Kiera Hudson & The Creeping Men (16 page)

I woke in the cell next to the one Potter appeared to use as his second home. He had suggested that I sleep the night in the cells instead of driving all the way back to the Crescent Moon Inn. I had been too tired, physically and emotionally, to disagree. And despite Potter’s declaration of love for Sophie, I still wanted to be close by to him – even if we were only ever to be working partners. I was still new to this world, so perhaps in time my feelings would change. But I knew that was more than just wishful thinking on my part. I could never see myself feeling anything other than the deepest love for him. If I stayed working for The Creeping Men, would I not be setting myself up for a lifetime of heartache?

Rolling over onto my side, I reached for my jacket that was on the floor. The pain in my arm had gone. Peeling back my shirt, I peeked at my arm. It had healed completely. I felt excited by this. My fangs had come through last night, which I believed was another sign that the creature that hid within me was coming to the fore again. My only fear was which one would it be – the wolf or the vampire, as I had a mixture of both running through my veins. It had been my fangs I had felt last night – it was the vampire I had felt coming forward as Potter had kissed me. But in my dream I had been the wolf.

Just be you, Kiera,
I heard my brother Jack say as he sat grinning at me from the far side of the stream.

I fumbled my iPhone from my pocket. I held it up, squinting at the glowing screen. The time was 19:55. How had I slept for so long? I’d slept the whole day away. I’d promised I would call Sir Edmund with a plan. Had Potter arranged everything like he said he would? I sprung up from the bed and went to the cell door. It was shut and I pushed against it. It was locked.

“Hey, Potter!” I called through the bars. It was then I saw the folded piece of paper taped around one of the bars. I pulled it free and read what had been written.

I’m sorry, Kiera, for locking you in your cell. I know you’re gonna be pissed as hell at me, but I did it for you. Just didn’t want to see you get hurt.

Potter.

“No!” I screamed, kicking the cell door with my foot.

How could he do this to me? How
dare
he do this to me! Now I wouldn’t know who the other members of The Creeping Men were. I wouldn’t get to see my friends from my cell. Pressing my face to the bars, I peered through them. There must be a way out. I’d escaped from a prison cell before and I could do it again. I looked across the cellblock where the old custody desk still stood. Lying on top I could see the keys to the cells. Even if the gaps between the bars had been big enough for me to squeeze my arm through, the keys were out of reach.

“There must be a way,” I breathed, spinning around and scanning my cell. But there was nothing I could use to poke through the bars and drag the keys toward me. The bed I had slept in didn’t even have legs. It was nothing more than a concrete plinth with a mattress.

“Think, Kiera!
Think!
” I cursed, slapping the palm of my hand against my forehead. “Ouch!” I cried out, the corner of the iPhone I was holding digging into my brow. The phone! I had been holding the key to my escape in my hand the whole time. I went to my call log, pressing Bastille Hall’s phone number with my thumb. With the phone to my ear, I paced up and down my cell. The phone started to ring on the other end.

“Come on! Come on!” I whispered impatiently.

“Hello?” Ms. Locke said from the other end. “Who…”

“It’s me, Kiera Hudson,” I said.

“Hello Ki…”

“Has Potter been in contact today?” I cut over her.

“Mr. Potter telephoned earlier today and spoke with Sir…”

“Do you know what he said?” I interrupted again. “Do you know the plan?”

“Mr. Potter will be arriving shortly with some colleagues,” she started to explain. “He has asked Sir Edmund to meet him in the wood in the grounds of Bastille Hall and to take Miss Amanda with him. I’m to stay locked away in the house…”

“I need you to come and get me,” I said.

“Get you from where?” she asked.

“From the office of
The Creeping Men
,” I explained. “Potter has locked me in a cell and I can’t get out.”

“Locked you in a cell?” I heard her gasp from the other end of the line. “Why would he do something like that? You’re the one with the brains.”

“I don’t have time to explain now,” I said, although it would only take me two seconds to say that Potter was a sexist pig who thought woman were only fit to be gawped at while making him endless cups of tea.

“I must say that you and Mr. Potter seem to have the weirdest of relationships,” she said.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” I said. “Will you come?”

“Of course, my dear,” she said.

“Come as quickly as you can,” I said. “Oh, and bring a hammer.”

“A hammer? Whatever for?”

“So you can break the window in the alley and climb in.”

“Break a window, you say?” she gasped. “Oh my, this sounds awfully exciting.”

“Just don’t go fainting on me,” I said.

“I won’t, dear,” she said before ending the call.

