No Shelter from Darkness (30 page)

The door to Room 1 burst open.

“No!” cried Bill, his jaw firing bolts of pain to the tip of his skull and back down his spine. He heard the unmistakable firing of a crossbow and the whistle of a spike, but the leech had already changed its offense. It dived to the side as the spike whistled past it, embedding itself into the floor an inch from Bill's head with a small poof of powdered stone.

Moving in that way only revenants could, it had dived and slid on its shoulder before flipping backward onto its feet, poised in a crouched position. It leapt forward toward Quince, though Bill knew his comrade was in no danger. He doubted this was the leech's plan, but the end result would likely be the same. Just as Quince had finished cocking his bow and was beginning to aim, the leech strode low into a running crouch, and then vaulted over him. Its hands clawed the top of the ten-foot-high outer wall of Room 1, and it flipped upward before landing feet-first on the ceiling. This time its velocity wasn't sufficient to burst through, so instead it took a step, jumped, and landed on two feet and a fist. Bill watched as it smashed through the ceiling and into the room in a cloud of dust.

“Kill it!” screamed Bill, getting to his feet amidst all the pain. Quince had already turned around and Bill witnessed his fine shot as the bolt pierced the shackled leech's back. It screamed wildly. Behind it, shielded by it, was the last vampire.

Quince was reloading his bow, and Bill only had his knife. He raised it, shoving Quince aside as he ran to the doorway and threw it with true skill. The knife spun in the air, missing the dying leech's torso by a hair's breadth, but the last vampire was just quick enough and the knife took a chink out of the wall. The vampire crouched and jumped up, grabbing the splintered edge of the hole in the ceiling to pull itself up, landing gingerly on top. Bill's eyes followed the quick footsteps across the ceiling toward the door and saw the vampire land gracefully on the floor outside. It ran toward the unguarded corridor while Bill snatched the loaded crossbow from Quince and took a quick aim. He squeezed the trigger.

The spike buried itself in the leech's right shoulder, making it stumble slightly but not enough to throw it off balance and bring it down. A second later it had disappeared out through the corridor and into the black night.

“Dammit!” Bill turned to Quince who stood tall. He knew he'd done wrong; been an idiot after thinking he'd got the prize catch. Bill wanted to punch him. His desire for that almost overpowered his control. But it would do no good now. Instead, he walked over to the female vampire lying across the way. The decaying process had already started, but no chances were ever taken. Taking out his polished lighter, he flicked the wheel and held the flame to the vampire's hair. After its scalp caught, it took only a few seconds before the whole body started to burn hot.

Cedar's body laid behind him. His death would be covered up as a factory accident, most likely. But Bill still had work to do, and he walked toward the shackled vampire in Room 1 to burn the evidence. He had to assume the worst. He had to assume that the last vampire had escaped with knowledge of the Ministry being in possession of whatever Beth was.

It begged the question:
What makes her so important?

*   *   *

The next morning, Bill sat at the kitchen table with the wireless on in the living room. He couldn't help reliving the warehouse scuffle. The vampires he'd fought were like no other. It was as if they'd been trained. All revenants had an advantage with their denser musculature and heightened athleticism, but if trained they were a foe far worse.

His eggs and bacon were placed in front of him. Lynne looked again at the injuries he'd sustained from last night's “mugging”. He couldn't open his mouth very wide and his grip on his fork was weak, but he was determined to enjoy his breakfast on a beautiful Sunday morning.

Beth sat across from him. His unwanted daughter. And she'd just become a hell of a lot more troublesome. As he carefully put a corner of bacon into his mouth, the unmistakable voice of Neville Chamberlain, the British Prime Minister, came through the wireless.

“I am speaking to you from the Cabinet Room at 10 Downing Street.”

From the outset the announcement sounded ominous, but it wasn't helped by the fact that anyone listening knew exactly what the message would be. Bill should've been intently listening like the rest of the country, but his mind wandered to other grave developments. If vampires really were after Beth, the Ministry's secretive code would be more useful than ever before. Even if they knew Beth was in London, London was a very big place.

And then the country's premier demanded Bill's attention.

