The Blood Red Rose

by Mark Stewart

  AMBER LOOKED down the three-metre tall wrought iron cemetery wall in both directions, displaying a defeated expression. The main gates had a pattern of flowers welded in the middle which was securely locked. The heavy chain wrapped around the edges of the gates looked strong enough to anchor a large ship in a raging storm. Amber took hold of the padlock, rattling the chain. To her left on the inside of the wall, she saw a large body of water. It looked stagnant. The air felt cool and moist. She rubbed the small bumps on her arms and shivered in the mid-morning temperature. She glanced briefly at the billowing mist. The air above the water evaporated and cooled at almost the same time, causing a wet fog. It hovered about two metres above the surface. A whiff of a breeze made the mist span out over the cemetery.

  "I don't like it here," she whispered. "The fog makes it worse. It's eerie and cold."

  Haleton caressed her bare arms. "It's okay. Now is the best time to be here. There's nobody about."

  "Exactly my point," whispered Amber. "It's a nightmarish place to visit. Did I mention my dislike of cemeteries? Especially a fog-shrouded one. They all look uninviting outside of business hours."

  "There's nothing to fear," explained Haleton. "Everyone in this place is dead."

  "Those words make it worse."

  "Be brave. Amber, there are no ghosts, I promise."

  She looked around the area for the umpteenth time. Squeezing Haleton's half-shadow of a hand Amber mumbled. "There's no natural light, no life, no noise."

  "It's okay. We certainly won't be disturbed. We'll be in and out in record time."

  "I hope so. Have you thought a security guard might be walking about?"

  "No. Why should there be?"

  Amber rolled her eyes. "Some cemeteries have guards to stop vandalism."

  "The word has never been heard of back in 1749AD."

  "If we are caught trespassing, we'll be in big trouble."

  "Trust me; it'll be alright."

  Amber and Haleton had come through the last several hours unscathed. Haleton resembled a man who didn't have a care in the world. Amber, on the other hand, looked a mess.

  "William, I feel exhausted. I'm positive I look lousy."

  "You look wonderful," he said, trying to reassure.

  "How can I when I don't feel it?"

  "Don't worry. We have a job to do. Everything will be fine."

  "It's easy for you to say," she whispered.

  Haleton stepped into the brightening mist, instantly turning into a shadow.

  Amber muffled a giggle by clasping her fingers over her mouth. "For a shadow, you feel heavy."

  "Come on, let's find a way in," whispered Haleton, chuckling.

  Haleton floated through the cast iron gates. Amber followed by walking along the outside of the wall. When she came to an opening which looked wide enough, she squeezed through.

  The pair walked to the southwest corner, squatting next to a row of thin pine trees that were planted to hide the old wrought iron fence.

  Amber shone a light from a pencil size torch onto the many silent graves. "I'm trying my best not to be scared. I think I'm losing the battle."

  Haleton cradled her in his arms. "I promise the dead people won't come alive," he whispered.

  "I know," she replied.

  "I believe the sooner we're out of here, the happier you'll be," suggested Haleton. "Shine your torch on this row of tombstones to my right. Hopefully, what we're searching for isn't far."

  Amber started down the small row at the rear of the cemetery. She stood in front of an old cracked, weather-beaten tombstone. The small pinprick of light that was coming from her torch, she bought from the local shop, zeroed in on the faint inscription. "The only thing I can read is the number 777," she called.

  Haleton silently drifted over, hovering over the grave.

  "Seeing you as a shadow is hard to get used to," she mumbled.

  Haleton's black transparent hand patted the side of her cheek. "I look forward to the time when I'll see my shadow how it's supposed to be. When the time comes, I'll be able to hold your hand in the daylight."

  Amber gave the area another cursory glance before cleaning dirt from the engraved letters using her index finger.

  "The inscription reads; 'here lies Macularta; he was a good priest to William Haleton.'"

  "We've hit the jackpot," announced Haleton.

  Amber lowered her voice to a decibel above a whisper. "It looks like we might have to dig into the coffin to find the scroll. Let's hope it's still inside and hasn't been stolen or worse, Rose-a-lee either forgot to place it in Macularta's coffin, or couldn't."

  Through sad eyes, Haleton looked at her. "I hope the scroll is there. Both Macularta and Rose-a-lee knew a woman by my side, and the vampire antidote is the only things I crave. There must be a clue. Rose-a-lee would have told Macularta after the death of the one hundredth evil soul I'll be transported into another time. I can't allow it to happen. I'd never see you again."

