera. Spreading my wings, I tore up into the sky and the snow which now fell all around me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kiera

  I reached the wall of the graveyard, my legs and arms feeling stiff again. Like before, it wasn’t the cold – I was cracking up – in more ways than one. Looking down at my hands, I could see that the skin had turned grey, and they were covered in tiny fractures. I touched my face with the tips of my fingers, and just like the backs of my hands, the flesh there felt broken and cracked. Without any Lot 13 or Potter to take the red stuff from, I knew that I wouldn’t reach my father’s house without turning to stone.

  With my legs feeling like lead, I placed one in front of the other and headed towards the gate in the wall that circled the graveyard. I pushed it open, and it made a wailing noise on its rusty hinges. I looked back amongst the slanted gravestones where I had seen the statues. I didn’t care what the Elders had said, apart from the statues of my friends, there had been others too.

  There had been that one which looked so much like me. The statue had been asking for help – but not just for me, for the others, too. My neck made a cracking noise as I faced front again, and a flurry of what looked like ash showered the front of my snow-splattered coat. It was then that I saw it. Black and long, scurrying along the edges of the wall. With what little energy I had left, I stumbled forward in the snow, my marble-looking hands reaching for the rat which crouched against the graveyard wall. I fell onto all fours and my joints cried out in pain as my knees made a cracking sound beneath me. With my chipped and broken-looking fingers, I closed them around the rat, and it squealed beneath my touch. Closing my eyes, I dug my fingers into its fleshy belly. At once, my fingers began to feel warm as the rat’s blood spurted over my hands and fingers. Soon they started to soften, loosen up. Unable to open my eyes, I didn’t want to see what it was I was about to do, I raised the rat to my lips. I could feel its back legs twitching and tail swishing from side to side as I sunk my fangs into it. There was a crunching sound as my teeth broke its back and I ripped a piece of its fur-covered flesh free.

  As if I hadn’t eaten in years, I chewed the meat up inside my mouth. The rat’s bristly black fur stuck between my teeth and I gagged. I swallowed the raw lump of meat in a wash of hot, sticky blood. At once, I felt the skin around my eyes and mouth soften, like I had just gone mad with a tub of moisturiser. Keeping my eyes closed, I tore another piece of flesh from the rat which had now fallen still in my fists. Wanting to be sick, but forcing myself to not be, I chewed the tough meat between my teeth and swallowed. I could feel the rat’s blood hit my stomach, and at once, my legs and arms began to feel lighter. Opening my eyes just a fraction, I looked at my hands and could see the cracks had closed over, and my skin looked soft and supple once more. I pulled the rat’s head and tail from either end of its body, and stuffed what was left of the creature into my mouth. With my jaws aching from all the chewing, I swallowed the meat. My throat felt hot, as if I’d just swallowed a mug of battery acid. I cupped some fresh snow in my hands and brought it up to my mouth. It felt icy cold against my lips as I sucked some of it up and into my mouth. The snow did little to rid my mouth of the vile taste the rat meat had left behind, but it eased the burning sensation. As the snow began to melt in my hands, I used what was left to wipe away the blood that covered the outer corners of my mouth.

  I knew the effects of the rat’s blood wouldn’t last long, and that if I were going to make it to my father’s house, I would have to head for there without any further delay. Then what? Was something going to happen when I got there? The Elders said I had to make my choice once and for all, and that I had already started along that path by deciding to find my father.

  What could he po
ssibly have to do with any of this? I wondered, as I passed through the open graveyard gate and set off up the hill in the direction of my father’s house.

  With the snow showing no signs of easing, I cut a solitary path up the hillside. The Elders had spoken of choices, but what choice did I really have? If I didn’t make my choice then, as they had already shown me, my friends and I would all end up as statues, trapped in this world. It seemed that if I did finally make my choice between the humans and the Vampyrus, then they would all go back home – to the world that they once knew.

