The sentences came out in one rush without a pause for breath and by the time it was finished Tony was surprised to discover he was crying again.
“Tell me again about the book,” Margaret said. “Where did you find it?”
Tony wasn’t sure...it was somewhere in that part of his mind that he refused to study.
“I don’t know. I think it was in the cellar...in the same place as the vampire. I think it was in the tomb with him.”
“Have you read it?” she asked, and he nodded in return.
“You’ve seen it yourself. It’s a bible. A vampire bible. There’s all sorts of stuff in it...about how God made them first, how they got their commandments before we did. And there’s someone called the Redeemer...she’s the one that stops them drinking blood.”
Margaret was silent for several seconds before speaking.
“I don’t think the one that got Brian was much into religion,” she said. “I think the bible was put there by someone else.”
She seemed to think for a moment.
“There was only the bible there? Nothing else?”
Tony had a mental picture of something flashing silver, a long thin blade of steel, but he pushed that image away again.
“There’s only the papers that were inside the cover. Mr. Reid said that they were an exorcism, but I couldn’t understand all the foreign words.”
The teacher wasn’t really listening...she seemed distracted.
“The serpent. That’s important,” she said almost to herself.
Tony had read about the serpent as well. It was everywhere in the book, always doing bad things.
“Do you still have the papers?” she asked him, and again he nodded.
“Good. Hold on to them. I think I’ve got an idea.”
She didn’t say anything else, and when Tony looked over at her she was staring fixedly at the house ahead of them.
They were much closer now, and the house looked even less inviting close up.
The front door was lying open.
“I’m sure I closed it,” Margaret said, almost a whisper but Tony didn’t notice. He stared into the darkness beyond the door, and the closer they got, the less convinced he was that he would make it inside without his legs giving way
His throat was dry and the inside of his mouth felt like he’d swallowed a spoonful of dust. His hands were shaking and he pushed them hard into the pockets of his trousers where Margaret couldn’t see them.
And then he had another thought, one that should have struck him long ago but only now bubbled to the surface.
“What if Billy is still in there? What if he’s one of them?”
He stopped, five yards from the door, sweat pouring down his forehead. He couldn’t breathe, as if some great beast had him in a bear hug around the chest, and his legs trembled all down their length.
“Miss Brodie,” he said. “Margaret.”
The world began to gray out around him and he had to sit down hard, his teeth clicking shut on his tongue as his buttocks met the gravel.
He heard footsteps on the gravel as the teacher rushed over to him.
“Tony?” she said, and it was muffled as if her voice was coming through a wall. His ears were ringing and when he raised a hand in front of his face he could see far too many fingers.
“Just sit still for a minute,” the teacher said. He put his head low on his chest and tried to calm down the heartbeat that was threatening to push through his ribs.
He still couldn’t breathe and he gasped, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish taken out of its bowl.
“Listen to me Tony,” Margaret said.
He looked up, and the concern in her eyes was the start of him regaining control.
“You don’t have to go in if you don’t want to,” she said, and repeated it, more forcibly this time.
He managed a breath, one intake of air that seemed to go on for minutes, a breath that he let out all at once in one explosive burst.
“I bid my dongue,” he said, and Margaret’s sudden laughter was enough to release the hold on his chest. He whooped in great gulps of air and his eyes came back into focus.
“Sorry,” he said when he finally felt able to speak again.
“That’s all right,” Margaret said. “I’ve been close to it myself. I meant what I said though...you don’t have to go in if you don’t want to.”
He tried to stand but the teacher pushed him back down again.
“Give me the papers you mentioned earlier,” she said. “I’ll go in and deal with it.”
Tony shook his head.
“No. I’m coming with you. I ran away the last time, and Billy died.”
He was pulled into a soft embrace, one that he had no urge to escape.
“I promise you,” the teacher said. “If things get hairy in there then you’ll have to be fast to beat me out.”
This time it was his turn to laugh, and he still had a smile on his face as they helped each other to their feet. Tony picked up the sports bag and they walked, hand in hand, towards the door.
~-o0O0o-~
Jim stood over the small body, just looking down at it.
It felt like time had warped around him. He stared down at the bunk, but he saw a floor, and the child that was lying there.
He reached down and stroked the fine hair at its brow, making comforting noises as he put down the crossbow and gathered the child to his chest.
The body felt warm to the touch, and he felt its hot breath against his neck as he walked around the room.
He wasn’t seeing the bunk beds. He was in broad daylight, in a room he had decorated himself.
A mobile chimed sweetly above him, a school of ceramic dolphins playing in the breeze. The carpet under his bare feet was soft and thick to the touch and his son felt reassuringly warm and alive against his chest.
He sang as he walked, songs that he had himself heard at his grandmother’s knee, about spiders climbing up spouts, about daddies coming home, nonsense songs whose only purpose was comfort.
