Vampire Hollows

by Tim O'Rourke

  “What’s wrong, Isidor?” I whispered.

  “What do you think is wrong?” he came back at me. “My sister has just been murdered.”

  “But there’s something more than that,” I told him. “You’ve not been right since we got here. Please talk to me, Isidor.” Again, I tried to move closer to him, but he stepped backwards, maintaining the gap between us.

  “Whatever’s wrong, Isidor, you’re going to have to talk about it sooner or later,” I said. “Keeping it to yourself won’t help.”

  Lowering his head so I couldn’t see into his eyes, he said, “It’s Kayla…” then stopped.

  “What about Kayla?” I asked him.

  Straightening up, he looked at me and said, “It’s nothing.” Then, he was gone, slowly walking back to camp with his crossbow slung over his shoulder.

  Alone again, I peered back into the dark in the direction Isidor had come. I wanted to say my own goodbye to Kayla. I couldn’t just leave her lying alone on the side of the mountain. So, following Isidor’s tracks back through the trees, I came across a mound of disturbed earth. Kneeling beside it, I ran my fingertips over the dirt and it was hard for me to accept that she lay just beneath my touch, battered and bruised, heart and ears missing. How had it come to this? This wasn’t the way her life should have ended. Kayla deserved better than that. I remembered the time I’d watched her giggling in the dark at Hallowed Manor as she taught herself to fly, and tears began to roll down my cheeks.

  “I’ll miss you, Kayla,” I said.

  Then I felt a hand fall on my shoulder. Stifling a scream, I looked up to see Potter standing behind me. I jumped up, and within an instant my claws were out, as were my fangs, and I launched him across the small clearing. Potter flew backwards under the weight of my punch and slammed into the trunk of a large tree. It shook in the ground and leaves showered down from above. Before he’d had the chance to regain his composure, I was on him, my claws around his throat, my fangs inches from his face.

  “Did you kill her?” I screeched.

  “No!” he groaned beneath my grip.

  “Why did you run?”

  “Because I’m being set up,” he wheezed.

  “By who?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How do I know you’re not lying to me?” I spat, spittle spraying from my fangs and covering his face.

  “You don’t, but you’ll have to trust me,” he croaked.

  “Who did you tell about the Light House?”

  “No one, Kiera.”

  “So if only three of us knew about it, one of us is the killer and I know it isn’t me,” I hissed.

  “Do you really believe I killed Kayla?” Potter mumbled, and I could see his lips were turning blue.

  In my heart I didn’t believe he had murdered Kayla; so slowly, I released my grip on him. I looked at him as he rubbed his throat and prayed I had done the right thing by letting him go. Stepping away, I went back towards Kayla’s grave.

  “I didn’t kill Kayla,” Potter said joining me, his voice still sounding raw from where I had strangled him. “But somebody wants you to believe I did.”

  “Who?” I asked, not looking at him.

  “Elias Munn.”

  “And who is he?”

  “Someone close to us,” he said. “I didn’t think I would ever say this, but I think Murphy was right, someone in our group is a traitor.”

  “So what’s changed your mind?”

  “Being framed for Kayla’s murder is probably a good start,” he said, taking a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. Then looking through the cloud of blue smoke at me, he added, “You don’t look too surprised by the whole idea of me being framed.”

  “Put the cigarette out,” I ordered him.

  “What?” he said, looking bemused. “I’ve only just lit it.”

  “Put the goddamn thing out, Potter!”

  Without taking his eyes off me, he took the smouldering cigarette from the corner of his mouth, dropped it onto the grass, and ground it out with the heel of his boot.

  Staring down at it, I asked, “What do you see?”

  “A waste of a perfectly good smoke,” Potter grimaced.

  “Tell me what you see,” I pushed.

  “You’re doing that Miss Marple thing again, aren’t you?” he sighed.

