THE CHASE
The night was filled with the sound of wolves. Tanya and Pietr, hurrying along the riverside path towards the castle, froze at that sound. Pietr, dragging his sprained and swollen ankle, leaned against a tree and shook his head.
" Tanya - no...wait..." His voice was an agonised gasp.
" Come on Pietr - Come on!"
" It hurts too much. I can't keep up...Just give me a minute to rest."
Tanya glanced up sharply as the howling rolled again through the forest. Closer this time.
The pack was drawing near.
As Pietr began to sag tiredly against the rough bark of the willow tree, Tanya rushed across and hauled him to his feet. Pietr cried out in pain.
" Another mile, my brother," Tanya said gently, but firmly. " A few more minutes of effort, that's all. And as soon as we reach the castle, everything will be all right. You know that!"
Pietr nodded, his teeth clenched with the sharp agony of his injury. There was sweat on his face, and Tanya noticed that his skin was waxy pale.
" I know it," he breathed hoarsely. " Everything will be - all right..."
Pietr leaned on his sister`s shoulder as she guided him back onto the path, which wound up through the dense trees to the safety of home at the edge of the forest.
" The howling has quietened now," Pietr`s sister observed. And indeed the cold breeze flowing through the forest gloom brought only the sound of rustling leaves and the busy liquid splashings of the river rushing by.
" Yes," Pietr muttered. " It has."
But he was not reassured, because he knew that the creatures hadn't given up. Wolves might howl and run, and run and howl all night in pursuit of their prey. But these beasts knew that silence was much more terrifying...And even now they would be hurrying quickly and quietly towards the two desperate children, who had so foolishly played by the river too long; not noticing the sun going down - Suddenly realising it had set beyond the hills, and that the bright full moon was rising.
Pietr knew this because the villagers spoke often of the beasts in whispered tones, and told how clever they were. They were fast also...Fast and intelligent, these loup garou.
These werewolves.
All of Tanya's energy was now taken up with helping her brother along. She spoke no more, which allowed Pietr to listen to the vast blanket of silence in the forest, and to pick out the tiniest threads of sound...
There to their left! A small twig snapped. A deer or a squirrel perhaps, but more likely a man-wolf getting ready to attack.
And there ahead! A busier swishing of autumn-dry leaves, as though a huge furry shape was carefully pushing its way through.
And behind them! Was that the deep, harsh breathing of the predator, or just a frightened boy's overactive imagination?
Pietr did not know what to think. But as he looked up he saw the trees thinning ahead and the castle walls gleaming in the bone-white moonlight beyond.
" Almost there!" Tanya said, smiling in triumph. " Nearly home, brother!"
Pietr began to smile also, as he dared to hope they were safe.
And then the werewolf burst from the undergrowth beside them with a shattering roar.
Tanya shrieked in utter fear. Pietr pushed her away, and fell to one side as the great silver-grey beast sprang in a mighty leap towards them. The werewolf, a full-grown adult and immensely powerful, landed lightly and turned, growling. He knew he had plenty of time for the kill, and that these puny younglings were defenceless.
" Run!" Pietr yelled, as his sister knelt, petrified, a few yards away. " Run for home! Do it Tanya - DO IT!"
But Tanya seemed pinned to the ground in terror, as Pietr shakily got to his feet and prepared to buy a few extra seconds for his sister with his own life.
The man-wolf glared at the children with radiant red eyes, its huge tongue slicked across the gleaming fangs lining the great jaws. Pietr reached for a fallen branch as the werewolf took a step forward, flexing its talon-tipped fingers.
Then, as though from nowhere, the air was pierced by a series of whistling, keening cries. There was a sudden commotion in the leaf canopy above. A cloud of dark fluttering shapes swept out of the gloom and dropped down on the startled werewolf.
The creature bellowed its rage and pain. It flung the strange looking bats this way and that, but they darted back with glittering black eyes, needle teeth fastening into the werewolf`s fur and flesh.
Tanya whooped with excitement and Pietr grinned. They felt the wonderful stirring in their bodies as the changes began.
Now the werewolf was weakening and sinking to the ground, its roarings fading away - As the largest of the bat things rippled in the darkness and turned into the form of a tall and elegant man.
Tsepesh Vlad dracul glanced at his son and daughter. They saw anger in his expression, but also relief that they were safe.
" Don`t worry, the werewolf pack has been frightened away," Vald Dracul said. He waved a white hand at the body of the beast.
" So drink, my children, drink and be strong again. For a werewolf`s blood is as good as any human`s to a hungry vampire."
OPENING
Garron came upon the opening quite unexpectedly one morning. He had been sent to mend the fences around the borders of his father's lands. It was tedious but necessary work, and Garron thought he was in for a long and boring day.
He slowed the pack beast and then stopped as he crested the hill. Beyond the farm boundary the hills rose into the green and softly glowing sky, in which the largest of Thule's three moons hung like a great paper lamp.
But there was something else - some strange disturbance in the air. A shimmering. A darkness. The pack beast, a powerful but very stupid animal, stamped its feet and shuffled nervously. Garron calmed it with his usual clicking sound. Then he tethered the creature to an iron spike he hammered into the ground, before going to investigate the mystery.
Sometimes, Garron knew, the air and the sunlight could play unusual tricks. He had seen haloes around Thule's orange sun: he had seen bridges of light spanning the space between the moons: he had seen mirages and illusions and clouds in the shape of faces ...
