Vampire Hollows (15 page)

There was a sound behind me and I spun round to see Isidor coming back through the trees into the clearing. I could see that he had been crying, and he cuffed away a stream of snot from beneath his nose with his sleeve. Wiping my own tears away, I went towards him, but before I got to him, he raised a hand indicating for me not to come too close.

“I’m so sorry, Isidor,” I said.

He stood and stared at me and he had that haunted look again, the one he’d had since returning to The Hollows.

“What’s wrong, Isidor?” I whispered.

“What do you think is wrong?” he came back at me. “My sister has just been murdered.”

“But there’s something more than that,” I told him. “You’ve not been right since we got here. Please talk to me, Isidor.” Again, I tried to move closer to him, but he stepped backwards, maintaining the gap between us.

“Whatever’s wrong, Isidor, you’re going to have to talk about it sooner or later,” I said. “Keeping it to yourself won’t help.”

Lowering his head so I couldn’t see into his eyes, he said, “It’s Kayla…” then stopped.

“What about Kayla?” I asked him.

Straightening up, he looked at me and said, “It’s nothing.” Then, he was gone, slowly walking back to camp with his crossbow slung over his shoulder.

Alone again, I peered back into the dark in the direction Isidor had come. I wanted to say my own goodbye to Kayla. I couldn’t just leave her lying alone on the side of the mountain. So, following Isidor’s tracks back through the trees, I came across a mound of disturbed earth. Kneeling beside it, I ran my fingertips over the dirt and it was hard for me to accept that she lay just beneath my touch, battered and bruised, heart and ears missing. How had it come to this? This wasn’t the way her life should have ended. Kayla deserved better than that. I remembered the time I’d watched her giggling in the dark at Hallowed Manor as she taught herself to fly, and tears began to roll down my cheeks.

“I’ll miss you, Kayla,” I said.

Then I felt a hand fall on my shoulder. Stifling a scream, I looked up to see Potter standing behind me. I jumped up, and within an instant my claws were out, as were my fangs, and I launched him across the small clearing. Potter flew backwards under the weight of my punch and slammed into the trunk of a large tree. It shook in the ground and leaves showered down from above. Before he’d had the chance to regain his composure, I was on him, my claws around his throat, my fangs inches from his face.

“Did you kill her?” I screeched.

“No!” he groaned beneath my grip.

“Why did you run?”

“Because I’m being set up,” he wheezed.

“By who?”

“I don’t know.”

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?” I spat, spittle spraying from my fangs and covering his face.

“You don’t, but you’ll have to trust me,” he croaked.

“Who did you tell about the Light House?”

“No one, Kiera.”

“So if only three of us knew about it, one of us is the killer and I know it isn’t me,” I hissed.

“Do you really believe I killed Kayla?” Potter mumbled, and I could see his lips were turning blue.

In my heart I didn’t believe he had murdered Kayla; so slowly, I released my grip on him. I looked at him as he rubbed his throat and prayed I had done the right thing by letting him go. Stepping away, I went back towards Kayla’s grave.

“I didn’t kill Kayla,” Potter said joining me, his voice still sounding raw from where I had strangled him. “But somebody wants you to believe I did.”

“Who?” I asked, not looking at him.

“Elias Munn.”

“And who is he?”

“Someone close to us,” he said. “I didn’t think I would ever say this, but I think Murphy was right, someone in our group is a traitor.”

“So what’s changed your mind?”

“Being framed for Kayla’s murder is probably a good start,” he said, taking a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. Then looking through the cloud of blue smoke at me, he added, “You don’t look too surprised by the whole idea of me being framed.”

Without taking his eyes off me, he took the smouldering cigarette from the corner of his mouth, dropped it onto the grass, and ground it out with the heel of his boot.

Ignoring him, I knelt down and ran my fingertips over the cigarette and the blades of grass. In my head I could see the cigarette left by the tree where Kayla had been crying. I compared the two images in my mind. “Come here,” I told him.

“There was a cigarette left by the weeping willow where I discovered Kayla crying. She had been talking to someone. At first I thought it was the ghost of her father, just like mine had visited me. But when I went to her, I could see that it hadn’t been a ghost at all, but a living person, as I could see their footprints in the grass as if they had run away. Whoever had been standing there left one of your cigarette ends. Knowing I would see it, they hoped I would think it was you she had been talking to.”

“So what makes you think that it wasn’t me?” he asked.

“The cigarette had been ground out beneath the heel of your boot, because it was crushed just like this one,” I told him holding up what was left of the cigarette. But look at the grass. See how it is all bent over and disturbed where you ground it out with the heel of your boot? Well, the grass beneath the willow wasn’t. The cigarette hadn’t been put out there; it had been planted by whoever wanted to frame you. But by who, I don’t know.”

Standing, Potter looked at me and said, “And whoever put it there killed Kayla. Somehow they knew you had confided in me about the detour to the Light House, so they planted the cigarette and then killed Kayla hoping you would put the facts together and would suspect me.”

“But there was only one other person that knew that we were heading for the Light House,” I told him. “And that was Coanda. Why would he kill Kayla when it was his idea to take her there in the first place?”

“What about Isidor?” Potter asked. “I’ve always thought that guy was a bit weird.”

“Isidor?” I breathed. “Never.”

