by Nick Moseley
'What? Oh, these,' smirked Trev. He drew the two swords and activated them before giving them a few dramatic swishes.
Granddad beamed. 'I knew you could get them working, Trevor. Knew it!'
Who's this now? asked Caladbolg. A mentor of some sort?
'Well, kind of,' replied Trev. 'This is my Granddad, Bernard Simms. He's the Custodian of this town. Granddad, meet Caladbolg and Tyrfing.'
The Custodian? But he is so aged! remarked Tyrfing.
'Thank you very much,' said Granddad, apparently surprised but not stunned by the swords' ability to talk. 'I'd read that The Twins were able to communicate with their wielder, though I didn't expect that it would be this rudely.'
Ach, don't mind her, replied Caladbolg. She's been giving young Trev here a sight more strife, hasn't she, lad?
'Yep,' agreed Trev. 'She thinks that estate agents don't make good fighters.'
'Well there isn't much precedent as far as I know,' mused Granddad. 'Still, that just means that you can set the standard, doesn't it?'
'Oh yeah,' said Trev. 'Set it really, really low.' He sighed, deactivated the swords and returned them to their holsters. 'I feel a bit better now I've got these two, but they didn't sound like they rated my chances against the demon.' He fixed Granddad with a level stare. 'Honest answer - can we win?'
Granddad returned Trev's stare without answering for a moment. 'Honest answer? I don't know.'
Trev grimaced. 'Right. That's very helpful. Thanks for coming.'
'I realise that it's not the clear-cut answer you want to hear, Trevor, but I'm not going to stand here and lie to my own grandson.'
There was a faint rushing sound and Agatha appeared from out of the thick shadows, her own trip back from Dark Limbo completed. She immediately registered the atmosphere between Trev and Granddad and elected not to interrupt, settling instead for nothing more than a curt nod of greeting. Granddad took time to return the gesture before bringing his attention back to the grim-faced Trev.
'Listen, Trevor. I've never faced a demon before. There can't be many Custodians around these days who have. Most of the people who had the know-how to summon one are long dead.' He adjusted his glasses. 'I called the Custodian offices in Birmingham to ask for help, you know. They didn't believe that there could be a demon involved. The operator told me that Harvington's attack on Kolley was most probably the work of a Shade, and that I was "putting two and two together and making six six six". Cheeky young bugger.'
'The Custodians have an office?' said Trev, frowning as he tried to imagine such a place. Granddad nodded. 'Bad jokes aside, couldn't the bloke have been right? It's been two days since the assassination attempt and the demon's not made another move on Kolley.'
'It wasn't a Shade, Trevor,' said Granddad firmly. 'You saw what happened when that man Harvington died. Shades burn out, they don't withdraw from a corpse like that.' He shrugged. 'Can't say I blame the office much. They've got enough on their hands with the vampire and werewolf turf wars in the big cities, without diverting resources to a backwater like Brackenford to investigate the claims of a man who's overdue for retirement.'
'They should have more respect,' said Agatha, unable to hold her silence any longer. 'Your record is exemplary, Bernard. They should know that you aren't the sort to invent stories.'
Granddad gave her a wan smile. 'Exemplary? Well, it's largely unblemished, if that's what you mean. It's not exactly distinguished though, is it? Of course I've been involved in some high-profile incidents and operations over the years, but almost always in a supporting role. Others have been better placed to take the lion's share of the credit.'
'You're being too modest,' Agatha reassured him.
'Perhaps,' conceded Granddad. 'Still, this navel-gazing isn't getting us anywhere, is it?' He smoothed a hand across his bald pate, gathering his thoughts. 'To get back to your original question, Trevor, I can't give you a definitive answer. However, I can tell you that the chances are you've got the most natural power of any human being I've ever met. The fact that you can wield those two swords is proof of that.'
'Powerful, yes,' said Trev. 'But powerful enough?'
'Powerful enough to give the demon pause for thought? Almost certainly. Powerful enough to banish it? I don't know. Probably you would have a reasonable chance.'
