Shot Through The Heart (Supernature Book 1) (28 page)

"I mean," said Johnston, looking down at his ledger, "we've got a lot of rooms free now the ceilidh is over."

Mark took a deep breath - he could do with a few hours sleep in a comfortable bed. "I'll let you know," he said. He gave up and left, joining Séan and Buffy sat at a table round the corner from the reception desk.

"Well?" asked Séan.

"My room's been taken," said Mark.

"So?" asked Buffy.

"
She
's in it," said Mark.

"We can't jump to any conclusions," said Séan.

Mark looked out of the back window, the scene of his first encounter with the dog, a crisp bag dancing around the otherwise empty patio area.

"Back so soon?"

Mark turned to see Adam strolling in. He was dreading the encounter. "Yeah," he said. "Had some unfinished business to attend to. Thought you'd be long gone?"

"Aye, well," said Adam. "The Dane invited me back to her room at the ceilidh so I thought it would be rude not to stay a while, eh?"

The window behind them slammed shut.

Adam looked past Mark and raised an eyebrow. "Here we go again," he said.

"What do you mean?" asked Séan.

Adam looked over at his companions. "The wind's been brutal over the last few days," he said.

Séan nodded.

Adam looked Mark up and down. "What about you?" he asked. "Haven't seen you since you got shacked up with your MILF from the castle."

Mark felt himself blush. "Yeah, well," he said. "The less said about that the better."

"Oh aye?" asked Adam. "Would you say that to her face?"

"What do you mean?" asked Mark, frowning.

"She's staying in your room," said Adam. "Something about repairs to the castle." He whistled. "I tell you, if it wasn't for my wee viking bit, I'd be up that like a shot!"

Mark shared a look with Séan and Buffy. Séan was nodding over and over, as if in a trance.

"Come on," said Séan, staring at Mark. "Take us to your room."

The wind rattled the windows again. The front door blew open.

"There's no need to go anywhere."

Mark felt his stomach flutter. He looked up to see Lady Ruthven descend the staircase, flanked by two Lost Boys and a Lost Girl.

"Mr Avartagh, how may I help?" asked Ruthven, sashaying down the staircase.

Séan cocked his crossbow. "You can die," he said.

Ruthven threw her head back and laughed.

She held up her hands and long talons burst out of the ends of her fingers.

Mark froze as Ruthven raced towards him with superhuman speed. All he could do was watch in terror.

A shot from Séan's crossbow fizzed past Mark's head. The bolt slammed into her chest. She hissed at them, pulling it out and snapping the bolt in two. She lunged at Adam, he was nearest to the staircase. He screamed as a blow slashed across his face, cutting it open. Mark's stomach lurched and his breathing quickened.

Pushing Adam aside, Ruthven launched herself at Mark. She grabbed him, her talons hovering over his throat. "I bet your blood tastes nice," she said. "I wanted to try it from the moment I first spoke to you."

Mark tried to break free but she was much stronger.

Ruthven's face crumpled, imitating a small child crying. "I was so disappointed when you left me alone after we coupled," she said.

"We what?" asked Mark.

Ruthven bellowed with laughter. "He doesn't remember," she said. "Poor wee lamb."

Mark heard a crossbow bolt thud into her. Ruthven got off and turned, pulling the bolt out. Mark slumped to the ground. Looking up, he saw Séan, loading another bolt.

"Would you kindly stop that?" asked Ruthven, marching towards Séan.

"Only when you finally die, witch," said Séan.

"You should know by now that I'm too strong for your puny matchsticks," said Ruthven. "That's why you left me trapped on the island so many years ago."

Mark scrambled away, heading for the dining area, anywhere he could barricade himself in. He caught Buffy and Adam hurling themselves to the far side, a table the only thing between them and a Lost Boy and Lost Girl. Their talons were extended, but neither looked as powerful as Ruthven.

Mark cringed as Ruthven took another bolt in the chest. She groaned. This time, she couldn't get it out so easily. Mark wondered if she was weakening. A jet of blood erupted from her chest as it came free, the same thin consistency as her daughter's. She screamed, then turned on Séan. Mark caught the glint as Séan swung his machete at her, just missing. The Lost Boy made a dash for Séan.

Mark called out, "Behind you!"

