Kronos, p.19
Kronos, page 19
‘Well, when you’ve finished with it …’
‘It’s yours, my dear!’
I leave him muttering away to himself and rifling through drawers.
I wonder what Kronos is up to?
When I step outside Freddie soon tells me. ‘He’s on the roof,’ he says. ‘Asleep, by the looks of him.’
‘He’s meditating,’ I explain.
‘Oh yes?’ What’s that then?’
‘I think it’s a bit like sleeping.’
Freddie gives a polite chuckle, then wanders towards the front entrance. ‘They won’t stay away for ever you know,’ he says.
‘Who?’
‘The folk from the village. Sooner or later they’ll be back.’
‘As long as they wait until nightfall,’ I reply. ‘By then we’ll be gone.’
‘And then?’
I shrug. ‘Then gone somewhere else, I suppose.’
‘Is that all you do? Travel from place to place, killing monsters?’
‘It’s all they do,’ I say. ‘I’m new at it and I can’t see me continuing.’
‘Oh, I thought you and Kronos were …’
‘There is no room in Kronos’s life for anyone but himself,’ I explain, not unkindly. ‘He is not someone who you could share a life with.’
‘And you’ve had enough vampires to last you for a while?’
‘More than enough,’ I say. ‘But it’s not fear or anything like that. I wouldn’t want to become the kind of person that a life like this makes you into, that’s all.’
Freddie nods at that but I’m not sure he really understands. I hope he does soon. I wouldn’t want Freddie Gluckhaven to become that sort of person either. Right now a large shadow hangs over him and nobody could blame him for wanting revenge. Once this business is over, though, he needs to try and forget; people who cling to the past have no life at all – that’s something I know well enough.
We eat lunch together, accepting that Kronos and Grost should be left alone to get on with whatever preparations they feel the need to make. They know their business and all we would do is distract them.
It is hard to make small talk with a man who carries such grief.
Freddie wanted to know my plans for my life after this. I ask him the same question. If nothing else it makes us feel it’s more likely that we will survive the coming battle.
‘I have no idea,’ he admits. ‘I just can’t stay here any more. I’ve got a small bag of belongings and a strong urge to keep walking, that’ll see me clear for now.’
‘Plans only get in the way of opportunities,’ I tell him.
‘True enough,’ he agrees. ‘I would have left years ago but …’
‘Sally,’ I say.
He nods.
‘Well, it took me years to finally get up the courage,’ I admit, ‘and the locals really did work hard to encourage me. First stop: here and certain death.’
‘Maybe you should have turned left, not right.’
We laugh a little. Freddie is happy to be distracted from his thoughts and I am happy to distract him. He is good company.
Finally, as the afternoon moves towards evening, Grost comes and finds us.
‘Come on, then, you two,’ he says. ‘You can’t hang around here all day. We have vampires to kill!’
Forty-Nine
Brothers in Blood – The Memoirs of Professor Herbert Grost: Volume One (Unpublished)
AND SO, TO the plan! Storming Durward Hall really was not an option. Quite simply, four people cannot really ‘storm’ anything. So we decided to employ a modicum of cunning. Carla and Freddie would approach from the front, making themselves known to the household and, if possible, keeping the Durwards distracted for long enough for Kronos and I to gain access from one of the windows above.
Carla and Freddie would make it clear that they were visiting with the full knowledge of friends and family in the village. That should, we hoped, be enough to stop the Durwards simply killing the pair of them the minute they uncorked the sherry.
‘“Should,”’ said Freddie. ‘What a useless word.’
‘Yes,’ I admitted. ‘But the most appropriate one right now, I’m afraid.’
‘We’ll be all right,’ said Carla. ‘If they get funny you can poke your crucifix at them.’
I had decided to give the silver crucifix to Freddie so that he wouldn’t be completely unarmed.
‘You won’t be alone with them for long,’ Kronos reassured them. ‘Just keep them distracted while we gain entrance above. We’ll have them trapped in the middle. Then,’ he clapped his hands, ‘we close our trap.’