“… this country is at war with Germany.”

“What a day,” he muttered.

Half an hour later the sirens sounded for the first time.

THIRTY

THE PARK WAS TEEMING,
but the Wades had found a suitable spot for the picnic that Beth's mother had been planning all week.
The Wade Family Summer Picnic
, Beth had cynically called it in her head. She sat on one corner of a threadbare sheet, the odd one out in so many ways. Mary and Lynne sat chatting; both of them had all but given up trying to include Beth in their conversation. Her false smiles and badly timed nods convinced them of her feigned interest.

Beth glanced back with another vacant smile as she heard Oliver kick a brown ball back to his father's good leg. Bill was leaning on a single crutch; the other was lying by the picnic sheet and was barely used any more. He kicked the ball back. Beth's smile dropped as her gaze rested on him. All that he'd done still gnawed away inside her. She couldn't see herself calling him “father” ever again. Yet somewhere in the back of her mind, a part of her was beginning to understand his motives and reasons.

She turned her eyes away and instead found herself unintentionally staring at Mary … almost staring through her. Beth found a new jealousy brewing. She had always been envious of Mary's blonde locks and prettiness, and at how quickly and easily people liked her. But it was a petty envy and Beth had never let it take root. Now, though, she looked at her in a different light. She was a girl with no secrets. She no longer had a father, but it was the better deal. And she had no inherited evil inside her. She wore no mask of innocence, because she didn't need to. The more Beth thought about Mary's better life, the angrier she got.

She wanted Mary's future for herself, but there was no way to take it.

Mary chuckled at something Lynne had said, and Lynne joined in the celebration of her own quip. Images of her own laughter at her mother's wit filled Beth's mind, but it was from a time that felt so long ago.
Could we ever have that again?

“Well, Beth?” asked her smiling mother. Beth refocused on sight and sound. She'd taken center stage but had no idea what the play was, let alone what her lines were. Her options were to ask for the question again, say yes and hope for the best, or say no and hope for the same.

Or say something out of the blue to change the subject.

“I'm a vampire.”

Her mother jolted her head back at the flippant remark and Mary frowned.

“Bill's a vampire hunter. He's known all along and he's been lying to all of you, for as long as you've known him. I killed a badger and drank its blood and I'll probably end up killing both of you. Not on purpose, perhaps, but just because, y'know, I'm a vampire. It's what I do.”

Bill had picked up what was going on and was running over shouting at the top of his lungs. Everyone in the park had stopped what they were doing and staring at the dysfunctional family. Beth looked up like a lost little girl at Bill, whose face was red with rage.

“What have you done you stupid,
stupid
girl?” he yelled.

Beth sighed and grinned while her mother and friend sat in a stunned silence, not knowing what to say or do. They had probably thought it was a crazy excuse for a joke until Bill's genuine anger made it all real. Beth noticed now that he held in his hand a long, shiny knife. It caught the sun and Beth squinted, but her smile remained as Bill raised the dagger in both hands above his head. Finally, Beth would be free of her unwanted legacy.

“Well, Beth?”

Beth shook the daydream away. “Sorry, Mum?”

“I said why don't you go with Mary on Monday to the town hall to see if there's anything you can do to help out?”

There was no doubt of the twinge of guilt Beth felt over Mary's volunteering, and she knew she should be doing the same. But how could she? “What about ration shopping?”

Her mother faltered. “I'd forgotten about that.”

“Maybe I'll go on Tuesday,” said Beth, just to keep her mother happy. Lynne smiled eagerly at her suggestion. Beth got up to her knees, then stood up and brushed grass from her summer dress. “I'm going to stretch my legs.”

“Want some company?” asked Mary.

“No, it's okay. You stay and chat.” With another fake smile, Beth walked off, squinting at the brightness of the day. The pain she'd felt behind her eyes the other evening had become a constant, dull ache and the unobstructed sun made it throb a little more.

“I'm worried about her, Mrs. Wade,” said Mary quietly.

Beth had walked far enough for her friend to think she was out of earshot.

“I'm sure she's fine,” replied her mother. “It's just a part of growing up. A rather annoying part, but then I'm sure I wasn't always an angel. We all go through it.”

