Location, Location, Damnation

by Nick Moseley

  'Were you starting to suspect what had been done to you by then?'

  'Once I was back in hospital, yes,' admitted the Colonel. 'There was too much blood there. On the patients' bandages, on the doctors’ clothes. I couldn't stop staring at it, like a starving man looking at a roast beef dinner, wanting it, needing it, and all the time I was getting weaker. One night it all became too much, that hunger. I tried to fight it, m'boy, as anyone would, but in the end it got the better of me.'

  Trev sat quietly, listening to the Colonel's story with mounting discomfort. It was finally dawning on him that this wasn't a man who merely claimed to be a vampire; he really was one. The ghouls and Shades were frightening because they were so obviously weird and abnormal. The Colonel, on the other hand, was frightening because he looked so bloody ordinary.

  'The man in the next bed was in a coma, and he had a wound on his arm which was bandaged,' the Colonel continued, oblivious to Trev's increasingly alarmed inner monologue. 'I crawled out of my bed, undid the bandages and drank. I drank until I could feel the new blood burning through my body; I drank until the man shuddered and died; I drank until he was nothing but a husk.'

  'Right,' squeaked Trev.

  'Of course, after that unfortunate business I had no option but to desert. I left that very night and disappeared into the streets. The Army looked for me, m'boy, but they never caught up with me. I retrieved the cache of money I'd left behind when we'd marched on Zululand and added to it with a few judicial thefts here and there, before booking myself passage back to Britain with a captain whose silence was inexpensively bought.'

  'Do you have to… kill every time you, er, feed?' asked Trev, aiming for nonchalance and missing it by the width of Belgium.

  'Good lord, no,' said the Colonel. 'I was too weak to control myself on that occasion. It's not happened since. In fact that remains the only time I've killed someone.' He studied the contents of his pipe's bowl. 'Well, from feeding, anyway.'

  'So what do you usually do? Get your victims while they're sleeping? Tranquilise them?'

  'If I drank blood loaded with tranquilisers, old chap, I'd send myself to sleep as well,' chuckled the Colonel. 'No, it's really rather straightforward. One of the adaptations of the vampire form is a rather useful hypnotic ability. For instance, if I were to say to you: "Trevor, scratch your nose"…'

  The last few words came out in a strange, flat tone which Trev felt as an unpleasant buzzing sensation in the back of his mind. There was a mild compulsion to scratch his nose as he'd been asked, but with a little concentration he was able to suppress it without any real difficulty.

  'Very good,' said the Colonel, with a sly smile. 'A side-effect of your Sight is a greatly reduced susceptibility to hypnosis, but I usually get at least some sort of physical reaction. You're more powerful than Bernard, m'boy, no doubt about it.'

  'He's told me that himself,' said Trev, extremely glad to know that he'd be able to fight back if some vampire decided he looked like lunch.

  'It all rather reinforces my enthusiasm for you to work for me,' the Colonel said. 'I'm sure I could make good use of a chap with your abilities, and I'm also sure you would find the financial side of such an arrangement most agreeable.'

  'I'm listening,' Trev heard himself say.

  Thirty-Two

  The Colonel returned to the decanter to top up his brandy glass before continuing. 'I've long thought that it would be a jolly good idea to invest in another layer of security here. The events of this evening have done a rather timely job of reinforcing that idea.' He swirled the brandy around his glass and took a sip. 'Twenty men patrolling my grounds, and not one of them fired a shot, or even radioed in a warning.'

  'The man that tried to assassinate Kolley at the supermarket re-opening ceremony had some weird thing going on where he was standing in plain sight, but nobody seemed to see him,' said Trev. 'I saw him, but then I've got the Sight. Assuming your men don't have the Sight, and the three possessed people I've just fought were using the same ability, the guards probably never even saw them coming. Showing themselves once they got to the house was probably some kind of taunt.'

