Alchemy, Book Two of the Mercian Trilogy (22 page)

But in much the same way as we’d captured that first vampire many years before, I surrounded the mausoleum at dusk with a handful of servants, their lanterns covered so as not to give away our position
.

The small stone building had a circular window high up facing the door and this window had broken at some point in the past. The plan was that, when I gave the word, one of the servants would lift the kitchen boy up to that broken window and he would drop a burning torch inside with the aim of flushing the demon out – I knew it would be able to sense us outside and did not want it to retreat deep underground
.

A little after nightfall I heard stone slabs moving within the mausoleum. A stillness followed, and this I knew from experience was the demon testing the air. I signalled and the boy was lifted up to the window. He looked briefly horrified, and for a moment, I feared he would lose his nerve, but with admirable precision,
he threw the burning torch into the building
.

The scream which resulted was so alarming that I saw my servants becoming agitated, but they had no time to think on what was coming. An instant later, the demon emerged, wild and vicious and terrifying. Even in the painful glare of our lamps, it lashed out and I think if we’d been relying on light alone, we wouldn’t have succeeded
.

But the demon had failed to notice that it had emerged on to a small wooden platform and now, at my command, four sides of a cage sprang up round the creature, a fifth falling into place on the roof. The process was so fast that there was no longer any question that the demon would end up in my cellars
.

Little did I know that this was the point at which my progress with this particular fiend was to end. Usually when caught, the creatures spend the first days testing the bars and exploring their surroundings like a spider trying to escape an upturned glass
.

As if sensing immediately that there was no escape, this demon sat and fell deep into some sort of trance from which it could not be shaken. It was as if it was deep in communication with itself, or with another far away
.

I burned its flesh and it did not flinch, I even used mirrors to expose it to sunlight, and though its flesh
combusted, still the demon did not respond. The flesh healed and I tried again, but always without response. Nor over the many decades that followed did it ever give any indication of a spiritual hunger from the lack of blood
.

I knew full well that this was a demon of a different order, and even though it failed to yield any further information, I became convinced that if this strikingly strong and powerful demon answered to Lorcan Labraid, then maybe he was indeed a vampire king
.

For nearly one hundred and fifty years I have held this demon captive, longer than any of the others, and in all that I time I had never heard it speak, nor seen any other signs to suggest it was even fully conscious. Then last November, as I worked nearby, it suddenly uttered five words, quite clearly
.

So surprised was I that I couldn’t be certain I had heard correctly. But I noticed the demon’s eyes were open, and it seemed to smile as it repeated the words, “William of Mercia rises again.”

I walked over and asked it what it meant by those words, but nothing more was forthcoming, the trance was re-established, and I knew better than to waste time on more torture
.

This creature was evil, and it waited upon evil in the form of Lorcan Labraid, and Lorcan Labraid waited
upon evil in the form of William of Mercia. I knew this was not just the end of another hibernation for my mother’s tormentor, but that something momentous was afoot and that if good was to triumph, I would need to prepare for battle. This, I realised, was the point to which I’d been heading, and for which I hoped my long education had prepared me
.

E
loise walked a couple of paces ahead of him, then stopped and turned, smiling. The sun was behind her, catching her hair, outlining the curves of her body through the material of her summer blouse.

“I could tell you things about this place that you don’t know.”

“Then tell me,” Will said.

She reached out and took his hands, her warmth radiating through him, and lowered herself to sit on the grass, pulling him to the ground too. A memory flashed into Will’s mind, of lowering Alex Shawcross to the floor in the same way, but he fought to stop it from taking over.

“Take the grass we’re sitting on.” He looked down at it, a vibrant sunlit green that filled him with heartache. “There are thousands of bodies buried under it, all over here.”

“How so?”

She said, “They found hundreds when they built
the old house, more when they built the new one, but they’re everywhere. They think a huge battle took place here in ancient times, but it was a burial site too, for pagan warriors and kings.”