“I hope I don't.”

“So do I, Mary.”

Beth could hear the humor in her mother's voice before she went on to say something else, but the conversation faded into the distance.

The lake in the southwest corner was still accessible to the public, and Beth made her way around the side opposite of where she'd awoken on its bank, all that time ago. So much had happened since then. Across the corner from her was a small group of children, all with their gray-boxed gas masks hanging from their necks. The ducks in the water paddled before them, oblivious to food shortages and quacking in confusion as to why they weren't being thrown their expected share of bread. A small boy threw a stick to the water. It landed barely a foot away from them and started a flurry. With maniacally-powered wings, desperate splashing of water and a chorus of quacks they took flight toward Beth. High over her head they climbed, free to go anywhere they pleased.

They taunted her.

All she wished for was to leave this life that she hardly even recognized anymore, and find somewhere new. Away from everyone.
What's keeping me here anyway?
A mother who could never know her secret; a father who she couldn't trust; a brother who had a new sister; and a friend who had a new family. They didn't need her, and they'd be a lot safer without her.

She couldn't help thinking she might be better off without them, too.

*   *   *

Sleeping in the shelter had its advantages. Beth was so used to the absence of air raid warnings (two weeks of peace seemed like a lifetime) that she felt confident she could gradually and very subtly gather a few things and store them in a woven bag under one of the bunks. She'd spent a few days contemplating the possibility of running away, flippantly planning her escape like it was a game. By Tuesday, she'd started making a mental list of all that she might need. She felt the first flutter of butterflies at her conviction when she decided that Wednesday night would be the night.

When Wednesday dawned, she gladly received and drank her weekly fill of warmed blood. It would be a whole week before the first signs of thirst appeared. Where her next fill would come from was the only detail she hadn't worked out in its entirety, but she figured that she'd caught her own supply once before. She'd simply have to do it again. A week was a long time though, and it was currently only a minor concern.

Packing the bag, she was conscious to keep the load light. Nothing of sentimental value went into it. Everything was for survival, including the knife she stole from the kitchen drawer. A length of string, matches, and what was left of the masking tape used to draw X-shapes on the windows were all gathered and stowed. With a mixture of anxiety, relief and fear, Beth twiddled her thumbs through lunchtime, and was climbing the walls by dinner.

Finally, evening came.

Her worn-out toothbrush was the last thing that would make her travel bag complete. She spat out the creamy water into the sink and rinsed the bristles. The tube of dental cream would be easy to steal, but quickly missed. She looked at the reflection in the round mirror.
This is it. I'm actually gonna go through with it.

It felt like a jailbreak. A fly buzzed around the dirty light bulb. She glanced upward at its frantic reflection and caught what she thought was a dim flash of luminous pale green in her own eyes. Her gaze shot back to her familiar bright hazel irises.

It must have been a trick of the light.

She bared her white teeth in the mirror and tongued the remaining loose canine. Pushing it angrily with her tongue, she winced as one side came free from the gum. Gripping it between finger and thumb, she pulled upward. It squelched and came free, revealing almost half the length of her forth fang. The other three had all grown fully, as long as any normal canine, but a lot sharper. They were easily overlooked, blending in with the surrounding teeth. Only when she turned her head slightly and really stared at them did they look unusually pointed. But
she
noticed them, and for the first time she looked upon herself with open eyes and a clear mind.

I'm a vampire.

Holding the toothbrush in a crease of her nightgown, Beth went down the stairs and through the hall. Glenn Miller's “Moonlight Serenade” drifted through the new wireless in the living room. She passed her parents and bid them both goodnight, immediately realizing she'd done so with an uncommon smile.
Too late to take it back now.

As soon as she got to the shelter she changed her clothes, scrunched up the nightgown and forced it into her already full bag with the brush. Turning the small wheel of the lantern the small flame died altogether, and then with a fumble she opened the shelter door slowly enough to avoid the squeak. Blackout blinds blocked the light inside the house, but Beth could see the telltale sign shining against the inside lip of the window. She stared in its general direction, and she waited.