  'That's precisely the sort of situation where I could make use of a man such as you,' said the Colonel, using the stem of his pipe to point at Trev. 'I'm well defended against what you might call conventional threats, m'boy, but I've seen this evening that a supernatural enemy could get through. Having you on board, with your Sight and your vapour weapons, would take care of that final chink in my armour. You'd make a splendid last line of defence against mortal enemies as well, I would imagine.'

  Trev probably would've laughed, were it not for the fact that he was still a bit alarmed by the Colonel's gory back-story. Him, a bodyguard?

  Instead, he said: 'But you're a vampire. Aren't supernatural threats more likely than conventional ones?'

  'Far from it,' said the Colonel. 'As a vampire the most persistent danger to my wellbeing has always been the vampire hunters, and they're invariably mortal.'

  'Vampire hunters?' said Trev. 'I didn't think the Custodians allowed that sort of thing?'

  The Colonel laughed scornfully. 'The Custodians were formed as a group of vampire hunters, originally!' He shook his head. 'Hasn't Bernard told you anything, m'boy?'

  'I'm starting to think that he hasn't,' said Trev, frowning. 'So what's the story with the Custodians, then?'

  'Well now, they've had quite a chequered history,' replied the Colonel, chewing on his pipe. 'They were formed in York in the mid-sixteenth century as a loose alliance of several disparate vigilante groups, with a mandate to protect humanity from the supernatural. Now there's no doubt that many of them held true to that principle, intervening only against those beings that had proven themselves a genuine threat, but there were also a number of their members who were much less discriminating in their handling of supernatural creatures. By "handling", I'm afraid, I mean "executing without trial or due process".' He set his pipe aside for another sip of brandy.

  'Over the years the Custodians grew to be rather rich and powerful. By the time I became a vampire in the nineteenth century they were present in all the British colonies, plus a number of them were operating clandestinely in Europe. The increased size of the organisation meant that it was almost impossible for its leadership to effectively monitor the activities of all its subsidiary groups. It got to a point where no vampire, werewolf or ghoul dared run the risk of attracting the Custodians' attention. Once they had their eye on you, there was generally only one outcome.' The Colonel drew the stem of his pipe across his throat. 'I was a witness to them dispensing their own type of "justice" to a werewolf once. Fortunately they didn't know I was there. It's one of those memories I wish I could scrub from my brain with carbolic soap.'

  'So how have they ended up as they are these days?' asked Trev. 'Granddad wouldn't associate himself with a bunch of murderers, I know that much.'

  'It was the First World War that changed everything, old chap,' said the Colonel. 'When the War broke out everyone assumed that it would be over very quickly. "It'll be over by Christmas" was the famous line, as I'm sure you know. Of course it wasn't over by Christmas, by any means. As things dragged on, the military began to look for ways in which they could bring the conflict to a conclusion more rapidly. Although the Custodians were a secret society, the British top brass knew about them and the beings they hunted. The suggestion was made that squads of supernatural soldiers could be used – vampires and werewolves are both much stronger and faster than humans, and of course they have other abilities, most notably hypnosis and shape-changing respectively.' The Colonel puffed thoughtfully on his pipe. 'So, the Custodians were paid a tidy sum of money to go out and capture such beings. I was careless one evening and got caught myself. We were offered a choice: either sign up for a stint of military service, which in all fairness included a very reasonable wage and the promise of a fresh start afterward, or be given back to the Custodians. Not much of a choice, really.'

&
nbsp; 'You're not seriously expecting me to believe that there were squads of vampires and werewolves charging around the trenches in World War I?' said an incredulous Trev. 'I'm no expert in military history, but I think it's a pretty safe bet that someone would've noticed.'

  The Colonel gave Trev the kind of look a primary school teacher would give a particularly backward student who'd just wet himself. 'We didn't fight in the trenches, m'boy,' he said. 'We operated behind enemy lines, disrupting communications, sabotaging equipment and spreading rumours to demoralise the troops. We were rather effective, even if I do say so myself.'

  'And did the military keep up their end of the deal?' asked Trev.

