Shadow Over Sea And Sky

by K H Middlemass

  “Come on Si” Emily repeated, her eyes insistent. “She’s weakened. You know that you can take her, you’re a badass.”

  Simone blinked, and Emily felt that she was really looking at her. “Really?”

  Simone wasn’t the sort of person that needed to be reassured in anything, and yet here she was, seeking it from Emily, who gave a little smile. “Really. I’ll take Volkov, you take the countess. But we need to beat them, okay?”

  Simone gave a single nod in agreement, with her back straight and her face furious. Then Emily stood aside, and Simone was facing off against the countess once more.

  Simone felt the knife pushing into the soft spot where her kidneys were and insisting to be used. Simone dutifully pulled the blade out of her jeans, gripped the handle tightly and ran at the countess, screaming obscenities so loudly and with such great fury that Emily couldn’t help but be impressed. Simone was going to be fine, she could see that. Now to find Volkov, while she still had time.

  She turned to Nick. “When Simone’s dealt with the countess, get her out of here, okay Nick? Will you do that for me?”

  Nick looked confused. “Wait, no, what are you doing Emily?”

  Emily went to speak, but then she felt the pull. It tugged at her inside her head, heeding her to go to where her Master awaited her. She tried to ignore it, but it was so strong, so irresistible…

  “I… I have to go and find my Mas… go and find Volkov,” she finally got out.

  “What in the hell are you thinking about, Emily?” Nick’s mouth hung open in disbelief, his eyes wide. “My girlfriend’s fighting a vampire with serious third degree burns and now you tell me that you want to go find the other psycho vampire. And what did you nearly call him?”

  Emily swallowed. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  She wasn’t sure why she lied, and Nick wasn’t stupid.

  “I suppose that now is the time for me to say that I also intend to stay,” Abrahms said, his voice calm and strong. His intent was clear; there was no sense in challenging it. All that Nick could ask was: “Why?”

  Abrahms appeared to mull it over, frowning; beneath his brow his eyes darted left and right as he thought. Emily got a real look at him, and was quietly amazed that he had become so very old so very quickly.

  “I attacked you, Emily,” he said, eventually, looking at her with eyes now filled with shame. “I stabbed you. I must atone, and I have decided to do this by attending to the boxes in the cavern. We never did agree what to do about that, but now we’ve got a plan.”

  Emily wasn’t sure how to feel; her emotions felt strangely far away from her. She could still feel them, but just barely. She was growing more distracted by the pulling in the back of her brain and knew that she couldn’t resist it for much longer. She had to go, and quickly.

  “Reverend, you must do what you truly wish,” Emily said hurriedly, before the slowness of mind took her again. “In the end, that’s all you can do.”

  Abrahms nodded. “I suppose you’re right, though it’s not that simple, is it?”

  Emily reached out and laid one hand on Abrahms’ shoulder. “I forgive you, Reverend. You weren’t yourself; I could see it in your eyes. You weren’t… you weren’t you.”

  Abrahms looked at her, long and hard. “Emily. What matters is that I atone. Your forgiveness is not enough.”

  He sounded so resigned, so tired. “I’ve said what I will do, and I intend to do it. You intend to go and find Volkov; I intend to go to the cavern above the sea. Do you deny me this when you do that?”

  Emily slowly shook her head, only half digesting the reverend’s words. She got the gist, and in her state that was all she needed. But she nodded and pretended to be paying attention, all the while listening to Volkov’s call. She was inching back all the time, making her way up the stairs with as much subtlety as she could muster, but it wasn’t long before Abrahms spotted her taking a step back.

  “Go your way and I will go mine,” he said, then sighed mournfully. “I wish you well, Emily.”

  “Whoa, hey, do I not get a say in any of this?” Nick said, raising his hands in the air with frustration. “I am actually here, and my girlfriend is still fighting a vampire. When’s it going to stop? When is ANY of this going to stop?”

