Shadow Over Sea And Sky

by K H Middlemass

  “But you must understand, Emily, that your father and I love you. Please, don’t ever think otherwise. I couldn’t bear it if you did.”

  By this time, they had finally come to the house and to the attention of the people manning the ambulance parked patiently a little distance away from the drive. A few people had gathered outside their houses to see what was going on. Emily had never been so tired in her life. She could feel herself crumbling with every step, but she would not stop until she reached those flashing lights, those crimson beacons that gave her so much hope. Her arms and legs burned.

  As she dragged herself closer, she thought that she heard her father calling to her. But all that she could focus on was the weight pressing against her back and the tiredness that seeped through every inch of her, and it occurred to her that she wished for nothing more than oblivion. Then the weight was too much for her to bear anymore; she had gone as far as she could, and luckily for her it was far enough.

  Emily lost consciousness before her body hit the ground. Behind her eyelids, the red lights of the ambulance continued to flash, warding off any dark dreams that wished to visit her that night.

  6

  Emily woke to find herself back in her bedroom, and for a moment she wondered if it had all been a dream. Then she felt the sharp throbbing of her ankle, and when she looked down she saw that she was still in the clothes she’d hastily pulled on the night before, rumpled and caked with dried mud that had flaked and coated the crisp white sheets of the bed. She groaned and closed her eyes again as memories of what had happened flooded into her mind unwelcomed.

  The house was quiet. With considerable effort, Emily forced herself out of bed and hobbled along the landing, where she called out to her father in a pitiful wail. There was no answer. She went downstairs, an act that took far too long and had her wincing with each step, and wandered through to the kitchen where a note waited for her, weighed down by Christopher’s ‘World’s Greatest Father’ mug. The sight of it sent a sad twinge through her. There was also a box of high-strength ibuprofen, and she greedily swallowed down two before easing herself slowly into a chair.

  She read the note carefully; her eyes were having some trouble focusing and everything around her seemed to be swaying gently, like she was suffering a particularly bad hangover. Her eyes danced over the page, trying to make out Christopher’s scratchy, sloping handwriting.

  Her father detailed that Victoria had been taken away after the paramedics helped carry Emily into the house and up to her room. There was work that needed to be done, the note said, and that something he couldn’t get out of had come up.

  Emily’s stomach gave a soft squeeze. She didn’t need to wonder what it was that tore her father away; she already knew. Her mind turned to Derek Wilson and her heart ached for him. What would happen to him now? She didn’t want to think of it.

  She laid the note down on the table and closed her eyes, listening to the soft and insistent ticking of the clock. Then she realised that she supposed to be meeting Reverend Abrahms at the church and her eyes flew open again. She checked the time and saw that it was already after nine. She pushed herself up and limped to the phone, dialling Abrahms’ number. Her foot throbbed under her weight.

  Abrahms answered almost immediately.

  “I’m so sorry, Reverend, but something happened last night and I’m not sure I can make it down there,” Emily said. Her voice rasped like she had a sore throat.

  “Are you all right? You sound unwell,” Abrahms said with concern. “What happened?”

  “It’s a long story, but my ankle got pretty badly twisted and walking’s not the easiest thing right now. Could you maybe come here? My father is out, so we can talk in private.”

  “Of course, Emily, of course.” There was a pause, and Emily thought that she heard the faint sound of another voice on the end of the line. “Your friends are here, they told me that you’d asked them to help. Am I to assume that they should come as well?”

  Her friends. The voice she thought she heard must have belonged to Simone. They hadn’t deserted her, after all. There, in the hall, she almost broke down into tears of relief.

  “Yes,” she said quietly. “Please.”

  They arrived half an hour later. Emily had enough time to change her clothes, but she couldn’t help but be aware of the streaks of dried mud across her arms and how drawn her face had looked when she’d inspected it in the mirror. When she opened the door, Simone pushed her way in and pulled her into a hug, holding her so tight that she could barely breathe. Again, she had to fight off the tears that threatened to emerge at such kindness. She placed her hands against Simone’s back and closed her eyes.

