Her Vampyrrhic Heart

  Kit knew that Jez had suffered intense psychological shock due to the accident. What’s more, Kit had seen how the strong painkillers had affected his friend, sending him trippy to say the least. However, Kit wouldn’t dismiss the text about the monster. Because here he stood in the kitchen with a woman in a summer dress who had skin as white as milk. Black veins wormed under the skin of her throat. Somehow she could walk through the snow barefoot, too, and not be affected by the intense cold. If this unearthly creature could be here with him, then perhaps Jez really had crashed the truck into a monster.

  Freya seemed so interested in the phone that he held it out. She took the device with those uncannily white fingers. Even the nails were bluish white. She studied the text on-screen. ‘It’s a television,’ she murmured in astonishment. ‘A tiny television.’

  ‘You can watch stuff on it like films,’ he said. ‘It’s also a phone, and you can access the Internet, play games, take photographs, read books.’

  ‘A phone? Where is the wire?’

  ‘Doesn’t need one.’

  ‘There’s no dial.’

  ‘You just touch the screen.’ He showed her how the phone worked as she held it; her fingers were ice cold. ‘See. There’s a video clip of my friends. We were at a burger place in Whitby.’

  Those colourless eyes, with the fierce black pupils, scrutinized a pair of teenagers squirting ketchup all over their fries, while they laughed and joked. Kit smiled. The way she seemed so astonished by the phone pleased him. He’d impressed her, that felt good.

  ‘Are there more of these machines?’ she asked, ‘Or is this your invention?’

  ‘My invention?’ He laughed. ‘Everybody has phones like these. You can buy them from supermarkets, and from all kinds of places.’

  ‘It must be valuable.’

  ‘Not really. Wait … you haven’t seen one of these phones before, have you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Where have you been for the last million decades?’ He spoke jokingly, forgetting for a moment that Freya wasn’t like any girl he’d met … or like any human being he’d met, come to that.

  She pressed her lips together. ‘I want to hurt you. Remember when I attacked you out in the yard? Well, that feeling – that urge – is still there.’ The black veins in her neck began to pulsate as if her heartbeat quickened. ‘I have to fight my instincts. It would be so nice to break open your skin and taste your blood.’ Her respiration grew louder. ‘That is why I want you to help me die. I need to be set free of this curse.’ She gripped his wrist with such force he grunted in pain. ‘But you won’t help me die, will you?’

  He shook his head. ‘You know that’s impossible. I’d never hurt you, Freya.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be hurting me, you’d be saving me.’

  ‘Don’t ask me to help you commit suicide.’

  ‘You don’t understand what I am.’

  ‘I know that I like you. I’ve never met anyone like you before.’

  She gave a grim smile. ‘I hope you will never meet anyone like me again.’

  ‘Don’t say that, Freya.’

  ‘When you look at me, what do you see?’

  ‘You are beautiful.’

  ‘No, Kit. Look at my eyes; they’re not exactly human, are they? I come to you at night barefoot in the snow. You show me that little machine that’s a television and a phone and a camera and goodness knows what else. Why do you think I’ve never seen one of those things before?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘It’s because I stopped being a living eighteen-year-old girl in 1965. I hated this valley so I ran away to London. Then I started to notice changes in my skin and my eyes. Gradually, I began to transform into what I am now. I’d invoked the Bekk curse. Do you understand?’

  ‘I don’t want to understand,’ he growled. ‘You’re special. I like being with you. That’s enough, isn’t it?’

  Just for a second, colour flooded back into her eyes. They became a bright, sparkling blue. That was when she kissed him on the cheek.

  Freya gave a melancholy sigh. ‘Kit, there are things you should know about me.’

  ‘For as long as you want to talk, I’ll listen.’

  ‘You are such a lovely, kind boy.’ She rested her hand on his arm. ‘It will be easier for you if I show you things that you can see with your own eyes. Then you’ll begin to understand.’

  ‘Then show me.’

  She hesitated, a worried expression appearing on her face. ‘You will see extraordinary things. Some will frighten you.’