Séan spun around and pulled the trigger, slamming into the Lost Boy. He lurched forward and hacked away with the machete. It stuck in the Lost Boy's neck and he squealed out, like a dog with its leg caught in a car door. Séan pulled the machete out and then dug it further in.

Ruthven grabbed his hair from behind.

Mark unsheathed his knife, running up and attacking her from behind, stabbing her between her ribs. She hissed and turned to face him.

Mark took a step back and swung the knife, aiming for the chin like Séan had said. He just grazed it. Thin blood trickled out.

Behind her, Mark saw Séan wrench the Lost Boy's head off. Ruthven screeched at Séan, before leaping at him. He dodged her.

Mark jerked his head around, hearing Harris shouting at them. The receptionist strode into the space, brandishing a baseball bat. "Get out of the hotel!" he shouted. "The police are on their way."

The remaining Lost Boy left Buffy and Adam - still hiding behind their table - and set his sights on Harris. He lashed out, his talon cutting Harris's throat wide open. The hotel manager's eyes widened and the bat tumbled to the floor, rolling towards Mark. The Lost Boy pushed him over and knelt down. The sight of him lapping at the blood sent shivers of revulsion through Mark.

A crossbow bolt caught the Lost Boy from behind, straight through the heart.

"Get his head off!" shouted Séan.

It took Mark a moment to realise Séan was talking to him. He ran around Buffy's barricade. He stuck the knife in the Lost Boy's throat, trying to sever his spinal cord. It stuck halfway.

Fire burned in the vampire's eyes.

Mark backed away. The Lost Boy lashed out, catching a talon in Mark's shirt. Mark kicked him off. He turned and made for Buffy and the overturned table.
 

Buffy and Adam had used table legs as clubs to fend off attacks, splinters of the chairs covering the floor between them. Adam let Mark squeeze between them. He looked back over at Séan, caught in a stand-off with Ruthven - his crossbow versus her talons. They circled each other slowly.

Mark looked at his comrades. Adam was close to losing it - his eyes were wide and darting about. Buffy seemed more together.

"How many down?" asked Mark.

"Just the one, I think," said Buffy, eyes focused on the Lost Girl approaching. "We have to get the head off your one."

Mark looked back. The Lost Boy supported his head with one hand. Mark's stomach wrenched when he saw the tear in the flesh open wide. He did a double-take - the wound was healing over, a white pus forming. It solidified and, seconds later, the Lost Boy tore the pus off - the wound in his neck had disappeared.

Mark tapped Adam on the shoulder. "Hold him off!" he called.

"Why me?" asked Adam, eyes wide like a rabbit in headlights.

"Buffy's got his hands full with the other one," said Mark.

He used one of the intact chairs to stand on a table, then jumped, almost spraining his ankle on landing. He bounded forward, out-of-control, shoulder-barging into Ruthven and sending her flying. He rolled and got up in one movement, his ankle stinging.

Mark reached out to Séan. "Give me the machete!" he called.

Séan complied, tossing the weapon by its handle.

Mark tried to catch it, but watched it fall to the floor and bounce towards the window.

Ruthven was on her feet now, charging at Mark, her talons slashing the air. She was drenched in blood, clothes ragged - her left breast was exposed, the flesh puckered where crossbow bolts had pierced her skin. Mark sprinted towards the window and grabbed the machete by the blade. The sharp sting told him he'd sliced an index finger wide open.

Ruthven gazed at the blood trickling down the blade as she advanced on Mark. She was almost on him when a crossbow bolt dug into her neck. She hissed at Séan, turning towards him as she pulled out the bolt.

Mark saw his opportunity and swung the machete at her neck, cutting a deep gouge. She staggered round, eyes blazing.

Séan fired another bolt into her. "Go!" he shouted. "Get outside!"

Mark raced back towards the barricade, holding the machete in both hands. Time stood still. He could only watch as the Lost Boy grabbed Adam. It sliced his throat open with the end of a talon, drinking Adam's blood.

"NO!" shouted Mark.

The Lost Boy glared at him. Mark recognised him as the drummer. He dropped Adam's lifeless body, his right hand reaching for the crossbow bolt in his heart.

Mark screamed with rage as he stepped forward and swung out with the machete, catching him clean under the chin.

The Lost Boy's head rolled across the floor.

Ruthven roared out in pain.