  His words hung in the air, echoing them back at him again and again. Seconds later the sound of a blade entering flesh could be heard, and they all turned to watch as Simone withdrew the knife from the heart of the burnt remains of the countess. She stepped back and the countess slumped to the ground, foul-smelling black blood oozing from the wound in her chest.

  Simone quickly put a distance between the two of them. The countess’ body shuddered, and Simone quickly realised with horror that she was still alive, though of course not alive, and laughing.

  “Who would have thought it would end like this?” She lifted her head; blood was pouring from her mouth and she was smiling horribly. It was like something out of Geiger’s twisted imagination; Simone wanted to turn away, but forced herself to keep looking.

  “What, you mean you finally and deservedly dying in flames? Sorry sweetie, but we all thought that it would end like this.” Simone, beyond the point of caring even the slightest bit, flicked her hair and finally looked away from the countess and her eerie, bloody grin.

  “Do you know why the painting was so important? The one you so carelessly burned? Do you understand how deeply you wounded me with this act? That portrait, that was my true heart, and you have destroyed it.”

  “None of us have any time for this shit. You’ve burned once, you’ll soon burn again. That’s what matters in the end. That you burn.”

  “Wait, a last request, before I receive the true death. Please…”

  She sounded so pitiful, and it was so clear in that moment that the countess was, and would always be a child, forever on the cusp of womanhood, a mountain she could never reach the top of. The tragedy of it was palpable, and Simone felt a little pity, despite every instinct to distrust everything the countess said.

  “Shoot,” Simone said, very begrudgingly. The small amount of sympathy she felt wouldn’t last long. She had never been the sentimental type.

  “Where is the woman, Volkov’s bride, where is she?”

  Emily’s blood curdled at the words ‘Volkov’s bride’ and she didn’t bother to resist a shudder that went through her whole body. Nevertheless, she said “I’m here.”

  The countess’ head twitched in the direction of Emily’s voice, and it wasn’t long before her eyes found her on the stairs, her body turned towards the landing, to the first floor, to the attic.

  “He calls to you,” the countess said. Her voice was growing weaker. Emily only wished that the knife had been silver; at least that would have been quick. And she wouldn’t have had to endure this.

  Emily nodded mutely. Yes, he called to her.

  “Then go to him,” the countess said. “Go to him and kill him. And do not let him work his way with you. That is something that he should not have done, and his disregard for my own experience cuts me to the core. He would use women like you and I; I see this now. He would do to you what my maker did to me.”

  She spoke vaguely, but Emily was able to put the pieces together.

  “I’ll be strong,” she responded. “I will kill him.”

  “If I die,” the countess said, after a brief, tense pause, “then he dies.”

  Her voice was weak, but cold. Emily watched as the countess curled up around her wound, and in this protective place she would wait it out for, as she had put it, the true death. She whispered softly to herself, rapidly and in her mother tongue. None of them could understand it.

  They also didn’t realise that the countess had always been an exceptional actress. When the time was right, she would disappear. She would take the wolf form and heal.

  With everyone distracted, Emily turned and ran. She knew exactly where she needed to go and found that, somehow, she was moving fast. This w
as faster than she had ever been in her life; she had never been much good at running and once pretended to be ill so she didn’t have to do cross country at school. She heard Simone cursing as she got further and further away, at a speed no human could hope to match.

  Volkov was waiting. His call grew stronger the closer she was to finding him, like a game of ‘hot and cold.’ It wasn’t long before she came to the winding staircase and was ascending into the attic, remembering her promise to be strong and telling herself that it was all going to be okay.

  The dust didn’t bother her, which both delighted and disturbed her at the same time.

  ***

  “What was the point in creating an escape plan if no one wants to fucking leave?” Nick was getting more frustrated, and therefore angry, by the minute. Simone put a hand on his arm, and to her surprise he jerked it away and stared off into the middle distance. Simone swallowed the hurt and tried her best to be practical.