  Ignoring him, I knelt down and ran my fingertips over the cigarette and the blades of grass. In my head I could see the cigarette left by the tree where Kayla had been crying. I compared the two images in my mind. “Come here,” I told him.

  Sighing, Potter knelt beside me.

  I picked up the cigarette butt and held it up to him. “It’s crushed to pieces.”

  “Even I can see that,” he said.

  “Just like the other one,” I whispered.

  “What other one?” he asked me.

  “The one by the weeping willow,” I breathed. “But there is a difference.”

  “What are you talking about?” he asked, gripping me by the shoulder.

  “There was a cigarette left by the weeping willow where I discovered Kayla crying. She had been talking to someone. At first I thought it was the ghost of her father, just like mine had visited me. But when I went to her, I could see that it hadn’t been a ghost at all, but a living person, as I could see their footprints in the grass as if they had run away. Whoever had been standing there left one of your cigarette ends. Knowing I would see it, they hoped I would think it was you she had been talking to.”

  “So what makes you think that it wasn’t me?” he asked.

  “The cigarette had been ground out beneath the heel of your boot, because it was crushed just like this one,” I told him holding up what was left of the cigarette. But look at the grass. See how it is all bent over and disturbed where you ground it out with the heel of your boot? Well, the grass beneath the willow wasn’t. The cigarette hadn’t been put out there; it had been planted by whoever wanted to frame you. But by who, I don’t know.”

  Standing, Potter looked at me and said, “And whoever put it there killed Kayla. Somehow they knew you had confided in me about the detour to the Light House, so they planted the cigarette and then killed Kayla hoping you would put the facts together and would suspect me.”

  “But there was only one other person that knew that we were heading for the Light House,” I told him. “And that was Coanda. Why would he kill Kayla when it was his idea to take her there in the first place?”

  “What about Isidor?” Potter asked. “I’ve always thought that guy was a bit weird.”

  “Isidor?” I breathed. “Never.”

  “That’s just what I don’t get,” Potter said. “There’s been something wrong with the guy ever since we got here. He’s been moody and distant – he’s hardly said two words to anyone. Isidor is the one who found Kayla’s body. He was the one who came staggering from the woods smothered in Kayla’s blood and no one suspects a thing? It’s like the kid is fireproof or something!”

  “But he wouldn’t have murdered Kayla,” I said.

  “Neither would I,” Potter said razor quick. “But that hasn’t stopped everyone from pointing the finger at me. I wasn’t the one sniffing her dead body.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I watched Isidor bury Kayla from the shelter of the trees,” Potter explained. “At first I thought he was kissing her goodbye or something, but then I realised he was sniffing her dead body. Now why would he go and do a thing like that?”

  “I don’t know,” I said thoughtfully.

  “Whatever the reason,” Potter said, “There’s something wrong with that kid.”

  “I still don’t think he murdered Kayla,” I told him.

  “Someone did and it wasn’t me,” Potter insisted.

  “I believe you,” I said, looking at him. “But what are you going to do now?”

  “Hang back,” he explained. “I’m going to follow you from a distance. This Elias Munn, whoever he might be, is close
and I reckon he wants to get to the Dust Palace as much as you do.”

  “I thought you didn’t believe in him – just like Father Christmas,” I reminded him.

  “Being framed for a murder you didn’t commit gives you a different perspective on things,” he said. “Now you go and I’ll watch your back, I won’t be far away. I’ll follow you to the Dust Palace, that’s where I think this Elias Munn will reveal himself to you.”

  “And what happens if he does?”

  “Then we finish it,” Potter said. “We finish him.”

  “And then what?” I asked, taking Potter’s hands in mine.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Will we get some time together?” I asked, looking up into his black eyes. “What I mean is, we have spent our whole time on the run so far. It would be so nice to…you know…go on a proper date or something. I’d like to get to know you, for you to get to know me. All I really know about you is that you have a tendency for WHAM songs! I don’t know what your favourite food is, your favourite movie…I don’t know anything about you.”