He walked over to the window and looked down into the garden, smiling down at Sandra tending the garden. He’d told her not to exert herself, not when she was pregnant, but she pushed the lawnmower around as if it was a shopping trolley in a crowded supermarket.
One thing was for sure; they wouldn’t have a lawn with fine, even stripes...more like crazy paving. But for the moment he was happy not to worry about anything.
His son squirmed in his arms, coming up out of sleep in that gentle way that kids have, arms straining for release, mouth just opening as if getting ready to scream.
He was just beginning to get his first teeth; smooth white knobs of flesh just protruding from pink fleshy gums.
Jim put his little finger into the boy’s mouth, and smiled as the gums clamped down on it.
“No such luck, kiddo,” he said. “You’ll have to wait until you’re grown up before you get a chance to do that again.”
He ran his finger over the new teeth, marveling at the processes necessary for the production of the white knobs that were forcing their way through. The boy sucked hungrily at his finger, and Jim let him take in a bit more of it.
The boy’s eyes were smiling when Jim looked down, just before reality crashed in around him and a pair of razor sharp fangs bit deep into the flesh of his fingertip.
He was disoriented for a second, his mind still back there in the sunny bedroom while his body fought off the pain in his finger, but then the shock hit him fully, enough to focus his attention.
The vampire child was still asleep, but was lying in Jim’s arms, its mouth clamped firmly over his finger, jaws locked tight. And although it was asleep, Jim could see its throat moving as it swallowed, as his blood was drained.
He had moved during his reverie, his walking in reality mirroring his pacing back and forth in the longed for nursery, and he was at least five yards from the cot. The torch lay on top of the covers, lighting up the wall beside the cot
, and in the shadows he could just see the barest outline of his crossbow.
His whole arm had gone numb, and the old joke about the blood donor being aghast at giving ‘a whole armful’ went through his mind. He couldn’t use his other hand...it was being used to support the child.
He tried to let go, but suddenly found the vampire’s whole weight pulling against his little finger...a pain so hot and excruciating that he was forced to grab hold of the child again.
He squeezed it hard against his chest in a tight grip, causing the small ribs to pop and slide against each other. But still it didn’t wake, and it continued to feed.
Jim started to walk forward, toward the cot where his crossbow lay, but his legs felt heavy and he could manage little more than a shuffle.
The child in his arms was getting heavier, and Jim’s legs were getting weaker, threatening to buckle at any moment. He knelt to the ground, knowing that he had to get rid of it very soon, before his strength left him completely.
He got the child on the ground, finally able to free his hand from under it, and it was only then that he remembered the packets of garlic in his pockets. He was almost frantic as he got the packet out. His head was beginning to sing, feeling light and heady as if he had drank too much too quickly.
He tore at the plastic packet with his teeth, almost choking as some of the powder found its way down his throat. The packet seemed to explode in his face and he had to close his eyes tight against the stinging, so he didn’t see what happened next,
But he could guess...he had seen it before.
The pressure on his finger suddenly lessened and he could draw his hand away from the mouth. But when he tried to back away, to put some distance between himself and the vampire, his legs betrayed him and he fell heavily backwards, his head striking the cold stone floor. There was a ringing in his ears, then only blackness.
~-o0O0o-~
As they stepped through the doorway and into the house Margaret looked over at Tony. He seemed to be holding himself together now, but she wondered how long she would be able to trust in him. She put it to the back of her mind...she had enough to think about without baby-sitting as well.
If things got hairy she’d try and get him out, but until then, she would let him look after himself.
It wasn’t as dark in the house as she had feared. Dim light came into the hall from the main door they had just passed through and from the open door to the kitchen beyond.
“It’s through there,” Tony said, pointing. “There’s a trapdoor in the kitchen that takes you down into the cellars.”
He started to move forward but Margaret held him back.
“Just hold on for a minute. I don’t want to trust that old cycle light unless I really have to. There’s something else I want to try.”
She looked over to her left. Just thinking about the mosaic made her cold, but it was daylight. Surely it couldn’t harm her...not with the sun high in the sky.
“Over here,” she said, and motioned for Tony to follow.
When she got to the corner just before the room she stopped, struck by a sudden thought. What if Brian’s dead body was lying in there on the floor? She didn’t give herself time to think about it...she turned the corner and walked into the mosaic room.
She had to close her eyes. The dome seemed to focus the light, making the room as bright as if it was floodlit. She almost believed that the floor would be smooth, that the mosaic had been part of a nightmare, but as her eyes adjusted she could see that it had been no dream.
In the daylight the mosaic was even more impressive. She could see that it was composed of tiny pieces, each the size of the fingernail on her little finger. Whereas, in the dark, it had seemed to be black and silver, she saw that it was almost iridescent, with golds and greens and yellows amongst the coils. And out there in the middle she could see a blot on the scene, a smear of darker red that could be nothing other than the blood she had seen spilled.