  'You might say that,' said the Colonel. 'As I said the military, as well as certain members of the government, already knew about the Custodians. They'd tolerated them until then, largely because they'd assumed that supernatural beings were dangerous and were happy for the Custodians to deal with them, as long as they did it on the quiet. However, our efforts in the War showed not only that non-humans could, in fact, be quite useful, but also that for the most part we were just going about our lives like everyone else and were no bother to anyone.'

  'What did they do about it?'

  'The first thing they did was forcibly re-structure the Custodians,' replied the Colonel. 'The Custodians' leadership, and a portion of the rank-and-file, still held to their original principles. They genuinely believed that they were a group of brave and selfless warriors fighting to keep humanity safe from “monsters”. Sadly they were rather out of touch with what was actually happening at ground level. It's no exaggeration to say that, by that stage, the majority of the Custodians were little more than a rabble of sadistic murderers who had been allowed free rein to go out and kill people simply for existing.' He gazed into the depths of his brandy glass. 'An investigation of the Custodians' records and methods was ordered, and the resulting report made for rather horrific reading.'

  'What happened to the Custodians themselves?' asked Trev.

  'The worst of them ended up in prison, or in some cases, asylums,' the Colonel said. 'Unfortunately a number of the hard-liners eluded capture and formed new groups so that they could continue their "good works". Some of those groups are still active today. They're the vampire hunters I was talking about earlier.' He smiled humourlessly. 'They've had a few goes at me over the years, m'boy, but without success.'

  'It's hardly surprising they've "had a few goes" at you,' observed Trev. He spread his hands to indicate his surroundings. 'You're not keeping a particularly low profile, are you?'

  'And why exactly should I hide myself away, old chap?' the Colonel replied, somewhat crossly. 'I fought in two World Wars, you know. I've as much right to a nice house as anyone.'

  'Nice house?' retorted Trev. 'Are you having a laugh? I sell nice houses. This isn't just a nice house, this is a bloody palace.'

  'It's all relative, m'boy,' said the Colonel with a shrug. 'I'm just used to a rather higher standard of living than some.'

  'Yeah, right,' said Trev, frowning. He tapped a finger nervously on his teacup. 'What happened to these vampire hunters that came after you, then?' He paused. 'Actually, scratch that question. I don't think I want to know.'

  The Colonel regarded him with an unreadable expression. 'Yes, probably for the best, old chap.'

  'Um.' Trev floundered for a moment. 'OK. So the current Custodians are the result of that post-World War One reshuffle?'

  'Structurally, yes, although naturally there have been substantial changes in personnel since then. They lost their autonomy as well, m'boy. They're answerable to the government now.' He chuckled. 'And all the bureaucracy that brings, of course.'

  'So Granddad's a kind of civil servant, then,' mused Trev. 'I should've guessed, what with all the books and the big desk and stuff.'

  'He's always been a keen student of history, certainly,' said the Colonel. 'I understand he was also quite a fighter in his youth.'

  Trev smiled. 'I'm trying, but I just can't picture it.' He put his cup and saucer to one side. 'Anyway, it's nice to know that he's working for the good guys after all. You had me worried when you started that story about the Custodians.'

  The Colonel sighed. 'Listen, m'boy,' he said, 'if there's one thing you absolutely must learn, it's that there are many beings in this world who are doing evil, but believe they are doing good. It's an easy trap to fall into.' He pointed at Trev with his pipe. 'Don't assume that the Custodians are free of people who fall into that bracket, old chap. As for myself, I prefer not to trust anyone. I find it saves a lot of time and bother.'

  'So I shouldn't trust you, then?'

  'Oh, absolutely not,' said the Colonel with a grim smile. 'Didn't we already establish that I am a blood-sucking creature of the night?'

  'I suppose we did,' agreed Trev, nodding in mock seriousness. He became aware that time was getting away from him and he still had no idea where to find Corbyn. He shifted in his seat. 'Listen, I'm sure Granddad explained why I'm here. Thanks for the job offer, and I promise to think about it, but at the moment I'm helping Granddad look for this bloke Corbyn. Do you know where he is?'