  "I'd wait for you."

  Haleton shook his head. "You can't. Our paths may never cross again. I can't believe this. We're so close." He checked his pocket watch. "I've only four hours left."

  "We have to make every second count," advised Amber. "Come on let's leave this place. Maybe Craig has dug something out of the computer."

  Haleton watched her start to retrace their steps to the gap in the wall. He glanced at the tombstone one last time.

  He took two steps before stopping to look back at the gravesite.

  "What's wrong?" whispered Amber, swiveling on her toes and marching back.

  "There's something bothering me about the inscription."

  "Don't tell me you want to dig the priest's bones up?"

  "No."

  "Good. If you wanted to, you could do it on your own. I think we have just about outstayed our welcome." Amber pointed to a small faint light at the front of the cemetery. It looked to be shining their way. "I bet the security guard is wondering why there's a small light in this back corner."

  "It looks to be moving this way," added Haleton, sidestepping up to the grave. "I won't be long."

  Amber clicked her torch off. She squatted, watching the dull light bouncing their way.

  Haleton stared at the gravestone. "The words themselves might be clues." He read each word out loud before looking at Amber. "Nothing sounds wrong. Come on let's go. Besides, the light which was coming this way has gone out. Who knows how close the security guard is?"

  The sudden cool breeze forced the temperature to drop which in turn made the fog more dense. The few lights dotting the paths that illuminated the ground at various intervals could barely be seen.

  "It's ghostly quiet," Amber whispered.

  "Yes it is," Haleton replied studying the letters one last time. "Hold on for a few more seconds."

  "We don't have too much longer," whispered Amber. "Whatever you do, I think you had better to it right now. I thought I heard footsteps crunching the pea stones."

  "Keep a watchful eye on the area. Let me know if you see the guard."

  Amber stared through the fog in the general direction of where she saw the light.

  Using his fingertips, Haleton reached out to rub the letters etched into the marble tombstone. "My name has a prominent feel to it."

  "What are you talking about?" mumbled Amber, glancing at the place Haleton pointed. She shot her hand out, grabbing his shirt. Her eyes were bulging. Her face looked mortified. She nodded at the narrow pea stoned path crisscrossing the many rows of tombstones to the half way point before turning slightly diagonal as it wound its way to the small front office. Eventually, her shoulders slumped. She exhaled in relief. "I thought the guard was here."

  "It's okay. We won't be much longer," advised Haleton. "Rub your hand over the letters. You'll feel what I've discovered."

  Dragging her fingers across Haleton's name, Amber whispered. "One of the letters feels a bit different."

  Haleton leaned in to study the letters more c
losely. When his fingers touched the letter 'N' in his name, the letter moved. He pushed it gently. The letter receded. He gambled and pushed the remaining letters in his name. When each of the letters looked flush against the marble tombstone, a piece of marble popped up like a slice of toast from a toaster. Haleton tugged at the end of the small piece of marble. It fell into his hand. It was only a splinter no bigger than Amber's small, slender finger, but it left a small cavity.

  He looked inside. Amber took a gander over his shoulder. Her eyes were ablaze. "There's an old piece of canvas in the slot."

  "What we need is a small stick," said Haleton. "I only hope the material is the scroll and the antidote was written on."

  Amber pulled a hairpin from her hair. "This is smaller than a stick. You should be able to retrieve the cloth without causing damage."

  Haleton watched Amber's hair cascading over her shoulders. He raised an eyebrow before taking the pin. For a few seconds, their fingers touched. He looked her in the eyes, sighing.

  "What are you thinking?"

  "I'm not sure if I should tell you. I'm a gentleman. My thoughts must remain silent."

  "You have to stop living in the year 1749AD. You are in the modern era. I've heard just about everything."

  "Yes. I keep forgetting. I've been thinking how pleasing on the eye you are. The feeling of your skin against mine is more precious than any gem on this planet."

  "Are you sure? I think a diamond ring might feel pretty good."

  Haleton chuckled. "I was trying to be romantic."

  "Keep trying, practice makes perfect, though I have to say, I do love the feeling of your skin touching mine." Amber teased him by shaking her head slightly allowing her hair to catch the faint dawn light.

  "Now you're taunting me."

  "I know."

  Haleton forced his eyes to focus on the piece of canvas. Slowly he extracted the fragile material.

  Amber again tugged at his shirt. "I think we have company."

