Despite my earlier misgivings after visiting the werewolves, I was curious to compare them to the vampires. Before today, I’d barely given the supes any thought at all. I still didn’t know if I’d learn anything useful on this rotation but, if nothing else, it was an opportunity to improve my diplomatic skills. And although I could tell that Jeremy was still irritated that I was putting work before him, he gave me a lingering kiss before I left. Things weren’t so bad after all.
Tony’s message had asked me to meet him at St Erbin’s Church on the edge of the vampires’ quarter. I guessed there was a reason for choosing that particular spot. It was consecrated ground, so it was all but guaranteed to be vampire free. Even with my woefully limited knowledge of the vamps, I knew that the Church – like the werewolves – despised their kind. I couldn’t have told Jeremy, but I felt a ripple of excitement despite my fatigue.
I took the Tube to Piccadilly Circus and walked the rest of the way. The bright lights dimmed, and the crowds of tourists reduced in number as I drew closer to the quarter. Plenty of humans were drawn to this area, and lots of them relished getting close to the vampires at any time of night, but they were discouraged from staying for long. Sensible people stayed away; the more stupid ones occasionally became bloody snacks. Or so I’d heard.
Although I was aware that it was probably a daft thing to do, I’d wound a scarf round my neck before leaving home. There was no point in tempting fate and leaving myself unnecessarily exposed.
St Erbin’s Church had been standing in this spot long before the vampires moved in and claimed Soho as their own. Although the tower was a more recent replacement, the rest of the structure had been there since the seventeenth century. Considering the seediness beyond, it seemed out of place even with its gothic overtones.
As I walked up to the gate into the small churchyard, I noted various posters pinned to the wall: Samaritans offering support to anyone seeking to join the ranks of the vamps; the NHS offering blood to those who’d lost several pints of their own; a few church groups offering salvation to anyone who’d been turned and now regretted it. It surprised and amused me that the vampires allowed these notices on the edge of their territory. Maybe they had a sense of humour; if they did, it would be more than I’d witnessed in the werewolves.
The iron gate creaked on its hinges when I pushed it open. As far as I could tell, there was no one waiting in the churchyard and no sign of Tony. I checked my watch. It wasn’t quite ten o’clock, so I was a few minutes early.
I wandered over to a bench overlooking the graveyard. It had rained a lot recently and this area clearly didn’t have good drainage. I didn’t need to be able to see in the dark to know that my shoes were already caked in mud. I made a half-hearted effort at wiping the worst off on the grass verge and sat down.
Gazing out across the shadowy gravestones, I wondered what wisdom the dead would impart to me if they could. Probably that hanging around a graveyard in the dead of night wasn’t a sensible thing to do. As the damp on the bench started to seep through my jeans, I reckoned they’d be right.
I waited five minutes. Then ten. Growing bored, I stood up and looked around on the off chance that Tony was waiting around the corner. A group of giggly women, dressed up to the nines and heading deeper into Soho, passed by. One of them sent me a curious look, but her friends were too absorbed in the excitement of their journey into vampire territory to notice me.
I shoved my hands into my pockets in a bid to keep warm and walked round to the front of the church. Perhaps Tony was waiting inside, where it was both dry and warm. I tugged at the heavy door handle and slid inside.
It wasn’t much warmer inside the church. The empty pews seemed to mock me, and the candles dotted around the place cast long, flickering shadows that only added to the eeriness.
‘Hello?’ I called.
There was a loud thud from somewhere beyond the vestry, followed by an even louder, ‘Fuck!’ A moment later, a youngish man in his thirties wearing a dog collar appeared, rubbing his knee. He straightened up when he saw me, surprise flashing across his face. ‘Good evening. Are you in need of sustenance, my child?’
‘Uh…’
The vicar grimaced. ‘Sorry. That sounded better in my head than when it came out. I’m new to all this, and I’m trying to appear professional. It doesn’t always work. But it doesn’t mean that I can’t help you.’ He looked at me kindly. ‘Are you heading into Soho? You know that the vampires won’t provide answers for you any more than God will. Quite the contrary, in fact.’
I smiled at him. I had the feeling that he didn’t often get random people wandering in. ‘I’m not looking for God or for vampires. I was supposed to be meeting someone here. A bloke in his late fifties?’