  ‘I’m still coming with you, Freya.’ He collected a torch from a shelf. ‘Because the more I learn about you the more I’ll be able to help. And that doesn’t involve killing you, OK?’

  Smiling, she took his hand in hers. They stepped out of the house, and then she led him by the hand through the falling snow to the forest.

  She murmured, ‘After you’ve seen what’s out there, you’ll change your mind. You’ll understand that my death will be a blessing.’

  Once again, Kit Bolter’s instincts told him he’d left the natural world behind. Somehow, this realm of ancient oak and frozen earth would be a place of both wonder and terror. Whatever lay behind this mysterious veil of trees would change his life for ever. He was certain of that fact.

  OK, here goes … A moment later the darkness swallowed them. Whatever happens now, there’s no turning back.

  SIXTY-ONE

  ‘What are you going to show me?’ Kit asked Freya as they walked through the forest.

  ‘You’ll see them soon enough.’

  ‘Them?’

  She didn’t answer, so Kit allowed himself to be led by the hand. Here beneath the trees the night was as black as it could get. He made out enormous oaks standing there – ancient giants that presided over this wilderness. Snow falling through branches had formed patches of white on the ground. He could see little more than that – in fact, it was so dark Freya had become a silhouette. Even though he had brought the flashlight he held off from using it. Being together in darkness brought a sense of intimacy.

  What Freya had told him just a few moments ago restlessly circled his mind. She’d claimed she didn’t know about modern phone technology. Furthermore, she’d claimed that something had happened to her in 1965 that had turned her into this … this … No, Kit told himself, I can’t bring myself to call Freya a creature. Just then, moonlight broke through the cloud. There she was: a beautiful woman, with a delicately boned face, and the thick Rapunzel plait hanging forward over her shoulder. He’d put her age at no more than eighteen. So if she had been eighteen in 1965 then whatever affected her had stopped the ageing process.

  Kit closed his eyes for a moment as they walked. He felt the gentle pressure of her fingers encircling his. Little more than an hour ago, he’d been preoccupied with his own state of mind. He’d worried about the streak of madness, which blighted the Bolter family, manifesting itself in him. In truth, he didn’t feel any sign of mental abnormality right now, but could he be completely sane? He was accompanying a barefooted woman through the snow. Or at least he thought he was. What if he was traipsing through the forest alone? What if this was a hallucination?

  He squeezed her hand. She gave an answering squeeze. A gesture of affection? He hoped so. What’s more, being able to feel her hand reassured him that this woman was real as the trees surrounding him.

  Opening his eyes, he realized the moonlight had become brighter. He saw a rabbit hopping across the path in front of them. Freya’s bare feet left prints in the snow. Seeing as he had his phone, he could take photos of her footprints. They’d be evidence that Freya really existed. Come to that, would she let me film her?

  However, before he could take the phone from his pocket, she said abruptly, ‘If I try to kiss you again don’t let me.’

  ‘I want you to kiss me.’

  ‘No, Kit, promise that you’ll push me away.’

  ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘
Because I might not kiss …’

  ‘OK, but we can still hold hands, right?’

  He studied her serious expression as she nodded. Her face formed a bone-white oval in the moonlight. The black veins snaked from under the collar of her dress, up her throat where they forked off into finer branchlets. So what kind of blood runs through veins as black as those? And why have I fallen under her spell? Because I shouldn’t be here, should I? Not alone in the wood with a … a monster. Kit didn’t want to think of Freya in these terms. But why doesn’t she feel the cold? What happened to her eyes to make them appear like that? With no colour to them. And why doesn’t vapour come from her mouth when she speaks or breathes out? He exhaled and white billowed in the moonlight.

  Freya’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Hold my hand tighter. That’s it. Don’t let go, not even for a second.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We’re here.’ She fixed her eyes on his: uncanny fires seemed to dance behind them, a dancing ghost of her past life, perhaps.

  Kit stared into the darkness. ‘I don’t see anything.’

