Absolution - The First Book Of The Vampire Immortalis Trilogy (9 page)

A lady came running across the road. “I'm a nurse at the Borders General,” she said. “Can you please move back now and let the gentleman get some air.”

Adam winked at Nick and then walked back over to Muckle and Lisa. Within a matter of minutes, an ambulance had arrived and Nick was on his way to hospital.

“Wow, I've never seen anyone move that quickly,” said Lisa. “How did you know he was going to collapse?”

“Oh, I did an American Heart Association Heartsaver First Aid Course at school and recognised the symptoms. No biggie really.”

Muckle was having none of it. “No biggie? You just saved a man's life!”

Only because there were too many witnesses
, Adam said to himself.

CHAPTER NINE

Liam had been sitting on an uncomfortable wooden chair in the interview room for quarter of an hour, waiting to be questioned. He still had no idea why he'd been hauled in, but hoped that whatever the reason, he wouldn't be at the station for long. He had a job to get to and had already had a written warning for missing two shifts.

The incident room door opened and a man and a woman walked in. “I'm DCI Buchan and this is DC Carter. Sorry for keeping you waiting, Liam, but we would just like to ask you a few questions in connection with the two murders.”

“Fire away,” said Liam cockily, “but I need out of here by seven as I'm working tonight and still need to go home to get changed.”

The boy sat in front of him certainly didn't look like a photofit murder suspect, but Buchan was long enough in the tooth to know that murderers came in all shapes and sizes. “Let's get straight down to business then. Tell me about the Melrose goths, Liam.”

“What's there to tell? It's just a group of friends that hang about together.”

“Humour me, Liam, I'm an old man. When I was your age, punk was the big thing. We were going to change the world, one safety pin at a time. The Sex Pistols, The Clash, The Rezillos. Siouxsie And The Banshees, heard of them?”

Of course Liam had heard of them and he nodded his head to acknowledge the fact. Siouxsie Sioux was still something of a goth icon and Buchan knew he would strike a chord with the lad by dropping her name into the conversation. Liam was a fan of punk, but was more into bands like New Model Army, Joy Division, and his all-time favourites, Christian Death, than the ones the policeman had reeled off. “So, you were a punk. What's your point?”

“My point is that I'm not completely clueless. We have all lived for music, all dressed in weird and wonderful outfits, all drunk Buckfast and smoked cigarettes behind the bike sheds. It's all part and parcel of growing up. Just because I wear a shirt and tie today doesn't mean I haven't been there, done that, and bought the Anarchy In The UK t-shirt.

“That's how I know goths are no different from punks, mods, teds, casuals, skinheads. The only thing that ever changes is the uniform and the music. The kids underneath are exactly the same. You get good ones and you get bad ones, same as with any other group of people.”

“What, like, good cop bad cop?”

“Good and bad, Liam. So which one are you?”

“We're the goodies.”

“Tell me about the graffiti on the wall at the old train station, Liam. I take it that wasn't you on a good day.”

“Nothing much to tell. I got caught and got a £50 fine.”

“According to the officer who issued the Fixed Penalty Notice, you were caught spray-painting the numbers 666 on a wall facing the by-pass. Why 666?”

“It might have been 999 upside down,” said Liam, trying to be funny.

Buchan ignored Liam's attempt at humour. “666, the number of the beast. Do you believe in the devil, Liam?”

“No. I don't believe in God or the devil.”

“Strange, then, that you would choose to spray 666 on a wall. What about vampires? Do you believe in vampires?”

Liam looked across the table at the two police officers interviewing him.
Do you believe in vampires? What sort of question was that?
“No. I don't believe in vampires. I don't believe in vampires, I don't sleep in a coffin, and I don't drink the blood of virgins. I sprayed 666 on a wall because I'm an idiot not because I worship the devil.”

* * *

Walter Miller was beside himself with worry. He had run away and left his friend, Nick, on the ground, and at the mercy of Adam McLeod, the most feared vampire in the entire world. If it definitely was Adam McLeod that is. Walter was beginning to have doubts. Maybe it was just a local thug who didn't take too kindly to Nick fronting him like that.