But this - this was altogether different and much, much more interesting.
Garron approached it slowly, and walked around it, before deciding that, yes, it was indeed a split in the thin air itself; a fracture between this place and somewhere else.
Garron's father had told him how tremors could tear the rocks in the earth. So was it possible that greater tremors, in time and space, could tear the fabric of the universe?
It was a wonderful prospect, and an exciting one - an opportunity not to be missed!
Garron looked around to check that none of the farm hands were working nearby. No, he was quite alone. And so, with a great grin spreading across his face, he moved up to the opening and began to push himself through.
*
The gang was getting closer. Ben saw a nick of darkness in the wall and knew that the alley was his only chance. He slammed on the brakes of his bike and dropped his left heel to the pavement to help him turn.
He almost didn't make it, and knocked his right elbow painfully against the wall's wet brickwork...But then he was pumping at the pedals, powering up his speed, flying through the gloom of the alley well ahead of his pursuers.
Ben knew he shouldn't have stood up to Henderson and his mob. Common sense ought to have told him to hand his money over and say nothing. But when, Ben thought miserably, have I ever had any common sense? He'd not only stood up to Henderson's threats, but smacked the kid in the nose as well.
Henderson had not been pleased, to say the least, and Ben had only just managed to escape his punishment. He'd leapt on his bike and sped away, not expecting Henderson and his cronies to put up much of a chase...
Big mistake. Henderson was slow off the mark, but he kept coming. Until now, Ben was tired and starting to feel a little desperate. Still, beyond the alley was the main road, and shortly after that the street where he lived. With a bit of luck, he'd make it safe home with a story to tell his mates at school tomorrow.
The wheels of Ben's bike splashed through a puddle and rattled over a stretch of uneven cobbles. There was fifteen yards to go to the road - ten yards - five -
Then disaster struck. The front wheel hit a patch of old wet newspaper, which slid away from under it. Ben felt the bike tipping, tried to correct it, and failed. He crashed down heavily, banging his head on the side wall of the alley as he went.
There was an instant of dizziness and pain, when Ben felt completely confused. He saw stars before his eyes; then spinning, sweeping lights which, he realised, were probably the headlights of passing cars.
And yet, there was something else - a weird swirling in the air, a growing darkness filled with movement and strange colours.
Under different circumstances, Ben might have been fascinated by the mystery. But now he was starting to panic, as stones began landing around him. Henderson's gang were hurling them at him, yelling as they danced and skipped closer, moving in for the kill.
Ben scrambled unsurely to his feet and tried to stumble out into the main street. But the odd whirling darkness was in the way...And now - Now something monstrous was bulging out of it!
Ben jumped back in utter amazement and fear as the huge shapeless thing came into view. Fifteen feet tall, with a body of loose, floppy flesh and a head -
Ben screamed. Its head was vast, split by an enormous grinning mouth, above which three great jellyfish eyes gazed at him wetly.
Nearby, Henderson and his gang were screaming too. The stones they had been throwing at Ben they now aimed at the monster; as cars screeched to a halt, shunting into one another, their horns blaring.
The dreadful creature pushed a little further out of the opening, so that a clutch of wriggling grey tentacles came into view. The sound it began making was unbelievable; deafening, terrifying...
The gang dropped their stones and ran.
" Wait!" Garron shouted, as the stinging missiles struck him. " I don`t want to hurt you."
All around him the strange-smelling darkness was filled with rushing shapes and flashing lights and two-legged animals skittering this way and that...
Two-legged and tiny, but frighteningly ugly and hostile, Garron thought, as he pulled himself back through the opening to escape from the madness.
PHONECALL
Dead of night
Ring ring
Ring ring
Hello?
Hello love. It's Grandma.
Hiya Grandma. How are you?
Not so bad, Steven, thank you. How's Mum and Dad?
They're fine. They're asleep.
Yes...And how are you?
I'm OK. I've got a new bike.
That's nice.
It`s a mountain bike.
Oh. But there are no mountains near you!
I know - but you don't need mountains to ride a mountain bike...It's blue, two-tone.
I see. It sounds like a lot of fun. I hope you enjoy riding it, mountains or not!
I will -And take care on it, won't you?
Grandma! I will. Don't go on.
All right, Steven. I'm sorry...How's Granddad?
Oh, he's fine...Well, he had a cold.
Ah, his chest again.
Yeah, I suppose. He's taking tablets.
Mmm. Tell him I love him, Steven.
I will. He already knows, though.
Yes, but tell him anyway. Please.
OK.
And I love you too, Stevie - and Mum and Dad.
I know...Grandma, we miss you.
I miss all of you, too...I've got to go now, love.
Will you call again soon?
If I can. Sometimes it's hard to get through. But I'll try...
OK then.
Goodnight Steven.
Grandma - are you lonely there?
No. Not lonely. I'm happy most of the time. Now and again I feel a little bit sad, being away from you.
Have you got mountain bikes there?
Nothing like that...Steven, I have to go now -
I can hardly hear you Grandma!
Take care, my love...
Goodnight Grandma - I'll bring you more flowers next week. The others will have died by then.
Roses. I'll bring roses. You like them.
Yes. Yes I do - Steven - goodnight - now -
Bye, Grandma.