I paced the floor of my cell for what seemed like an age. I occupied my time with thoughts of punching Potter straight in the face when I next saw him. Just before 10 p.m., I heard the sound of breaking glass. I leapt across my cell, face at the bars, griping them tight with both hands. “Ms. Locke! Ms. Locke! I’m in the cellblock!”

I heard the sound of something hitting the floor, then Ms. Locke cry out.

“Are you okay?!” I shouted through my bars.

I heard a groan, then the sound of footsteps in the passageway. They drew closer.

“I’m here, Ms. Locke!” I called out again.

“There you are,” she said, appearing before the bars. Her face looked creased with pain.

“Have you hurt yourself?” I asked, some of her hair had come loose from the bun she wore and was hanging in wisps against the side of her face.

“Not badly,” she said. “I fell through the window and onto the floor and hurt my leg. I’ll live.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” I smiled at her from behind my bars. “The keys are on that counter over there.”

“These?” she said, hobbling over to them and picking them up.

“Yes,” I said.

“Which one?” she said, looking at the ring of keys.

“I don’t know,” I said, trying not to sound too impatient or ungrateful. “Try them all.”

She slipped one into the lock and twisted her wrist. Nothing. “It’s not that one,” she said, fumbling another key on the ring. She put this into the lock. Still no movement. “Let’s try this one.”

There was an audible click. I pushed against the door and it swung open. “Thank you!” I cried, hugging her tight and kissing her cheek.

“Now hurry along,” she said, ushering me out of the cell block. “Go and show Potter and his friend that we can be just as smart and tough as any man.”

“Friend?” I asked her.

“I saw him arrive with another man, just before I slipped away,” she said.

“What did this man look like?” I asked.

“I don’t really know how to describe him,” she said. “But I did wonder to myself what use he would be against those creatures that are coming…”

“Why? What was wrong with him?” I asked.

“He didn’t look as if he could put up much of a fight, what, with his limp, the pipe he smoked, and the old pair of slippers he was wearing. He looked as if he’d be better suited in a retirement home.”

“I wouldn’t worry about him,” I said with a knowing smile. “The old-fart is much tougher than he looks.”

“You know him then?” she asked, as I was heading out the door.

“Kind of,” I said back. Then stopping on the top step, I added, “Do you want a lift back in my car?”

“No. I’ll ride my bicycle,” she said. “Besides, something tells me that it might be wise to keep away from Bastille Hall until much later tonight.”

“I think you’re probably right,” I replied before racing down the steps toward my car.

With my foot pressed as hard as I could against the pedal, I forced my battered old car along the coastal roads and lanes toward Bastille Hall. As I looked out over the cliffs, I could see the moon full and round in the night sky. It shone a brilliant white with what looked like a blue haze all around it. The Leshy had promised to come and kill the girl on the next full moon. Had they reached Bastille Hall already? But I didn’t just take the narrow bends and curves of the roads at breakneck speed because I wanted to help Potter and save the girl, I wanted to see my friend Murphy again. Even if he didn’t know me – remember me – I still wanted to see him again. I had loved him like a father.

Reaching the main avenue which led to Bastille Hall, I brought the car to a stop. Climbing out, I raced through the undergrowth toward the wall. Leaping forward, I threw myself at it. My heart raced, pumping blood – Vampyrus blood – through my veins. It was the vampire that I wanted to come forward – not the wolf. There was something about the wolf that scared me – or was it just the memories of the wolf that my brother had been which scared me more? I knew there were good and kind wolves too – but I had Jack’s blood in me, and however much he had tried to change his ways – he had been a ruthless killer. That’s what I feared. As I shot through the air, I closed my eyes and pulled forward an image of how I looked in my true Vampyrus form. I could see her there at the edges of my vision, naked, skin pale as the moon, wings stretched wide and black, hair thick and blue. Her eyes shone bright hazel, her fangs as white as bone. I just had to remember her – remember how it felt to be her. Kissing Potter had stirred some of those memories deep inside me. Kissing him again had reminded me how good it had felt to be my true Vampyrus self with him – that’s why my fangs had shown themselves. They wanted to draw blood from him again. To be reminded of how good that had once felt.

With my mind seesawing with all those memories, I felt myself change. My hands first as my claws sprang from my fingers and buried themselves into the wall. I scurried up it, placing one hand above the other as I raced to the top. I perched on the wall, scanning the wood, running the tip of my tongue over my fangs. Everything seemed clearer now, like the darkness glowed – letting me see right through it – just how I’d done so before. So high up from the ground, the wind shook the leaves of the nearby trees and my long, blue hair billowed back from my pale face. For the first time since being
pushed
into this new layer, I felt like my old self again. I felt like the true Kiera Hudson once more.