  'Of course I do, old chap. Dashed useful fellow, Corbyn. Able to lay his hands on all sorts of things one wouldn't be able to obtain readily oneself.'

  'Yeah, like people, for example,' said Trev. 'He's supplied at least one person to the demon to be used as a slave or whatever, and probably those three that were here tonight as well.'

  'Doesn't surprise me in the least, m'boy,' replied the Colonel. 'I said he was useful. I didn't say he was reputable.'

  'So you won't tell me where he is?'

  'No, I don't think so.' The Colonel savoured another sip of brandy. 'Were he to find out that I betrayed him to the Custodians, of all people, he would likely decide to deny me his rather unique services in the future. I think I'd prefer to keep him on side, so to speak.'

  'Come on,' said Trev, annoyed. 'I just fought those three possessed loonies off your bloody doorstep, surely that gets me a favour in return?'

  'You're referring to the three, ahem, "loonies" that were only here because they were pursuing you, m'boy? And who, in the process of their pursuing you, may well have deprived me of my entire security force?'

  Trev deflated. 'Er. Those would be the ones, yeah.'

  The Colonel sucked on his pipe. 'Now look, old chap. You seem like a pleasant young fellow, and I must admit that I've rather enjoyed your company this evening. It certainly hasn't been dull. However, merely being agreeable company doesn't buy you that much credit with me. Corbyn is a useful resource, and I'm not inclined to betray him to you.' He paused. 'Not directly, at any rate.'

  Trev eyed the Colonel suspiciously. 'I'm an estate agent, remember? I can tell when there are dodgy dealings in the works.' He puffed out his cheeks. 'Go on, then. What's the offer?'

  'It's very simple,' said the Colonel. 'I won't give Corbyn up to you myself, but I can point you in the direction of someone who most certainly will. In return, I want you to promise me a favour.'

  'You can't have any of my blood,' Trev blurted. 'I'm using it.'

  The Colonel put on an expression of distaste. 'My dear boy, I wasn't going to suggest anything so mundane,' he said. 'I'm quite well supplied when it comes to that. No, the favour I want from you is a day's work.'

  'What sort of work?'

  'Whatever I require at the time I call in the favour,' said the Colonel. 'Twelve hours' work is all I ask. You have my word that it won't be anything illegal.'

  'A couple of minutes ago you agreed that I shouldn't trust you, now you're saying that I can take your word for something?' Trev pointed out.

  'Indeed, m'boy, indeed. Hoist by my own petard,' the Colonel admitted. He tutted, then pulled up his left sleeve. 'Bernard has told you about a vampire's blood oath, I presume?' he asked.

  'Of course,' lied Trev, trying to hide his discomfort.

  'Good,' said the Colonel. He dug at his wrist with his fingernails,
tearing open a small wound. Blood welled up; the Colonel dipped his right index finger into it and smeared a red line from under his nose, over both lips and onto his chin. Solemnly he said 'By my blood I swear that I will assist you find the vampire Corbyn in return for twelve hours' labour, and that the labour I request shall not be of an illicit nature.'

  'All right then,' whispered Trev, whose focus had shifted from trying to hide his discomfort to trying to resist the urge to jump out of the window.

  'Good man,' said the Colonel. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and used it to clean himself up, muttering 'such a waste' under his breath. When he was finished he held out a hand, which Trev shook dumbly, noticing that the wound on the vampire's wrist had already healed.

  'OK then,' said Trev. 'How do I find Corbyn?'

  'When Graeme returns I'll have him take you out to meet a group of people who will help you find Corbyn, while simultaneously distancing me from his betrayal.'

  'Who are they?'

  'A group who Corbyn would never suspect of working with, or indeed for, me,' replied the Colonel. 'The local werewolf pack.'

  'Oh for God's sake,' said Trev. 'Are you and Granddad having some sort of competition to see which of you can spoil my day off the most?'

  The Colonel laughed. 'No, but I'll suggest it to him the next time I see him. It could be rather entertaining.'