Authors: Cathy MacPhail
Patrick could see the thought of a vigil for a vampire excited Hakim as well. ‘Might be a laugh,’ he said.
‘Will we do it, then?’ This was Patrick. But he didn’t really need to ask. Cody was already on his mobile, contacting his mates in other schools who would join them. And a moment later, Hakim was in a huddle with his friends.
Suddenly, the school was buzzing. They were going on a vampire hunt.
‘There’s something on this estate, and we’re gonny find out what it is!’ Cody stood on the wall in the playground, speaking as if it had all been his idea. Patrick was happy about that.
Standing beside Cody was Hakim. ‘And if they’re going, so are we.’
Patrick could feel the excitement build in the crowd. There were shouts and yells. Bliss leapt on the wall.
‘This is silly. Going out and looking for a vampire! There’s no such thing.’
Now it was Cody’s turn to shout. ‘It’s been done before. And this time we could get him.’ He said to Bliss, ‘We could all go out together tonight. And get the vampire. Safety in numbers, Bliss.’
And though Bliss blinked and looked uncertain, Patrick could see she was intrigued.
‘We’re not in any danger, there’s too many of us,’ Hakim assured them all, ‘and we’ll all stick together.’
Cody shouted, ‘I’ve texted my mates in the other schools. They’re up for it.’
‘Mine too,’ Hakim called out, holding up his iPhone. ‘There will be loads of us.’
There was an excitement among them. And Patrick knew it was like a snowball rolling down a hill. Nothing could stop it now. He felt his heart beat faster. He had started all this, with his talk of a vampire.
‘I think we should just leave it be.’ Ameira’s quiet voice could only just be heard.
Everyone looked at her, surprised. ‘The cemetery,’ she explained. ‘It’ll still be a crime scene. Police everywhere. It’s a waste of time. They won’t let us anywhere near it.’
There was a reluctant murmur of agreement.
‘It’s a big cemetery, Ameira. Only a wee bit of it is a crime scene.’ Cody sounded annoyed. Ameira was spoiling the adventure. ‘Are you no’ coming?’ Cody snapped at her.
Patrick could see that Ameira wanted to refuse, to say no . . . I’m not coming. Cody waited for her answer. Patrick felt the whole school wait. Hakim smiled at her.
‘We’ll all stick together, Ameira,’ he said.
Patrick knew what he was really saying.
I’ll stick with you, Ameira
.
Ameira smiled back. ‘Of course I’m coming . . . never said I wasn’t.’
Nothing was going to stop them. The plan was that they would all go home, but meet up again later at the school gates and make their way en masse to the cemetery. There was a buzz in the air Patrick could almost reach out and touch.
‘You’re not going there, are you?’ Mosi asked him. He had stayed back, as usual, when they’d all been talking. Patrick didn’t want him to know anything about it. He wasn’t part of the plan. It wasn’t safe for Mosi to know. Patrick didn’t want him involved. Time enough to tell Mosi about it when it was all over.
Patrick shrugged his shoulders. ‘It’ll be a laugh.’
Mosi looked puzzled. ‘You’re up to something,’ he said.
Patrick just smiled. ‘Maybe.’
‘Be careful, Patrick.’
As Mosi moved away, Cody asked, ‘That weirdo’s not coming?’
And Patrick assured him, ‘No, he’s not coming.’
‘Good thing,’ Cody said. ‘I told the boys to bring their cans, OK? We’ll stop that vampire this time.’
Yes, Patrick thought, and I’ll get Okafor. Because he didn’t intend to spray crosses on the gravestones. He was going to tell the world that Papa Blood was here. He would spray it on the gravestones, he would spray it on the mausoleums and the walls surrounding the cemetery.
Okafor is Papa Blood.
War Criminal.
He’s here.
With so many others there Papa Blood would never know who it was who had written those words.
And even if they brought out the workmen to clean it up, just like the last time, they couldn’t do it before the police saw it, before the television cameras captured it, and the message would be relayed to the world, and the world would know. They would investigate Mr Okafor. They would take him in for questioning. They would find out the truth.
