The Parliament of Blood (34 page)

He took a step towards Liz, and she found she was unable to move. His lips drew back in a smile, revealing his sharp gleaming teeth.

Then he told her what was going to happen, who she would become, and Liz felt sick and more afraid than ever in her life. As Malvern drew her to him, and pressed his icy lips to her warm neck.

The secretary was flustered but adamant. ‘You cannot see the Prime Minister this evening. It is, I'm afraid, quite impossible.'

Eddie had listened to Sir William insisting his way through several offices and past various officials to get to this point. Now here they were in a small room adjoining the Prime Minister's own office at Number 10 Downing Street.

‘I cannot stress enough how vital this is,' Sir William said. He was almost shaking with anger now. ‘And if you knew the sort of incompetence and obfuscation we have had to sweep aside to get this far …'

‘Believe me, I can sympathise.' The secretary did not look sympathetic. He was a portly man in his thirties with receding black hair. ‘But I can assure you I am being neither incompetent nor misleading. You cannot see the Prime Minister because the Prime Minister is not here.'

‘We'll wait,' Sir William said. ‘When do you expect him?'

‘Tomorrow.'

‘But that will be too late!'

‘It is the best that I can offer, Sir William. But the Prime Minister is at this moment making his way to a special session of Parliament. It is, for me as well as for you, most inconvenient, in addition to being rather unexpected and at short notice.'

Eddie had spent the time they were talking walking round the room. It was similar to the other offices where he had listened to Sir William asking, begging, and cajoling his way up through the political hierarchy. There was a framed photograph on the panelled wall showing a group of people. One of them he recognised as the Prime Minister – which was a relief. He didn't know who any of the others were, but he guessed they were important.

The photograph was on the wall close to the door to the Prime Minister's office, and as he examined it, Eddie could hear movement from behind the door.

‘Here – if the Prime Minister's gone to Parliament, who's in his office, then?'

‘Who indeed?' Sir William demanded. He glared at the secretary and strode across to the door.

‘You can't go in there!' the secretary insisted. ‘I told you …'

But Sir William had already opened the door.

There was a man standing on the other side of the large desk that dominated the room. But it was not the Prime Minister.

It was a small, dapper man wearing a smart suit. His neat, dark beard gave him an authority that belied his size. He looked up in surprise at the interruption.

‘That is Anthony Barford,' the secretary hissed. ‘He is the Prime Minister Mr Gladstone's personal adviser. Now will you kindly leave!'

Barford was watching with interest. ‘Wait a moment, Haskins,' he said. ‘It's Sir William Protheroe, isn't it?'

‘At your service,' Sir William said quietly.

‘I confess I was actually waiting for someone else. Then I have to leave for the House of Commons in a few minutes, but if there is anything I can do to help?' Barford gestured for Sir William to come in. ‘I am well aware of your department, Sir William, and of the work you do.'

‘I have to get a message to the Prime Minister,' Sir William told him. ‘Forgive my bluntness.'

‘Oh, be as blunt as you feel necessary. I think you'd better tell me what's going on. I shall be seeing the Prime Minister before the emergency debate in a few minutes. I shall be more than happy to pass on your message, assuming you can convince me of the urgency.'

‘About time,' Eddie blurted out. ‘Someone who'll listen to us.'

‘To
me
,' Sir William stressed. ‘You'd better wait out there, Eddie, I think. And let me explain matters to Mr Barford.'

The door closed, leaving Eddie and the secretary Haskins alone in the office.

‘It must be an important matter for Barford to bother himself with it,' Haskins admitted.

‘Yeah, well. Could be the end of the Empire, I s'pose,' Eddie admitted. ‘Important bloke is he? This Barford?'

‘Between you and me, one of the most influential people in the country. There's little that the government does that Anthony Barford does not have a hand in.'

Eddie pointed at the picture on the wall between them. ‘So who's this lot?'

‘The Cabinet. The Prime Minister's most important ministers. That photograph was taken just last month, out in the garden. It was only delivered this week. Here,' he went on, pointing to the picture, ‘you can see …' He broke off. ‘That's odd.'

‘What's odd?' Eddie had a sudden feeling of unease. ‘What is it?'

Haskins gave a short, nervous laugh. ‘You know, I was sure that Mr Barford was there as well. Perhaps he was called away. But he was standing just here, between these two …'

‘But – there's no one there,' Eddie realised. He might already be too late. He wrenched open the door and rushed into the room beyond.