'A "reasonable chance",' repeated Trev. 'Well, some real Churchillian words of encouragement there. Remind me again why we don't just let the demon take Kolley and live the rest of our lives in comfort, perhaps with a slight pang of guilt that would no doubt fade over time?'
Granddad raised an eyebrow. 'What's that phrase about evil triumphing if good men do nothing?'
'Would the loss of Alastair Kolley really be a "triumph" for evil?' argued Trev. '"Minor victory" is more like it. Actually, it might be more of a victory for the forces of truth and justice, come to think of it.' Granddad gave him a disappointed expression. 'Oh, don't look at me like that.'
'Trevor, we've been through this,' said Granddad.
'Fine,' said Trev. 'What are the odds of us finding this bloody demon, anyway? We've still no idea where it's hiding.'
'We have a lead though, don't we?' replied Granddad. 'Corbyn.'
'Oh yeah, the vampire. So where do we find him?'
'I don't know.'
Trev threw his hands up. 'Blimey. I hope you know what your own name is and where you parked the car, because you seem to be struggling with everything else.'
'That'll do,' said Granddad patiently. 'I was going to continue by saying that although I don't know where Corbyn is, while you were in Dark Limbo I've been on the phone speaking to someone who does.'
'Who's that, then?'
'Colonel Lyttleton.'
'Lyttleton?' muttered Trev, trying to place the name. 'Wait, isn't that the reclusive old boy who lives at Fritley Court?'
'The very same.'
'Why the hell would he know where Corbyn is?'
'Because the Colonel is a vampire himself.'
Trev gaped. 'What? But he's a doddery old duffer!'
'It suits him for people to think that, yes,' said Agatha with a wry smile.
'Still judging by outward appearances, Trevor?' chided Granddad. 'You're a slow student.'
'All right, all right,' scowled Trev. 'So the Colonel is a vampire. Good for him. Where did he tell you Corbyn was?'
'Ah, there's the rub,' said Granddad with a grimace. 'He wouldn't tell me.'
'You're deliberately trying to annoy me,' said Trev. 'That's the only explanation that fits.'
'He wouldn't tell me,' Granddad continued, 'but he said he might tell you.'
'Me? How the hell does he know who I am?'
'There's not much going on in Brackenford he doesn't know about,' replied Granddad. 'He's probably got better contacts in the police than my editor has. Plus he reads the papers, watches the news…'
'Right. So he's heard of me. Slightly worrying, but I can deal with it. Why does he want to speak to me and not you?'
Granddad exhaled through his nose. 'We've had a few differences of opinion in the past,' he said.
'He's a bad guy, then? One of The Shadow?'
'No.'
'So he's on our side?'
'Not as such, no.'
'Well he has to be one or the other, doesn't he?'
'Not necessarily,' said Agatha. 'There are some beings that choose to remain neutral in the conflict. They don't go out of their way to do good or evil, choosing instead to just look out for themselves. They're known as The Grey. The Colonel is one such being.'
'So you're telling me this vampire is a… conscientious objector?'
'No,' said Granddad sharply. 'A conscientious objector doesn't take part in a conflict for moral reasons. The Grey don't take part because they're too self-interested, indecisive or cowardly to do so.'
'So which of those descriptions applies to the Colonel?'
'Self-interest,' said Granddad. 'He's powerful, but his only concern is feathering his o
wn nest. He helps maintain the status quo in Brackenford, I won't deny it, but only while it suits him. If he saw some benefit to himself to do so, he'd happily set the vampires, werewolves and everybody else at each others' throats.'
Trev cocked his head to one side. 'So you need this bloke to help you keep order, and you don't much like it?'
Granddad gave him an irritated look that was answer enough. 'Let's get back to the car,' he said, and walked away.
'Must you be so unpleasant to him?' asked Agatha quietly.
'Everyone's been in a hurry to point out my shortcomings today,' said Trev, 'so I just thought I'd spread it around a bit.'
'That's rather petty,' Agatha replied, shaking her head.
'I'm not denying it,' agreed Trev. He folded his arms. 'I'm just a bit on edge, that's all. Granddad seems to be the only one who thinks we can beat this demon, and even he only rates our chances as "reasonable". I’m worried he's biting off more than he can chew as a way of proving his worth, or something.' He ran a hand through his hair. 'And let's face it – if the whole thing goes tits-up, I'm the bloke who'll be first in line for a pasting.'