  Haleton stared down the weed covered path on his right, listening. He lifted his finger to his lips. Light footsteps in heavy boots were the first noise they heard. The same noise came again and again. Haleton slowly nodded. A man wearing boots was indeed walking their way. Every third step he heard a slight scrape of a boot heel dislodging the surrounding pea stones. A slight groan overlapped the noise of the boots when the intruder's speed slowed at the top of the rise. Haleton caught a whiff of the stranger's aftershave and when he heard something accidently scrape the side of a tombstone the noise gave away the intruder's exact where-a-bouts.

  The man's stealth surprise was too noisy for a vampire. Amber's earlier warning about a security guard roaming around the cemetery seemed correct.

  Haleton only just managed to place the small piece of rolled up canvas carefully in his coat pocket before they both heard a shout. A narrow beam of light followed, shining on their work.

  "Don't move. I'm arresting you both for the destruction of cemetery property," yelled the security guard.

  Haleton quickly replaced the marble fragment. Leading Amber by the hand they sprinted towards the fence. The narrow opening, they found on the way in wasn't far from the gravesite. Haleton pushed Amber through the gap before squatting to follow.

  The security guard cornered Haleton before he could flee. Haleton faced the man and stood to full height. Using a deep-throated rumble which seemed to last for well over a minute, the guard backed away and ran off. The faint beam of light from his torch bounced wildly as he picked the correct path that led to the front office.

  "Come on," whispered Amber. "We need to find a safe place to view the cloth."

  The moment the guard stopped running he lifted his mobile phone to his ear. Haleton and Amber didn't know he was talking into the phone and pointing a short stubby finger in their direction. Running out of the cemetery the guard picked up their trail and pushed his phone deep into his pocket.

  An elderly man with a bent back and drooping shoulders extracted advertising material from his letterbox. Clutching the bundle tight he stared through protruding eyes when the guard quietly walked past his property. The old man leaned against the fence, staring down the street. He mimicked a statue the whole time he stood watching the guard. The moment the street returned to its usual, peace and quiet, the old man shuffled back up his driveway to the front door.

  "Mavis, I've just witnessed the most bizarre thing I have ever seen," he mumbled.

  "What did you see Stan?"

  "I was standing at the letterbox when a young lady walked by. She's a pretty thing I can tell you."

  "That's it, your big highlight?"

  "No. The young lady in question walked with two shadows."

  "Have you been drinking again in secret?"

  "Mavis, it's too early in the day."

  "I suppose this second shadow talked to you?"

  "To tell you the truth, it did."

  "Stan, I think it's time for you to live in a nursing home."

  "Mavis the shadow was very polite. It said good morning just before a security guard walked past, following the young lady and the talking shadow."

  "I think you should show me where they went. If there's any trouble I'll call the police," said Mavis shaking her head.

  At the letterbox, Stan pointed one of his bony fingers in the direction Amber went. Mavis' mouth fell open. She looked to be trying to talk. Her words were only stuttering whispers.

  "Morning to you both, now take my advice; go back inside your home."

  "Mr. Shadow who are you?" whispered Stan.

  "Yes, yes, who?" mumbled Mavis.

  "My name is Crompton. Here's a warning. One word about the young lady walking ahead or of myself to anyone; I'll come looking for you. Don't forget I know where you both live."

  Stan grabbed Mavis by the arm. Together they shuffled off in the direction of their house. No sooner did they enter, Crompton slipped through the open side window. He materialized in the dark corner of the room, glaring at the elderly couple.

  "Don't forget; one word about me and I'll be standing right here waiting to drain your bodies of blood."

  Stan bravely stepped closer to protect his wife. "I survived being shot down behind enemy lines in the second world war. I'm not afraid of you. Don't ever come back here again. If you do, I'll give you a good fight."

  Crompton took a step and grabbed the man by the neck. He lifted the man's featherweight frame off the floor before studying his features. "I could snap your neck like a toothpick. You'd be dead before you realized it. I can hear your heart quicken. It's telling me you're scared out of your wits. If you like I'll let you have the first punch."

  "Please, Sir, put my husband down. He's old and frail."

  Crompton stared into Mavis' old brown eyes. He created a haunting laugh. "I must be growing soft." After dropping the man, he watched him crumple to the carpet. "I have to hurry. I need to find an evil soul so I can quench his life flame. On second thoughts, I need someone who is young, full of life. It'll be more of sporting, and I know exactly where to find him." Crompton stepped up to the window and into the faint sunlight breaking through the fog. Immediately he was transformed into a whiff of black smoke. He floated through the window and vanished.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN