Absolution - The First Book Of The Vampire Immortalis Trilogy (7 page)

From the vantage point of his window, Nick could see from one end of the High Street to the other. It was perfect for seeing all the comings and goings. “We need to get out there, Miller. Catch ourselves a vampire.”

In the three months that the two men had known each other, including meeting up every Tuesday without fail for a drink and a chat at the Dark Horse on Merton High Street, they had always addressed each other by their first names. Now that they were on what Nick called “manoeuvres”, he insisted that he address Walter by his surname. Walter in turn was to address Nick as sir. The exception to this was when the two men were in the company of others, when such formalities might arouse suspicion. Nick claimed that the handler from the Sabbatarians had placed him in command and had instructed him on how they should address each other while on manoeuvres. In fact, their handler had said nothing of the sort. He had spoken only briefly to Nick by phone to tell him that he was to go to Melrose accompanied by Walter Miller, that they were to keep their ears to the ground, report back anything suspicious, and await further orders. A package had then arrived by post as promised. It was the contents of the package that gave Nick the excuse to pull rank. It was he who had been entrusted with the Beretta Bobcat pocket pistol and the solitary silver bullet, not Walter. It was obvious who was in charge.

“I'm bloody knackered, Nick, I mean Mr Webster, sir. Any chance of a little rest and recuperation before we get started?”

“Plenty of time to sleep when you're dead, Miller. We're here on official business and that business is out there on those streets. Come on, you can buy us both a coffee while we take a look around the town.”

* * *

Although she lived within a five minute walk, Lisa had never really noticed the house before, tucked away behind a screen of trees in the grounds of what was the old Dingleton Hospital. The hospital had opened as a lunatic asylum for the counties of Roxburgh, Selkirk, and Berwick, in 1872, but had closed down in 2001. The developers then quickly moved in, converting the main building into flats and selling off the other smaller properties scattered about the extensive hospital grounds.

The house that Lisa was approaching had been bought by the Immortalis through an offshore company in 2005. It was one of three houses they owned in Melrose, the other two being rented out to ordinary people until such times as they were needed by one of their own. The Immortalis always liked to have options.

As Lisa walked up the empty driveway towards the front door, she thought to herself that the house looked unoccupied. The garden was neat and tidy, contractors saw to that, but curtains were drawn across all the windows. She pressed the doorbell, but heard no evidence that it was actually working. She was just about to knock on the door when it swung open. “Hello, you must be Lisa,” said the lady who opened it. “Adam said you would be calling.”

If this was Adam's aunt, she was certainly no old maid. For starters, she looked little older than Adam. She was also stunningly beautiful; tall, slim, elegant, with piercing green eyes and pale flawless skin. Her smile was incredibly inviting and yet distant at the same time.

“Later, aunt,” said Adam as he bundled past, zipping up his hooded top as he came out of the house.

“Bye Adam, darling” said Anna, still smiling at Lisa. “Be a good boy and don't do anything I wouldn't do...”

Once out of earshot of the house, Lisa couldn't resist asking Adam about Anna. “Is she really your aunt? She looks about the same age as you.”

“Three years older, actually,” said Adam, trying to sound as matter-of-fact as possible. “She's 21. My grandmother told me that she was a happy accident. My father is much older than her.”

Adam and Lisa left the hospital's grounds and started walking down Chiefswood Road in the direction of the new hospital and Darnick village. There was no school today because it was the October half-term break and Lisa had promised to give Adam a whistle-stop tour of Melrose. They would begin with the town's latest tourist attraction, the Jim Scott Gallows, at the foot of Chiefswood Road.

“What's the story with you and Liam,” asked Adam. “How long have you two been an item?”

“Since last year,” said Lisa. “We were at school together, Liam was in the year above me, but left after fifth year so he could start working. I'm now in sixth year.”

“Sixth year? So that makes you how old?”

“Seventeen,” replied Lisa. “Liam's just turned eighteen. I think he wishes he had stayed on at school longer. He is bored stiff emptying boxes and stacking shelves. Plus, his manager is always giving him grief.”

Lisa was quite a bit shorter than Adam who was nearly six foot tall. Her long hair was dyed a flame red colour, with the parting in the middle so that it often completely covered one of her blue eyes. She was wearing black leggings and a black woolen jumper that was definitely two or three sizes too big for her. There were also enough religious artefacts on chains around her neck to stock a small shop in Lourdes, but despite her unorthodox appearance, there was no hiding her natural beauty.

“So what's with all the chains and necklaces? I've seen less metal round Flavor Flav's neck.”

Lisa laughed. “Who the hell is Flavor Flav?”

“You don't know who Flavor Flav is?” said Adam in mock horror. “Shame on you, girl. Flavor Fav from Public Enemy! You know, that little-known hip-hop band that sold a zillion records back in the day!”

“Public Enemy I have heard of. I wear them because I'm a goth.”

“I take it you don't mean one of the sword-wielding maniacs responsible for the fall of the Roman Empire?”

“Goths get a bad press, but I don't think I've ever been blamed for the fall of the Roman Empire before.”

“Ah, right, “ said Adam, “so you must be one of those goth kids I've read about who have a morbid fascination for everything, well, morbid.”

“That would be me,” said Lisa. “At my cousin Mhairi's wedding, my Gran told anyone who would listen that I was a devil worshipper! You could have heard a pin drop when I, the spawn of Satan, caught the bouquet! Not that I particularly wanted to catch it, but it came straight at me!”

“So who's the lucky man then? Liam?”

“Liam says he'll never get married because his parents got divorced. Anyway, I've got years before I need to worry about anything serious like that. I've got school to finish, then I want to go to St Andrew's University to study history, and then I want to see the world before I finally settle down. Who knows, I might even come visit you in America.”

“That would be cool,” said Adam, knowing that it was never going to happen. In four or five years time, he wouldn't have aged a single day. That would freak any visitor out, even a goth.

As they walked along, Lisa pointed out any passing attractions. The entrance to the small housing estate where she lived was first on the list. Fairways was where the houses ran out and Chiefswood Road became a tree lined country lane with hedged fields on both sides. The hillside that kids sledged down when it snowed was mentioned, as was the back entrance to the Borders General Hospital, but the conversation flowed so easily that it didn't seem to matter that there was so little worth mentioning. Lisa felt completely comfortable in Adam's company and the feeling seemed to be mutual. He even gave her a piggyback ride for part of the way.

As they reached the junction at the bottom of Chiefswood Road, Lisa and Adam could see the activity surrounding the rugby field where Jim Scott's dead body had been found. The police had cordoned off the area and a large white marquee-style tent had been erected on the pitch. Uniformed police officers prevented the small group of onlookers from getting too close to the crime scene, but you could still come and go along High Cross Avenue, and there was no shortage of car drivers and pedestrians passing by, hoping to satisfy their curiosity.

Standing behind a small gaggle of children was Peter Cameron. He had woken up with yet another splitting headache and had come out in the hope that some fresh air would help clear his head. Without really thinking about where he was going, he had found himself at the scene of Jim Scott's murder. He certainly wouldn't be shedding any tears over the man's death. There had been plenty of times in their youth when he had wished Scott dead.

Out of the blue, Peter heard a voice inside his head.
The lofty looks of man shall be humbled, and the haughtiness of men shall be bowed down, and the Lord alone shall be exalted in that day.
He had absolutely no idea where those words had come from. Thoughts of school must have triggered a distant memory from an R.E. Class or something.

As he stood watching police officers meticulously comb the rugby pitch in search of clues, Peter Cameron was rubbing his neck. A small swollen lump had appeared below his left ear. It wasn't sore, but together with the severe headaches, it had Peter worried. If it got any bigger he would go to see the doctor.

Lisa hadn't seen Peter Cameron as she passed by with Adam, but Peter had seen Lisa, laughing and joking with a lad he had never seen before. He didn't like the idea that she might be seeing someone behind his son's back, even if his own relationship with Liam had reached rock bottom.

