Her Vampyrrhic Heart (29 page)

‘Take your time.' Eden sounded surprisingly calm. ‘Think before you shoot. Choose a vulnerable spot.'

Eden Taylor was a remarkable girl. No clinging to him, no hysterics. With absolute calm, she gave him emotional support and strength with her carefully chosen words.

Warily … slowly … he moved towards the strangely dark conservatory. Bright moonlight should be cascading through the glass roof.
Why isn't there any moonlight? Why is it so dark in
there?
Already, he found himself picturing a huge beast springing from the shadows to tear him apart.

Gripping the shotgun even tighter, he stepped through the arch into the conservatory.
So dark in here … no light at all. It's almost as if the house has sunk underground.
Total silence. Nobody spoke. The tension in his body rose, his muscles quivered. Any moment now he expected an explosion of movement as the monster attacked.

Light … I need light.
Gripping the shotgun in one hand, he used the other to flick the switch.

The light blazed. That was when he saw that the monster was closer than he expected. In fact, it was directly above him. Now he knew why it had been so dark. The creature lay on the conservatory roof, covering the glass panels, which in turn prevented moonlight from entering the room. The thing did not move … but what kind of animal was it? Owen made out its massive bulk – a whale of a thing up there on the glass roof.

What nailed his attention were the faces. A dozen or more people gazed down. Like kids mischievously pressing their faces to window panes, these individuals forced their faces against the glass. The pressure deformed their features, pushing noses to one side and distorting mouths. All of them stared down at where he stood directly beneath them.

At first, it was like looking into the eyes of corpses – the gaze of each individual seemed out of focus and fixed; the eyes didn't move. A moment later, however, a strange, evil light appeared in their eyes. They burned with hatred. Their naked ferocity made his blood run cold.

Then the madness erupted. Kit and Jez yelled at him to run.

A clearer voice rang out over the yells. This was Eden. ‘Now's your chance, Owen.'

He raised the shotgun until it pointed directly upwards – then squeezed the trigger. Once, twice, three times. Those explosions were deafening. The pump-action weapon fired clusters of lead pellets at hundreds of miles per hour. Above him, the glass shattered.

The human heads seemed to be connected to the same nervous system. They all recoiled in the same way at the same time. They all opened their mouths and screamed together – a synchronized chorus of rage and pain.

‘I recognize some of them!' Owen shouted. These were men and women from the nearby village; he'd seen them many times before as they went about their ordinary, day-to-day lives. Now they were anything but ordinary. ‘Some of those people were on the bus that crashed.'

Jez seemed dazed. ‘We know what got them … it was nothing to do with me.'

Kit always reached conclusions faster than anyone else. ‘Whatever that animal is, it uses people. It's recycled body parts into itself.'

The heads that Owen Westonby had blasted with the shotgun were floppy, almost boneless things now. Like the deflated udder sacks of a cow that had just been milked. Other ‘live' heads hissed with fury. They glared down at their prey.

That was when the monster went to work. Human arms sprouted from the creature's flesh. They reached down through the holes that Owen had blasted in the glass, and then those dead-looking hands began to rip at the frame and what remained of the window panes.

Owen chambered another round. ‘We're not going to stop it getting in!' He pointed the muzzle upwards. ‘Run!' He fired the last shell, exploding a head. All that remained of the head was something like a white finger pointing down at them from the monster's body. This white ‘finger' must have been what remained of the spinal column that connected the head to the creature.

‘Time to go!' Owen pushed the others from the room. ‘Run! Get out of the house!'

Everything happened in a blur. Soon they were running across a meadow. The moon shone down with a hard, cold brilliance. Witch fire, a light as cold as death.

‘Here it comes,' Owen panted. ‘It's chasing us!'

W
hen Tom answered his phone in the living room at Skanderberg cottage he saw his brother's name on-screen, but a strange guttural panting filled his ear.

‘Owen?'

The gasping continued.

‘Owen, is that you? Are you OK?' Tom wondered if his brother was ill. ‘Owen?'