‘No-one else has been here since the morning. Not to my knowledge, anyway.’ He gestured to a pew. ‘But why don’t you sit down while you’re waiting for him and we can have a chat? It’s far safer in here than out there. This is a sanctuary, you know, and monsters abound outside at this time of night. I can put the kettle on, if you like. I’m William, by the way. William Knight.’
Reverend Knight was very earnest, and he obviously believed all the Church’s hype about the monstrous nature of vampires. It wasn’t as if I knew anything different, though I was prepared to keep an open mind until I was proved wrong.
‘That’s very kind of you,’ I said. ‘But no, thank you.’ I twisted round, my ears twitching. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I’d heard something outside. ‘That’s probably him now. Nice to meet you.’
‘Wait! What’s your name?’ he called out.
I opened my mouth to tell him, then thought about what Tony had said about names. I grinned. ‘D’Artagnan.’
Reverend Knight seemed taken aback. I waved at him and walked out.
The wind was picking up, rattling through the bare trees and making the dry leaves that had collected at the corners of some of the gravestones skitter and swirl along the ground. I frowned and scanned the churchyard. I still couldn’t see any sign of Tony. Even the streets were empty, with no more vampire-seeking groups wandering past in search of a good time.
I checked my watch again. It was twenty past ten. The thought that this was Tony’s way of getting back at me for my misdemeanours with the werewolves itched at me. He hadn’t struck me as the petty type, but I barely knew the man. Anything was possible. I’d give it until half past then I was going back home to my warm bed.
I wrapped my arms around myself and gazed up at the sky. It was cloudy, but it was possible to make out a few twinkling stars. I was squinting, wondering whether I was looking at the Milky Way or simply a passing aeroplane, when there was the sudden sound of a twig cracking to my left. I stiffened and glanced over. Nothing.
Frowning, I ambled over to the source of the sound. I didn’t think I’d imagined it. Then I heard heavy breathing.
Freaked out now, I spun around. Where was that coming from? I clenched my jaw. I was being ridiculously jumpy – it was probably a cat. Maybe even a fox. I couldn’t see anything or anyone. If I was really that worried, I could hop inside the church again. In fact…
Pain exploded in the back of my skull. I cried out, falling forward to my knees while white lights flashed in my eyes from the blow. My fingers clawed at the ground, scrabbling in the dirt. I coughed, spitting blood, barely registering the shadow that grew from over my shoulder.
I tried to twist my head to see what – or rather who – it was. Before I could, whoever had hit me the first time did it again, smacking something heavy across the other side of my skull. This time I went face first into the ground, receiving a mouthful of dirt. I didn’t even get a chance to scream.
Screeching agony was overtaking everything, and it was difficult to think clearly. Something grabbed hold of a hank of my hair and pulled my head up. My vision was blurred; no matter how hard I tried to focus, I could make out little more than the dim shape of a figure looming over me. He spoke – I was sure it was a man – but the ringing in my ears made it impossible to hear either the words or to recognise the voice.
I croaked and licked my lips, my fingers reaching desperately for my pocket. If I could just get to my phone, maybe I could get some help.
‘Please,’ I whispered.
The figure moved and gave a strange grating sound. It took a moment for me to realise that it was laughter. It sounded like it was coming from a long way off. Something flashed in front of my eyes. I barely had the chance to work out that it was a knife before the scarf round my neck was yanked away and the tip of the blade pressed into my soft flesh.
I felt it sliding in, but there was nothing I could do about it. My carotid artery, I thought dimly. I half gasped, feeling the hot blood – my hot blood – soak my skin. And then everything went dark.
Chapter Six
The first thing I heard was the buzzing. It tickled my eardrums at first then, as I gained consciousness, it became more insistent – and more annoying.
I moved slightly and there was a strange rustle. What the hell was I lying on? It felt like plastic, or rubber sheeting perhaps. There was an acrid tinge to the air that definitely smelled of rotten eggs, and there was an unpleasant taste of ash in my mouth. This didn’t make any sense.
It took more effort than it should have done to open my eyes. It was like they’d been glued together and I virtually had to peel open my eyelids. I blinked, trying to adjust my vision. I was so hot – and what was this crap around me? I plucked at it. I’d been right: it was definitely some sort of white plastic sheeting, but it was singed and burnt like someone had taken a flamethrower to it.
I sat up, shoving it to one side. That was when I realised I was naked.
I jerked with such force that I fell off the table and landed with a heavy thump on the cold, linoleum-covered floor. I groaned and looked around. It wasn’t a table, it was a metal gurney. That was when the memory of the attack came flooding back to me.