Click.
Dead of night.
SANDMAN
If only we hadn't panicked, maybe things wouldn't be quite so bad now. We ought to have kept running, instead of just heading for home...
By 'home', I mean the caravan where my best mate Jim and I were staying, with Jim's elder sister Sue and Paul, her boyfriend. They hadn't been at all keen on the idea, but I think Jim's Mum was glad we were going along, just to make sure that Paul and Sue slept in separate bunks. Jim reckoned that if she'd had her way, Mrs Kent would have insisted on separate countries!
Anyway, there we were, the four of us, parked in the middle of nowhere with moors rising up to tae east and a sullen looking sea to the west. The nearest village was ten miles down the coast. The nearest KFC was fifty miles away, in Swansea. And the nearest Sega Megadrive seemed on another planet entirely...
" Well," Paul said, trying to be cheerful, standing with his hands on his hips and looking out towards the ocean. " What about a bit of exploration?"
Jim gave one of his I-wish-I'd-stayed-home faces. Sue was sitting against the bonnet of Paul's red Astra rubbing sun tan lotion on her arm, though the sun wasn't out at all and didn't look as though it would be. In fact, just the opposite: a line of dark cloud was pushing in towards the land, and the wind had risen since we'd arrived, lending a chill to the air.
" Great," Jim said with a double dose of sarcasm in his voice. " Maybe we could build sandcastles!"
" Good idea." Paul beamed at us. " Have you brought buckets and spades?"
" Get a life," Jim muttered, as Paul cottoned on to the joke. His smile faded a bit.
" And you get your waterproof," he snapped back. " It looks like rain."
The really weird thing was that the bay where we ended up was not marked on the map - at least, the name of it wasn't. Although some of the local people in the village we'd passed through (the one ten miles away) mentioned it. In fact, they recommended it to us. But I got to wondering if maybe they were just trying to get us into some kind of trouble...Still, it was a beautiful and dramatic place: hemmed in by cliffs to the north, which crumbled away to dark sand dunes southward. The beach itself was also dark, the sand grading from a kind of amber colour, through various browns towards black.
" Maybe it's private property, or National Heritage land or something," Jim guessed. He sounded nervous, but I reckoned it was because the stark loneliness of the beach had spooked him. The wind and the sound of the sea came booming back off the cliffs, and our voices cracked and echoed as we spoke.
Paul shrugged. " Naa. It would say on the map, wouldn't it?"
Jim glared at him. " Being older, I suppose you know everything?"
" I know you're a pain in the neck with your moaning!"
" Oh stop quarrelling," Sue tutted at them. " Let's just look round and get back to the 'van before the rain comes...I wonder what those bumps are?" she wondered, changing the subject in a second. She did that all the time.
The 'bumps' were more like eroded pillars made of sand. There were six of them that we could see, and lower, broader shapes beyond: it looked to me that the bumps and broader shapes had once been narrower and taller, but the sea had worn them down bit by bit.
" Somebody got here before us with their sandcastles," I chuckled. Nobody appreciated my joke. Jim walked over to the nearest shape and kicked at it with his foot. Some sand trickled away.
" Quite solid. Maybe they're natural structures."
I went over and stood beside Jim and prodded the thing, which was a bit taller than we were. It felt like the sand grains had been welded together; you really needed to pick at it to work the sand loose.
" I don't know what they are...But I don't think we should worry about that now." I'd just felt the first warm summer raindrop on the back of my neck, and the wind was strengthening moment by moment.
Behind us, Sue gave a great shriek. Jim and I spun round, only to see Paul flicking water up at her. They were down by the shoreline, trainers off, running barefoot through the breakers.
" Kids!" I muttered in disgust.
" Hey, wait a minute." Jim dug in the pocket of his waterproof. " I've got a penknife in here...Yeah, here we are. This'll do the trick."
He began to prise away at the crusty outer coating of sand. It started coming loose in clumps.
I turned away from him and saw that Sue and Paul were running further down the beach. Beyond them, the sky was darkening and the black rainclouds were looming like a second landscape of cliffs. More droplets of water were flung by the wind into my eyes.
" Wow! Take a look!" Jim said suddenly.
I looked. A lump of welded sand had dropped loose, and it was obvious then that the mound was hollow. Jim stuck his hand in before I could say anything to warn him.
He pulled out a wedge of rotted material.
We both wrinkled our noses in disgust.
" What's going on?" I said, feeling more than nervous myself now. To be honest, I was getting pretty scared.
Jim shook his head, looking revolted at the smell coming out of the hollow mound.
" Poo! Smells like something died in there," he said - and then the light changed in his eyes. He started kicking at the sand structure like a madman. And I helped him, because I had to know. Even though I felt sick and afraid, more and more
afraid - I had to know.
Suddenly the whole side of the mound collapsed and fell inward on itself. More of the material spilled out, together with leathery bits of black stuff ... And a skull that rolled from the dark interior and dropped between my feet with a thud.
Jim screamed, at the same instant that Paul and Sue began screaming a hundred yards away.
I jumped round as though I'd been hit. And then I realisedi as I saw them struggling, sand seeming to crawl upwards over their bodies, that the whole beach was alive -
And hungry.
Probably we were not being attacked because we were wearing our shoes. Jim yelled, it was a terrible sound of fear and anguish, and began running towards his sister and Paul.