But it no longer looked alive. It looked like what it was...an impressive work of representational art, but a work of art nonetheless.
“Come over here,” she said.
Tony hadn’t come all the way into the room. He stood in the hallway, transfixed by the view in front of him.
“Come on,” she said. “It won’t bite you.” She didn’t quite believe that herself yet, and she had to force herself to step forward, putting her left foot gingerly on the thinnest of the serpent’s coils.
Tony came across the room, and Margaret noticed that he gave the mosaic a wide berth, never coming closer than six feet to it at any point.
“I want to try something,” she said. “Have you still got those papers you found in the bible?”
Tony nodded and took the book from under his belt and showed her the yellowing papers that protruded from the leather cover.
She prized the papers out and unfolded them carefully. Tony pointed out the top page.
“It was that one...the one with the drawings on it.”
She looked closely at the drawings, but couldn’t see any help there. Then she read the verse, mentally trying to transcribe the strange syllables into words she could understand, words that she might be able to pronounce.
“Bill said this was an exorcism...right?” she asked.
Tony nodded again.
“Well let’s try it.”
Tony looked doubtful.
“I know,” Margaret said. “It’s a long shot. But the book has got something to do with this place, and if someone went to enough trouble to leave an exorcism in it, then they must have had some use for it.”
“So what are you going to do?” the boy asked. “I thought you had to be a priest or something? And wouldn’t it have to be done at night? And...”
She stopped him before he enumerated all of her own doubts.
“I know all of that,” she said, “But if it means we don’t have to get down to business with the stakes then I’m all for trying it.”
“But what are you going to do?” He asked again.
In truth she had little idea. With the papers in her hand she strode into the center of the mosaic.
She placed her feet squarely on the head of the serpent but was careful not to stand on the red blot of Brian’s blood. The sunlight seemed to fill the room, but she saw that the source wasn’t directly overhead. In fact she saw that the wall to her left was already in shadow, the leading edges of which were creeping close to the mosaic.
She flattened the top sheaf of paper, smoothing it out with the heel of her palm.
“Here goes nothing,” she said, and smiled as Tony gave her a ‘thumbs up’.
The first words wouldn’t come easy. Her throat was suddenly dry and she had to cough, twice, before she could continue.
“Powers of the Kingdom, be ye under my left foot and in my right hand,” she began.
At first her voice was soft and cautious, but she seemed to fall into the rhythm of it, as if the verse had found its own tempo and cadence.
“Glory and Eternity, take me by the two shoulders and direct me in the paths of victory.
Mercy and Justice be ye the equilibrium and splendor of my life.”
The light seemed to be dimming and although Margaret could still see the glowing orb of the sun, it was as if there was a veil of smoke between them.
“Intelligence and wisdom crown me.
Spirits of Malcuth lead me betwixt the two pillars upon which rest the edifice of the temple.
Angels of Nestah and Hod strengthen me upon the cubic stone of Jesod.
Oh Gedulael, Oh Geburael, Oh Tiphereth, Binael, be thou my love.
Ruach Hochmael be thou my light. Be that which thou art and thou shalt be.”
The room got suddenly darker. Darker and colder. Goosebumps ran the length of Margaret’s arms, and she felt an elation build inside her. Something was happening. It was working.
“Oh Jethriel Tschim assist me in the name of Amro, be my strength in the name of Yoriah.
<
br /> Oh Beni-Elohim, be my brethren in the name of the Redeemer and by the power of Zebaoth.”
Margaret felt a hot tingling throughout her body, the same feeling she got immediately after a heavy work out. She had to concentrate...the papers seemed to be swimming in front of her eyes.
“Elohim do battle for me in the name of Rokar.
Malachim protect me in the name of Jod He Vau He.
Seraphim cleanse me in the name of Elvoih.
Give me the strength to cast down this servant of thine enemy.”
By the time she reached the last words she was almost shouting. The darkness spun and thickened around her and her heart leaped. Thin shadows seemed to rush through the air, whirling around her head in a frenzied dance.
The air thickened like a descending fog, and in the fog the shadows took on more substance. Margaret’s last syllable was still echoing around the room and the fog was getting ever thicker.
For several seconds she thought it would work but the sun burned through the gray, dispersing it as fast as it came and the tingling in her limbs faded.
She felt as if she had just missed something important, as if she had been close to success only to have it dashed away.
“It was working!” Tony shouted. “What happened?”
Margaret shrugged.
“I don’t know. I felt something alright.”
Then another thought struck her.
“Maybe it did work. How are we to know otherwise?”
Tony shook his head.
“It doesn’t feel right.”
She knew what he meant. The house still had the same chill, the same sense of overbearing gloom.
“Maybe it needs to be done at night,” Tony said.
“Yes. And maybe we need to sacrifice a black cockerel while dancing naked around an inverted cross. There’s too many ifs and buts. It looks like we’ll need the stakes after all.”
Eldren: The Book of the Dark Page 22
