The Cross

human being half to death.

‘There’s been an accident up ahead, sir,’ the policewoman said, with a discreet glance at his bad eye. ‘Afraid there’s going to be a bit of a hold-up.’

‘Rotten luck. I hope nobody was hurt.’ Ash thought his put-on middle-class accent was pretty good. ‘Problem is, I’m in a bit of a hurry, officer.’ He reached across to the passenger seat and flipped open the catches of the attache case to show her what was inside. ‘I’ve been restoring this old cross for St Mary’s. The bishop is attending a service there in just a few minutes’ time, and was going to bless it. I’ve been working on it day and night.’ He pointed at his eye. ‘Which as you can see is hard for me to do, with my illness. Still, my faith keeps me going.’

He worried that he might have overdone it with that last part, but the policewoman cocked her head sympathetically and tutted. ‘Oh, dear.’

‘They’re going to be so disappointed,’ Ash said, shaking his head. ‘I don’t suppose there’s another route I could take?’

The WPC thought for a moment. ‘Tell you what we’ll do,’ she said.

Two minutes later, Ash was driving the wrong way up a one-way sidestreet guided by the kindly female officer, think ing about the blood-crusted sword he was carrying in the boot and how much he’d like to run its point through the bitch’s throat. As he reached the end of the street, he paused to call out ‘God bless you’, waved and accelerated off on his new route. Taking out the phone he’d been given, he called up the only number in its memory and said, ‘I’m almost there.’

The irritated voice on the other end was Gabriel Stone’s. ‘Drive quickly,’ Gabriel commanded him. ‘And remember above all to keep the cross inside the case until the very last minute. They must not sense its presence while they still have any possibility of escape.’

‘Trust me,’ Ash said, and ended the call. He pressed harder on the accelerator. The engine note climbed. Green lights all the way, and every rotation of his wheels was carrying him a little closer to his own personal heaven.

Less than a mile away across London, Gabriel Stone’s double agent inside VIA was pacing nervously in the locked office, glancing every few seconds at the time. It was getting late. Soon, many of the VIA staff would be leaving for home. The man must surely be almost here by now. Carrying it. Just to think of it was enough to make any vampire shudder.

A growl of an engine from outside, and a squeal of tyres: far below, down in the car park, the headlights of Alex Bishop’s black Jaguar were blazing into life. It roared out of its space and skidded off, leaving a twin trail of rubber.

Shit. That hadn’t been supposed to happen. Where was she going?

The double agent burst out into the corridor and ran to Bishop’s office. The door was slightly ajar, and there was nobody inside. At Bishop’s desk were the telltale signs of someone leaving in a hurry: the laptop still whirring quietly, the swivel chair rolled back across the carpet, the desk lamp still lit, the polystyrene cup of VIA vending- machine blood still pleasingly lukewarm to the touch.

‘Now then, Bishop, where are you running off to in such a rush?’ Flicking a key on the laptop made its screen pop into life. It showed a Google Maps close-up satellite image. Green fields, white beach, rocky cliffs and, perched up high on top of them overlooking the sea, a big house that from overhead looked like a castle with its turrets and courtyard.

‘Bal Mawr Manor,’ the double agent read from the screen, then pressed the ‘back’ key to bring up the previous website that Bishop had been looking at: www.theylurkamongstus. com.

The double agent took out the mobile phone and hurriedly redialled the secret number. ‘It’s me again. We’re too late. Bishop’s gone. She just left in her car, heading for some place in west Wales called Bal Mawr Manor, Newgale, Pembrokeshire.’

‘A minor setback,’ Gabriel Stone said on the other end of the line. ‘We will deal with her separately.’ He seemed in much lighter spirits now, which only made his insider vampire more nervous. ‘I was just on the verge of calling you myself,’ he chuckled.

‘What for?’ the double agent asked worriedly, gripping the phone tightly.

‘To suggest that you leave the building immediately, if you value your hide,’ Gabriel said. ‘Ash is downstairs.’

Chapter Forty-Four

Bal Mawr Manor

Errol Knightly wasn’t a man to dwell long over an embarrassment. He was all welcoming smiles as he ushered Chloe through the plush corridors of Bal Mawr, Dec padding quietly along behind. In the library, the gracious host insisted that Chloe sit in the best Chesterfield armchair, and hollered for Griffin to bring refreshments.

Dec couldn’t help thinking how pretty she was. She was around his age, maybe a year or so older. He kept his mouth shut and let Knightly do the talking.

‘Now, Chrissie—’ Knightly said, rubbing his hands together. ‘It’s Chloe.’

‘Now, Chloe, I gather you’ve been having a spot of vampire trouble.’

‘I don’t believe in vampires,’ Chloe said dryly.

Knightly raised his eyebrows and exchanged glances with Dec. ‘Then why …?’ Knightly began.

‘Why am I here? Because there are plenty of people who do believe in them, and I’m not just talking about the saps who run out and buy your book. I’m talking about the kind of deranged freaks who’d kill an innocent man and drink his blood, so they could live out their twisted fantasies. I’m talking about the man who murdered my dad. I came here because I need you to help me find him.’ Chloe’s tone was hard, flat and unemotional. No more tears. Later, maybe, there would be again.

Knightly stared at her from the edge of his armchair, stunned into silence.

‘That’s what you do, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Find people who think they’re vampires? His name’s Ash. You might have heard of him. It was all over the news.’

Knightly let out a long whistling breath. ‘Look, this isn’t—’ he began.

‘I’ll pay,’ Chloe said quickly. ‘I have money saved for my studies — none of that matters to me now. I can sell my car. Just tell me how much it’s going to cost to hire you to help me find this “vampire”.’

‘My dear child,’ Knightly said, looking genuinely pained. ‘I’m so sorry to hear what happened to your father. But you must understand, I concern myself with the Undead. It’s obvious that this lunatic is just a common criminal. That’s a matter for the police, not for someone like me.’

‘The cops? Oh, sure, the cops’ll catch him. That is, when they’re done harassing me because I shot the bastard’s eye out with an air pistol, and if they can hold on to him for more than five minutes this time before he goes and does the same thing to someone else.’

‘You … uh, shot him?’

Chloe frowned. ‘Please, not you as well. I shot him, yeah. And next time I see him I’m going to do a lot more.’

‘Hunting the Undead is not the same thing as going on a vigilante spree,’ Knightly sniffed, as though the integrity of his profession were being brought into doubt. ‘Nor am I some kind of bounty hunter.’

‘I’m not asking you to drive a stake into the sonofabitch’s heart,’ Chloe said. ‘I’m asking you to use whatever contacts you must have with this whole wannabe vampire subculture. I think we can find him that way. You don’t have to worry about what happens afterwards.’

‘I’d be an accomplice to murder,’ Knightly said doubtfully. ‘You’re talking about taking away a life.’

Chloe reached into the bag at her feet and took out the copy of They Lurk Amongst Us she’d bought early that morning. ‘Says in here that you’ve killed hundreds of vampires. If that’s true, you should have no problem with taking a life.’