Vampire Shift (Kiera Hudson Series #1) (17 page)

“Or Vampyrus,” I added.

“Fancy checking it out?” he said, his eyes wide.

“One step ahead of you, sarge,” I said, pulling on my coat. “I’d already decided to go up there just before you showed up.”

Chapter Eighteen

Entering the bar area of the Inn, I could see that most of those who had stared at me earlier had now drifted back out into the cold to make their way home. There were just a couple of barflies, sitting by the fire.

“You know I don’t have any of my equipment on me,” Craig said. “If things start to turn ugly up at the church, we should have our -”

Cutting over him, I said, “Forget it. CS spray and Tasers aren’t going to be any good against vampires.”

“What then?” he asked. “We can’t go unprotected.”

Then, turning towards the little table that housed all of the old woman’s bottles of holy water and crucifixes, I scooped some up and handed them to Craig. “Fill your pockets with these,” I told him. “Believe it or not, the crucifix you left for me worked.”

“You’re kidding me,” he said.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” I said, holding out my hands that were visibly shaking at the thought of what had happened that night with Kristy Hall.

“I guess not,” he said, and began to stuff his pockets with the religious items.

Taking all of the old woman’s supplies, I filled all of my coat pockets and headed towards the door. The cold outside hit me like a slap in the face. Burying my head low and thrusting my hands into my jeans pockets, I looked at Craig and said, “Ready?”

“Ready,” he said, pulling his hood over his head as we set off in the direction of the church.

Snow came down so hard and fast, it was like we were walking in a blizzard, and I couldn’t help but think back to the night I’d become disorientated in the fields and had been attacked by the vampires. I thought of Luke again and my heart ached. Despite what Craig had told me about him, a tiny part of me didn’t want to give up on him. All I could think about was how he had rescued me that night. I could feel that warm sensation pass over me again, as I remembered his touch, his kisses, and how he had held me so close to him. Reminding myself of all of that, I couldn’t –
or didn’t -
want to believe that he had played any part in my mother’s disappearance.

“What are you thinking about?” Craig asked over the howl of the bitter wind.

Not wanting to tell him about the deep feelings and misgivings I had about Luke, I lied, “I was wondering what you were doing outside my room tonight.”

“Just checking up on you,” he said, waving snow away from in front of his eyes. “I take a drink some nights in the bar, then pretending I need to use the bathroom, I sneak upstairs and just listen – you know – to make sure that you’re alright.”

“So why the disguise?” I asked him.

“I didn’t agree with Rom’s decision to send you here,” he said. “I asked him if I could come with you, you know, just to keep an eye on things – especially after what had happened to your mother. He refused, so I took a few weeks leave that were due to me. I couldn’t risk being discovered by anyone, because if it had gotten back to him that I’d disobeyed his orders, I would’ve been in all kinds of crap.’”

Discovering that Craig had put so much at risk for me, I gently squeezed his arm and thanked him.

“No problem,” he smiled, as the snow swirled all around us.

We walked in silence for a time, the only sound was the wind screaming in off the fields. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared of what might lay ahead for us, but I knew that whatever danger faced me, I would have to confront it. I’d made a promise to my father and I intended on keeping it. Then thinking of my mother again, I said, “So what was my mother’s secret name?”

With his head turned against the falling snow, Craig glanced sideways at me and said, “Police Constable Jessica Reeves.”

Hearing him say the name
‘
Reeves
’
, I thought of the empty file that I’d discovered back at the police station, along with all the other records kept about the missing police officers. But all of the others had reports inside and a photograph – why had my mother’s file been empty? Perhaps it was because there were no reports to send – after all
Police Constable Jessica Reeves
, didn’t really exist. But wouldn’t the whole scenario have been more believable if they had created some fictitious records for her? If Rom had gone to the trouble of planting drugs in her locker – then surely he could’ve taken the time to write up a few fake reports?

Then looking sideways at Craig, I said, “You told me that my mother had to change her appearance.”

“That’s right,” he nodded.

“She dyed her black hair blonde, didn’t she,” I said.

Then, looking at me through the falling snow, he asked, “How did you know?”