‘
Tom! Jez was right!
'

June noticed the expression on Tom's face. She rose from the armchair.

Tom tried to make himself heard. ‘Owen. I can't make out what you're saying.'

‘Tom! We're heading to your house!'

‘What's wrong?'

‘We're being followed … chased!'

‘Who by?'

‘Jez was right! He drove the truck into an animal! It was at Jez's farm. We're heading for your cottage. It's following. I don't know …'

The gasping sound filled Tom's ear. After that, the phone suddenly went dead.

‘Stay here,' he told June. ‘My brother's in trouble.'

‘How?'

‘Helsvir. He's being chased by Helsvir.'

Tom grabbed his fleece, his gloves, a flashlight, and then went to the store cupboard to find his old harpoon gun. It was the only weapon he had. Though against the monster known as Helsvir, just how effective would a spear be?

‘June. Lock the door behind me. I'll be as fast as I can.'

‘I can come with you?'

‘Stay with your mother. Don't open the door to anyone but me.'

Seconds later, he headed away from the house, the flashlight in one hand, the harpoon gun in the other. Behind him, June Valko locked the door. Ahead, the forest lay bathed in moonlight. A wilderness of a hundred thousand trees. And somewhere out there Owen and his friends were running for their lives.

A
t the same time that Tom headed through the forest, armed with a harpoon gun, Owen was running for his life. He still carried the pump-action shotgun which he'd used to blast the creature back at the farmhouse. With him were Eden, Jez and Kit. Their eyes were huge with shock. Sheer terror drove them to run as fast as they humanly could. Moonlight glinted on the snow-covered field. A scarecrow wearing a cowboy hat appeared to point the way, as if somehow the lone straw man understood the dreadful danger the four faced. Ahead lay the forest.

And behind them?

Behind them, a creature followed. A monster. An ugly beast that appeared to be formed from human body parts. Naked human legs by the dozen carried it across the frozen ground. Human heads bulged from its flanks. This horror moved with marvellous grace. All those legs moving with a rippling flow – a centipede way of locomotion. The creature, which was as big as a whale, glided through the moonlight. What was more, it glided fast, very fast.

Kit struggled to catch his breath; first-aid dressings hung from his face where the tape had come unstuck from the gunshot wounds. Even so, he yelled in triumph, ‘See! It's real! You believe me now …'

‘Keep running!' Jez shouted. ‘Whatever you do, don't let it catch you!'

Jez didn't need to say any more than that. They'd all recognized faces that bulged from the monster. Somehow it had torn apart passengers from the crashed bus. Now those victims were part of the monster; their flesh had merged with that gargantuan body.

‘We could split up,' Jez suggested as they reached a fence. ‘It can't chase all of us.'

Eden shook her head. ‘Stick together. We might have to stand and fight that thing.'

‘Eden's right.' Owen helped Jez over the fence; the guy's broken arm made it difficult for him to climb. ‘If we split up, it'll pick us off one by one.'

They continued towards the trees, their shoes exploding clumps of snow.

Eden panted, ‘You got through to your brother? What did he say?'

‘I told him we were heading for his cottage … and that we were being chased.'

Kit groaned. ‘I can't run any further.'

‘You've got to.' Eden grabbed his arm. ‘Focus on running. Don't think of anything else.'

The creature had reached the fence they'd climbed over just seconds ago. The monster blasted through. The violence of the impact was staggering. Pieces of timber rained down on to the field. One post even shot over their heads to crash down into the forest. This powerful example of the animal's ferocity gave Kit a boost of energy. He suddenly ran faster. No doubt in his mind's eye, he saw what would happen to his own body if the creature slammed into him.

Owen realized he was still carrying the shotgun. He almost tossed it aside; its extra weight would only tire him faster. But then he had an idea. Pausing, he aimed at the beast, squeezed the trigger and …
click!
Damn it, out of ammo. I
fired the last shot back at the house.