“That’s just what I don’t get,” Potter said. “There’s been something wrong with the guy ever since we got here. He’s been moody and distant – he’s hardly said two words to anyone. Isidor is the one who found Kayla’s body. He was the one who came staggering from the woods smothered in Kayla’s blood and no one suspects a thing? It’s like the kid is fireproof or something!”

“But he wouldn’t have murdered Kayla,” I said.

“Neither would I,” Potter said razor quick. “But that hasn’t stopped everyone from pointing the finger at me. I wasn’t the one sniffing her dead body.”

“What do you mean?”

“I watched Isidor bury Kayla from the shelter of the trees,” Potter explained. “At first I thought he was kissing her goodbye or something, but then I realised he was sniffing her dead body. Now why would he go and do a thing like that?”

“Hang back,” he explained. “I’m going to follow you from a distance. This Elias Munn, whoever he might be, is close and I reckon he wants to get to the Dust Palace as much as you do.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in him – just like Father Christmas,” I reminded him.

“Being framed for a murder you didn’t commit gives you a different perspective on things,” he said. “Now you go and I’ll watch your back, I won’t be far away. I’ll follow you to the Dust Palace, that’s where I think this Elias Munn will reveal himself to you.”

“Will we get some time together?” I asked, looking up into his black eyes. “What I mean is, we have spent our whole time on the run so far. It would be so nice to…you know…go on a proper date or something. I’d like to get to know you, for you to get to know me. All I really know about you is that you have a tendency for
WHAM
songs! I don’t know what your favourite food is, your favourite movie…I don’t know anything about you.”

Taking my face gently in his huge hands, Potter leant close and said, “I’d love to go on a date with you, Kiera Hudson, but for that to happen you’re gonna have to choose the Vampyrus over the humans, because if you don’t, I’m dead.”

Then, before I had the chance to say anything, he kissed me softly on the mouth, stepped into the shadows beneath the trees and was gone.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The others were waiting for me by the burnt out embers of the fire. It was still dark, the Light House had yet to complete its circuit for the night. The embers smouldered angrily and a thin line of smoke trailed up amongst the stalagmites.

Luke glanced at me as I re-entered the camp, then looked quickly away. Isidor stood, ashen-faced and tired-looking, his crossbow in his hands. He fixed me with a stare, but unlike Luke had done, he didn’t look away.

“You took your time,” Coanda grumbled at me, eager to get going. “What were you doing back there?”

“Saying goodbye to Kayla,” I said, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at Isidor.

“Let’s get going,” he said, turning as if to leave the camp.

“Go where?” Isidor asked him.

“To the Light House,” Coanda said as if it should’ve been blatantly obvious to him.

“What’s the point?” Luke asked. “Kayla’s dead. The mission has changed. I think we should head straight for the Dust Palace.”

“No,” Coanda shot back at him. “Elias Munn has agents there ready to send out his signal. Kayla might not be with us anymore, and you’re right, the mission has changed, but if we can’t intercept the messages, then we will kill those who are planning to send it.”

“I think Luke is right,” I cut in. “Potter told me that going to the Light House was suicide.”

“And when exactly did he tell you these words of wisdom?” Coanda sneered, his clear blue eyes clouded with distrust.

“When I told him about your plan,” I explained. “He said -”

“I’m not interested in anything he had to say,” Coanda barked at me. “Potter’s not to be trusted.”

“But if Potter is Elias Munn, or some kind of traitor like you believe him to be,” I snapped back, “Then won’t he be expecting us to head for the Light House?”

“Not without Kayla,” Coanda went on. “He wouldn’t believe we have the balls to go and attack his agents there. He’d expect us to go running to the Elders with our tails between our legs. But that ain’t my style, Hudson. I don’t shy away from a fight.”

“So I’ve heard,” I muttered.

“What did you say?” Coanda asked, jutting his chin in my direction.

“Nothing,” I said back.

“Then let’s get going,” he growled, turning his back on me and marching away from the camp.

With his head bowed forward, Isidor slowly set off after him. Luke was next to leave the camp. “So you are just going to go along with him?” I asked Luke.

Ignoring me, he continued after Coanda. I trotted after him, and taking Luke by the arm, I said, “How do we know we can trust Coanda? He could be leading us into a trap.”

Luke prised my fingers from his arm, and looking at me he said, “I thought I could trust you and Potter once, now I don’t know who to trust anymore.”

“Luke,” I breathed, not sure what to say next.

But before I’d had the chance to say anything, Luke said, “Kiera, do me a favour and leave me alone for a while.”

I watched him walk away, his shoulders slumped forward, and I hated myself for hurting him. But I couldn’t take it back now, even if I wanted to and I wasn’t sure that I did. I disliked myself even more for feeling that way.

The four of us walked through the night in silence. We reached the top of the mountain where it flattened out into a hard-panned surface. It was so hard and arid that it was covered in deep groves and cracks. Just like the ground Potter and I had raced over to reach the canyon, the ground was an orange-red colour and was covered in a fine ash. Did it ever rain here? I wondered. And I doubted that it did. But nothing would have surprised me about The Hollows or so I thought.

Just as I began to consider the possibility of rain falling in this new world I had fallen into, it started to snow. I stared, mesmerised up into the dark as giant white flakes began to seesaw down towards me. They covered the ground ahead, laying a white carpet before us.

“Snow?” I gasped in wonder.

“Ash!” Coanda grunted.