‘How good of you to join us,' Barford said. He was still standing on the other side of the desk. But his expression had hardened, and he was holding a gun.

Eddie skidded to a halt beside Sir William. ‘Oh,' he said. ‘I expect you know, then.'

‘I gathered,' Sir William said.

‘You may go now, Haskins,' Barford called. ‘I have matters under control. These two are, I am afraid, wanted by the police.'

Haskins looked shocked and pale. ‘Shall I summon assistance?'

‘There's no need,' said another voice. It came from behind Haskins in the outer office. A tall, thin man marched across to the door. ‘As Mr Barford said, the matter is under control. You may leave us.' Sir Harrison Judd stepped into the Prime Minister's office and pulled the door closed behind him.

‘It was you he was waiting for,' Eddie realised.

‘And the Prime Minister?' Sir William asked.

‘Oh, he really is at the House of Commons,' Barford said. ‘Where we will shortly join him. In time to witness the Palace of Westminster become the Parliament of Blood.'

The back door of the theatre was blowing in the breeze. There was a faint light from inside, but the whole place seemed deserted.

George had the metal box with Oldfield's journals tucked under his arm. He had shuddered at pushing them back underneath the bats. Now the weight of the box was somehow reassuring as he made his way cautiously into the darkened building.

‘Liz?' he called. ‘Liz – are you there?'

The only reply was the distant sound of laughter. A woman's laughter.

‘Is that you?' he called again, but more cautious now.

The corridor led past dressing rooms and store cupboards. Eventually he found himself at the side of the stage, looking out from the wings. He could see the darkened
auditorium. A single light shone across the stage from the other side. It illuminated the figure standing there. A stark silhouette outlined in the pale green of the limelight. He could smell the bitter, acrid fumes of the burning lime. But his attention was on the woman.

She laughed again as George stepped out on to the stage. He still could not see her properly, and shielded his eyes from the bright light with his free hand.

‘Liz?'

‘She's not here.'

As she moved towards George, she blocked out the glare of the light and he saw that it was Marie Cuttler.

‘You're feeling better? Do you know where she went?'

Marie took another step towards George. ‘She had an appointment. She had to go.'

‘Go? Go where?' George could feel his heart beating in the side of his chest. The thumping became more pronounced, irregular.

Marie was right in front of him now. There was something in her voice that froze George to the spot.

‘How kind of you to come. I'm glad you are here. I'm so very, very hungry.'

There was a small looking glass on the back wall of the Prime Minister's office. It was in an ornate plaster frame, and when Anthony Barford stood in front of it, Eddie saw that he had no reflection.

‘I am sorry that you will not live to see the culmination of
so many centuries of work,' Barford told Sir William and Eddie as he turned from the mirror to face them again.

‘Me too,' Eddie retorted.

‘But you don't have the fifth canopic jar,' Sir William pointed out. ‘Surely you need the Lord of the Undead's heart?'

‘What do you know about that?' Sir Harrison Judd demanded.

‘Only what I have read.'

‘It isn't important,' Barford decided. ‘The Coachman will find it. He can feel it, you know,' he told Sir William. ‘The Coachman is so attuned to the Lord's desires and wishes and needs that he can feel his heart beating within the casket. With every beat, he gets closer to finding it. Tonight's ceremony will go ahead. We have everything we need for that now.' He turned to Judd and raised an eyebrow. ‘I am assuming …?'

‘Waiting in the office outside,' Sir Harrison Judd assured him.

‘What about the Prime Minister?' Eddie blurted. ‘Is Mr Gladstone a vampire and all?'

Barford laughed. ‘Oh no. Not yet. But soon all that will change. The Lord of the Undead will have his heart,' Barford went on, ‘be assured of that. The only other thing he craves is waiting outside. His heart's desire, you might say.'

‘And what, pray, might that be?' Sir William asked.

‘Please, show her in.' Barford told Judd. ‘I think she can have the honour, the privilege of feeding on our guests. She must be hungry.'

‘Who must?' Eddie said. He was feeling nervous enough already without the threats. He looked round desperately for a way of escape, but there was no other way out of the room.

Only the door that was opening to allow another figure to step inside.

‘Allow me to present the Lord of the Undead's latest subject,' Barford said. ‘His bride.'

The woman standing just inside the door was pale as death, except for her blood-red lips. She turned slowly to face Eddie and Sir William, eyes wide and unfocused. It was Liz.