Papa Blood was magic. Papa Blood could never be caught.
But he, Patrick Cleary, had found a way of getting him at last.
Patrick couldn’t believe how many had turned up. They seemed to swarm from every part of the estate.
‘We’re going to meet the rest of them at the cemetery.’ Hakim held up his phone. ‘They’re already heading there.’
‘Is everybody ready?’ Cody called out. Taking charge along with Hakim. Patrick was happy to let them. He had too much on his mind thinking of what he had to do when he got to the cemetery. As they walked, more seemed to gather, coming round dark corners, from other blocks, even from other areas. And in spite of the fear eating inside him, Patrick couldn’t help but be excited.
They passed some women who called out, ‘Where are you lot going?’ But they were laughing. They were only kids after all. Nothing to be afraid of. They didn’t answer the women. Just kept right on walking. Patrick held tight on to the spray can in his pocket.
‘This is really silly.’ Bliss came up to him, walked beside him. ‘If my mum knew I was here, she’d kill me. I had to lie and say I was at Ameira’s. And she’s at mine.’
‘We’re all in the same boat, Bliss. My mum would go spare if she knew I was here.’ Which wasn’t true of course, his mum would never know. She was out on a date. He hadn’t a clue when she would make it home.
Even though there was so many of them, as they neared the cemetery they all became eerily silent. There was a moon, almost full, that now and then seemed to peep out of the heavy clouds.
They spread out along the long wall. Some of them climbed on top and sat there, watching. There was a mist rising inside, fingers of it moving around the gravestones.
Patrick found he was holding his breath. It was like a scene from a movie. Nothing seemed real to him.
‘I think we should all go home,’ Bliss whispered.
‘It’s an adventure.’ He was trying to convince himself as much as her. ‘When do we ever have adventures?’
Hakim came running up then. He was breathless, but it wasn’t from the running. ‘Me and Cody and some of the others are going inside, are you coming?’
Patrick
had
to go inside, yet he was afraid. Now the moment had come, he wasn’t sure he could do it. Could he make this work? ‘I’m coming,’ he said.
‘And why aren’t you asking me?’ Bliss snapped, her own fear suddenly gone.
Hakim shrugged.
‘Because I’m a girl, I suppose. Well, Ameira and I are coming too.’
Patrick saw Ameira’s eyes go wide with alarm. But Bliss had her by the arm, and pulled her on. ‘Come on, Ameira, we’ll show them.’
The girls were the first ones in. They climbed over the wall and into the cemetery, with the boys following close behind them. And it was as if they were moving into another world. So close to the estate and the dual carriageway and yet, here, in this world of the dead, all was silent. The gravestones seemed to loom in the moonlight, and their footsteps crunched on gravel or squelched into the mud.
‘Spread out,’ Cody whispered.
Patrick was sure he didn’t want to spread out too much. He didn’t like the idea of being alone here. But when he looked they all seemed too far away to him.
As if on cue the moon was swallowed by clouds. It grew even darker. The lights from the street seemed miles away. A misty rain began to fall. Patrick pulled up the hood of his jacket.
Where had they all gone? Patrick felt isolated. He could hear cars zooming up and down the dual carriageway, but he could hear nothing from his friends. He needed to get this done, but he hadn’t realised how afraid he would be. He blinked, trying to figure out where to start. He took the can from his pocket. It trembled in his hand.
Patrick shook the can, bent down to a gravestone and sprayed one circle.
O
What was the name? His mind went blank. Same thing always happened when he had to do a test at school. Nerves deleted everything he thought he knew. It was happening again. He had never felt so nervous.
Okafor . . . yes, it was Okafor . . . O. K. A. . . . He tried to spell it out in his head. Maybe, he thought, he should start with Papa Blood . . . yes, easier to spell.
He began to turn the O into a P when, out of the darkness, a voice shouted, ‘There! Look, he’s there!’