I grabbed him. A gust swept sand onto my face and I felt it stinging - I FELT IT EATING ITS WAY INTO MY SKIN!
" We've got to get back!" I shouted at Jim. " We must wash this stuff off. Come on - COME ON!"
I dragged him, crying and thrashing, off the hideous beach and up the path to the caravan. I pushed him inside, snatched one of the water containers and poured it over both of us: while outside the wind rose to a roar and the sea echoed and boomed, almost loudly enough to drown out Paul and Sue's fading cries.
It's eleven o'clock now, and dark outside. The storm is worse, and the caravan is rocking gently on its wheels.
After the horrible sick shock of what happened, Jim and I talked through different plans to escape. I even said I'd have a go at driving the Astra - except the keys are in Paul's pocket, and no way was I going back down on to that beach. No way, in fact, did either of us fancy stepping outside the caravan at all.
So we decided to sit it out and wait for someone to come and rescue us. The local people must know what this place is they must! - and they'd come for us, wouldn't they..?
Although, it occurs to me now that maybe they direct one or two tourists here so that the beach will not go hungry. And then it will leave them alone...
But perhaps there's a chance. Jim said he'd phone home, though of course he hasn't. His Mum will start to worry; and call the police; and they'll call the local cops, who'll send out a patrol car to search...
I hope so, because we don't have that long. The offshore wind has been blowing sand steadily against the side of the caravan - you can hear it hissing on the windows.
And some of it's blown underneath the door, too. Quite a lot of it in fact...And although we are sitting very quietly, Jim and I, and although the air is motionless here inside, the stream of black sand is still slowly moving, inch by inch, towards us.
THE MAN WHO PAINTED THE WORLD
The little town of Amorgos on the island of that name looks from a mile away like a cluster of chalk sculptures planted on the sandy hill. You can see blue sky through the open arch of the church tower at the top of the town, and boats of many bright colours moored in the tiny harbour at the bottom. There's a jigsaw puzzle of narrow streets in between, and that's all.
The most striking thing about Amorgos is its stillness. Nothing seems to move there. The dazzling white shape of a gull might cut across the sky on a hot breeze; and the sea will lap lazily at the coastal rocks like green glass melting. But you can stare at the scene for many minutes and still not see a farmer or a fisherman, a peasant woman or a child at play.
It is as though time has stopped there, forgotten by the rest of the world.
Davy, Carl and I ended up at Amorgos by chance. We had been spending the summer exploring the Greek islands, hitching rides on fishing boats from place to place. Sometimes the fishermen wanted us to help haul nets in return for the favour. But mostly they just let us laze in the sun.
We landed on the western tip of Amorgos late in the afternoon. The town gleamed like bone in the distance. There was no particular hurry for us to get there: we could sleep on the beach that night and walk to the town in the morning. But Carl as usual was hungry, and we were all hot and thirsty after our journey. So we tramped up the beach and then along a narrow sheep track which took us in the right direction.
Perhaps half way there, we spotted a small whitewashed house built in the shade of some olive trees. There was no glass in the one window we could see, and the door was open.
" Maybe we could beg a drink from the owner," Davy suggested.
Carl smiled. " And some food too - though I hope it's not olives and goat`s cheese again!"
" Worth a try," I suggested. " Come on."
It was odd, I thought, that no dirt path led up to the house. There was just the scrubby, rocky ground, and longer grass beneath the trees. Perhaps nobody ever came here. Or it might be that the place was empty and abandoned.
Even so, I called out in bad Greek, " Hello - anybody here?"
No-one answered, and before I could say or do anything Carl strode forward and stepped inside. Davy followed him. I followed Davy.
I was wrong about the place being empty. An old man was sitting by the window, looking unpleasantly at us over the top of an artist's easel. We could see he was holding a paint brush in one hand, a palette in the other. His skin was as brown and wrinkled as sun-dried leather, but he had the bluest eyes I had ever seen; blue and as innocent as a child's.
Carl being Carl just grinned at him. Davy looked a bit embarrassed and guilty. I stepped forward and introduced myself and tried to explain why we were there.
Before I had stumbled over the first sentence, the old man waved his paint brush in front of us and said, in English but with a heavy accent; " No, no. You don't bother me now. Go away."
" Well that's not very friendly." Carl's grin had vanished. I glanced at Davy as Carl went on. " Look, pal, we've only just arrived on the island. We're hungry, thirsty and hot...If you have no food to sell, then how about a drink of water?"
" We'll even pay you for that," I added, thinking the old man probably had to carry it from the nearest well.
But again he waved his brush angrily. " No! No water, nothing. Now you go away!"
That annoyed all of us, but Carl has always been hot tempered and I could see his anger rising. His face flushed and a fierce light glowed in his eyes. He clenched his fists and stepped forward, catching one leg of the easel with his foot -
Without warning, the land went very quiet, just for an instant, before the deep trembling started. It lasted only a few seconds, but it frightened us. The island had moved, and I'd felt no bigger or more important than a grain of sand upon it.
" Earth tremor," Davy said. Carl looked surprised and curious at the same time, as his anger faded away.
" Wait a minute... I touched the easel and - "
He lifted his hand to try it again, but the old man jumped up with a yell.
" No! Keep away from this! Get out, get out now!"