  “I was so worried about you,” Simone said. She pulled back and held Emily at arm’s length, her eyes darting over her quickly. “Christ, you look terrible.”

  Emily smiled weakly and looked over Simone’s shoulder. Abrahms and Nick stood in the doorway, looking a little awkward and uncertain. Nick raised his hand and waved, prompting her to laugh. “Come in. I’ll explain everything.”

  ***

  An hour or so later, the four sat in Emily’s living room in deathly silence. Emily had settled on the couch, sprawling across it so she could rest her swollen foot, and she had told them all that they needed to know.

  She observed them all. Nick and Simone looked tired, and Simone had told her earlier that they had stayed up well into the night talking about what they were going to do. In the end, it was Nick that had decided that they should hold off going to the police. Emily had been surprised at that, but Simone had told her that Nick found her to be a genuine person despite having only just met her. To his mind, although it all seemed completely impossible, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that she was telling the truth and that maybe the best thing that they could do is show their support and help her through whatever it was that she was going through. And Simone was confronting the fact that there had to be some truth to it all; throughout their long friendship Emily had always been honest and open with her in her own, quiet way, and it was time for Simone to do the same. If that meant walking into hell with her, then so be it. They had gone to the church and waited, and when Emily hadn’t come, worry quickly began to set in.

  Nick, for his part, remained silent and thoughtful throughout the whole, awful story. As she went on, he had put his arm around Simone’s shoulder and pulled her closer, and she had gone willingly to him, tucking her feet up under her legs and curling up next to him without a word. Emily had talked through the hoarseness of her voice, throat aching more and more with every word.

  Finally, Simone’s voice punctuated the quiet. “Jesus Christ.”

  Abrahms frowned a little at Simone’s persisting blasphemy but did not admonish her. He wasn’t the sort to do such things. He was sitting in Emily’s father’s armchair, his fingers pressed lightly against his temple. He too looked tired, but it was a different kind of tiredness. His face was etched with world-weariness, and Emily could understand why. To be going through such horror again was almost inconceivable to her, but then she supposed that this is what marked out the good people from the bad and the indifferent. Good people would always keep fighting, no matter how deep and terrible the cost. Good people would always think of others even when their own hearts ached.

  “I’m glad that your mother is finally away from here, Emily,” he said. “Though I can’t say how long she will be safe. In my experience there is a… relentlessness to creatures like Volkov.”

  “Let’s just call it for what it is,” Nick interjected in his soft, careful voice. “He’s a vampire, right? Or something like it, anyway.”

  Abrahms nodded. “Yes. I appreciate how it sounds.”

  “It sounds stupid.” Simone said dismissively, pushing herself up. “But at least we all know it sounds stupid. The real question is what we can do about it.”

  Abrahms nodded again before addressing Emily. “Your friends and I had a brief chat about our conversation th
e other day. I’ve attempted to offer a little enlightenment.”

  “I don’t know if showing us a dried-up monster heart counts as enlightenment,” Nick said drily, a grimace twisting his handsome face for a moment. “I won’t be forgetting that in a hurry.”

  Emily raised an eyebrow at Abrahms. “You didn’t.”

  Abrahms shrugged his shoulders indifferently. “Like you, they needed some convincing. You know what they say, needs must.”

  “I still don’t know if I am convinced,” Simone said icily, looking sidelong at Abrahms with her eyes narrowed. “But at this point, I’m convinced enough. I sincerely hope you don’t use that thing as an ice breaker for everyone you meet.”

  Abrahms smiled at that. “Only the ones that I wish to share in their misery.” Then, to Emily: “You have good friends, you know.”

  Emily nodded, and her smile was a genuine one that brightened her eyes and enlivened her face. “I do.”

  Simone laughed. “Damn right you do. You owe us so big, Em. I’m going to have you shine my shoes for a fucking year! Or maybe I’ll make you my personal slave. How does that sound?”

