The Parliament of Blood (39 page)

The cab thundered over Westminster Bridge, sending the fog skidding away. There was little other traffic. But ahead, through the heavy air, Eddie could see the indistinct shapes of figures – people walking towards Parliament.

Eve drove the cab between them. People turned to look. Pale, bloodless faces peered out of the fog. Someone jumped aside just in time as the cab hurtled past.

‘You done this a lot?' Eddie shouted above the sound of the hoofs and the wheels.

Eve grinned at him. ‘First time. I just wanted to have a go.'

‘Terrific,' Eddie muttered. ‘Scared by mummies, attacked by vampires, killed by a runaway cab.'

The crush of people got tighter as they approached the end of the bridge. The horse was forced to slow down to a fast walk.

‘Where are they all coming from?' Eve wondered.

‘Out of the ground,' Eddie said. ‘Or the walls of other haunted houses. They must have resting places all over London. Let's just get through them.'

A hand clutched at Eddie's arm and he thumped at it, wrenching himself away from its grip. More hands reached up. The cab was slowing. Eve gave a cry and
lurched to the side as someone tried to pull her off the driver's seat. Eddie held tight to her and struggled to pull the girl back.

‘Go on!' he yelled at the horse. There was a whip in a holder beside the seat and Eddie grabbed it. He hated himself for doing it, but he cracked the whip as hard as he could above the horse's back. The cab lurched forwards. A pale figure was thrown aside as the horse forced its way through the crowd. Eve lurched back towards Eddie as the vampire that had hold of her fell.

Eddie looked down at the mass of clutching hands as the cab kept going. A woman – pale, drawn, with angular features – leaped up on to the running board and reached in through the cab window. There was a shout from inside:

‘Look out, Jack!'

Eddie realised with surprise that it was Mikey's voice.

The woman was fumbling with the door, trying to open it and climb inside.

‘Do it now!' Jack yelled.

‘No,' Eddie shouted back. ‘It's too soon.' He turned to Eve. ‘Keep going – fast as you can.' He handed her the whip, then he jumped down on to the running board, beside the woman. And within reach of the vampires racing alongside the cab.

The Coachman lifted the canopic jar and held it high above his head as he strode to the front of the dais on
which the throne stood. Then he slowly lowered it and placed it in front of the throne.

‘Now it begins,' he announced. ‘We are gathered here to witness the birth of a new empire. An empire not of steel and sweat, but of fear and blood. From here we will govern the whole world. Our Lord has returned and our brethren have risen. Now begins the Parliament of Blood.' He turned to face the empty throne, and bowed.

‘And here is our new sovereign: Orabis, Lord of the Undead.'

All around the chamber echoed to the chant: ‘Orabis, Orabis, Orabis.'

Sir William watched in horror, saw Liz's eyes widen in astonishment, felt suddenly empty and sick. The ornate golden throne disappeared. With a crack like thunder, a hole had opened in the floor and it fell away beneath the dais.

For the first time, Sir William saw that there were ropes hanging from the ceiling of the chamber. They were hard to make out against the ornate canopy and screen behind where the throne had been, until they moved. Somewhere deep below a powerful engine sputtered into life. There was a grinding and clanking of gears.

A new throne was rising slowly, majestically out of the floor. It was oily and industrial, wrought from iron and wood. The figure seated on it was held in place by pipes and tubes that fed directly into its shrunken, emaciated form. Strips of ragged bandage hung from the body. A golden ankh hung on a chain round the neck. Long-dead
eyes stared out from wizened features as Orabis surveyed the assembled mass of vampires. From the catacombs deep below the earth, the Lord of the Undead was rising to take his place at the heart of the Parliament of Blood.

George hurried along a tunnel, keeping to the shadows and trying to avoid the groups of vampires making their way from the Damnation Club to the main chamber.

The roof of the cavern where he had arrived was pitted and scarred and broken open. Earth was scattered across the floor. It seemed that just as many vampires had burrowed down into the cavern as had forced their way up through the ground into the graveyard above.