" Keep your shirt on," Carl told him. " I only wanted to know - "
" You know nothing! You are fools! Get out!"
" OK, we're going..." I looked at Carl and Davy as I said this, warning them back. Because it seemed to me that the old man was dangerous - and that Carl's hunch had been right. When the painting was disturbed, the earth had shuddered.
" No, Tony, we're not going," Carl replied, staring right back at me. " All we wanted was a drink. We've tried being friendly with this old goat, but that's obviously not good enough. Anyway, nobody calls me a fool and gets away with it!"
" Carl don't!" I yelled, as he made a grab for the old man`s arm,
The man drew back, swept his brush through a mix of red paint on the palette, then flicked it across his canvas.
Carl gave a scream, as a huge gash appeared on his face and grew - even as we watched, it grew! - down his chest to his stomach. His white T-shirt was instantly covered in blood.
" What's happening,- what's happening!" Davy cried out. With a grin of pure malice, the old man dabbed at the palette again and jabbed again at the canvas.
Carl came apart before our eyes and fell to the floor.
I grabbed Davy and swung him out into the blinding sunlight. He was still screeching stupidly, 'What's happening what's happening!' over and over again.
Something deep inside told me what was happening. By going into the hut, we had disturbed something very ancient and very evil. The Greeks had stories about the Fates who decided how long men should live, and how they should die...
And maybe the old man was one of them, or something similar. Because there was no doubt that he did not paint on an ordinary canvas, but on the fabric of reality itself.
Davy was running beside me one moment. And the next moment he was gone.
Painted out of the picture.
I shrieked in terror and ran on...But then slowed and stopped, realising there was no escape from the man who painted the world.
I turned, and looking back, I could see through the open doorway of the hut as his bony hand dipped to the palette of colours once more, then dropped out of sight to the easel.
THE HOUR OF BECOMING
He kicked and screamed but there was no getting away from us. Harris used a lump hammer to smash down the door, and Hamilton and Joyce barged in a moment later. The old man had no chance to work his magic on us; no chance to change into something monstrous. At long last, after years of gathering evidence, we had the proof we needed that Benjamin Jeremiah Leech was a vampire.
We pulled him out into the late afternoon sunlight. I half expected him to curl up and burst into flames like paper held to a match. But old man Leech simply spat and cursed at the townspeople who'd assembled outside his farmhouse. He saved his worst curses for me, Herbert Laws, the mayor of River Falls for thirty years and proud of it.
By the time we got Leech to the stone water trough in the yard, his energy was spent. He sagged down between Graham Hamilton and Pete Joyce, then slowly lifted his weary eyes to look into mine. They were full of hurt and accusation.
I turned away from them.
" How can you do this to me, Herb?" Leech asked. " What have I ever done to you?"
" It's not what you've done to me, Ben," I answered him. " You haven't laid a finger on me, ever - thank the Lord. It's the other poor souls you've destroyed that I pray for!"
" It's a lie!" Leech yelled, struggling once more. Kim Campbell hurried over with a length of rope and helped Pete bind his hands while Graham held onto him. " It's a lie, I tell you - You're just letting superstition get in the way of common sense! Of course there's a vampire in River Falls, but it's not me, you've got to believe that ... It's not me!"
The crowd stirred unsurely. Good people, all of them, trusting people. And that had been part of the trouble. Even in the face of mounting evidence that one of the undead was plaguing the town, they had refused to accept it. Then later, when they had to believe, they could not bring themselves to accuse old man Leech.
Well, now they had no choice. The bodies of the Newman brothers the sheriff had found in Leech's barn convinced everyone. It was a horrible sight: those two poor boys with puncture marks in their neck, and all drained of blood. And one of them, probably Ramsey Newman, had used the last few drops to scrawl out Leech's name on the wooden wall, close to where he'd died. Nobody could doubt his guilt after that, could they now?
" Ben!" I snapped. The crowd stopped muttering and looked my way. Leech glared, his eyes sparking hate.
" Ben, there isn't a man, woman or child here that wouldn't see me run a stake through your heart right now. I've been talking with the town council, and with Sheriff Hutson, and we all agree that it would be right and proper to carry out that rough justice."
" Murderers!" Ben screamed. I held up my hand and he fell silent.
" But we're not savages, Ben. We're not animals. We're all sure you're guilty - but if you're not, there's a way you can prove it..."
I saw hope leap into the old man's eyes. Desperate hope. He would do whatever I said.
" What proof?" He demanded. " Tell me."
I beckoned to Deputy Laws to bring over my briefcase. This I opened, taking out a sheaf of papers and charts.
" I've been reading up about you and your kind. I know about vampires, Ben," I said. " I know that they don't come from this earth, but from some place between worlds. There are doors in space and time that can be opened, but only when the conditions are just right..."
Ben was shaking his head through all of this, as though he didn't understand a word of it.
" The moon and the stars and the planets have to be right for it to happen. And I've worked it out, Ben - I've worked out that tonight, as the sun goes down, is the hour of becoming. That is the moment when you will see the doorway to your world open up - and you will change to your true form as it does so."
" How'll we stop him then?" Hamilton wanted to know. I delved once more into my briefcase and pulled out an oaken stake, sharpened to a vicious point.
" With this," I said to the silent assembly.
*
We waited as the sun melted like red wax over the hills and the land began to darken. The peewits started up their night calling across the fields. A chill came into the air.