Jumping from the top of the wall, I landed on both feet, racing away in an instant to find my friends. I raced amongst the trees in a blur, my eyes darting left and right, all my senses aflame. Through the trees, Bastille Hall loomed. I heard voices and stopped so suddenly it was like I had to wait for the world to catch up with me. The first voice I recognised straight away. It was Potter. The second made me want to punch the air with joy. It was Murphy’s voice I could hear. It sounded just as deep and brusque as I remembered it to be. He was arguing with Potter already.

Creeping forward, I hid behind a nearby tree. There was a clearing. Potter and Murphy were standing to one side and I counted twelve strangers standing on the other. All of them were male and stood over seven feet tall. Each of them had a beard and long, unkempt hair that looked to be made of grass and vines. Their skin was as pale as any vampire’s, but their eyes were huge and green. Each of them was shabbily dressed and had a red scarf knotted about their throats. None of them wore shoes and I could see that their feet were facing the wrong way around, as if they had been put on backwards.

“Fancy scaring a few forest creatures, you said?” Murphy barked at Potter. “I knew you were fucking thick, but I thought you could count. A
few
means
three
. I can count twelve of the ugly-looking bastards.”

“Well, I didn’t think there were going to be so many of the fuckers,” Potter said, taking his coat off and tossing it to the ground.

“And when you said forest creatures, I had visions of Bambi and Thumper, not the Jolly-Green-fucking-Giant and his mates.”

“Oh, stop your bitching for crying-out-loud,” Potter groaned, now unbuttoning the front of his shirt. “Show some fucking backbone.”

“Backbone!” Murphy roared at him. “I had a fucking hipbone until you let off that shot in the back of the police van.”

“That was an accident,” Potter said. “I’ve already apologised for that like a million freaking times.”

“If you spent the rest of your pitiful life apologising it would never be enough for what you did,” Murphy shouted.

“For what I did!” Potter gasped. “What about what you did?!”

“What did I do?” Murphy looked wide-eyed at him.

“You snitched,” Potter snapped. “You told the Chief Inspector what I did.”

“I was rolling around on the floor of the van in a pool of my own blood, screaming my fucking head off!” Murphy said in wonder. “What did you expect me to say when the Chief Inspector arrived? Tell him I stabbed myself in the leg with my fucking pencil?”

“I got kicked off the force because of that,” Potter grumbled.

“And I got pensioned off because I could barely walk, thanks to you!” Murphy shouted.

“At least you got your pension. What did I get? Fuck all. That’s what I got. Not so much as a goodbye,” Potter said.

“Just stop your fucking whining,” Murphy grumbled. “And let’s figure out what we’re going to do about Treebeard and his mates.”

“It is pointless to fight,” one of the Leshy spoke up. Its voice was deep and rasping. “You are outnumbered. We are twelve and you are just two.”

“How come the walking twig can count and you can’t?” Murphy griped at Potter.

“You’re starting to get on my fucking nerves,” Potter told him.

“Good,” Murphy shot back.

I watched from my hiding place. It was so great to see Murphy again. It was so great to hear him arguing with Potter again. It was like they had never stopped. So it was Potter who had caused the injury to Murphy’s leg in this world. Much of the two worlds seemed the same but there was still so much that was different. Fighting back the urge to come from behind the tree and take a closer look at Murphy, I continued to watch as someone else stepped into the clearing.

“There is no need for violence,” Sir Edmund said. His daughter stood beside him. She was not the creature I witnessed the night before. She looked like any other sixteen-year-old girl. “We know what you are capable of. We know it was you who killed that poor girl in the woods close to here, but my daughter is not like you. Please just leave me and my daughter in peace.”

“Never,” another of the Leshy croaked. “She is an abomination.”

“My mother was a Leshy,” Amanda spoke up. I was surprised at how confidently she spoke. “My mother wanted me to live. That is why she ran. She didn’t want to be like you. She was better than you. Can you not honour her memory and leave me to live in peace?”

“Your mother was blinded by the love of a human,” the Leshy spoke up. “She was weak, and so are you. There is no place for weaklings amongst our people.”

“Can’t we come to some arrangement?” Sir Edmund spoke up, obviously keen to avoid any bloodshed tonight. “Leave here now – go back abroad from where you came from – and we will not inform the authorities that it was you who killed that girl Emily Cartdew.”

“Human authorities do not concern us,” one of the Leshy laughed. “We don’t fear them.”

“How about another kind of authority? A team of law enforcers who work outside of the human laws. A secret organisation that deals with criminals like you who aren’t exactly human,” Murphy spoke up.

“And what is this organisation called?” the Leshy asked with a sneer.

“The Creeping Men,” Potter spoke up.