  “Now’s not the time for this, Nick,” she said calmly, keeping her distance in case he wanted to pace, which he sometimes did when he was angry. Simone was unperturbed by his rage; after all, she knew that it was mostly show. Nick was passionate about things, but rarely to the point where he would be willing to do something about the things that he was passionate about.

  “Emily’s gone. I agreed with her that she should go, and the reverend’s going to the cavern whether we like it or not. And let’s face it, we need someone to burn the boxes seeing as that bloody woman got to you before you could do it. The rev said he’d do it; what’s the problem?”

  “If I were Volkov,” Nick replied, “I’d fight tooth and nail to protect my soil. Did you ever read ‘Dracula’? These things get strength from the soil of their homeland. The rev’s probably going to die making sure those boxes are destroyed, you do realise that don’t you?”

  “Emily will have Volkov distracted,” Simone said, a little too quickly and with a little too much confidence. “He won’t have time to get down there.”

  “You saw how fast Emily moved, and she hasn’t even turned yet,” Nick said gravely. “We don’t know how long she can hold him off for; he’s ruthless.”

  Simone tried to put her hand on his shoulder, now that he had calmed, and this time he accepted the contact, leaning into it and laying his hand on top of hers. He still loved her, and it was things like this that mattered, in the end.

  “We just have to trust Emily, and the rev, too. Speaking of which, where is the old God man?”

  They looked around them; they were so involved in the argument over Emily that they had failed to notice Abrahms sneaking away towards the cellars, where he would find the hole that Simone had come through some hours ago. He would go to the caverns, as he had said.

  “Oh great,” Simone sighed. “There goes another one.””

  Then she looked at Nick and pretended to straighten up his shirt, pretending that he had a tie that needed knotting. He couldn’t help but smile. Simon stood in front of him and looked him over, hands on her hips. “Okay Nick, looks like it’s just you and me. And we’re both getting the hell out of here, like right now.”

  “Couldn’t agree more,” Nick said, and held out his hand. Simone reached out to him, and they laced their fingers together and became one. “Let’s go.”

  “Wait a minute,” Simone said, a look of horror dashing across her face. “We forgot to check if the countess is dead.”

  Nick grimaced. “Shit, we did forget to check if the countess is dead.”

  They both looked to the spot where they had left her curled up and speaking in an unknown language, and found it empty. Slow moments of silence passed, the two staring at the spot.

  Simone started screaming, a low and guttural yowl like an angry cat. Nick tried to shush her but she wouldn’t hear him. She stopped eventually, and took a deep breath, coughing to clear her throat, which was understandably sore.

  “I know you’re angry, but we can’t do anything about it now. She’s not going to get far, not with the sun coming up. She’s dead either way, and we need to go.”

  Simone stood silently, breathing heavily through her nose like a pissed off bull. She nodded, lips pursed, and Nick pulled a face at her deliberately to make her laugh. It worked, because it always did.

  “All right, fine,” Simone laughed. “You’re right. There’s nothing we can do.”

  “Like I said before, let’s go,” Nick said, taking Simone’s hand. She looked at him and smiled, still giggling, and nodded again.

  They walked away together down the long corridor, holding hands all the way. They left behind the shrieking countess, the smoke and the fire and this old, cursed house at last.

  “Do you think Emily will be okay?” Nick asked as he worked the door open with his free arm.

  Simone laughed and gave Nick an uncharacteristically bright smile.

  “Oh honey,” she said affectionately. “Emily’s my best friend. Think about it. She’s my best friend. She’ll be just fine. She doesn’t need anyone babying her, all it does is hold her back. So, I figure she wants to get to know herself at last.”

  “But that vampire guy, he’s so… how can she beat him, is all I mean.” Nick pulled the door open wide, letting the cool, early morning air inside. Soon, the sun would rise, and all of this would be over. Breathing in deeply, they stepped outside together and immediately felt lighter, happier. It was as if the house had been leeching their very strength away.