Everyone was growing a little nervous, like cattle spooked by approaching wolves. Ben stood, slumped against the trough, not moving except to stare at the sky. Joyce collected up some twigs and straw and made a fire. Sheriff Hutson and his deputy unholstered their guns.
I think we were all expecting the air to split open like an overripe peach, and for some terrible darkness to come pouring out.
But it didn't happen like that at all.
The hour of becoming was something gentler than that. Something much more terrifying.
I noticed the change first. Then the Sheriff saw - then they all saw - that the hills and valleys were different. There was no River Falls in the distance any more, just an endless black forest stretching away to a range of ghastly grey mountains. And in the sky, a huge moon the colour of an open sore was shining.
The Widow Constantine let out a shriek of pure terror. All the people - there must have been a good hundred in the crowd began running this way and that, looking for a way back.
Of course, there was no way back. The doorway had opened and closed, and it was as though they had all been asleep while it happened.
And now the air was filled with the sound of heavy beating wings, and little chattering sounds as the Swarm drew near.
The Sheriff and Deputy Laws started firing up at them, but vampires in their own world cannot be harmed by any mortal weapons. I know this, which was why I arranged this little trick in the first place...
You see, it's risky for a vampire to exist on Earth. He can be caught and killed in many ways. So it's much simpler to set such a trap, to lure crowds of people to one place...To one very special place where they can be hearded through like sheep.
Now the sounds of fear and pain were all around. I stood and I laughed!
Sheriff Hutson saw me and must have guessed. He shot at me and hit me, but the bullett was as nothing.
Then, grabbing the stake I'd flung to the ground, he ran at me.
Much too late, of course...For the hour of becoming was upon me too, and my fangs, which were longer than the point of wood he held, quickly found his neck.
THE SECRET OF THE TOMB OF KAY-TO-BAH
Fifteen miles out in the desert, east of the little town of Mazzarra, a tiny valley lies hidden from the curious eyes of Mankind. And in that valley stands the forbidden tomb of the Egyptian Enchanter, Kay-To-Bah. For over five thousand years, this secret place has drowsed its way into eternity; undisturbed, but for the endless dry touch of hot, windblown sand.
Anyone who has studied the history and legends of Ancient Egypt will know of the great Pyramids, the Sphinx, the Valley of the Kings where the mightiest Pharaohs of the nation's many dynasties were laid to their rest...But only a few, a very few, scholars and mystics know of the nameless valley out in the desert. For this place has, since the very earliest times, been considered too dangerous for its location to appear on any map. And while almost all of the treasure-filled tombs of the Pharaohs were looted ages ago, and the mummies of the mighty kings desecrated or destroyed - no-one has succeeded in entering Kay-To-Bah's tomb, or setting eyes upon the embalmed remains of antiquity's most powerful wizard.
One man, Professor Arthur Hansen, had made it his life's work to locate and then enter the tomb. For thirty years all of his spare time and money were spent in the task. Until finally, homeless, penniless, virtually friendless, he found himself gazing down through a cleft in the rocks, on the brink of a momentous discovery.
" Longbarrow, this is the place. I know it is. I can feel it in my bones!" Hansen said, without looking at the squat, bespectacled man at his side. Longbarrow had been a faithful companion and a loyal servant for all the long years of the Professor's search, and Hansen thought it proper that he should share in this wonderful moment of triumph.
" Sir..." Longbarrow squinted through his pebble glasses and the streaming veils of sand. " I see no tomb."
" The entrance is cleverly hidden," Hansen explained - more cleverly than you know, he thought. Kay-To-Bah, if myths were to be believed, was an arch-master of enchantment. He knew that no mere stones could hide the tomb-entrance forever. Only a spell of great power would offer any chance of concealment.
Hansen smiled to himself. And I have the key to that spell; the words that will unlock the mysteries of the universe.
He turned to his companion.
" Longbarrow, I intend to enter the tomb alone. Will you wait for me here? Wait two days. If I have not returned by that time, then you will know that I won't be coming back - because either I will be dead, or else I will have learned the secret of Kay-To-Bah's last resting place."
Longbarrow bowed in agreement. Hansen gazed upon his good friend's troubled face, before turning away to scramble into the ravine.
*
It took the Professor three hours to intone the key-spell that, he hoped, would unlock the outer portals of the tomb. After that time, much to his delight and excitement, there came the sound of stone grinding on stone. A great section of the rock face slid away sideways and downwards and out of sight revealing a short corridor, ablaze with hieroglyphics and, at the end of it, the incredible inner doors of the tomb. They were made of solid gold, delicately carved and inscribed, and encrusted with hundreds of precious jewels.
Hansen hurried towards them. He paid no attention to the wonderful pictograms filling the walls, floor and ceiling: nor was he interested in the limitless wealth of the inner doorways. His only aim was to recite the second segment of the key-spell, to reach the heart of Kay-To-Bah's hidden sanctuary.
Reading the words from the crumbling papyrus scroll took a further five hours. By this time Professor Hansen was desperately tired, and the light of his torch was fading. He had of course looked upon that scroll thousands of times before. And now, as the torch batteries gave the last of their energy and the light dimmed and was then extinguished entirely, he searched back in his memory for those final few lines - the most vitally important lines, the ones that would reveal the mysteries of infinity itself.