What Walter did know was that he wasn't going to be staying around long enough to find out. He had spent the last half an hour hiding down by the river and nobody had come after him. If it had been Adam McLeod, surely he would have come after him by now. Hoping that the coast was clear, he planned to return to the hotel, grab his stuff, and head back down the safety of his London bedsit. He wanted nothing more to do with vampire hunting, the Battalion Sabbatarian, or Nick Webster and his stupid manouvres.

Walter started to make his way back over the grey suspension footbridge that gives pedestrians access to Melrose from Gattonside. Coming towards him in the opposite direction was a young couple walking their dog. He could see the young lady clearly, but her companion had his head down and his hoodie up.

“Evening,” Walter offered as they were just about to pass by him.

The young man raised his head and smiled. That's when Walter realised who it was. “You, my friend, are coming with me,” Adam said, grabbing a startled Walter by the throat.

Anna and Oscar watched as Adam disappeared over the bridge with Walter.

Liam left the police station in a foul mood. A barrage of ridiculous questions and then they released him without charge. Complete waste of time. He went straight to the Spar shop on the High Street and bought a bottle of Buckfast. He knew that he had been drinking too much lately, but after the grilling by Officer Dibble and his sidekick, he deserved a drink. And what was it with all the questions about vampires?

From the Spar, Liam cut through the Wynd and then made his way along Buccleuch Street to Abbey Street. By the time he got as far as Gordon Rousseau's Melrose salon, half the bottle of Buckfast had been guzzled. Looking at the brightly-lit hairdresser shop from the other side of the street was like staring into a goldfish bowl. Liam could see Gordon laughing and joking with a young blonde woman who was wearing one of the red tunics that his Mum wore to work. The two of them looked far too touchy-feely for Liam's liking.

He took a big swig from the bottle of Buckfast and then launched it towards the shop. “Bastard!” he yelled, just seconds before it smashed on impact.

Gordon was just about to set the alarm and close up after another busy day, when he heard something hit the shop window and then explode. There was the sound of breaking glass, but the window itself appeared intact. That's when Gordon saw Liam.

“What the hell was that?” asked Stephanie, the blonde stylist who Liam had seen flirting with Gordon.

“The little bastard!” Gordon said, as much to himself as to Stephanie. He then marched out of the shop to confront Yvonne's son. “He'll not get away with it this time!”

By the time he got outside, all there was to see was broken glass on the pavement and Liam disappearing into the distance.

“I've phoned the police,” said Stephanie joining her boss outside the shop. “They're on their way. Did you see who did it?”

“Aye, I saw who did it. Liam Cameron.”

Walter Miller was pleading for his life. Adam had dragged him at unimaginable speed to a small wooded area further down the river and away from prying eyes.

“Why are you in Melrose?”

“We were sent here by the Sabbatarians to investigate a report of vampire activity.”

Adam didn't have to ask how the Sabbatarians knew that there had been vampire activity in Melrose. It had been known for sometime that someone in the Vatican with sympathies for the Sabbatarian cause was feeding them information. “Who told you I was here?”

“Nobody,” said Walter. “Nick had this with your picture on it.” He slowly retrieved the piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Adam. “Did you kill Nick?”

“Not yet,” said Adam, looking at the artist's impression of himself. He had to admit, the likeness was a good one, and recent too judging by the hairstyle. He'd have to change its colour again.

“Please let me go. I promise I won't say anything to anyone.”

“I'm sorry, but you must know I can't do that. The rules of engagement between the Immortalis and the Battalion are very simple. Very simple indeed. Kill or be killed.”

Walter was now crying. “Please. I couldn't kill anyone. I just want to go home.”

Adam ignored the begging. He'd seen it countless times before. “How do you contact your handler?”

“Nick has a phone number to call,” Walter sobbed. “I don't have it.”

“May you rest in peace.”

Walter didn't even have time to respond. Adam moved in for the kill at such speed that Walter probably didn't even know what was happening. Within seconds of hearing those words he was dead. His body was never found.