“I should’ve known that,” he said, but he was distracted now by her lips, soft, slightly parted, inviting. He leaned forward and kissed her and reached out to hold her, but his hand failed to find the warmth of her body and the dream melted away.

Will opened his eyes, disappointed, and stared at the wall of skulls which stared blankly back at him. He was sitting cross-legged, his back against the ossuary door. He wondered if his location had inspired the dream or if the dream had answered for all these remains.

Marland had been a place of significance long before the abbey had been built there, that much was obvious to him. It had been common too for churches to be built on sites that had been of significance to their pagan predecessors.

So a sacred place for the burial of warriors and kings seemed likely. But the site of a large battle too? There had been no talk of this being a battlefield during Will’s childhood, or at least nothing that had been spoken of in front of him. If there had been a battle here, it could only have been in ancient times.

He stood and looked at one of the skulls, running his
hand across the time-darkened facial bones, up towards the jagged fracture on one side of the forehead. And he wondered what this warrior would have been able to tell him of this place and what had happened here.

Will was distracted for a moment, sensing that the sun had set in the world above, but he turned back to the skull and stared a few moments longer, trying to imagine the man this had been, saying finally, “Little do you know how much I envy you.”

He turned and left the ossuary, though he delayed for another hour or so in the crypt. He listened to the school choir as it practised above, and at the end, he heard the supervising teacher mention something about the appointment of a new chaplain. They filed out afterwards, chattering, happy, and the lights were turned out and the heavy door closed.

A little while later, Will climbed the steps. The combination of the moon behind snow clouds and the snow itself on the ground outside produced an ethereal light that made him feel homesick for his own church again, a homesickness that represented everything he had lost and longed to get back, even as he knew it would never be in his power again.

He sat in one of the pews, losing track of time. When he heard someone approaching, he moved quickly and descended halfway down the steps into the crypt. The
door opened and closed, but rather than the lights coming on, a torch beam bounced across the dark interior of the chapel.

A moment later, he heard Eloise say, “Will?”

He put on his dark glasses, not confident of them managing to keep the torch beams under control, and climbed the steps again.

“I’m here.”

They both had torches and walked towards him now, going to great lengths to keep the beams on the floor in front of them. Marcus was carrying a rucksack and Eloise held some rolled-up papers under her arm.

She said, “We’ve brought candles – there are still a lot of people about so we thought it might make more sense to go to the crypt.”

“Good thinking,” said Will and walked back down the steps ahead of them.

He waited then while Eloise and Marcus lit some candles on one of the flat-topped tombs in the second chamber. Once there was enough light for them to see, they turned off the torches and Will removed his glasses.

Marcus looked around the room and said, “You spent the whole day down here? You don’t sleep?”

“I don’t sleep at all. And I spent most of the day in there.” He pointed at the old wooden door to the
ossuary. “It’s the nature of my condition – one gets used to being alone.”

Marcus nodded, accepting the comment at face value. “I suppose we’re all alone one way or another.”

“Cheery,” said Eloise, then pointed and said, “What’s in there anyway?”

“It’s full of human bones. There was a battle here long ago, the ground all around is full of human remains.”

Eloise looked surprised and said, “How amazing. I’ve never heard anything about that.”

Will wasn’t sure why he took such perverse satisfaction from proving his dream wrong and said only, “It’s not a widely known fact.”

“Well, maybe it should be.” She smiled. “Anyway, we’ve had a productive day. The place we’re looking for is called Southerton House, a couple of miles outside the city, but on the other side from us. Marcus recognised the picture straight away. And it’s owned by a company based in the Cayman Islands, which is obviously one of Wyndham’s fronts.”

She spread out a map of the area on the top of the tomb and pointed to where the house was, then placed a photograph next to it, printed off the internet. Will looked at them, but didn’t think he’d ever seen the house, even on his longer nocturnal walks. Seeing the map and how little of it he’d covered made him realise
how confined his world was. For the most part, since the time of his sickness, he had stirred little beyond the city itself, particularly as the edges of the city had crept out into the countryside.