  Emily’s smile broadened. “It sounds good. If I live through this, I’ll be your personal slave. I’ll do whatever you want.”

  Nick’s mouth twitched into a smirk; Simone’s eyes darted to his face and she responded by giving him a short sharp punch on the arm. “God, you’re so disgusting!”

  Nick grinned, his teeth white and strong. His cheeks dimpled. “But she said it sounded good. I’m only human, Simone my darling.”

  She nudged him in the ribs and he laughed, pulling her even closer and wrapping his arms around her.

  “You suck,” she muttered into his chest.

  Nick kissed the top of her head. “You love it.”

  Abrahms coughed discretely, and the two were pulled back out of themselves. Simone sat upright, swinging her feet to the ground and brushing herself down awkwardly. Nick hooked one leg over the other and visibly relaxed into the sofa. Emily watched him with interest, struck once more by his easy handsomeness. Simone was lucky; Nick was one of the good ones.

  They all looked at each other, and Emily decided that it was time.

  “I have to finish the painting,” she confessed. “I… promised him that I would.”

  Simone gaped. “I beg your fucking pardon? Are you serious?”

  Emily exhaled heavily. “Yes. Very serious.”

  Simone let out a low whistle. “Call me crazy, but that seems like a really, really bad idea. Probably one of the worst ideas I’ve ever heard.”

  Nick gave Simone a look like he couldn’t quite believe the things that came out of her mouth sometimes. “Now hang on a minute, missy. Let her explain herself before you go all judgemental, okay?”

  Simone’s mouth hung open in astonishment. “Are you bloody serious? If you ever think you’re getting laid again you’re going to be sorely disappointed, my friend.”

  Emily made a noise halfway between a cough and a frustrated groan, and the pair looked to her again with the good grace to appear ashamed. Emily took a deep breath and mentally prepared herself.

  “I don’t know exactly what it is that Richard Volkov has done to me,” she said in a gentle, wavering sort of way. “But he has me in a way that he doesn’t have you Simone, or Nick or the reverend. You must understand, it’s different for me. He bit me in my sleep… or maybe I was awake, I’m not sure…and since then he’s had this hold over me I can’t fight against. I hate it, you know. I hate it so much, but I can’t do anything to stop it. It’s why I need you all.”

  Abrahms got out of her father’s chair and strode over to the sofa where Emily sat. He bent down, getting onto his knees, and grasped at her hands with an intensity that almost frightened her. His eyes caught hers and held them fast. The blueness of his eyes calmed her.

  “Emily, we all need each other,” Abrahms said, his face close to hers. “You’re doing the right thing, and I will see you through it. This I swear.”

  “Okay, this is getting crazy. We need to back up a second,” Simone was suddenly off the couch and staking across the living room, her expression fierce. “Emily, do you seriously think that the best thing to do is to walk into the jaws of death? Because it sounds to me like that’s what you’re proposing with this nonsense about finishing a fucking portrait.”

  “That’s what you’re not getting, Si,” Emily said, looking up at her friend with all the boldness that she could muster. “He won’t kill me, at least not yet. He has something planned for me I’m sure, but I don’t intend to allow that plan to be realised.”

  Abrahms still held her hands, giving them warmth and protection. She stared at Simone without blinking.

  “I will finish the painting,” Emily said firmly. “And then I’m going to destroy him.”

  Simone threw her arms in the air, eyes wide with disbelief. “Oh, really, is that what you’re going to do, you’re going to destroy him?” For God’s sake, Emily, how are you going to destroy something you don’t even understand?”

  It was quiet for a moment. Simone towered over Emily, eyes still blazing, and Emily did not turn away. Her mouth settled into a grim line.

  “I may not understand it,” Emily said. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t kill it. And I will. And you’re going to help me.”

