Dark Harbour: The Tale of the Soul Searcher (38 page)

Vladimir saw that two people had arrived at the park. A young boy sat on a swing while someone pushed him. He’d only given him a few feeble swings before the grey-haired man sat on the swing next to the boy. There was a third chair; Vladimir slowly approached.

He knew who they were, but, even so, it was very strange. It was just that he’d never been haunted by Ulric Tuckwell before. The boy in the swing was Jeremy. No surprise that he was here again.

Vladimir sat down next to them in the empty swing, listening in on their conversation. Eventually Ulric noticed him and turned to look him over. The side of Ulric’s face had that horrible, open wound on it, the flesh ripped apart and a crispy line of blood all the way down his neck.

‘Here he is, Jeremy. Vladimir got here at last.’

‘I’ve never seen you before. All these years and I’ve never seen you,’ Vladimir said to the ghost.

‘I’ve been around. Just not in your dreams. You know it. When your time is up the clock will chime.’

‘What do you want?’

‘Wanted to find Jeremy, didn’t I?’ Ulric replied as he turned to the silent boy.

Vladimir peeked at him. His reflective face stared back, but his eyes weren’t haunted today; instead they shone with a purple glow.

‘But it’s hard to find Jeremy. Hard to find him since you killed him.’

‘Jeremy had to die,’ Vladimir replied. ‘He was weak. It was for the best.’

Ulric placed a hand on the boy’s fair hair and ruffled it up. ‘We all meet again though, don’t we? I found you.’

‘I know. I knew it.’

‘You have the power to save people, Vladimir, and yet still they slip away from you.’

‘It wasn’t my fault!’ Vladimir cried as he shot to his feet.

‘Sit down,’ Ulric said calmly. ‘I’m not in any pain. It doesn’t matter.’

‘Doesn’t matter? Then why are you here?’

‘Why are
you
here?’ Ulric asked before dragging in a weary breath. ‘You came here to understand that one of the Guardians is dead, the other is still alive, for now.’

‘So they failed?’

‘Don’t worry about their test. How about you worry about yours?’ The walking dead man got to his feet. ‘If only we could believe that everything that happens in this world transpires according to the will of the universe. That we can’t lose. Can’t fail. Despite everything that is thrown at us.’

Vladimir shook his head. ‘How do I find them?’

‘Follow the boy,’ Ulric replied. He stared up into the sky as large raindrops began to smack on the tarmac. ‘This one’s going to pour. I know how to tell now. It’s come to drench you. To extinguish.’

The ghostly grandfather strolled away from them, fading, leaving Vladimir alone with Jeremy. He couldn’t look at him, couldn’t face the child.

Vladimir knew that somehow he had to crawl his way out of this nightmare. He knew it was only a dream, that he wasn’t really in this park that wasn’t a park anymore. He knew he wasn’t really there with this young boy whose spirit had been extinguished many years ago.

The young boy whom he had murdered.

He knew that he was back at home in his bed. He could feel the bed sheets against his simmering skin. With all of his might, he tried to open his eyes to rescue himself from this haunting. It took all of his efforts to prise open his eyes just a fraction, and see a blurred bedroom through his eyelashes.

But still Jeremy was right next to him, and now he was staring at him. As the grey clouds swarmed the sky and sucked away all the light from the sky’s ball of flames, the purple glow from Jeremy’s eyes shone over Vladimir’s body until it was the only light he could see. The rain poured and poured, gushing, drowning.

If only he could break out of this nightmare. If only he could move a limb and wake into the real world of the relative again. No matter how hard he tried to move his arm, it just would not move. Vladimir began to think that he might be stuck in this paralysis forever and never be able to walk around in his real world, never be able to do his work again.

Rain splashed against Vladimir’s bedroom window and suddenly he was awake. He sat upright in his bed, and saw the sprays of water smashing against the glass like a tidal wave. He looked at his digital alarm clock. It was thirty-seven minutes past nine in the evening. Just how long had he been sleeping?

