“And the Serpent showed him a vision, a land where the sun had been removed from the sky and the cold stars shone in their full glory, a land where the pale brethren of the Eldren sang and danced in the hills and where Yoriah once more walked.
“And the Serpent spoke, saying: ‘This I can give you, if you will only be mine.’
“But Kalent remembered the Temple and the light of the Tenets, and he turned his back on the Serpent.
“A fury flamed in the Serpent’s eyes and he lifted Kalent in the air, the great talons piercing Kalent’s body, burning and charring the ravaged flesh. And Kalent screamed as the Serpent cast him from Uraon, down to the sharp stones below which tore his body and broke him so that he could no longer walk. And the Serpent laughed, a booming which shook the rocks down from Uraon to fall over Kalent’s stone tomb that encaged and encased him in earth and stone.
“Yet still Kalent lived.
“And the Lord saw that he was still true and took pity on the first made. And while Kalent slept the Lord brought him forth from the stone and took from him some of his blood. And the Lord blew the breath of life and made thereof a Sister of the Blood.
“And it was she who brought our kind back to the ways of the Lord and it was she who rebuilt the Temple. She was called Rokar, and she was our Redeemer.”
~-o0O0o-~
When Margaret got back to the Manse Tony was still standing in the doorway, pointedly looking in the other direction.
“It looks like Bill and the policeman were called away,” Margaret said, trying to keep her voice light. The boy looked at her and she saw that he recognized the lie…and the need for it. She had forgotten how intelligent the boy was...she would have to be careful not to patronize him.
“I don’t know about you,” she said, “but I could do with a bath, a change of clothes and some rest. I’m too tired to think about anything else just now.”
Tony wasn’t talking. His eyes were wide again, the fear close to the surface. Margaret realized that she could get herself into trouble with the police by taking the boy away from the Manse, but he could be in more trouble if she let him stay here alone.
“We’ll go to my place,” she said, taking the boy by the hand and leading him away from the Manse. And although he took her hand, the fear didn’t leave his eyes, and he still held tight to the poker.
Margaret had no idea what time it was, only that it was still early morning, and she thought that it was still before six o’clock...an obscene time in the morning to be up and about.
The streets were empty and they passed no one as they headed through the town. If Margaret had been less tired she might have thought it strange that there was no one on their way to work…no one opening up the newsagents. But for now her only thought was the warm soapy bath that was waiting for her...that, and the comfort of her own home.
“Would you rather go to your house?” she asked the boy as they reached the main street, but he only shook his head and gripped her hand tighter.
As they passed the local bar she noticed that the door was open. There was no sound but she guessed that there must be a cleaner inside...she was never up this early to know whether it was common or not. She considered going in, just to see another human face, but the tiredness was seeping in to her bones again. She had to get home soon; otherwise she would collapse in Tony’s arms.
And what a stir that would cause in the town…Local teacher caught in clinch with schoolboy...she could see the headlines already. She giggled, then stopped abruptly when she caught the expression on Tony’s face.
“Sorry,” she said, “I was just thinking about something.”
She knew how lame that sounded, but it was the best she could do at the moment.
The first person they met was the postman, and that was just as they were turning into Margaret’s street. She almost didn’t notice him, and it wasn’t until he emerged from behind a tall privet hedge and spoke that she knew he was there.
“Good morning, Ms Brodie,” he said, and his voice sounded cheerful enough, but there was a look in his eyes that she recognized...a look of confusion and dismay. And he didn’t remark on the boy’s presence, as if the day was strange enough already without adding complications.
She realized that she didn’t know his name...she’d only been up early enough to see him on a handful of occasions since she moved in.
“Good morning. Busy this morning?” She was just making conversation, but she got a reaction that she didn’t expect.
“I’ve never known a day like it. It’s as if the whole town has decided to sleep in. I’ve been banging on doors for half an hour now, and so far naebody at a’ has replied. You’re the first voice I’ve heard a’ morning...and glad I am for it...I was beginning to think that I’d got up on a Sunday by mistake.”
He held a sheaf of envelopes to his chest as if they might protect him.
“Anything for me?” she asked, but he shook his head.
“No. Just my luck,” he said. He looked up the length of the street, left and right. “Looks like you’re the only one up. It’s going to be a long day...young Dick didnae turn up this morning, so I’m doing the whole town myself. I’d better be getting on.”
He left with a wave of his hand. Margaret watched him knock unsuccessfully on the next door down before walking up to her own front door.
She was mildly surprised to find that she still had her keys in her pocket. She stood on the doorstep for long seconds before opening the door, a sudden premonition of fear momentarily freezing her to the spot.
The boy squeezed tighter at her hand as she turned the key and swung the door open.
The hallway ahead was quiet and empty. She let out a breath that she didn’t know she had been holding and closed the door behind them, locking it and slipping the deadbolt.