Now the tunnels themselves were alive with the undead. The walls shimmered and heaved as pale bodies forced themselves out of the rock. The ground was slick with congealing blood that seemed to seep out of the floor and the walls. Bricks fell into the tunnels as more and more of the grotesque figures erupted from the very architecture. It was as if the place had been built round them, George thought. Perhaps it had. Who knew how long they had slept there, waiting for the return of Orabis.

George evaded the clutching hands and the people that
staggered back and forth as they regained their balance, remembered how to walk, woke into an older world …

At last he found himself at a junction he recognised. He was not far from the main chamber. And behind that was the pumping machinery.

As he approached the chamber he could hear the chanting: ‘Orabis, Orabis, Orabis …' But it wasn't the chamber he needed to get to, it was the cavern behind it. With luck that would be deserted.

Just round the next corner, George realised. If he could sneak past the entrance to the main chamber without being seen, he would be there. There was a patter of dust on George's shoulder. He brushed it off without thinking, then hesitated and glanced up.

The roof was coming down. Chunks of stone and masonry tumbled out of the darkness towards him. George leaped back and the stones exploded as they shattered on impact. Shards whipped past George's cheek. Then a dark shape dropped to the ground in front of George. A figure straightened up, teeth gleaming in the light from the flickering wall lamps.

Eddie barged into the vampire woman on the cab's running board, and she fell. Her hand was still on the handle of the door and she clung on, feet dragging along the roadway. Slowly, she started to haul herself back up.

Claw-like hands clutched at Eddie, trying to prise him off the side of the cab. He kicked out at them, at the same
time struggling to keep his balance. But the sheer mass of them would drag him down if he stayed here. He kicked out again, this time at the woman as she pulled herself back up on to the running board.

She gave a cry and lost her footing. One of her feet dangled in space. The other caught in the wheel of the cab and she screamed as she was dragged down and under. The cab rose in the air, then thumped down hard on the street again. The force of it broke Eddie free of the clutching hands, and he leaped back up to the driver's box to rejoin Eve.

But now he could see there was a man on the roof of the cab, crawling towards Eddie and Eve. His teeth were bared in a hungry grin of triumph.

‘Just drive,' Eddie shouted at Eve. ‘Drive like the devil!'

The cab surged forward as Eve cracked the whip again. Bodies tumbled away from the sides. The man on the top of the cab slid rapidly backwards as it accelerated and was thrown off with a cry.

Then suddenly the road ahead was clear. Eddie and Eve were laughing with relief. Eddie banged on the roof and shouted: ‘You all right inside? Nearly there now. Don't fret. Have your fares ready.'

George stared at the figure in front of him. It was a man, so thin that his ribs were poking through the pallid skin beneath his tattered shirt. His head tilted back as if he was sniffing the air – hunting.

‘They're all in there,' George said quickly, pointing to the entrance to the huge underground chamber.

Dark eyes stared back at George. The head tilted slightly as the creature that had once been a man listened to the chanting of his fellows. Then it turned and shuffled towards the chamber.

With a long, deep breath George continued down the tunnel to the next opening – the entrance to the Hall of Machines. He could hear them above the sound of the chant as he approached. Rhythmic hissing and clanking as they kept the river water out of the tunnels and fed blood into the pipes running to the throne where Orabis sat.

Except, George realised, the throne was no longer in the next chamber. The pipe work had been changed. Flexible rubber tubes now led upwards. The ropes he had noticed before led to a vast pulley system suspended near the roof of the room. There was an opening in the roof to allow the ropes and tubes through and George could see light. He could hear echoes of the chanting coming from high above.

And he could see the dark silhouette of the throne of Orabis held by the ropes in its new location above the catacombs.

The whole House of Lords seemed to throb. Dark liquid ran and dripped from the tubes feeding into the body enthroned before Sir William and the others. From deep below came the sound of the engines and pumps that sustained the grotesque figure.

Orabis, Lord of the Undead, opened his mouth and a thin trickle of blood escaped and ran down his chin, dripping on to the stained linen wrapped across his chest. When he spoke, his voice was soft and rich – a contrast to the ancient wizened figure.