Instantaneously, she was bearing down on Mark. He could see Séan behind, fiddling with his pockets then loading another crossbow bolt.

"You should not have done that!" shouted Ruthven. "That's two of my boys gone now!"

Mark tried to hold her off as Séan aimed his crossbow and fired.

The bolt slammed into her shoulder, sticking halfway. Ruthven's body contorted, twisting as she fell to all fours. Hair was sprouting from her skin. Her exposed breast was shrinking. Gradually, her appearance was less human and more canine, until a dog stood in front of them.

It was Ruthven! She was the dog that hounded him.

Another bolt fizzed past Mark's left ear and stuck into the wall.

He watched the dog bound up to Adam's body and lap the blood. The Lost Girl joined her.

"Get out of here!" shouted Séan.

Buffy grabbed him by the sleeve. Mark jolted into action, running out of the hotel into blazing sunlight. Across the street, Séan's van was guarded by another dog.

"Into your car!" shouted Séan.

Mark fumbled for his keys, unlocked the car and jumped behind the wheel. Mark slammed his hand down on the central locking button once the others were in. He tore off down the high street, heading towards Ruthven castle.

"Doesn't the sun kill them?" asked Mark.

"Of course it doesn't!" shouted Séan.

"Where are we going?" asked Mark.

Séan sat forward between the seats. "Carry on this way," he said. "We can double back towards Helmsdale and then head down to Inverness."

"We're giving up?" asked Buffy.

"They've got my van," said Séan, "I'm down to my last two bolts and I really need to sharpen that machete."

Mark accelerated, desperate to get some distance behind them. They had to escape the living hell that was Ruthven village. The castle looked exactly the same as when they'd left it.

They came towards the wall leading to the devil worshippers' camp, as deserted as the castle.

Séan was mumbling. Mark turned around to check. "Is he all right?" he asked.

Buffy reached round and slapped Séan on the cheek. "He's out of it," he said. He slapped him again, then looked back at Mark. His eyes widened. "Look out!"

Mark slammed on the brake.

On the bend in front was the gatehouse to William Sellar's mansion.

William's body was pinned to the gate, flesh pallid as if it was drained of blood.

Mark turned around in a desperate seven-point turn.

"What are you doing?" shouted Buffy.

"I'm heading away from that," said Mark.

"Back to the village of the damned?" asked Buffy. "Really?"

"Unless you've got a better option?" asked Mark.

He didn't get a reply.

As they passed the entrance to the Satanist's camp, the car juddered then died.

Mark coasted the car to a halt, struggling with the steering wheel.

"What's going on?" asked Buffy.

Mark hit the dashboard. "The diesel's run out," he said.

"You filled it up in Brora!" shouted Buffy.

Mark rubbed at the back of his neck. "The fuel gauge has been faulty for months," he said. "I think I must have zoned out when I filled up." He reached into his pocket and got the receipt out - the fuel was just over a fiver with another five pound of over-priced food and drink. "You know when you're filling and the pump clicks shut, saying that the tank is full, well it does that really early."

"This is no use," said Buffy. "We're stuck here and that vampire is running free. And now she knows that we're onto her, so she'll just disappear. We'll never see her again."

Mark looked round at Séan. He had stopped muttering and was slumped back in the seat, unconscious. "What's up with him?" he asked.

Buffy got out of the car and tried to squeeze in the back seat alongside him, one leg hanging out of the door. "Hey, Séan," he said. "Wake up."

Séan's eyes opened, all bloodshot. "What happened?" he asked.

"We had a fight with the vampires," said Buffy. "You killed a couple of them."

"Did I?" asked Séan.

"You did," said Buffy.

Séan sat bolt upright. "I need to get back to my van," he said.

"We're stuck here," said Buffy. "The diesel's run out."

"How?" asked Séan.

"Mark is useless is how," said Buffy.

"Where are we?" asked Séan.

"We're near a freaky devil worship camp," said Mark.

Séan's face contorted into an angry expression. "A what?" he asked.

"There's a bunch of devil worshippers up here," said Mark. "I thought I told you. I bumped into them a couple of times."

Séan was lost in his thoughts. "That's all we need," he said.

"What?" asked Mark.

"Never mind," said Séan. "The good thing is we've got away from them."

"We need to plan our attack," said Mark. "Should we get back to Inverness?"