  ‘Keep holding my hand. Keep walking. Don’t attempt to talk to them. Whatever you do, don’t touch them.’

  ‘But who am I supposed to be seeing? I can’t … oh …’

  Now he did see what haunted the gloom. Moonbeams penetrated the branches catching the figures in cold, silvery rays. Kit fell silent. He even stopped breathing at the sight of these creatures. Because there, standing in a line, perhaps twenty paces apart, were men and women. They stood perfectly still. Eerie guardians of this cold wilderness. Many, like Freya, wore summer clothes. A man in a shirt and jeans. A woman in a flowered skirt and cotton blouse.

  In awe, he breathed, ‘They all look like you.’

  ‘Don’t talk,’ she whispered. ‘It might provoke them.’

  Kit remained silent as he walked along the line of men and women. They had the same bone-white skin as Freya. Their blond hair reflected styles from the last fifty years – bobbed, or permed, or long and straight, parted, or combed back – all the hairstyles were frozen in time. Just as their bodies were. Kit noted the uncanny white eyes set with fierce black pupils. When snowflakes alighted on their faces the snow did not melt: these were cold-blooded creatures.

  If they turned to look at him Kit knew he would scream. However, there was one small mercy. These monstrous figures didn’t appear to notice his presence. They stared ahead. They appeared to be waiting. But for what? God alone knew … or perhaps it was a case of Satan alone knew. These soldiers of darkness seemed to be biding their time until the order reached them. But what kind of order? And who from?

  Freya turned to Kit. ‘Those are members of my family, the Bekk clan,’ she stated in a matter-of-fact way. ‘They are Blood-Eaters. Another name would be vampires.’

  ‘Vampires?’

  ‘For decades they’ve been little more than ghosts. They’ve haunted the forest without being seen. They haven’t hurt anyone, but all that’s changing. Soon they’ll go down into the village and attack.’

  ‘You’re saying they’re going to start killing people?’

  ‘Not killing. Converting.’ She gave a grim nod. ‘They’re going to transform living human beings into creatures exactly like them.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To build an army.’

  ‘But if you’re one of those—’

  ‘Vampires? Say the word, Kit. Yes, I’m a vampire, too.’

  ‘But if you’re one of those vampires, why are you telling me this?’

  ‘Because when we met last night you reminded me that I was human once.’

  Blood thudded in his ears as fear cascaded through him. Had he actually seen vampires? Or had he looked into the black pit of his own mind, and seen the demon that was his own madness crawling upwards, hell-bent on devouring his sanity?

  Gently, she touched the side of his face. ‘Over a thousand years ago, my family left Denmark, which was a pagan Viking nation back then. They crossed the sea to Britain where they tried to settle peacefully in this valley, but through no fault of their own they became enemies of the Christian population. One day, the local people launched a surprise attack on the Bekk family that lived where Skanderberg cottage now stands in the forest.’

  ‘But that was centuries ago. What has that got to do with those things I’ve just seen?’

  ‘My ancestors still worshipped the old Viking gods. Legends say that the gods intervened to save what remained of the Bekk family, because they remained true believers of the old pagan faith. In effect, my ancestors entered into a contract with the gods. The gods would protect them and keep the Christian enemy away as long as the Bekk family continued to worship the likes of Thor and Wodin. The problem for us Bekks is that the protection became a curse if we married outside the pagan faith, or we moved away from the valley. Those people you saw back there, my uncles, aunts and cousins, were the ones who turned their backs on the old religion. They left the valley, or married people of other faiths. Such an act triggered the curse. Like me, they transformed into vampires, and then they found themselves here in the forest. Blood-Eaters. Vampires. We feed on the blood of sheep and rabbits.’

  ‘But that’s changing?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Surely you can stop yourself attacking the village?’

  Freya regarded him with sad eyes. ‘Believe me, Kit, it’s taking every ounce of willpower to stop myself attacking you. I hear the blood racing through your veins. I want it, Kit. I want to feed … believe me, your blood would taste so good. So warm … so full of life.’ She leaned towards him. ‘Kiss me.’