  But I wouldn’t be going with them. This was a one-way trip for me. I now knew that. Could I delay making my choice anymore? The effects of turning to stone were rapidly speeding up. The Lot 13 was being consumed at an ever-increasing rate by Kayla and Potter. It might last a little longer now that Isidor was no longer with us. What happened when it ran out? Did we feed off each other – draining the life from one another? Or did we do the unthinkable and start feeding from humans? That had been tried before by the Vampyrus and they had created vampires.

  Animals might work, but the effects wouldn’t last long. What sort of existence would that be for my friends? Wasn’t being dead already hell enough?

  The Elders had shown me the happy lives my friends could have if I made my choice and pushed everything back in place. Murphy would be with his daughters – they would have never been murdered in their beds by Sparky. Isidor would be with Melody, just like he had always wanted. Kayla would have Sam and Potter would have...

  To think of that was unbearable, but I had to face it. Potter would spend his life with Sophie.

  She wouldn’t reject him in the world which would exist when I pushed back. Neither of them would know any different – but I would. To Potter, I would have never existed, wiped from his memory, from his life. Would I remember him?

  Wherever I ended up, would those feelings I had for Potter still rage inside of me? Would I spend the rest of eternity carrying the scars for the person I loved, but could never have, knowing that they were with another? Is that why the Elders carried so many scars? Why their faces and bodies seemed to be stitched back together? Were they the scars they carried for failing to make their choice? Would I become just like them – one of them?

  With so many unanswered questions racing around my mind, I leant into the wind and driving snow, and continued on to my father’s house. I didn’t want to let any of my friends go, especially Potter. Despite my anger for him, I loved him, and nothing would ever change that. I wanted us to be happy together. I deserved that, didn’t I? But that was selfish of me, right? Could I really forsake my friends; deny them a shot at happiness because of my love for Potter? I didn’t want him to be with Sophie – he was mine. I loved him. I thought of those statues the Elders had shown me. The images of Murphy holding his daughters’ hands haunted my soul. I remembered watching from the window at Hallowed Manor as he had carried his daughters’ lifeless bodies into the woods. I could see him crying in Potter’s arms as if it were only yesterday. How could I deny Murphy the chance of being with his daughters? I pushed the memories away, but they were only replaced with images of Isidor, so often alone, standing to one side, not really fitting in with the rest of us. Melody had accepted him, they had accepted each other, and the statue of them looking into each other’s eyes, filled me with joy, yet sadness too. It was within my power to give them each other back, or snatch it away from them. Again, I tried to push those pictures away, but they were only replaced by images of Kayla.

  My sweet little sister, Kayla, who at times seemed so angry and lost, but she had a right to be – she had lost so much. Both her parents had been murdered, and so now had her brother. Kayla had found a friend in Sam; could I take him away from her, too?

  Then there was Potter. Perhaps he still did love Sophie? Maybe it was Sophie he was meant to be with? The statue the Elders had shown me said so. I could carry on tricking myself that it was me Potter truly loved, but he didn’t, not really. At the earliest opportunity he had gone back in search for Sophie. Could I blame him?

  Wasn’t I now going in search of my father? I needed to see him again, to know that he was okay. Why did I want to know those things?

  Because I loved him. Even though I could barely imagine how painful the moment would be when I had to make my choice and send Potter back into Sophie’s arms, I knew that I had to do it. I had to make that choice for Potter and for all of my friends. I loved them all enough to want to see them happy – that’s all I wanted.

  So with my mind set, and listening to Iris by Leona Lewis on my iPod, I made what was left of the short journey to my father’s house.

  Knowing that no matter what happened there, I would be presented with some kind of choice, and I was ready to choose.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Potter

  Within seconds, I was soaring amongst the clouds above the cottage Murphy had rented out. Did I feel bad for not explaining to him I was going in search of Kiera? Not really. It was great to have Murphy back, but for too long now, I had come accustomed to making my own decisions.

  Some of them had been shit, there was no denying that now, but I had done the best I could. Those were mistakes I was desperate to put right, especially the ones where Kiera was concerned.