* * *

DCI Buchan was standing by the marquee tent, drinking a truly awful coffee from a paper cup, when he saw Detective Constable Jane Carver coming towards him.

“There's been a new development, sir,” she said. “A body has been found in the grounds of the youth hostel.”

“You better be kidding me on,” said Buchan, not wanting to believe what he was hearing.

Jane Carver ignored his remark and began to read from her notebook. “White male, positively identified by a New Zealand driving licence found in his possession as Steven Baker, 20 years of age, from Christchurch. He had been staying at the hostel and wasn't due to check out until yesterday.”

“Cause of death?”

“To be determined. Definite signs of injury to the neck. Likely strangulation.”

“Time of death?”

“Forensics are saying within the last couple of days. He was definitely alive on Friday evening because he was seen by the receptionist leaving the hostel around seven o'clock. Nobody recalls seeing him return that night and nobody has seen him since.”

“One murder on my patch is unfortunate,” said Buchan after a minute of silence. “Two murders and it looks like carelessness on our part. I want whoever is responsible for these murders caught before they strike again.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

News of a second murder in Melrose really shook the inhabitants of the town. It also increased press interest ten-fold. Precious parking spaces on the High Street, Buccleuch Street, and Abbey Street, were now permanently occupied by television news vans with satellite dishes on their roofs. There was also a very visible police presence on the streets, particularly in and around the town centre, something that was practically unheard of in the small Borders town.

DCI Buchan now had a clearer picture of the murder of Steven Baker, the backpacker from New Zealand. Enquiries in the town revealed that he had been seen drinking in both Burt’s Hotel and The Ship Inn on Friday evening. Bar staff in both pubs remembered serving him. The two young women he was seen with had left Melrose on Saturday to travel north to Inverness, but came forward after seeing a television news report about the murder. They had told CID officers from the Central Division of the Northern Constabulary that the last time they saw Steven Baker was when he went into the trees to urinate. That was around 11.30pm on the Friday night. All of the evidence, forensics included, pointed to him dying around that time. DNA samples had been taken from the two women, but they had been ruled out as suspects.

What worried Buchan most was that the two murders were linked. Both victims had identical puncture wounds to the neck consistent with bite marks. The police made no mention of this to the media, saying only that they weren't ruling out that both murders were in someway connected. The last thing Buchan wanted was the red top newspapers filling front pages and column inches with lurid tales of a vampire serial killer on the loose in Melrose.

“Okay, boys and girls, settle down,” Buchan said to the detectives gathered in the incident room at Melrose Police Station. “Jane, if you could bring us up to speed with what's been happening.”

“Yes, sir,” said Jane Carver as she looked over the paperwork in front of her. “Two victims, both male, both murdered at night. Cause of death in both cases, exsanguination.”

“Exsanguination?” muttered one or two of the officers present.

“Loss of blood,” explained Jane. “Both victims had puncture wounds to the neck . . .”

“What sort of puncture wounds?” asked Detective Sergeant Joe Grant. The room erupted in laughter when Joe's grin revealed that he was wearing joke plastic vampire teeth with bloodied fangs.

The only person not laughing was Buchan. “For Christ's sake, Grant. This is a double murder investigation, not a children's Halloween party.”

“Sorry, sir,” said Joe, quickly removing the teeth. “Gallows humour.”

“Aye, well, I don't suppose Jim Scott's family would appreciate your efforts at stand-up. I don't want any more nonsense like that from anyone, is that clear? Please continue, Jane.”

“DNA found on both bodies points to their being one suspect, but that doesn't explain how someone the size of Jim Scott was strung up from rugby posts. There's no match at the National DNA Database and we're still waiting to hear back from Interpol.

“No further updates on Steven Baker beyond what we already know. His time of death is between 11.30pm and midnight on Friday the 8th of October. Uniforms will be visiting both the Ship Inn and Burt's Hotel this Thursday, Friday and Saturday, to ask regulars if they remember anything that might be pertinent to our investigations.