Whitby Vampyrrhic (23 page)

‘I have to,' answered the child. ‘He saw you go into the smoking shed.'

That's all he managed to say before the soldier was upon him – or what had been a soldier when he woke that morning. Now he was a vampire that raged with bloodlust. Hands extending claw-like, he charged at the boy. Nails in his boots struck sparks from the road. The dog immediately leapt forward to sink his teeth into the vampire's arm. In one savage movement, the vampire swept the dog from him. The animal struck the steps of a cottage. With a shrieking yelp, he arched his back, then lay still.

The boy turned to his pet with such an anguished expression that Beth's heart lurched. The vampire didn't rush now. He slowly advanced on the boy.

‘You don't want him,' Beth snarled. ‘You want me.'

The vampire immediately changed course. He approached Beth with lethal intent. Smoothly, she backed into the gloom of the shed, instantly becoming wreathed in smoke.

‘Remember? You are a soldier. You serve king and country.' Beth kept a gap between herself and the metal trays heaped with smouldering wood chips that glowed bright orange.

Hungry-eyed, predatory, the vampire passed through the doorway.

Sally whimpered, ‘No, no, no,' over and over.

Beth backed away until she struck something that didn't yield. Behind her, a six-foot-high barrier built out of flat wooden boxes, which would be used to ship the smoked fish to market. She couldn't go back. She couldn't go forwards. The vampire's eyes burnt at her through the smoke-filled room. The hundreds of fish oozed oil on to the embers. Each time one dripped into the smouldering mass, the oil would produce a little pop of flame.

‘You are a soldier,' she told the creature. ‘You have sworn to defend your country against Hitler. You are fighting a war against the evils of Fascism. Now fight what is inside of you!'

He paused. The eyes lowered, as he searched inside himself for a memory of what he once was. Maybe a trace of his identity surfaced. His mouth moved. The blue swam into his eyes to form irises – his eyes were human again.

But only for a second. The blue vanished from the whites. Dark pupils fixed on her. His mouth opened. Already subtle changes were forcing his teeth apart, creating more spaces between them. The gums had become swollen; a bulbous red. He raised his hands, ready to grab Beth's throat. Sally screamed.

A shape darted through the doorway. The boy seized hold of the man's coat. He swung at it, trying to drag him back. The vampire grabbed the boy, glared into his face, then spat in disgust. The boy obviously meant nothing to him – he was useless as a source of food. The man hurled the little figure back through the door with the same contempt as a man throwing out a bad apple.

Beth saw her chance. When his back was turned, she gripped the edge of one of the huge trays full of smouldering wood. Grunting at the exertion, she upended it on to the vampire. The next second he was doused in embers. He blundered back in surprise. The racks of hanging fish brushed against him, coating him with their natural oils. The instant the embers, sticking to his coat, made contact they burst into flame; in turn those tiny spots of flame on his clothes ignited the fabric.

‘Get out!' Beth yelled to Sally.

Once the woman had safely exited the shed, Beth shoved the stack of boxes on to the floundering man. The dry wood instantly caught light. And even though he struggled to escape the mound of boxes that now surrounded him, he was bathed in an inferno. Every single inch of him burnt. The light generated by the fire blinded Beth. Choking on the smoke, she found her way to the shed door. Flames crackled like pistol shots. The temperature soared to make the metal ember trays glow, as if they'd turned into luminous yellow disks.

And yet the burning man did not scream. He continued to blunder through the blazing interior – disorientated, blinded, lost, perhaps not even feeling pain as a human would have done.

Out in the street, Beth found Sally with her arm round the boy. Both crouched over the still shape of the dog. The boy's shoulders were shaking as he grieved over his companion.

‘Here let me look. That's alright,' Beth said in soothing tones to the child. ‘I love dogs, too. I just want to feel his chest.' She swept the dog up into her arms. ‘He's still breathing. Come on, let's get him back to the hotel.'

The boy rubbed his eyes with his fists. ‘I can't go. I'm not allowed.'

‘You want to stay with him, don't you?'

He nodded.