'Bernard is your grandfather, Trevor.' Agatha gave him a look that flirted with condescension. 'He's not a man who would put your life at risk simply to gratify his own ego.'
'Normally I'd agree with you,' replied Trev. 'At the moment, though, I'm worried he's not really thinking things through. He's got a powerful enemy on his patch and he's determined to take it on, regardless of whether that's a good idea or not.' He shrugged. 'Still, I suppose we'd better go and see this vampire Colonel. With any luck he'll decide not to tell us where Corbyn is and we won't be able to even find the demon.'
'I don't agree with the sentiment behind that comment, but you may very well be right about the Colonel,' said Agatha. 'If the demon isn't a threat to him personally, he could decide not to involve himself.'
'Here's hoping,' said Trev, heading for the car.
Fritley Court was an imposing stately home located to the west of Brackenford, separated from the town by the river. Trev had only ever seen the building in photographs, as it lay behind a wall and a screen of trees and wasn't visible from the road.
Granddad pulled the car over to the kerb before reaching the main gates and turned to look at Trev.
'I'm not really sure of the Colonel's agenda here,' he admitted. 'It may just be he's curious to meet you after reading the newspaper reports, or he might be trying to get under my skin by talking to you instead of me. I don't know. Just bear in mind that you can't trust him.'
'Well I've got The Twins if he tries anything,' said Trev. 'Er - they will work on vampires, won't they?'
'Yes, but you mustn't start waving those weapons around in there, Trevor. The Colonel isn't likely to threaten you physically.'
'So what's the problem?'
'The problem is that he's got something he knows we need: information. He's no philanthropist, so he's going to want something in return. Be careful what you agree to.'
'I can't imagine I've got anything he wants anyway,' said Trev. He flinched in his seat at a sudden thought. 'He's not going to ask for some of my blood, is he?'
'I don't see why he would,' replied Granddad. 'He'll have his own supply.'
Trev shuddered. 'Just in case, any chance of lending me a crucifix, some holy water and a clove or two of garlic?'
Granddad smiled. 'I don't have any of those things with me, I'm afraid, but as none of them actually work on vampires you'd only be weighing yourself down if I did.'
'Bloody hell. So what does work?'
'Fire,' said Agatha with authority. 'Decapitation. Vapour weapons. Explosives. Dismemberment.'
'Right-o,' said Trev slowly, somewhat taken aback. 'So… if he attacks me, I just need to decapitate him with my vapour weapons, dismember the body with explosives and then set fire to the pieces? Wooden stakes and sunlight no good, then?'
'Sunlight will damage them, but it requires prolonged exposure. Wooden stakes might work, if you had several and could get close enough to use them, which is unlikely.'
'Well you stake them while they're sleeping in their coffins, don't you?'
Granddad rolled his eyes. 'Any vampire that sleeps in a coffin deserves to be staked,' he scoffed. 'After all, beds aren't that hard to come by, are they?'
'OK, no coffins then,' muttered Trev. 'Is there anything else I should know about this bloke?'
'He's been a vampire since the nineteenth century,' said Agatha. 'He has wealth and power, but likes to let people underestimate him. He has the respect of his peers, and even of some of the werewolves. He does not do favours – anything he does, he does because it's to his own benefit.'
'He sounds like a diamond geezer,' said Trev. He undid his seatbelt. 'Let's get this over and done with.'
'I'll wait here,' said Granddad. 'Agatha will accompany you as far as the house itself, but not inside. The Colonel wanted to see you on your own.'
'Great.' Trev got out of the car and walked along the verge, Agatha drifting alongside him. Reaching the gates, he spied an intercom box set into the right-hand section of wall. He pressed the button.
The speaker crackled and a toneless voice said 'Yes?'
'Er, my name's Trevor Irwin,' said Trev. 'I'm here to see Colonel Lyttleton. He's expecting me. I think.'