  Taking my face gently in his huge hands, Potter leant close and said, “I’d love to go on a date with you, Kiera Hudson, but for that to happen you’re gonna have to choose the Vampyrus over the humans, because if you don’t, I’m dead.”

  Then, before I had the chance to say anything, he kissed me softly on the mouth, stepped into the shadows beneath the trees and was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The others were waiting for me by the burnt out embers of the fire. It was still dark, the Light House had yet to complete its circuit for the night. The embers smouldered angrily and a thin line of smoke trailed up amongst the stalagmites.

  Luke glanced at me as I re-entered the camp, then looked quickly away. Isidor stood, ashen-faced and tired-looking, his crossbow in his hands. He fixed me with a stare, but unlike Luke had done, he didn’t look away.

  “You took your time,” Coanda grumbled at me, eager to get going. “What were you doing back there?”

  “Saying goodbye to Kayla,” I said, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at Isidor.

  “Let’s get going,” he said, turning as if to leave the camp.

  “Go where?” Isidor asked him.

  “To the Light House,” Coanda said as if it should’ve been blatantly obvious to him.

  “What’s the point?” Luke asked. “Kayla’s dead. The mission has changed. I think we should head straight for the Dust Palace.”

  “No,” Coanda shot back at him. “Elias Munn has agents there ready to send out his signal. Kayla might not be with us anymore, and you’re right, the mission has changed, but if we can’t intercept the messages, then we will kill those who are planning to send it.”

  “I think Luke is right,” I cut in. “Potter told me that going to the Light House was suicide.”

  “And when exactly did he tell you these words of wisdom?” Coanda sneered, his clear blue eyes clouded with distrust.

  “When I told him about your plan,” I explained. “He said -”

  “I’m not interested in anything he had to say,” Coanda barked at me. “Potter’s not to be trusted.”

  “But if Potter is Elias Munn, or some kind of traitor like you believe him to be,” I snapped back, “Then won’t he be expecting us to head for the Light House?”

  “Not without Kayla,” Coanda went on. “He wouldn’t believe we have the balls to go and attack his agents there. He’d expect us to go running to the Elders with our tails between our legs. But that ain’t my style, Hudson. I don’t shy away from a fight.”

  “So I’ve heard,” I muttered.

  “What did you say?” Coanda asked, jutting his chin in my direction.

  “Nothing,” I said back.

  “Then let’s get going,” he growled, turning his back on me and marching away from the camp.

  With his head bowed forward, Isidor slowly set off after him. Luke was next to leave the camp. “So you are just going to go along with him?” I asked Luke.

  Ignoring me, he continued after Coanda. I trotted after him, and taking Luke by the arm, I said, “How do we know we can trust Coanda? He could be leading us into a trap.”

  Luke prised my fingers from his arm, and looking at me he said, “I thought I could trust you and Potter once, now I don’t know who to trust anymore.”

  “Luke,” I breathed, not sure what to say next.

  But before I’d had the chance to say anything, Luke said, “Kiera, do me a favour and leave me alone for a while.”

  I watched him walk away, his shoulders slumped forward, and I hated myself for hurting him. But I couldn’t take it back now, even if I wanted to and I wasn’t sure that I did. I disliked myself even more for feeling that way.

  The four of us walked through the night in silence. We reached the top of the mountain where it flattened out into a hard-panned surface. It was so hard and arid that it was covered in deep groves and cracks. Just like the ground Potter and I had raced over to reach the canyon, the ground was an orange-red colour and was covered in a fine ash. Did it ever rain here? I wondered. And I doubted that it did. But nothing would have surprised me about The Hollows or so I thought.

  Just as I began to consider the possibility of rain falling in this new world I had fallen into, it started to snow. I stared, mesmerised up into the dark as giant white flakes began to seesaw down towards me. They covered the ground ahead, laying a white carpet before us.

  “Snow?” I gasped in wonder.

  “Ash!” Coanda grunted.

  “Ash?”