As plans go it was certainly not our most refined. Still, it was at least an improvement on our last hunt and the execution of Madam Loubrette. Kronos’s plan then had been ‘We go in, kill everyone, then get on the road by lunchtime so that we’re home before dark.’
Kronos was not a man who liked to plan things to death.
The time had come for our final preparations. I had told Carla earlier that I liked to deal with every possible eventuality before allowing Kronos into battle. Now I extended that to all of us. There had been too many deaths already – including that of poor Marcus. Of course, I couldn’t guarantee that any of us would escape Durward Hall with our lives but I would at least do everything in my power to increase our chances.
‘This,’ I announced, placing a small phial on the table, ‘is an infusion of garlic and wolfsbane. It smells terrible but I nonetheless insist that we all smear some on ourselves.’
‘It does no good,’ moaned Kronos, as he always did. ‘It just makes your eyes water for five minutes until it dries.’
‘Nonetheless,’ I insisted, ‘you will apply some, with particular attention to the neck.’
Soon the room was pungent with the smell of garlic.
‘“Oh, hello, Mrs Durward,”’ joked Carla. ‘“I just wondered if Freddie and I could come in and use your bath.”’
‘The smell wears off once it’s dry,’ I promised them. ‘You won’t draw attention to yourselves.’
Next came the blood candle.
I had purchased the soft red stumps from a Catholic who claimed they had provenance from the Vatican itself. Simply owning it would be more than enough to get you hanged as a papist. It was a combination of wax, holy water and the blood of a saint. Where they get saint’s blood from I have no idea but the man owed me money and I took them in lieu.
I used the soft wax to daub the sign of the cross on the napes of Kronos’s and Carla’s necks. Freddie wore his hair short so it was a little more difficult in his case. I certainly didn’t want it to show. In the end we decided his collarbone was as close as we could get and if the candles were of any worth at all it should be close enough.
I had already given Freddie my cross, so that he and Carla had something silver with which to defend themselves, I ensured each of the rest of us had a smaller, simpler crucifix too. Their efficacy is mixed (I have the impression that it all rather depends on how religious the vampire is) but it did us no harm whatsoever to carry them.
Finally I unveiled the sword. I had done a good job on it, even if I do say so myself. (And if I don’t nobody will: Kronos is not one for compliments.)
‘The blade is pure silver,’ I said, ‘manufactured from the candlesticks plus the silver coins that the Durwards spent on their assassin.’
‘Nice touch,’ said Carla.
‘I thought so. They can have their money back, eh, Kronos?’
He held the sword in his hand, testing its weight. ‘It feels good,’ he admitted.
That was as close as I would ever get to: ‘Grost, you have made a very nice sword.’ I don’t mind. I know he thought it – that was the important thing.
‘It feels good from that end,’ I told him. ‘Let us hope that the same cannot be said from the other.’
I held up the small device I had constructed by using the mirror from Marcus’s bedroom. ‘Here is a little addition.’
It was a piece of mirror affixed to a metal sleeve so that it fitted snugly onto the blade of the sword. Kronos looked at it, smiled and then held up the sword so the mirror covered his eyes but captured the reflection of my own.
‘To ward off their mesmerism, eh, Grost?’ he asked.
‘That was rather the idea. In a perfect world they will become transfixed themselves as long as you hold their reflection in the glass.’
‘A perfect world?’ asked Carla. ‘Since when have we lived in one of those?’
‘Every vampire we kill,’ I replied, ‘takes us one step closer.’
Fifty
Carla Meets the Durwards
‘ARE YOU READY?’ I ask Freddie. ‘Am I not supposed to be asking you that?’ He smiles. ‘Not much seems to scare you.’
‘Where does fear get you?’
‘Somewhere safe?’
‘No, that’s common sense. But then, I’ve never had much of that, either …’
We walk up the drive of Durward Hall, a grim-looking building that I imagine looks no more welcoming during daylight.