Thinking of the hairbrush I’d found in my locker with the dyed blonde hairs and black roots, I said, “It doesn’t matter.” But the hairbrush hadn’t been the only place I’d found those hairs. I’d found them in Henry Blake’s tiny dead hand. That was only two days ago, which meant my mother was still alive and somewhere in The Ragged Cove. Realising this, I wanted to scream, dance, and punch the air with joy. But then another thought came to me, and my heart felt as if it were being crushed within my chest. What were strands of my mother’s hair doing in the hand of that dead boy? Before I’d had the chance to consider how my mother’s hair had got there, Craig, was tugging on my sleeve and pointing into the distance.

“See the church?” he asked.

I looked ahead, and through the blizzard, I could see the steeple of the church spiralling upwards like a black scratch on the overcast sky.

“Do you think this stuff will work?” Craig asked, patting his pocket containing the holy water and crucifixes.

“It did last time,” I mumbled, my teeth now chattering with the cold.

“Ok then,” he said, and set off towards the church. I followed him through the gate and up the gravel path. Reaching the doors at the front of the church, Craig pulled down on the handle and pushed. With a wailing sound, the door creaked open and we stepped inside.

Chapter Nineteen

The draft from the open doorway caused the candlelight to flicker, sending long, dark shadows up the inside of the church. The church was silent, and its thick stone walls muffled the sound of the howling wind outside. From inside the church, the wind sounded like children weeping.

The smell of wax and incense was sweet and seemed almost intoxicating. Taking my hands from my pockets, I blew warm breath over them. Wiggling my fingers, I tried to get some feeling back. My nose and ears felt numb as well, and my hair was wet with melting snow. Walking between the rows of pews, my boots made a whispering sound against the hard stone floor. I looked over my shoulder to see where Craig was. He was taking two candles from beneath a statue of the Virgin Mary.

“Take one of these,” he said, holding out the candle towards me, and even though he had whispered, his voice echoed around the church.

Weaving my way between the pews, I made my way towards him. Taking one of the candles, I said, “You can take your hood off now.”

“You must be joking,” he said. “It’s freezing in here.” Then holding a candle out before him, he said, “Let’s see what’s down here.”

I followed Craig to a set of grey stone steps that spiralled downwards into the darkness beneath the church. “What do you reckon?” he said, looking back at me over his shoulder.

“About what?” I asked him.

“Does this seem the sorta place that vampires would hang out?” he said from beneath his hood.

“How should I know?”

“I thought you were the expert,” he said.

“If what you’re trying to tell me is that you’re scared, sergeant, then I’ll go first,” I said, brushing past him and making my way down the spiral staircase.

“That’s not what I was saying at all,” his voice echoed, followed by the sound of his footsteps as he rushed after me.

Taking one step at a time, I made my way down into the darkness. Even though I held the candle with both hands, it still shook from side to side as I trembled in fear at what might be hiding below. The stairs seemed never-ending, spiralling around and around like a corkscrew, burying itself into the earth. Craig was right behind me and he took short, shallow breaths. I guessed we were nearing the bottom of the stairwell, as not only had the air grown colder, it was damper, too. In the candlelight, I could see mould growing down the walls and the
plink-plink-plink
sound of water dripping in the distance.

Looking down, I could see the last couple of steps levelling out into a narrow tunnel. Like everything else around me, the tunnel had been chiselled out of the rock and earth below ground. Without enough room in the tunnel to walk side by side, we had to walk single-file, with me leading. We hadn’t been going long, when the light from my candle seemed to fade. It hadn’t gone out – it had dimmed. It took me a few seconds to realise that we had stepped from the tunnel into a huge open chamber. It was so vast and black, that the darkness that surrounded us seemed to be sucking up the light from our candles.

Craig came and stood next to me, and even with the light from both of our candles, it did nothing to penetrate the black wall of darkness in front of us. The blackness almost seemed to reach out and touch me. It was like it wanted to smother me, suffocate me. The silence was deafening and the only noise I could hear was the frantic beating of my own heart.

“Craig,” I whispered.

“Yes?”