Recalling the words, Hansen prepared to speak them. But they died on his lips as the darkness fell around him...
Yet it was not a total darkness, as he had expected. It was, like the huge doors somewhere in front of him, speckled with jewels; thousands of tiny lights - the unwinking fires of uncounted stars!
Hansen drew in his breath. This was wonder almost beyond belief ...Until the Professor began to understand that Kay-ToBah's magic was greater than even the ancient stories proclaimed. The Enchanter had obviously possessed the ability to reach across space...And if that was true, was it even remotely possible that Kay-To-Bah had also conquered time?
Hansen had to know. Life would be meaningless without that final proof.
Hurriedly but carefully he spoke the remaining words of the key-spell. As his voice fell silent, a vertical blade of light split the darkness. The blade grew, as though it was tilting face-on to him.
But it was no sword of fire, the Professor realised now. What he was seeing were the vast golden doors swinging soundlessly open, so that warm scented air blew across him, and strange sounds filled the silence; and a figure swirled up towards Hansen and stood before him.
" So, at last the future is open to us..."
The Professor recognised the ancient language of Egypt, and struggled to frame a reply.
" Kay-To-Bah..." he croaked, his voice faltering. " You did not - die. You found the secret of - eternal life!"
" Foolish man," laughed the Enchanter. " For all your intelligence in opening these doors, you still fail to understand what has happened."
" I - am confused," Hansen said. " Tell me, great wizard...Tell me!"
Hansen could not help but gaze beyond the gold and purple robed figure of Kay-To-Bah. Standing ranked behind him were hundreds, thousands of men and woman, colourfully clothed in a similar way; while above them and around them the air was thick with their magic.
" Kay-To-Bah does not live forever," the Enchanter admitted. " I am a man, just as you are a man. And I have a man`s ambition, a man's greed. Your wish was to discover my secret. My wish, little puppet, is to make the Kingdom of Osiris once again the mightiest the world has known. And through you I have succeeded - for now my wizards, my enchantresses and all the legions of great Isis and Ra, will pour forth into your land and subdue it. The waters of the Nile will wash through all the nations of Earth and sweep away your futile civilizations!"
Kay-To-Bah's shrieking laughter echoed through the chamber as Hansen turned to make his escape.
" You have not opened a tomb, little puppet!" the Enchanter screamed. " But a doorway to the death of your world!"
The Professor barely heard him. He thought that if only he could yell a warning to Longbarrow waiting on the surface, then perhaps there was some slim chance that governments could be warned; that nations would have time to prepare...
Kay-To-Bah's razor-sharp sword swooped without warning, severing Hansen's head in a blow that ended all thought, all fear, all hope...
JENNIES
They had always been a scrubby kind of family, the McQueens, living in a dirty looking house on the edge of the estate, close by the rec. You never saw much of Mum or Dad, but when you did, you could understand why most folks stayed away from both them and the kids. I mean, the parents were gross; great fat lumpish people who wobbled when they walked. Dad wore huge grey baggy trousers and a grubby shirt always. He was bigger even than his wife - so obese that the flesh around his ankles bulged over the edge of his shoes. And his loose jowls quivered whenever he spoke, which was usually to shout at us kids when we called him names.
You saw less of Mum, which I suppose was a blessing. She was just like her husband, but minus the stubble. She always wore these huge faded floral dresses and tights the colour of stewed tea, and had her hair tied back in a bun. Everything about her seemed greasy: you`d never dream of shaking her hand or...ugh, just thinking about it makes me feel sick!...of kissing her.
Mr and Mrs McQueen had three, or maybe it was four, children. All girls. All fat like themselves. It really strained the imagination to think of such a pair of slobs actually making babies, let alone triplets - or perhaps quads. But the girls were identical, absolutely the same: so much so that we called them all `Jenny`, because nobody could tell them apart.
You know I`m sure that in every class in every school there`s a kid the other kids taunt. Well, in my class it was Jenny McQueen. And in my mate Toby`s class it was another Jenny McQueen. The third sister went to Wyland Comp school in Kittering, ten miles away. And if there was a fourth Jenny McQueen, she must have gone to Wyland as well - though we didn`t know for sure, and, to tell the truth, didn`t much care.
All the Jennies were fat, and looked set to grow up just as fleshy as their parents. Rumour had it they`d needed to have their school uniforms made especially for them, which must`ve cost a fortune. And deep down in my mind I wondered how they could afford it, because Mr McQueen didn`t seem to have a job, and his wife just hung around the house all day. The kids seemed to do the shopping.
Maybe it was just idle curiosity about stupid things like how they earned their money, or about what it felt like to be triplets, that made me slow my pace as I walked home from school that summer afternoon and saw a Jenny sitting on a bench by the river...It had to be that. I mean, no way did I feel sorry for her, or anything.
The bench overlooked the Wyland River, which bordered the Rec on one side, before it disappeared under the road and came out again by the industrial estate. It had been a long hot day in a summer of long hot days. The river was low and skimmed with slimy green weed. No-one bothered to sit and stare at it when it was like that. No-one except Jenny McQueen, of course.
I walked closer, slowing down so that I stopped as I reached her and frowned in that disdainful kind of way I`d learned from Toby and the other kids. She knew I was there, but didn`t trouble to look up at me.