‘Look at the size of the place,’ I say. ‘They must get lost in it.’
‘So much house for so few people,’ Freddie agrees, ‘when there are those with no home at all.’
‘Well, I shouldn’t let that trouble you too much. In an hour’s time it’ll be empty – there’ll be no more Durwards living in it.’
‘Good,’ Freddie replies and there is a look that passes across his face that almost breaks my heart.
‘You loved her very much, didn’t you?’ I ask him.
He nods. ‘More than I can say. I am so much less without her. And all because some foul creature wanted to look young. It could have been anyone – she meant nothing to them.’
‘And everything to you.’
‘Yes.’
I take his hand. ‘It won’t bring her back, but at least we can make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else.’
We reach the entrance porch. It’s as big as my mother’s cottage but with a lot more pillars.
I ring the doorbell. Then again. Then once more.
‘It is a big house,’ says Freddie. ‘Maybe they can’t find the front door.’
As he speaks it opens and we are greeted by Paul Durward himself.
‘My apologies,’ he says. ‘The butler seems to have vanished.’
‘How remiss of him,’ I say, offering a curtsy.
‘How can I help you?’ Durward asks, clearly not willing to let us in without a good reason.
‘Well, sir,’ says Freddie, digging up the rehearsed story, ‘it’s like this. You may not have heard but the local church is having some work done on it and we were wondering if you had any objection to our naming a window after you?’
‘A window?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Named after me?’
‘Well, after the Durward family, sir, not just you in particular.’
Paul Durward stares at us for a short while, clearly thrown by the suggestion.
‘Why on earth would you want to do a thing like that?’
Oh, let us in, you miserable sod! I think. We just offered to name a bit of stained glass after you – don’t be so ungrateful.
‘Well, sir,’ I say, ‘it’s like … it’s like …’ And I promptly fall over.
This throws Freddie because it’s unplanned. But then, the window idea still has us stuck on the doorstep and I do so like to be spontaneous.
‘Carla!’ he cries, dropping down next to me.
‘What on earth’s wrong with the girl?’ asks Durward.
‘Haven’t a bloody clue,’ Freddie whispers so softly that only I can hear him. ‘Some illness of the brain, I imagine.’ Louder he says: ‘She’s just come over faint, I think, sir, I don’t suppose we could … that is to say, just for a moment …?’
‘Oh,’ Paul Durward sighs, ‘bring her in.’
He steps back and Freddie lifts me up – rather roughly, actually.
‘You’re too kind, sir,’ he says. ‘Really, I’m sure she’ll be all right if she can just get her breath back for a moment.’
Paul Durward leads us through into the massive drawing room where a log fire is crackling away.
‘I’ll just place her here,’ says Freddie, ‘in front of the fire.’
‘As you like,’ says Paul Durward.
‘What’s the problem, dearest?’ a woman’s voice asks and, opening one eye, I see Sara Durward enter the room. She is wearing an almost exact copy of her brother’s clothes: tight britches, a florid ruff, velvet jacket. A fine-looking pair, I think, before giving a solid, theatrical groan and writhing on the chaise longue like a creature afflicted.
‘They’re from the church, sister,’ says Paul, ‘or something like that. Unfortunately, one of them has had a bad turn.’
‘The church?’ Sara laughs. ‘What on earth would anyone from the church want here?’
‘To name a window after us, apparently.’
‘A window?’ Sara laughs again. ‘Darling, you’re being quite ridiculous.’
Paul shrugs and gestures towards us. ‘I’m only repeating what they said.’
Sara walks over to us and I decide it’s time to feel better. At least that way I can help Freddie with the explanations.’
‘Madam,’ Freddie bows towards her, ‘my apologies for this embarrassing situation. I’m sure Carla will be feeling more herself any moment now.’
‘Yes,’ says Sara, ‘I’m sure she will. What’s this nonsense about a church window?’
‘As I explained to your brother, madam, we are conducting extensive work on the church, including the placement of a new window. We wanted the window to be dedicated to the Durward family, as a sign of respect.’