“If you don’t mind it’s a bath first for me,” she said. “You’ll find plenty of food in the kitchen.”
As she left the room Tony was sitting down in her armchair, just staring out at the view over the loch.
She shut the bathroom door behind her and lodged a chair up against it...not to prevent the boy coming in, but more for reassurance against anything else.
She peeled off her clothes slowly as she ran a bath; suddenly aware of the toll the night had taken...her bruised back vying for attention with the throbbing pain from her ravaged hand. She thought about unraveling the bandage, but decided against it.
Maybe later, when I might be able to look without screaming, but not now.
The mirror over the sink had misted up with condensation but that was all right…she had no desire to look at herself.
She stripped off her underwear and winced at the pungent smell of day old sweat as she dropped the offending clothing into a pile.
Her back and shoulders complained as she eased herself down into the bath, but the heat soon permeated into her muscles and she could feel her body begin to sag and relax as she lay back and closed her eyes. She didn’t mean to sleep, but she was woken some time later by a banging on the bathroom door.
“Miss Brodie. Miss Brodie. Are you all right.”
The voice was young and concerned, and it took a while before her brain reacted enough for her to realize who it was.
She lay in lukewarm water; the soap bubbles already reduced to an oily scum. Her bandaged hand had slipped into the water at some point and was now a sodden mess that threatened to fall off and expose the carnage beneath. She sat up quickly, slopping water over the side of the bath.
“I’m okay, Tony,” she shouted. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
Through the door she heard the footsteps as the boy went back to the living room. She dried herself off briskly, not feeling nearly clean enough, and used sticking plaster to reattach the bandage to her hand.
She couldn’t face putting the soiled clothes back on, so wrapped a large bath towel around herself before moving the chair away from the door.
When she got to the living room
Tony had abandoned the view and was staring intently at the television. His eyes went wide again as he turned towards her and she pulled the towel tighter around her body. She had forgotten that he was one of her pupils. When all this was over he would have plenty of tales to tell in the playground.
“Excuse me,” she said, aware that she was blushing. “I’ll go and put some clothes on.”
Tony’s head turned back to the television.
“There’s nothing on the news,” he said, “Nothing about me I mean. Nothing about Finsburgh at all.”
Margaret wasn’t surprised...in her experience news was only worthy for one day...two at most. They’d be on to something new by now, some other prurient nonsense.
“I can look out a pair of track suit bottoms for you if you need to change?” she said, then apologized as Tony blushed and shook his head. “Can’t be seen wearing girl’s clothes eh?”
As she moved towards the bedroom Tony had already turned back to the television, flicking channels, searching for any indication that someone had noticed what was happening in the town.
Margaret’s brain was only now beginning to work. She saw by her alarm clock that it was nearly nine in the morning...she had been asleep for more than two hours.
She considered alternative plans of action, but it all came down to the same thing...and even then it would be touch and go. Her resolve was hardening as she donned a pair of jeans and a white cotton shirt, and by the time she had brushed the knots out of her hair she knew what she had to do.
There was no alternative but to go back to the Hansen House and search for some sign as to what happened to Brian. And she would have to do it in daylight. Wild horses couldn’t drag her out there after the sun went down.
But first she had the boy to deal with.
When she went back into the living room he was still flicking channels on the television, and he ignored her as she went to the telephone.
There was no answer at the police station, or at the school. She tried Brian’s number but it rang unanswered for more than a minute before she gently put the phone down on its cradle.
“I think we’re in trouble,” she said, not looking at the boy, not wanting him to see the fear that had suddenly lodged inside her. “Maybe I should take you home.”
“No,” the boy said, almost shouting. He leapt from the chair as if he had been given an electric shock. “He’s been there...and he’ll be waiting for me...he wants the book.”
Tony was gripping the poker tightly, holding it in front of him like a sword, and for a moment Margaret thought he would hit her.
“We’ve got to go to the old house,” Tony said, “And we’ve got to kill him now, in the daylight, or else he’ll just make more of them.”
“It’s going to be dangerous,” Margaret said, but she saw the determination in the boy.
“I don’t care. I’ve been there before...I can take you to him.”
On impulse she moved forward and drew him to her, hugging him tight. She knew it was selfish of her to even think it, but it would be good to have company in the old house, even in the light of day.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s do it.”
Tony almost smiled, but it was a grim humor that frightened Margaret almost as much as the thought of going back to the house.
“We need stakes...pointed ones. This,” he said waving the poker in front of him, “This isn’t good enough. Stakes, and a hammer. A big, heavy hammer.”
~-o0O0o-~
Jim Kerr stood in the driveway and looked up at the house that loomed over him.
“I know you’re in there,” he muttered to himself, “And I’m going to get you this time.”
He had twenty quarrels in the holster under his left arm and still had half a dozen sachets of the garlic granules in his pockets. And he had his can of lighter fuel...not much, but enough to get a fire going if he needed one.