“And where are these Creeping Men?” the Leshy asked.

“You’re looking right at them,” Potter said, puffing out his chest.

“Who, you two?” the Leshy laughed, sounding as if he was being strangled. “A man with a limp and a foul-mouthed fool? And even if you are this secret organisation that you speak of, what good is it if there are only two?”

“Make that three,” I said, stepping from my hiding place and into the clearing. Potter and Murphy turned to look at me. I held Murphy’s stare. But he just frowned.

“Who’s she?” he asked Potter.

“That bit of skirt I told you about,” he muttered behind his hand, but I heard him all the same. “What are you doing here? Don’t you ever give up?”

“Never. It’s not in my nature,” I said, rolling back my fist and driving it straight into Potter’s face.

He staggered backwards.

“Good girl,” Murphy breathed. “I can tell I’m going to like you.”

“What was that for?” Potter groaned, hand to his bloody nose.

“For locking me in that cell. You had no right.”

“I had every right,” Potter said. “I was just trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” I insisted. “What is it you think is going to scare me so much?”

“This,” he said, rolling back his shoulders and releasing his giant black tattered wings. His fangs sprouted from his gums and his fists turned into vicious-looking claws. He stood eyeballing me.

I looked back.

“It’s usually now that other women start screaming and running for the hills,” he said, looking a little confused.

“I’m not like other women,” I said, shrugging back my shoulders, my wings tearing out of my back through my coat and spreading out on either side of me.

“Oh, wow,” Potter sighed, blowing out his cheeks. He looked at my wings, the little claws at each tip, then my fangs. “I knew there was a reason that you and me fitted so well together. Now I know the reason.”

“Is that the only reason?” I asked.

“What other reason would there need to be?” he said, as if seeing me for the first time.

“Okay, Potter, put your tongue back in, you’re engaged to be married, remember?” Murphy said. Then stepping up to me, Murphy said, “Kiera Hudson, I presume?”

“You presume right,” I smiled, just wanting to hug the life out of him.

“I’m guessing the agency sent you?” he said.

“The temping agency run by someone named Lois Li,” I said.

“I wish I’d been told,” Murphy grunted. “We’ll need to talk at some point in the near future.”

“Great,” I said. I couldn’t wait.

“I’m Jim Murphy, by the way,” he said, holding out his hand.

“I know,” I said, holding it tight.

“You know? How?” he quizzed.

“Earwigging behind that tree,” I smiled, gesturing back over my shoulder.

“Well, once we’ve got rid of this bunch of sorry-looking arseholes, I’ll come looking for you. Okay?” he said.

“Perfect,” I beamed.

Yes! Yes! Yes!

“When you two have quite finished,” Potter said, “we do have a situation here.”

I looked up to see that the Leshy had now gathered in the centre of the clearing. “This is your last chance,” one of them warned. “Give us the girl or you all die.”

“I’ve got a better offer,” Potter said, taking a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lighting one. “Why don’t you and the rest of the cast from The-Day-Of-The-Triffids fuck off back to Spain, or where it is you come from, before the old git, the fool with the foul mouth, and hot-lips rip you all a new arsehole? I can’t be fairer than that.”

“I don’t think so,” the Leshy said. “There are still only three of you.”

“Five actually,” someone said, dropping out of the sky to my right. I looked sideways to see Uri and Phebe from the Crescent Moon Inn. They stood shoulder to shoulder next to me. Both had wings, claws, and fangs.

“Hey, Kiera,” Phebe smiled, as if I should have been expecting her and Uri to drop out of the sky all wings and fangs.

I hadn’t
seen
that one coming. But perhaps I should have. Hadn’t the clues been there all along? But I had been blinded by them, convinced that the other members of The Creeping Men had been my friends Kayla and Isidor.

“Do you work for
The Creeping Men
too?” I asked.

“Part time,” Uri said.

“And the agency?”

“We help newbies settle in – get a feel for the place,” Phebe said.

“And when were you going to tell me?” I asked.

“Never, if you hadn’t been one of us,” Phebe said. “Sometimes the agency sends temps who just don’t work out.”

“And what happens to them…?”

“Can we save the whole introductory thing until later,” Murphy cut in. He was the only one of us that still looked human.

“So there are five…” one of the Leshy spoke up.

“Six,” said another, and we looked left to see Amanda step forward and join our line.

“No, I won’t let you!” Sir Edmund cried out.

“These people have come to protect me, yet they do not know me,” Amanda said. “The least I can do is fight along beside them.”

“But you might die,” her father said.

“And so might they,” Amanda replied. “But still they have come to protect me and they owe me nothing. It is my own kind that wishes me dead tonight.”