There was a pause, then the intercom buzzed and the gates began to open silently. They stopped when they were wide enough to allow a person to enter. Trev peered through at the gravel drive beyond. He still couldn't see anything of the house itself, beyond a few lights that showed through the trees.
He turned to face Agatha, bowed, and held out his hand. 'Shall we go to the ball, my dear?' he said.
Twenty-Nine
Agatha gave Trev a wry smile and performed a quick curtsey. 'Why not?' she said.
Trev winked and followed her through the gap in the gates, which glided shut as soon as they were through.
Trev resolved to not let that bother him.
They set off up the drive, their path illuminated by small lights set into the kerbstones. The crunching of Trev's shoes on the gravel sounded uncomfortably loud. Dusk was rapidly conceding ground to the encroaching night, and Trev was very aware of the deepening shadows between the trees. He tried not to look at them, for fear they'd start moving.
'Been here before?' he asked Agatha.
'A few times,' she answered. 'It's rather impressive.'
Trev looked unconvinced. 'I think I'd be finding it pretty creepy so far, if I hadn't just spent a relaxing hour in Dark Limbo. A spooky mansion is a nice change of pace after that.'
'There's no need for unease,' said Agatha. 'There's nothing here that you need fear. It's a shame that I can't go inside with you, of course, but the Colonel was quite insistent on that point.'
'Just going to ditch me at the door, eh?'
'I'm afraid so.'
Trev frowned. 'Here's a question for you.'
'Go on.'
'Where do you go when you, er, you know… disappear?'
'I am a spirit,' Agatha replied. 'Like all my kind, my freedom of movement is limited. I am bound to certain people and certain places. I cannot just go wandering around as you might.'
'Right,' said Trev, not really understanding.
'I don't have a physical body to anchor me here, like you do,' explained Agatha. 'Only my affinity for those particular people and places keeps me from… moving on.'
'So when you disappear…?'
'I go somewhere that has great significance to me,' said Agatha, in a tone that suggested she would say no more on the subject. Trev's curiosity was piqued, but a glance at her face convinced him that he shouldn't push her for more detail. Her usual measured calm had slipped just a little, enough for him to see something lost and broken in her eyes.
Trev was rescued from the uncomfortable silence by his first sight of Fritley Court itself, which swung into view as they rounded a bend in the driveway. The sprawling, three
-storey house was illuminated by several strategically-placed floodlights and stood out boldly against the darkening sky. The light-coloured stone from which the building was constructed helped to enhance the effect.
The front of the house was dominated by a huge portico, its columns framing the black double doors that stood guard over the main entrance at the top of a broad flight of steps. An immaculately-polished British Racing Green Range Rover with blacked-out windows was parked at the foot of the steps.
'Blimey,' said Trev, his estate agent's senses kicking in and trying to guess the house's market value. He quickly gave up. Something like Fritley Court was just too far outside his experience to make a realistic estimate. Most of the houses he'd sold for SmoothMove would've looked like garden sheds by comparison.
'Impressive, as I said,' said Agatha. She had regained her composure. The calm, controlled façade was back in place, and whatever Trev had glimpsed behind it was concealed once more.
'I wonder if the Colonel is thinking of putting it on the market?' mused Trev. 'Imagine the commission you'd get for selling this bad boy. It'd keep me in booze and microwave pizzas for years.'
'You are a true man of ambition,' said Agatha drily.
'I'm just uncomplicated,' said Trev with a shrug. He stood next to the Range Rover and gazed up the steps to the doors at the top. A handful of the house's ground-floor windows were lit, but other than that there were no signs of life. 'Do I knock, or what?'
'I believe there is a doorbell.' Agatha gave Trev a nod. 'I have to leave you now. Take care.'
'Right-o,' said Trev, but Agatha had vanished before the word was out of his mouth. Grumbling, he climbed the steps and approached the double doors. As Agatha had said, there was an old-fashioned iron bell pull beside the right-hand door. Trev heaved on it and faintly heard the dull clang of a large bell ringing somewhere within the house. He waited for a minute or so, rocking back on his heels with impatience, then there was the rattle of a key in a lock and the left-hand door swung open.