So I was forced to say, " Whatcha doing, Jenny - " And was about to add, ` haven`t you got the strength in your legs to get yourself home?`...But something stopped me, a thought that it would be small-minded and mean just to toss an insult at her, when she`d done nothing to me, ever, except offend my eye.
And, you know, maybe it was that which caused her to lift her face upwards, the fact that I`d not automatically tried to put her down.
She startled me as she stared, because her eyes were incredibly, intensely blue, like bottle glass. I`d never noticed that before. They were so blue, I could almost see through them, right into her mind...
" What`s it to you, Flagg?" she said in that tired voice of hers, raising a hand to flick aside a twist of oily hair. She was sweating, because it was in the low eighties and had been all week. And the sweat looked like blobs of candle wax on her skin. She had no tan, but had blotched through too much exposure to the sun. I was revolted.
" Sorry I`m alive," I bit back. " I was just trying to be friendly, but I guess that was a total waste of time!"
There was a pause, and the silence between sort of curled up like dried-out paper. I turned away to walk on.
" I was just thinking about my sister," Jenny said unexpectedly. I stopped, swung back. " She`s down at the Mall, fetching the shopping...Your brainless friend Toby and a couple of that crowd are following her."
I frowned. " What do you mean, they`re following her?"
I gazed through the screen of foliage across the river. The Mall was five hundred yards away, past the trees, beyond the main road, behind other buildings.
Then the idea burst in my head like a flashbang. " Wait a minute - you and the other...I mean, you and your sisters - you can, like, read each other`s minds!"
Jenny smiled, as though I`d said something simple, like a toddler might say it. It was a normal, friendly smile embedded in all that fat.
But then it faded fast and anger rose like a shark to the surface.
" No!" Jenny cried out, half a shout and half moan. " No - they`re calling to her, taunting her...She`s running - dropping the groceries. They`re laughing...Throwing stones..."
Jenny`s vision turned inwards then. Though she still faced me, it wasn`t me she was looking at any more. Her expression changed through concern, to rage, to fear. To pain.
" Ow - they - "
She jolted backwards, and suddenly there was blood on her head. She clapped her hand to her skull and it came away sticky and red.
" Why can`t you just leave me...just leave me alone!"
She leaped up from the bench and went lumbering away towards the little bridge that would take her towards the Mall.
My mouth had dropped open in sheer stark shock. I couldn`t believe what I`d seen. Accepting the idea of telepathy was difficult enough, but for this Jenny to suffer the same wound as her sister was...amazing.
I could do nothing but follow her, staying some paces behind because I didn`t want Toby and the lads hanging around with a McQueen...
And also because I was frightened.
Jenny lumbered her way to the bridge, her podgy arms working at her sides, the flesh of her thick white legs rippling. She crossed the road at the pedestrian lights and, without hesitating, headed for the cut-through which led to the back of the shops, along what was known locally as `Graffiti Alley`.
And there we found her sister, the other Jenny McQueen, backed against a wall with Toby and Mike, Benny and Christopher and most of the rest of the usual crowd ranged around her. They were chanting, and Jenny McQueen was blubbering amidst a litter of scattered groceries.
Toby had always been the leader of the group, and when he stepped forward and slapped Jenny`s face, Chris did as well, unthinkingly.
" Hey Tobe," Mike yelled, breaking up with laughter as he said it, " why don`t you pick on somebody your own size?"
That set everyone off, and they started doing a ridiculous war-dance around the slumped form of the weeping girl. I could see from where I was standing that the side of her head was cut, where one of the kids had thrown a tin of beans or something - cut in exactly the same place as her sister.
The Jenny standing close to me turned. There was such bitterness in her eyes that I felt ashamed before I had time to think about it.
" You have never learned, have you?" she said softly, as though I was entirely to blame. " Anything that`s not just like you, you hurt. Anything...And now I will have to move on, somewhere else. Out of your sight..."
I hadn`t a clue what she was talking about, and didn`t have the sense to stop her as she hurried forward to help her sister.
Toby and the rest were so busy with their little games that they didn`t notice Jenny until it was too late. She barged past them, knocking boys aside, and then, astonishingly, jumped towards her sister as though into a swimming pool.
What happened next might have happened only in my head. If I believe it really happened, then I`d be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life.
The way it is, the only mystery is that Toby has never come back...
Jenny hurled herself into her sister - and like water falling on water, they merged. There was a second of utter confusion as the girls` bodies splashed and rippled together.
Then there was only one Jenny, twice as large as before.
Mike let out a thin, high shriek, like a little girl and staggered back. Toby started swearing over and over, the same word, over and over...
Chris called out and pointed drunkenly along the alley.
Two other Jennies were coming closer, their distorted, unwieldy bodies labouring. We all started to scatter, as Mr and Mrs McQueen also appeared through a fire escape at the rear of one of the shops.
They rushed together and there was a sound like meat being slapped on a slab.
But I was running with the rest now, desperately scrambling to be first to the alley and through it to safety. Behind me, boys were crying and screeching, but I took no notice. I just kept going...
Until one scream came that was different from the others: a scream of pure terror.
That sound stopped me and spun me around and I saw - But please let it be a nightmare, please, please!
I saw Jenny McQueen and she was twenty feet high. She was holding Toby like a struggling mouse by his foot, and lowering him slowly towards her open, gaping mouth.