He sprang out of bed and flung open his wardrobe. Each garment was hung up neatly and he reached first for his black shirt. As he grabbed the hanger with his left hand, he winced in pain. His bandage was stained from the weeping of his wounds while he’d slept. It really needed changing but he didn’t have time.

As he assembled his Halo of Fires suit on his body, he felt himself becoming the immaculate Vladimir again, slipped into his role of karmic angel.

He knew that someone had already been killed today; he had to get going before any more fell away from his world.

Chapter 14.5

The rain lashed down relentlessly like the tears from a defeated army of angels, an army that was now retreating for it had given up on the town. It had chased away the last of the seaside daytrippers long ago as darkness had engulfed the amusements. If there were any other stragglers, then the sight of Devlan and his glowing red eyes emerging from the mist would have easily been the deciding factor in convincing them that Floyd’s Amusements was not the place to be right now.

Wandering around the complex, Devlan’s clothes were completely soaked and the sea wind bit ferociously against his face. Devlan hated being wet. He really, really hated it. It had been years since he was last out in the rain. Too many cold memories. He could still feel those miserable shiverings in his bones to this day.

Whenever he got involved with Floyd, he would always end up in these dreadfully unpleasant situations. He should have known better. He should have known that Floyd’s foolish scheme would only drag him down. Perhaps there was a part of him that knew all this from the start, born of a tired hopelessness. Devlan just wanted something to do, just wanted to feel needed again.

He knew the Fires were going to be coming for him, and that they would intend to kill him. Amongst the putrid smells in the warehouse, he’d also smelt Floyd’s deceit. No doubt The Harbour Master had asked his servant to dispose of Devlan. If there was a job too difficult for Floyd then he would just get someone else to do it.

Devlan stopped walking. There wasn’t much point searching out Henry; they would get to him sooner if he stayed in one place. He removed his gloves and tossed them onto the drenched tarmac. Holding a hand in front of his face, he squeezed his fingers into a tight ball as the raindrops fell from his fingertips.

Coarse hair sprouted all the way up his arms and his fingernails were like thick, black claws, curling round into sharp points. Completely hideous, but good for defending himself, as they had proved so many, many times over the years.

Two large figures appeared from nowhere out of the streaming black rain, as though they were two of the angelic warriors passing over in the skies but had fallen with the raindrops. One of them was standing downwind from Devlan and the bitter smell of whisky carried through the slimy air. The other stood on his opposite side, like a sprinter at the mark, ready to run away. He was that giant meathead Clint; the other was Jake.

Either of them on their own would not have been a problem at all for Devlan. Both of them together possibly made it a bit more balanced. Nevertheless, he much preferred that it didn’t come to that.

‘Where’s Maristow?’ Devlan asked, his voice muffled by the penetrating wind. Opening his mouth wide to project his words, they surely would see the large canines protruding from his rows of teeth.

Neither of them answered. The shadowy figure of Jake began gliding silently towards him. Tentatively Clint did the same.

‘We shouldn’t be getting caught up in this,’ Devlan went on. ‘This is all between Maristow and Floyd. Why don’t we just let them sort out their thing and we can all go our own ways?’

‘We know what you did, Devlan,’ Jake said.

‘Floyd’s playing you. You want me to take you to him? I know where he is, where he’s keeping those two lads.’

‘We already know where they are. Henry is on his way now.’

Devlan’s heart sank. Mostly he was disappointed in himself for not imagining that Floyd could stitch him up as the fall guy. ‘Whatever he’s told you, it’s all lies.’

‘Those kids had gone looking for you! You kidnapped them and we know why. We know that you’re a sick, blood-drinking freak.’

Devlan shook his head and lowered his dimming red eyes to the ground, struck by a painfully old feeling.

‘We know what you are, Devlan,’ Jake went on. ‘We know you’re that killer, Old Shiner. We’ve let you live long enough.’

‘No,’ Devlan growled.

‘Just take a look at yourself. What the hell sort of freak are you?’