  She’d probably be really pissed at me for going after her, but I could live with that as long as she listened to what I had to say. Kayla was right; I should explain how I truly felt for her. I couldn’t imagine – I didn’t want to imagine – a day where Kiera wasn’t a part of it. I had meant every word I had said about Kiera, when Sophie had asked me at the farm on Black Hill to describe her.

  “...Kiera has this really annoying habit of wanting to do the right thing the whole time,” I remembered explaining to Sophie. “She wants to do the right thing by everyone, even if it means that she loses out somehow. She threw herself into the arms of a serial killer because she couldn’t bear the thought of others suffering. Kiera is the smartest, bravest, and most selfless person I have ever known. But deep inside, she is so gentle and kind, and sometimes I think that I’m not even good enough to hold her hand, let alone share a life with her.”

  To hear my own voice in my head, I wondered now if I hadn’t been right about those last words I had said. To think of Kiera made me smile inside, and I knew Kayla was right. I should have told Kiera those things I thought about her.

  What had been the point explaining to Sophie how much Kiera meant to me? It was Kiera who needed to know how I felt about her. I just hoped that I could reach her in time – before she made it to her father’s house where a trap of some kind undoubtedly waited for her. How much of a head start had she got? An hour, perhaps? She could have reached her father’s house by now. I could be too late already.

  With my wings angled like points on either side of me, I tucked my arms against my sides and headed in the direction I had last seen Kiera going.

  Snow whisked past me as it left the clouds. I dropped slightly in the air to get my bearings through a break in the clouds, and stopped. On the other side of the hill where Murphy’s rented cottage stood, I could see a mass of berserkers.

  They were heading up the side of the hill towards the cottage where my friends sheltered. I hovered, hidden by the cloud, and watched them silently approach the cottage on all sides. They were circling the cottage to cut off any chance of my friends escaping.

  I looked into the distance, wanting to go after Kiera, knowing that time was running out if I were to intercept her before she reached her father’s house, and the trap I now believed had been set for her there. Below I could see the berserkers approaching the cottage, my friends unaware they were going to be attacked. I looked again in the direction Kiera had been heading, then back down at the cottage.

  Which do I choose? I roared inside.

  Go after Kiera and my friends would surely die. Stay and help my friends and Kiera would walk into a trap just like Isidor did. I looked back again, throu
gh the snow, hoping that I might see Kiera in the distance, on the brow of some hill.

  The snow perhaps slowed her progress, reluctant to use her wings for fear of being seen, therefore still visible somewhere in the distance. There was no sign of her. I looked down again as the berserkers crept around the outside of the cottage, their pointed noses sniffing in the air. With my wings spread wide on either side of me, I looked again into the distance, just hoping that I would see Kiera making her way back towards the cottage, deciding that it was a mistake to go see her father after all. There were only drifts of snow.

  With my claws out, I flipped backwards in the air, and then raced out of the clouds and back towards the cottage.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kiera

  By the time I had reached the top of the small hill, the taste of the rat had finally left my mouth. Its blood was still working, sedating that constant need in me for the red stuff. The weather had eased a little, but the air was bitterly cold and my hair, shoulders, and coat were white with snow. At the top of the hill, the wind howled all around me, and I looked back in the direction I had come. I could see my footprints leading away into the distance and back towards the church, which now looked small, like part of a miniature town some way below me. Just like everything else, the graveyard and the spire of the church were now white, and from where I stood, the world looked peaceful, like a picture on the front of a Christmas card. From where I stood, I couldn’t see any statues, and despite what the Elders had said, I knew I had seen them, and I could remember what one of them had told me.

  Lead us to the Dead Waters, the statue which had resembled me had said. Even now it seemed to talk on the wind which howled about the hillside. We will follow you.

  But where were these Dead Waters? I wondered. And what were they?

  The Dead Waters will give us life, and you can’t push back without us , the statue’s voice had told me.