“Where are we?”

“In my lair,” said a voice, and it wasn’t Craig’s. The voice came from in front of me, only a few feet away. It was so sudden and unexpected that I flinched and screamed all at the same time.

“Craig, are you there?” I called and reached out into the darkness.

“I’m here,” he said, sounding only inches away and taking my hand.

“Did you hear that?” I whispered, my voice broken with fear.

“Of course he heard it, my child,” the voice came again, and it sounded soft and soothing – the sort of voice that you would want to have read you a bedtime story as a child.

“Who’s there?” I asked, my voice wavering.

Almost as if in reply to my question, there was a scratching sound, as a match was scraped into life. It flared for a moment, its sudden brightness blinding me in the dark. Then the light winked back and forth as a candle was lit. The flame steadied and in its orange glow, I could see a face staring back at me out of the darkness. It was the eyes that I recognised first – it was the fierce sparkle of blue in them.

“Welcome, Kiera Hudson,” said Father Taylor. “You are very welcome in my church.”

“What are you doing down here?” I asked, some of my fear ebbing away on realising that it was just the old priest that I’d met on my visit to the graveyard with Luke.

Ignoring my question, he said, “I’m sorry it’s so dark down here. Let’s see if I can remedy that.”

I watched his flame flicker to and fro as he lit several other candles. As light seeped into the crypt, I could see that there were candles on tall silver stands all around him. Father Taylor was seated in a high backed cushioned chair. Although he had lit several of the candles, it wasn’t bright enough to penetrate the darkness that surrounded him.

“That’s better,” he smiled and settled back into his chair.

“What are you doing down here?” I asked again.

“Waiting,” he smiled, his drawn cheeks looking even more hollowed than I remembered them to be.

“Waiting for what?” I asked, glancing at Craig in the hope that he might know what the priest was talking about.

“Why for you, of course,” Father Taylor smiled again.

Sensing there was something terribly wrong about all of this, I let go of Craig’s hand and started to edge backwards towards the tunnel.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” the priest smiled again, holding out his hand for me to take. “You’re in a church. Where could you be safer?”

“Craig, something’s wrong here,” I whispered into the dark.

“I think he’s okay,” he whispered back. “He’s just an old guy –“

“Tsk, tsk, Sergeant Phillips,” the priest grinned. “You haven’t explained to her yet why she is here?”

“Craig?” I said my heart beginning to race all over again. “What’s he talking about? What haven’t you explained to me?”

“I’m sorry, Kiera,” Craig said, turning towards me.

“For what?” I asked, now utterly confused.

“He’s not really sorry,” Father Taylor answered for him.

Looking back at the priest, I watched as he got up from his seat. He wobbled just slightly as if trying to catch his balance. It was then I remembered him limping away from Craig, the day I spied on them both from behind the gravestone. Then, taking a walking cane that he had rested against his chair, he shuffled towards me. My heart skipped a beat and my stomach tightened, for even in the darkness, I knew that the cane belonged to the old man I’d discovered mutilated beyond recognition in the field. Its silver ornate top twinkled in the candlelight.

“It wasn’t Murphy,” I whispered to myself. “What did you say my dear?” he smiled, edging his way closer towards me. “It was you all along,” I gasped, realising the mistake that I’d made. “Get away from me,” I hissed, stumbling backwards. “Wait Kiera,” Craig said, turning towards me. “For what?” I said, backing into the tunnel. “To see what you could become,” he half smiled at me.   “To see
what
?” I said.

Then something strange happed. Behind Father Taylor I could see shapes. How was that possible? There was only blackness behind him, solid blackness. But somehow I could
see
into it –
through it
. It was like I was
seeing
for the very first time.

You have a gift
, I remembered my father telling me.
You can see things that other’s can’t.

Looking into the darkness behind the priest, I could see shapes coming closer. They were people. I blinked and when I looked again it was like flashbulbs popping on and off in the darkness. I was seeing quick blinding flashes of those that were hiding in the blackness all around me. And in each of those snapshots, I saw their white misshapen faces, their dead eyes, and drooling fangs. I was surrounded by vampires.