‘Then let's get him somewhere safe, so I can check him over.'

As they hurried away, the walls of the shed sagged; flames devoured the wood at a ferocious rate. Moments later, the roof collapsed into the building – a million yellow sparks rose into the air to drift away, like so many freed souls into the night sky.

PART FIVE

{
From the Viking
Leppingsvalt Saga,
circa AD900
}

One

Beth Layne carried the dog into the yard. Darkness engulfed that area between the perimeter walls and the hotel itself. Beth trusted her instincts to guide her safely to the back door. The dog lay limp in her arms. She hoped that his heart had continued to beat after she'd picked him up from the street moments ago. Sally and Tommy followed. Although the boy's face had many qualities that were utterly inhuman, such as the colourless eyes, the expression of concern for his pet would have been identical on any ten year old whose beloved dog lay close to death.

As they crossed the yard, Beth noticed that Theo Charnwood gazed at them impassively from the upper room of his home. The cottage lay in darkness, yet the man's face appeared to hang suspended in the gloom, like a stark, white skull.

Before Beth had even reached the hotel's back door, it flew open. Eleanor beckoned them frantically.

‘Come in,' she hissed. ‘Hurry . . . please hurry. Thank God, you're alright.'

They entered the kitchen area before Eleanor could lock the door, then safely switch on a light. That's when she perceived they'd added another to their band of survivors.

She bustled about, filling a kettle with water. ‘Who's the boy? Where did you find him? Is that his dog?'

‘The dog's been hurt. I need to examine him.'

‘Take him into the dining room and put him on the table under the chandelier. You'll get the best light to . . .' Her voice faded; she'd got her first good look at Tommy's face.'

‘Oh, my dear God.' She gripped the big kettle as if about to use it as a weapon. ‘Beth? Have you seen what you've brought in with you? He's not a boy. He's a—'

‘He's called Tommy,' Beth said firmly. ‘This is his dog, Sam.'

Sally's posture was defiant. ‘Tommy and Sam saved our lives. Not once, but twice.'

Eleanor's eyes swept over Tommy's gaunt body, clad in trousers and a black fisherman's jersey that frayed to a mass of woollen strands at the cuffs; his white face, the shock of hair, the eyes that had been drained of colour. From them burnt a pair of fierce black pupils. ‘But you can't . . . He mustn't stay. He's the same as Gustav and the others.'

Alec stood in the kitchen doorway. He must have been listening to the conversation all along. He entered, shaking his head. ‘Not exactly like Gustav. He seems to act like a human child.' Alec turned to Beth. ‘Has he showed any inclination to attack you?'

‘No. Tommy isn't like the others.'

From Eleanor's expression, she'd clearly decided to accept what she'd been told – or at least until the child did something that proved he was dangerous. ‘Go through to the dining room. I'll bring the first-aid kit.'

Beth carried Sam to the big room. There she laid him on a table beneath the chandelier. The brightness of the light allowed her to examine the dog thoroughly.

Anxious, Tommy rubbed the neck of the unconscious animal, while murmuring reassurances.

Beth used a clean napkin to dab a cut on Sam's hind leg. This appeared to be a result of striking the ground rather than a bite-mark.

Tommy's voice quavered. ‘Is he going to be alright, Miss? Is he bleeding a lot?'

Sally said, ‘Should we call a vet?'

Alec's good eye checked Sam, too. ‘You wouldn't get one out on a night like this, not for love nor money.'

‘Is he going to die, Miss?'

Beth ran her fingers over the top of Sam's head. ‘The cut to his leg isn't deep. I'll need to clean it. And he's going to have an almighty bump on his head. But I'd say he's been knocked out cold, that's all.'

Tommy's inhuman eyes roved over the dog and hope suddenly glimmered there. ‘Does that mean he's going to get better, Miss?'

‘I'm sure of it, Tommy.'

He wiped his eyes. ‘I don't know what I'd do if I was to lose him, Miss. You see, I can't find my way home. Sam's all I've got.'