  The words hung in the air, tension suddenly alive in the room, crackling with energy. Abrahms released Emily’s hands and leaned back, watching the two wearily. Nick was hovering on the edge of the sofa, ready to push off and into standing position at a moment’s notice.

  Simone’s shoulders slumped and her arms fell by her side. If this were ten years ago, when they were fifteen, it would have been Emily capitulating to Simone’s infinitely forceful personality, but the dynamics had shifted here today. Emily’s gaze had remained the same throughout, a steely and determined look that Simone had never seen on her face before.

  “All right,” Simone finally conceded, unable to conceal her irritation with the way things had gone. “Talk us through it then. Seriously, this had better be good or I’ll be pissed, do you hear me? Really bloody pissed.”

  Emily shrugged once, indifferent and disinterested with Simone’s empty threats. This was just her way; when Simone wasn’t suited, the world would know. Despite her tough exterior, Simone rarely actually acted on her vicious, often unspeakably terrifying threats that she had bandied about through her life. More often than not, the threat itself was enough. With Simone as her best friend, Emily hadn’t really ever had to worry about bullies much. Some had tried, rather foolishly, and they had been reduced to a laughing stock by the end of the day once Simone got wind of what they had planned. She often gloated about how much power she held over the bullies and the bullies, for their part, were at least smart enough not to challenge that power.

  “Reverend, you said that it comes down to the head and the heart,” Emily said. “But I think that there may be something else to it.”

  Simone turned on her heel and went back to the couch, flopping down on it heavily. She blew out a stream of breath, ruffling her fringe.

  “And what would this something be?” she asked, eyes fixed to the ceiling.

  “There’s something about the painting, I think,” Emily said in a considered voice, gaze shifting over all three of them as she spoke. “It’s hard to explain, but it means something to him.”

  “How so?” Nick sounded curious. She had his attention.

  “Well, why is he demanding that I finish the damned thing?” Emily gave Abrahms an apologetic glance. “He wants me to finish it. That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

  Nick and Simone looked at each other, their expressions the same. Simone ran a hand through her hair and made another, exasperated sound.

  “Then why mess with you like this?” Simone’s voice mounted in volume, fury ringing in every syllable. “What the fuck did he bring Victoria into this for? What possible reason could he have other than him b
eing some sick psychotic bastard?!” Nick put a quieting hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off and glared at him incredulously, angry that he dared to interrupt her tangent. He shook his head at her, speaking to her silently. Simone fell back again, mouth twisted in frustration at the demands of civilised behaviour.

  “Sorry.” Simone said, and it sounded sincere.

  Emily was quiet for a moment, unsure of what to say. When she did begin to speak, it was with hesitant uncertainty. “I don’t know exactly why, but he seems to take pleasure in making games of people. The painting has something to do with that. I’m sure of it.”

  Abrahms’ expression was a curious one. “So what will happen once you’ve finished it?”

  Emily looked at Abrahms levelly. “I’ll burn it. And the house will burn with him.”

  The words hung in the air, and a stunned silence followed. Then Simone exhaled heavily, like she was exhausted.

  “Okay, so arson. That’s good, that’s what I was hoping for. It’s like you read my mind.”

  “Do you have any other suggestions?” Emily snapped. “Because I’d love to hear them if you do.”

  “Yeah, all right, all right,” Simone raised her hands in a gesture of defeat. “This all just seems a bit extreme.”

  “Admittedly my own adventures against the vampire have never been quite so… ambitious, shall we say.” Abrahms stood up, unable to conceal a soft wheeze as he did so. “But there may be something to it. After all, we’ve established that there are some things that can’t be explained, and who knows what dark magic these creatures possess?”

  Simone snorted ungraciously, her face the very picture of disdain. Emily frowned openly at her.

  “Si, come on,” she said sternly. “He’s not wrong. Whatever it is, it gets a hold of you, and you can’t be free. Not while he lives. He’s got me, but I won’t let him get you, or Nick, or the reverend. You can fight against him and be free to love and pray and feel joy.”