Patrick swivelled round. The can dropped from his fingers.
He heard Hakim yell, ‘I see it!’
Patrick jumped to his feet. And he could swear he saw something too. A flash of movement in the misty rain, passing the gravestones. A giant shadow. What was it? One of the girls screamed. Suddenly everyone was yelling. The noise was taken up by the others who had waited outside the cemetery. There were more yells and screams.
He was sure he too had seen that giant figure in the shadows. He could see people running through the cemetery. Soon they would all be gone. He didn’t want to be alone here, but he had to finish what he had started. He had to be quick. He got to his knees again, scrabbled round in the darkness for his spray can. Found it at last. No one would see him here. He was invisible. Even if he only sprayed it on one gravestone, he would not leave till it was done. He was so afraid and he wanted to run too, but he had to do this. He had to tell the world about Okafor. About Papa Blood.
A
. . . He couldn’t stop his hand from shaking.
He stopped for a moment, took in a deep breath.
Get a hold of yourself, Patrick Cleary. You’ve got to do this.
And out of the darkness, as if it had emerged from the grave itself, a hand touched his shoulder.
Patrick fell back. His breath sucked from his body. All he could see was a huge black hand with a ring on one of the fingers. A gold ring, with a big shiny diamond in the middle. Patrick looked up slowly. Yet he knew what he would see.
Mr Okafor. Papa Blood.
Looking up at him like this he seemed even more of a giant. He’d never been this close to him before. He’d never known fear like this.
‘Are you hiding?’ The man’s voice was like smoke. Deep and dark. A voice that could breathe fire at any moment.
Patrick couldn’t speak. The hand on his shoulder lifted him to his feet. The beam from a distant streetlamp caught the diamond in the ring. Patrick could not take his eyes from it. ‘I won’t tell them you’re here,’ the voice said, with an almost smile in it.
A soft voice, a voice to make you trust him, make you believe he was gentle. He held up a plastic bag. ‘I’ve been for some shopping. This is the shortcut home for me.’
He moved out of the shadows, and Patrick looked at his face at last. A face wearing a stupid grin. But Patrick knew the truth now. He was looking at a monster. He saw him as Mosi must have seen him. A monster with magic in him. And then the giant smiled and that smile was scarier than anything else. ‘Don’t be afraid of me . . . I’m only Mr Okafor.’
Patrick couldn’t look at his face any longer. He stared down at his hand, still holding his shoulder, at his ring. Anything. But that face.
Patrick had never been so afraid. He thought of Grady. He’d been alone with him too. This man was a monster and he was alone with him here, in the dark, in a cemetery. Patrick felt his eyes being dragged back to the man’s face.
‘I know you,’ the man said. ‘You’re the boy who was on the television . . . the boy who saw the suicide. What a terrible thing for you to see.’ Was his voice changing? Was the gentleness turning to ice?
Patrick took a step away from him. And in that second Papa Blood saw that Patrick recognised him. That Patrick knew who he really was. His eyes grew hard, like stone. Patrick felt his fingers begin to tighten on his shoulder. In that same second Patrick turned and bit hard into his hand.
He hadn’t expected it and Patrick took the chance to pull himself free, and run as he had never run. Between gravestones, leaping over graves, not looking back. Terrified in the knowledge that, even if he escaped now, the monster knew, knew that he had discovered his secret.
Mosi saw Patrick coming. Tearing like the wind across the concourse towards the flats. He’d never seen Patrick run so fast. Something had happened. Mosi had heard the police sirens, and the news had travelled fast in this jungle of high-rises. A kindly neighbour knocking at the door, making sure Mosi was safe and at home, had told them. The police had gone to the cemetery, the neighbour said, scattered the pupils. There were rumours about children gathering to hunt a vampire, just like in the old days, and that they were sure they had seen one in the cemetery.
Mosi couldn’t make out Patrick’s face. His school hoodie was pulled up over his head. Boys all looked the same like that. But it was Patrick all right. He just knew it.