Not that the weapons mattered...he would go up against the vampire with his bare hands if he had to.
And he had done, more than once, in the past.
He knew the nature of his obsession, and knew the source, but since that night on Jura more than fifteen years ago he had dedicated himself to finding them...seeking them out and putting them down.
It wasn’t murder...how could it be...they were dead already.
Over the years he’d learned about his quarry. How there were three kinds...the old ones who slept in deep places and who held the power, the ones who had been turned by the old ones but who had little or no intelligence...like the old man he’d sent off last night. And then there was the third, more elusive variety...the intelligent ones; the ones who claimed to have overcome the blood lust.
He’d met them all, and he’d executed them all, even the third kind. They might like to think they were better than the others were, but he had seen their fangs, and felt the rage in their stare. He knew what they were, and they were sent down for it.
Until the police caught him with a body.
That had been a bad one. He’d read the usual signs...the cattle mutilations, the disappearing children, and he’d tried to get to the town as fast as possible...a small village in Wester Ross, miles from any public transport. Back then, only six years after the bad times on Jura, he still had some savings, enough to rent a car, but he was still almost too late.
Half the town had been turned by the time he got there, and the other half were quaking in fear behind locked doors.
Jim had nearly died twice in three nights as he chased bloodsuckers up and down the coast, and the trail of bodies he left behind had finally alerted the national police.
But by then he had caught up with the cause. He had just put the final bolt into its black heart when a floodlight lit him up and a police foghorn told him to put down his weapons.
The trial was a formality of course, and they kept the whole thing hushed up to stop the population from being frightened. But he’d seen it in some of their eyes. Not only did they believe him...they knew about it already. And still they did nothing.
They put him away for a long time.
For the first couple of years it was solitary confinement, with only the exercise regime and the books to break the monotony. Back then they wouldn’t let him read anything that might excite him. That included anything to do with his obsession.
But after the therapy things got a bit looser. He’d been a model citizen, and the social workers had got him into one of the new ‘open’ prisons. One with a library and a request service.
He spent years in research. He read Stoker and King, he subscribed to The Velvet Vampyre and Bats and Red Velvet and he corresponded with university researchers. And then came the Internet. He learned about its use and requested access in the prison library. They took it as another sign of his rehabilitation and within a month he was online to thousands of pages of information worldwide.
He realized that he wasn’t alone, that across the world there were others like him, and he used the computer services to pass on information, telling the others about his methods of disposal.
But he never wrote about the time on Jura...that stayed in his heart alone.
And there he might have stayed, happy to let others fight the good fight, if he hadn’t seen the newspaper reports about the cattle mutilations in the farms around Finsburgh.
He escaped the next day, evading the guards easily. He wasn’t happy at leaving his research behind, but he had it all on the ‘Net’, and it could be accessed from anywhere.
He stole the crossbow and quarrels from a hunting shop in Glasgow...the use of computers wasn’t the only thing he’d learned inside…and the garlic came from a health food shop. Then he headed for Finsburgh.
He wasn’t sure if he’d got here in time...God knows how many had been turned last night. He had to get to the cause...the old one he’d pursued through the town to this house. He hefted the crossbow in his right hand, testing its weight.
With one final check that the garlic was s
till in his pockets he opened the door and entered the vampire’s lair.
~-o0O0o-~
Brian slept.
There were no dreams, and out in the daylight world the sun moved across the sky, so slowly that its progress was almost imperceptible, but moving nonetheless.
PART 3
TEMPLE
THE THIRD BOOK OF THE DARK
AMRO SAW many of the sons of Adam pass into dust while he lived in the glory of the Lord, yet Shoa and the Unforgiven were not to be seen on the face of the Earth.
And Amro took himself to Iorma, the mountain that reached for the Moon, and raised his eyes to the stars saying: “Oh Lord, what is thy purpose for us, your first made?”
And the stars spun in the sky in a great dance, wheels within wheels as the fire burned in the darkness. And Amro felt himself risen up from the earth to join in the celestial spinning. The stars spun faster and ever faster and Amro saw that each of the stars signified the soul of an Eldren.
And the souls spun together, weaving and building into a vast structure that stretched endlessly in all directions, a temple that shone with the light of the stars.
And the Lord came to Amro in the Temple and his light was that of a thousand moons.
The Lord spoke to Amro, saying: “You will raise a temple here on the mountain, and I will make you a covenant. You will go among the Unforgiven and bring them to my house. And if all should come, and if all should be worshipful, and follow my Tenets, then all will ascend in glory and sit by my side for eternity. And the Eldren will thirst no more.”
And Amro found himself back on the mountain and he wept, for the Lord had gone from his sight. But he kept the vision of the Temple with him as he returned to the caverns of his people.
When his people saw him there was great rejoicing, for the light of the Lord burned brightly in his eyes.
Eldren: The Book of the Dark Page 19