He turned to Marcus and said, “What sort of defences does he have?”

“You mean security?” He got a nod from Eloise and said, “Probably cameras on the gates and walls, but I didn’t see them. He told me there were attack dogs in the grounds and I bet the house is alarmed.”

“Not very much to contend with,” said Will, and wondered if Wyndham was a little too confident that his house would not be found, and that his sorcery would be enough to protect it if it were. Not that Will underestimated Wyndham’s magical powers. He turned to Marcus. “I know I need not ask Eloise, but I ask you, do you want to be part of this? There will be unknown dangers and it will place your break with Wyndham beyond repair.”

“Oh, I’m coming. I’m done with Wyndham, I told you that, and besides, you need me there.”

“So be it,” said Will. “You have torches which, as Eloise knows well, are as useful a weapon as any. We have the sabres.” He looked at Marcus and said, “He will have told you, but I tell you again, avoid eye contact with them. If you stab them through the heart, they are
weakened but not killed. The only way of killing them is to sever the head.”

Even as he spoke, he realised he was talking about “them” instead of “us” and Marcus appeared to pick up on that and said, “Hold on, I thought the vampires were on your side. I thought that’s why we’re going there, so that they can tell you stuff.”

“That is my hope, but you say these poor creatures have been locked up, possibly for decades or more, starved of blood, driven half-mad. I sincerely hope Asmund’s master is more helpful than he was himself, but the others could be very dangerous indeed.”

“Yeah, they’re in some pretty serious cages, but I get what you’re saying.”

Will looked at Eloise and said, “I’ll try to obtain a weapon for you, or you …”

Before he finished she said, “I’ll take a torch, but I’m not chopping anyone’s head off, so it’s better that I don’t – I’ll end up dropping it or something, or stabbing myself with it.”

“Fine. All that remains then is to plan a time. Is tomorrow night convenient?”

They looked at each other and Eloise said, “As good as any. About eleven o’clock? How are we getting there? Do you want me to call Rachel and Chris?”

“No, we’ll take a taxi. I see no way of them helping
in this, so I see no point in endangering them.” She appeared satisfied with that, and certainly didn’t seem to think it was a matter of trust. And for once, it wasn’t, but rather a practical decision. “Good. We’ll meet here tomorrow.”

Marcus looked enthusiastic, but said, “Great, but I’ve got to go. I’ve got a chess match waiting for me.”

“I’ll catch you up,” said Eloise.

Marcus flashed her a cheeky, knowing grin, gave his now familiar wave to Will, even though he was standing within reach of him, and left, skipping up the steps of the crypt.

Eloise waited until she heard the door to the chapel open and close and looked at Will questioningly. Will nodded, assuring her that Marcus had left, and she said, “You do trust him?”

“Do you?”

It looked as if it pained her to admit it, but she said, “Yes, I do actually. I mean, I’ve only really got to know him today and even then I’ve only spent a couple of hours with him, but I really like him. He’s smart and he’s funny.” The doubts crept back into her face though. “It’s just, he was working for Wyndham as recently as yesterday and this is all just a bit too convenient, him knowing where the house is, telling us about the prisoners, and we’re about to follow him in there – it could be a trap.”

Will thought about it before saying, “It could be that Wyndham is setting a trap right now, that he’s been planning one all along in the certainty that I would eventually find him. But I have absolutely no doubt that Marcus Jenkins is trustworthy. I knew it, somehow, even when he was working for Wyndham, and I don’t know why that is.”

“I hope you’re right. Because I do like him, Will.” Eloise looked at her watch and said, “I’ll have to go soon as well.” But she didn’t move and a moment later, she said, “The way we were last night, before the … whatever it was that happened in the new house. I don’t ever want us to be like that again. And I know you have to feed, but you have to understand that it’s difficult for me, that it’ll take me a while to accept it for what it is.”