  “We’re nearing the Light House,” Coanda said, and it was as if his voice had taken on a tone of reverence. “The lake of lava that it floats on blisters and bubbles at such temperatures that almost everything it touches burns, sending up clouds of ash.”

  “Almost everything?” I asked him.

  “Except the Light House,” he said. “No one knows why it hasn’t eroded into the lake – no one truly understands its power.”

  “Look at that,” Isidor said, short of breath, pointing into the distance.

  I looked in the direction he was pointing and drew a deep breath. The horizon glowed – in fact it pulsated like a sunrise seeping from the ground. The sky in front of us burnt crimson, pink, and gold. The light splayed across the night like electric fingers. Ash flew up into the air like giant flakes of glistening ticker tape. But the light rose quicker and brighter than any sunrise I had ever seen.

  With my forearm across my eyes, I said to Coanda, “Where has the light come from so quickly?”

  “We’re close to the Light House and it’s turning towards us,” he seemed to roar in excitement and awe. “C’mon, we don’t have time to admire its beauty!” And he was off, racing across the hard-panned ground towards the light.

  Without question, we followed him. As we grew near, I noticed what looked like a black splinter running the length of the light. With my eyes almost shutting against the glare and my skin starting to prickle with heat, I could see that it wasn’t a crack in the light at all, but the Light House. Just as Potter had described it to me, the Light House was a needle of rock that towered out of the Earth’s core and up into the night. It was narrow and wizened-looking, like a decrepit spine that had had its flesh picked from it.

  As we drew nearer, the light grew brighter, and the heat more intense. My skin prickled and beads of sweat rolled from my forehead and onto my cheeks. The ground before me shimmered with heat rays and the horizon looked as if it were bending back and forth, melting in front of my very eyes. Bending forward, we ploughed through the falling ash, which was now knee-deep and hot to the touch. It sparkled like the burning embers of a fire. We walked in a line, Luke to my right, Isidor and Coanda to my left. Then, the night or was it now day, was filled with a crackling, hissing, and spitting sounds.

  Raising one of his bony hands into the air, Coanda ordered us to stop. “This is as far as we go.” He looked down at his feet which
were covered in ash, and I almost screamed.

  Before me was an abyss. It ran away from us into the distance like a river of seething sunlight. Covering my eyes, I peered down through my fingers as the lava sloshed in giant waves against the foot of the Light House. They crashed against the rocks, spraying up plumes of fiery surf.

  I looked to my right at Luke and his face glowed red from the glare of the seething lake below and in that moment he looked like a god. His finely chiselled face, green eyes and that black hair that always fell across his brow reminded me of what had originally attracted me to him. As if sensing that I was looking at him, he turned to face me, and instead of glaring at me like I feared he would, he gave me the warmest of smiles and said, “It’s incredible isn’t it?”

  “It’s beautiful,” I whispered back.

  “But they’re not so beautiful,” someone said from behind me.

  I looked back to find Coanda staring up at the jagged tip of the Light House. Peering through the light, I could see a swarm of Vampyrus circling. Their wings were spread and they looked as if they were protecting the Light House, defending it until they were summoned to send out the order to attack.

  “The Light House will soon have turned our way and we will be seen,” Coanda said. “We find shelter from its heat today, and make our move tonight.” Then he was striding away towards a wide crack in the ground that zigzagged away from us like a giant wound.

  I looked at Luke and Isidor who, without saying a word, followed Coanda as he climbed down into the fracture in the ground. Before following them, I looked back over my shoulder, scanning the horizon and hoping I would see Potter. But he was nowhere to be seen. So turning away, I climbed into the crack.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The fracture in the ground was deep, and by the time I had levered myself over the edge, the others were already at the bottom. The sides of the crack were made of hard, red rock and were warm to the touch. With care, I lowered myself to the bottom, finding myself in something not too dissimilar to a cave. It stretched away for as far as the eyes could see in both directions, becoming narrower and narrower.