‘Respect? What earthly respect for the Durwards would be felt by the people of Padbury? We’ve barely set foot in the place for years.’
‘Nonetheless …’
I give another short groan and then sit up straight. ‘I don’t know what came over me,’ I announce. ‘Most strange … I’m sure I’m on the mend now. Perhaps – oh, I presume too much – a small brandy?’
Sara laughs. ‘The good little Christian wants a brandy.’
‘Purely for its medical benefits, you understand,’ I reply. ‘Otherwise I’d never touch the stuff.’
Paul sighs. ‘Where the hell is the brandy?’ He starts wandering around the room on the hunt for a decanter.
‘I don’t suppose you’ve been in service, have you?’ Sara asks Freddie, with a sly grin. ‘We could do with a new butler.’
‘Sadly, no, madam,’ he replies, until I give him a surreptitious kick on the ankle. ‘Though I dare say I could turn my hand to most things.’
‘Butler, footman, charlady …’ Paul sighs again, having given up on finding the brandy. ‘In the last week we’ve been shedding servants like a drowning dog loses fleas.’
‘What a lovely simile, dear,’ says his sister, rolling her eyes.
‘Hmm? Oh, sorry …’ Paul pours a glass of sherry and hands it to me. ‘You’ll have to make do with sherry, I’m afraid, I can’t find anything else.’
‘Sherry’s lovely, thank you,’ I reply, before remembering my Puritan manners. ‘Probably.’
I take a sip and watch the two Durwards. Sara certainly fits the description of the vampire: she is young and beautiful, though it is an unconventional sort of beauty – she has those looks that a person can have when you’re not quite sure whether you think they’re funny-looking or gorgeous. Perhaps it’s the men’s clothes she wears … a strange affectation, certainly. As for Paul, his manner is harmless enough – but who knows what animal aspects might be released should he undergo any change into a monstrous other self?
Drink your sherry quickly and get out! says a voice in my head – my mother’s voice, in fact, the one that’s always trying to keep me out of trouble. Sorry, mother, but I think I’ll have to stay a little longer. I have a job to do, you see. I wonder how Kronos is doing: has he got inside yet? Could he be on his way downstairs this very minute?
‘So,’ says Sara, ‘what do you really want?’
I nearly choke on my sherry. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘Only what we said,’ insists Freddie. ‘They asked us to come up here and get your permission, maybe even discuss a few designs.’
‘“They”?’ asked Sara – and I was pleased that Freddie had managed to drop in the suggestion that others knew where we were. It was something I had quite forgotten.
‘Ah, well, the village council, you know, the people who thought it might be an nice idea in the first place.’
‘Village council? There’s only about twelve people living there – it hardly warrants a council.’
‘How else do you get things done?’ Freddie asks. ‘You’ve got to have a council.’
This is all getting far too complicated for its own good.
‘It doesn’t matter, sister,’ says Paul. ‘If they want to name a window after us, then let them.’ He looks to me. ‘Now, if you’re feeling better?’
Oh dear, I think they’re going to get rid of us.
‘Well, actually …’ What to say? What to say? ‘We were rather hoping you might offer a donation.’
‘I knew it!’ laughs Sara. ‘There had to be a reason for it – they want our money!’
Now, I thought, either I’ve just bought us some more time or we’ll be thrown out within seconds. As it happened, neither alternative is correct.
There is the sound of breaking glass from above. Both Paul and Sara leap to their feet.
‘What the devil?’ Paul dashes to the window in time to see the remains of an upstairs window rain down onto the drive. ‘Mother?’ he asks.
Sara gives both of us a particularly vicious look. ‘Watch them!’ she says and runs out of the room.
Paul looks confused, torn between his desire to do as his sister tells him and also to see what the trouble is upstairs.
‘Don’t let us detain you,’ Freddie suggests, glancing over Paul’s shoulder at the window behind him. ‘Oh God … is that Sara?’