Sam kicked his legs on the table, maybe chasing rabbits in a dream. Then, with a whimper, he raised his head a little. Yet it still swayed, suggesting the animal was groggy.

‘We'll fix a bed up for Sam,' Alec said. ‘Lots of blankets to make him cosy.'

Eleanor brought a first-aid box. Beth used iodine to cleanse the wound. Sam yelped when the liquid stung raw flesh.

‘Don't worry, Tommy,' Beth told the boy. ‘If Sam felt that it's a good sign.'

Alec and Sally were happy to be doing something as down-to-earth as fixing up a dog's bed. As they chatted about what blankets they could use from the laundry store, it seemed as if each strove to repress memories of the night's events. Eleanor suggested that they put the bed under the reception counter; Sam might feel reassured if he were closely sheltered by its wooden structure.

Sally chuckled, ‘It will be like an indoor kennel.'

Now that Sam had begun to recover, Tommy had taken to exploring his new surroundings. He'd seen Alec switch on the light in the foyer. So Tommy found a light switch in the dining room. He flicked it on and off. From his wide-eyed expression, he clearly found the way that he could plunge the room into darkness, then fill it with light again was marvellous – nothing less than a miracle. He worked the switch up and down: click . . . click . . . click . . .

‘How does it do that?' he asked.

‘Is this first time you've seen an electric light, Tommy?' Eleanor asked.

‘Leck Trick. Is that what's making it go on and off?'

Eleanor shot Beth a tired smile. ‘Even though he doesn't look it, I'd say our child of the night is much older then any of us.' Then the smile faded. ‘But what are we going to do with him?'

‘His dog will need at least a few hours to recover.'

‘But we can't let him roam about the hotel tonight.'

‘You can't turn him out, surely?'

‘No, Beth. But he'll have to be locked somewhere secure.'

‘You can't keep him prisoner.'

‘It'll just be for tonight. Though what will happen to him at sunrise, I just don't know.'

Tommy still switched the light on and off. By now, the dog kept his head raised to watch his companion with a steady, untroubled gaze. Clearly, the pair were devoted to one another.

‘You know,' Eleanor began, ‘he is like a real human boy. Because he's become so damn annoying with that light switch.'

Beth saw that Eleanor was smiling, rather than being genuinely irritated. ‘Tommy,' she called. ‘Leave that and see what I've got here. See this box? It's called a radio. Listen what happens when I twist this knob.'

A light glowed behind the tuning dial. Tommy skipped across the room, excited to see such a thing. ‘What will it do, Miss?'

‘Wait a moment. It needs to warm up. Ah, here it comes.'

Over a faint hiss, a cultured male voice emerged from the speaker. With perfect diction it declaimed,
‘After the four o'clock news, there will be a gramophone recording of a new poem by Mr Dylan Thomas. Following that, the BBC night service will continue to broadcast a selection of light orchestral music for your enjoyment.'

Tommy exclaimed, ‘There's a man in the box!' He rushed to the radio and put his eye to the ventilation slots in the side. ‘He's in there, Miss! I can hear him. But how'd he fit himself in that little cabinet?'

A recording of Big Ben's chimes rang from the device. Tommy started back in astonishment. ‘And there's a church clock in there, too.'

As Alec gently picked up Sam to carry him to the bed they'd made for him, a siren warned of incoming enemy aircraft.

‘I've heard that sound before!' Tommy forgot the radio now. ‘When that engine starts its shouting, you see black crosses in the sky not long after. What are they?'

‘They're flying machines, Tommy.'

‘Flying machines? Nah! There isn't such a thing.' He ran to the window to yank back the blackout material. On high ground, above the harbour, searchlights shot their beams upward. As if the gods of war brandished fiery sabres in the night. The narrow blades of light reached up to pierce a thin layer of cloud a mile above the earth. Carefully, the searchlight operators scoured the sky for Nazi bombers. Once the invaders were revealed, the anti-aircraft gunners would open to fire.

Sally switched off the dining-room chandelier, lest the glow pouring through the gap that Tommy had created in the curtain draw the attention of enemy pilots.