Buchan was helping himself to a coffee and a chocolate biscuit when DSI Carver joined him in the station's small kitchen. “Sir, officers have just brought a man in who wants to make an official complaint against our friend, Liam Cameron.”

“Who?”

“Gordon Rousseau, the owner of the hairdressing salon on Abbey Street. Apparently, Liam just tried to put his shop window in.”

“Bloody hell. He only left here ten minutes ago.”

“Mr Rousseau is also claiming that Liam threatened to kill him with a kitchen knife a couple of years ago. Rousseau and Liam's mother are partners and the boy used to live with them in Kelso.”

“Right, bring the wee bugger back in and let's see what he's got to say for himself this time.”

Lisa waited until Liam had walked to the back of the bus and then waved as his face appeared in the back window. Almost immediately, the single decker pulled out and was on its way down the High Street in the direction of Galashiels.

They had spent the last hour walking around Melrose hardly saying a word to each other and it was now nine o'clock. She hated it when they fell out, but it wasn't her fault that the police had hauled him in or that his Dad was being a jerk by telling Liam that he had seen Lisa with her “new boyfriend”. What also didn't help was that Liam had managed to down a bottle of Buckie in the time it took her to walk from her house down to the town to meet him. He was a different person when he had been drinking and not a person Lisa liked very much.

The bus was taking Liam to work, or at least, that's what Lisa thought. Liam hadn't told her about throwing the bottle at Gordon's shop window, something that was sure to get him into trouble with the police. He needed to get away for a few days, keep his head down. He had told Lisa he had to go into work an hour early, but he had already phoned in ill, and was really on his way to catch the late bus to Edinburgh. He had made plans to stay the weekend with Tom, an old schoolmate, who was now a student at Heriot-Watt University. It was better Lisa didn't know where he was going in case the police started asking her questions. As he sat down on the back seat, he switched his phone off. Better she couldn't call him either.

Lisa turned around and started to walk the mile or so up Dingleton Road towards home. As she passed by Liam's house, Peter Cameron was watching from behind the thick net curtains that shielded his bedroom from prying eyes. The reason he saw so little of his son was because of her, the little bitch. Dressed head to toe in black, she looked every inch a witch and it was obvious that she had Liam under some sort of spell, one that made him forsake his own flesh and blood to spend time with this harlot. He hadn't forgot about seeing her with that other boy either.
She needed to be taught a lesson
, he said to himself as he picked at an angry sore on his neck.
Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.
The Bible
said as much.

Lisa was soon out of sight and making her way along Eildon Crescent. From there, she walked alongside the Big Park towards the footpath that connects it to Fairways. The local children called it the Big Park because it was bigger than the smaller Wee Park in Fairways itself, but it wasn't actually very big at all. The council had managed to squeeze in a small play area with swings and climbing frame, as well as an undersized football pitch with goals, but that was about it. Basically, a piece of waste ground put to good use.

As Lisa started to walk along the path between the park and Fairways, she noticed that the street light that normally illuminated it wasn't working. In fact, none of the street lights on Fairways was working. This was a fairly regular occurrence whenever it rained, but alone and on a dark night, it was enough to get Lisa's heart racing slightly.

She started to smarten her pace, too scared to look to her left or right in case a bogeyman was waiting to jump out on her. Looking along the alleyway, Lisa could just make out the figure of a man coming out of the darkness towards her. She couldn't see who it was and so hesitated for a moment. She then continued on, head slightly down, arms wrapped around herself defensively.

“Hello, Lisa,” said the man, now blocking her way.

“Mister Cameron,” said Lisa, sighing with relief. “You scared the life out of me.”

Peter Cameron seemed somehow distant and Lisa guessed he had been drinking. To fill an awkward silence, Lisa babbled out the first thing that came into her head. “Liam has just got the bus to Gala.”

“I'm not looking for Liam,” Cameron replied sharply, almost as if he had been offended by the suggestion that he might be remotely interested in the whereabouts of his one and only son.