  Instead of pushing her away as she’d told him to, he gripped her by the shoulders. ‘You said I reminded you that you were human once. Hold on to that.’

  She breathed deeply. Her shoulders dropped a little as she relaxed. A flicker of blue appeared in her eyes. The black veins faded. Kit knew that just for that second she was more human than vampire.

  ‘Why would the vampires attack the village?’ he asked.

  ‘We have no choice. We are puppets of the old gods. Even after a thousand years they want to punish people for abandoning the pagan beliefs. That’s why we’ll be compelled to break into the houses and … and that’s why we’ll rip open the skin of innocent men and women. Once we’ve devoured their blood they will transform into vampires, too.’

  ‘Is that why you want me to help you die? So you won’t become part of this army?’

  She nodded with such an earnest expression that he felt a tug on his heart. ‘I want to help you,’ he whispered, ‘but not like that.’

  ‘Go to hell, then!’ Her face turned ugly with fury. ‘You should leave the valley, Kit Bolter, because there’s a war coming. We will win. Because we’re hard to kill!’

  ‘Freya—’

  ‘Go away.’

  She shoved him so powerfully that he crashed to the ground.

  Before he could struggle to his feet he heard an explosion of sound. A huge shape came crashing through the trees, snapping branches, ripping bark from trunks.

  Freya turned to face the giant creature that emerged from the darkness with the speed and fluid grace of a shark gliding through the ocean.

  Freya shouted to Kit, ‘I didn’t get chance to tell you about Helsvir. He’s the guardian of the Bekk clan. He’s hate and vengeance packed into the skin of a monster.’ Her eyes flashed – there was something wild, terrifying and absolutely magnificent about her. ‘Run Kit, because I can’t stop him. He’ll tear you to pieces and make you part of him!’

  Kit scrambled to his feet, though nearly all his strength had poured out of him. At that moment, he didn’t think he even had the strength to scream … and, dear God, I want to scream right now. Because Kit knew that he’d seen this monstrosity before. The automatic camera Owen had found: it had captured footage of the thing. And, in that instant, he knew that this was what Jez had rammed his truck into.

  Kit tugged the phone from his pocket, pointe
d the lens at the dark shape studded with pale discs and hit play. The ‘record’ icon appeared on-screen – and so did the creature as it raced towards him. The monster would kill him – he knew that, but someone might find the camera. People would know what happened to him.

  Freya begged, ‘Run, Kit, please run. I don’t want Helsvir to take you.’

  He saw that Freya was scared for him.

  ‘Get away from here, Kit!’ she shouted. ‘Leave the valley. Leave the country!’

  The monster swept through the trees with sinuous grace. Kit sensed its sheer primordial strength. And now he began to see more closely … heads … human heads bristled from its body. The creature moved centipede-like on dozens of human legs. The nightmare beast would make him part of itself – he knew that was his fate.

  Freya slapped his face.

  ‘Wake up, Kit. Run for your life!’

  With that, she moved towards the monster that she’d called Helsvir. She held her arms up, like someone would when attempting to stop a runaway horse.

  ‘I won’t let you take him, Helsvir. I won’t!’

  The creature did stop for a few seconds. Its human heads stared at Freya. A vicious hiss came from their mouths. Dozens of human eyes blazed in fury. A moment later, the creature lunged at her. She staggered backwards. The creature butted her again. Kit realized that hugely powerful beast could have swept her aside. However, for some reason it wouldn’t do that, yet it continued to hiss with rage. Lunging forward again, it butted her back a couple more paces.

  If it continued to do that, the monster would reach Kit in the next twenty seconds. After that, he’d be destroyed. He saw powerful arms bristling from its underside. Hands flexed, eager to seize hold of him. THIS IS DEATH. More precisely this was the engine of his death … or some form of death. Kit Bolter’s keen intelligence told him that this brute was the consummate recycler. It recycled the body parts of corpses into the fabric of its own body.

  Kit’s own head would soon adorn those flanks. He’d become the ugly, hissing organ that formed part of that monstrous flesh.