  Simone looked at the incongruous Bentley, and grinned.

  “Come on,” she said, “I have an idea.”

  “What?” Nick asked wearily; he was very tired.

  “You’ve had to hot wire the tour bus before, right?”

  Nick nodded. “Yeah, I have. Why?”

  Simone just kept grinning, and indicated toward the car.

  “Oh no,” said Nick. “We’re almost out of here, are you kidding?”

  “I said I had an idea,” Simone responded. “And it involves the car.”

  “Yes, Si, I understand that.” Nick started to walk towards the car, deciding he might as well look it over. “But why does it involve the car? Why can’t we just go home?”

  “I know you want to go home, I do too.” Simone said, strangely impassioned. She went to him and kissed him quickly, then broke away and went on speaking as if nothing had happened. “But what about Emily, and the rev? We can’t just leave them.”

  Nick ran his hand over the bonnet, admiring the quality of the old car. The teenage boy in him was rejoicing, but he pushed it down, because he was an adult and he had to act like one. Still, it was a thrill to pop the hood and look at the engine, even though he could barely see in the grey, sunless light of the coming day.

  “We won’t leave them, we’ll wait here,” Simone went on, “And we’ll use the car to get away with the two of them.”

  Nick looked her sharply.

  “Abrahms won’t make it, you know he won’t.” he shouted. “And if he does somehow survive, he’ll have to make his own way out. Who knows how he’ll handle those bloody cliff stair things, they’re practically lethal!”

  Simone swallowed loudly. “Okay, maybe you’re right. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

  Simone didn’t like it when Nick shouted at her, and Nick knew that. He immediately felt guilty and began apologising but Simone brushed it off with a wave of the hand and a tired sigh.

  “Please,” she said, “just see if you can hotwire the car.”

  She sounded sad. Nick pulled Simone to him and wrapped her up in his special boyfriend hug, and she relaxed against him and he felt her arms around his middle. They held each other tightly, almost desperately.

  “Let’s not fight now,” Nick said, kissing Simone’s forehead.

  Simone smiled. “Let’s not fight ever.”

  “Oh no, can’t agree to that my dear, a good argument now and then can actually be good for a relationship.”

  “Do you think?”

  Now it was
Nick’s turn to smile. “I know. In other circumstances, I actually kind of love having arguments with you. I know it sounds weird but I figure that so long as we’re not doing it because we hate each other and neither of us somehow become abusive, we should totally argue.”

  Simone laughed, which is what he had hoped for. Satisfied, he went to work on the car while Simone went in search of a stone to smash one of the windows and jimmy the driver door open.

  12

  Richard Volkov did not hide himself. He stood in the centre of the attic; the windows were covered. Dawn was fast approaching, after all. His burns were looking better, and his hair was already starting to grow back. Here, in the shadows, he could grow strong again.

  Emily approached him carefully, becoming less aware of herself all the time. The power of Abrahms’ prayer was wearing off. She had to do something before the transformation was complete, and she could tell that she was very, very close. As she drifted towards him she scanned her surroundings as quickly as she could. Among the paraphernalia there were plenty of paintings, all hidden away, and various ornaments and, to Emily’s great relief, weapons. She could see a sword nestled between some boxes, the blade covered over with a cloth, but the handle was exposed, winking at her in the dark. She wished she could just grab it, but she had to wait. She had to play this carefully. She had to be strong. Fight it, she told herself, fight it.

  She finally reached him, and they stood face to face, close enough together to be uncomfortable. Volkov reached out and she automatically went to flinch back, but she stopped herself and leant in to his touch. His hand trailed along her jaw, moving down her neck and across her collarbone. His touch made her skin tingle in a way that, to her disgust, felt wonderful.

  “You betrayed me,” Volkov said.

  Emily nodded. “But you still want me, don’t you? You are my maker, you have to.”