Devlan made a strange guttural sound, almost like the purr of a motorbike engine slowly ticking over. It suddenly erupted into a tremendous growl that pierced Jake’s eardrums and made Clint flinch his entire body.

Clint fumbled into the back pocket of his jeans and brought out his knife. He lunged at Devlan but the creature’s movements were much less sloppy and he darted out of the way, grabbing a clawed hand on the back of Clint’s head and pushing him hard into the ground.

He wasn’t quick enough for Jake however, who sent his right fist flying into his ribcage. It was a move that usually put people in a crippled heap on the floor, but Devlan remained standing, catching Jake’s fist after the impact and then swiping his other hand against Jake’s neck.

Jake recoiled as the salty sea air seeped into the parallel lacerations down his neck. Devlan stepped closer to him ready to spring, but Jake took him by surprise by diving into him, sending them both to the ground. With all of his strength he pinned Devlan against the tarmac, and the monster stared back at him with his wild, glowing eyes, his mouth wide open ready to sink his teeth into Jake’s flesh.

Jake wasn’t able to hold him much longer. Clint had found his feet again, and also his blade, and he stumbled over. Seeing him approach, Devlan growled once more, and with a strength that seemed to defy the fibres of his muscles, he threw the gargantuan warrior off him and Jake went flying into some railings. He fell to the ground winded, gasping frantically for air.

In a lightning move, Devlan was back to his feet and eyeing up the other Power. He could smell his fear, could see his hand trembling as he held the knife before him.

Clint looked at Jake writhing on the ground, and it seemed to destroy the little courage he’d mustered. Making the most of his hesitation, Devlan stormed after him, clawing against Clint’s hand and sending the knife flying into the darkness. Another claw swiped for his face, but Clint flinched out of the way quickly enough. He wasn’t fast enough for Devlan’s next move though, as the frenzied creature launched himself at him. His claws pierced into his flesh and his teeth sank into his shoulder making Clint scream. It wasn’t the pain that made him yell though, it was the panicky fear of having this freak attached to his body. Clint imagined Devlan tearing him open and ripping his guts apart and he frantically span around, clattering into the panels of the helter-skelter.

Still Devlan would not detach and so Clint roared harder, erupting every ounce of his fear in a desperate throe. The teeth dug further into his neck, the claws rooting into his flesh like burrowing mites. The freak would drain his nerves until Clint died of fright.

Clint felt he was being eaten alive, but somehow he managed to reach for Devlan’s red eyes and pressed his thumbs into them. Devlan growled again and he unlocked the grip, slopping to the ground. In his relief, Clint kicked at him as hard as he could.

It didn’t seem to have any effect. The creature was very quickly back on his feet and snarling as his eerie eyes stared back at the terrified Power. The freak was indestructible.

Devlan took a pace forwards, Clint stepped backwards. Another step from Devlan and Clint was now turning to run, like a stag running from the bloodthirsty panther who could sense a kill.

He wanted to be away from the freak, but no matter how hard he pumped his meaty legs, he just wasn’t quick enough. Devlan pounced onto his back and sent him sprawling to the ground. As Clint frantically tried to wriggle free, the monster grabbed his head with both hands, arched it back, and then smacked it against the ground, sending Clint away into blackness.

One down, one to go. Devlan got to his feet and dashed back to the bleeding, winded Jake who’d now found his breath again and was clambering to his feet. Jake saw him approach and looked around for his fellow Power.

‘Just me and you, Jake,’ Devlan murmured. ‘Going to run away like a little girl too?’

‘I’m not afraid of you, Devlan.’

‘The mighty Jake don’t fear anyone, does he? But you should know there’s always a bigger fish.’

Jake clenched both of his fists. He was ready to fight the monster before him, ready to destroy him. Jake, Power of the Fires, never lost against anyone, and so Devlan could be no exception. This was Jake’s chance to finally prove that he was the greatest, that he was the champion of Dark Harbour. Devlan’s scalp would immortalise his reputation of indomitability.