They were now twenty paces or so from the forest. His brother's cottage lay maybe ten minutes away … that is, if they weren't caught. Glancing back, he saw the creature racing towards them. This thing hunted with the tenacity of a man-eating shark. Its sheer speed flung up snow and dirt, sprays of black and white. And he could hear the sound it made: those strange corpse-like faces were whispering – as if eagerly discussing how they would hurt the four young people they pursued.

‘HELSVIR!' The name exploded from Owen's lips. ‘Of course! I've seen that thing before.'

Even though they were running, Eden reacted with astonishment. ‘Really? Why on earth didn't you tell us?'

‘Yes, but not
alive
like this. There are carvings of it in my brother's cottage.'

They wove through the trees as they engaged in this gasping, breathless conversation.

Kit joined in. ‘I remember seeing the pictures when we were kids. Something to do with the Vikings? A dragon?'

Owen shouted, ‘Yes, and it's called Helsvir!'

Jez shouldered aside branches. ‘That's not like any dragon I've seen in films.'

‘Legends say that Helsvir was created from the bodies of dead warriors.' Owen's heart pounded. ‘That's what we're seeing now. Those are human legs and arms, and human faces.'

A tremendous crash announced that Helsvir had reached the forest. Instead of weaving round bushes, it simply smashed through.

Kit was exhausted. ‘We're never gonna outrun it. It's gonna get us.'

Eden nodded at the gun in Owen's hand. ‘Ditch it. It's slowing you down.'

Jez grunted. ‘Wait. I've got shells.'

Jez tugged a handful of shotgun cartridges from his pocket. Although he didn't stop running, he attempted to pass them to Owen. That was when he slipped. With a yell of agony he fell on to his broken arm. The red cartridges scattered all over the ground.

Everyone stopped to help Jez up. A hundred paces away, the monster came crunching through the forest.

Owen glanced down at the ammo.

‘Leave them!' Eden's eyes brimmed with tears. She knew what he planned to do.

Owen gave a grim smile. ‘You three head to my brother's place. I'll pick these up.'

‘Owen, leave them.'

‘Keep moving. I'll only be a second.'

‘Owen … please.' She desperately wanted him to keep running.

‘We need these shells.' He raised the shotgun. ‘This cannon might slow our friend down.'

‘Then I'm staying with you.'

Owen nodded at his two friends. ‘Kit. Jez. Take her with you, boys.'

Eden cried out, ‘No! I'm staying here with you!'

Grabbing an arm each, Jez and Kit hauled her away through the trees. He could hear her shouting that she wanted to stay with him. But he knew that they couldn't outrun the monster. It was down to him to save their lives.
If I can blast its legs
, he told himself,
I might be able to slow it down.

Quickly, he began to pick up the shells so he could load the gun. Picking them up wasn't a problem; bright moonlight revealed where they lay. The problem came when he tried to push them into the gun's magazine. His fingers were so cold that the ammo slipped from his grip. As the crunching sound grew louder (Helsvir was approaching fast) he struggled to load the gun. One shell slipped into the magazine. The next popped from his fingers and fell to the ground. He picked it up, tried again. Once more he dropped it. Then he saw the vast, dark shape glide towards him. Boy-oh-boy, this thing really did resemble a killer shark – a monstrous shark at that – one that blasted from the darkness.

Helsvir took a detour to the right, circling round as it searched for a clear line of attack.

Here it comes … here it comes …

With his heart pounding furiously, he picked up the shells.
Don't rush
, he told himself,
you'll only screw up again.
He took a deep breath and deliberately held it.

Helsvir approached Owen Westonby – a torpedo of evil flesh blasting through the forest, ripping bark from trees, shattering branches.

Owen still held his breath. When he was certain that his lungs had warmed it up he gently blew on his fingers. They grew warmer – numbness brought on by the cold began to ease. With the warmth would come increased dexterity.
I hope so … my God, I hope so.

Helsvir's detour had bought him precious moments. After picking up the shotgun cartridges, he efficiently slotted them through the aperture in the underside of the gun. He gambled that the time it had taken to warm his fingers would deliver the result he needed, and that was to give Kit, Jez and Eden a chance to reach the cottage.

He murmured, ‘OK, Owen. Hurt the bastard.'