Dark Harbour: The Tale of the Soul Searcher (25 page)

The bubbling emotions underneath fuelled Vladimir’s power. That burning anger made him what he was, and made him fulfil the role for which his soul had been intended.

There was another emotion that was important to him, that of reverence. He appreciated the goodness in people and it was something, of course, that came very naturally to him. What was the point of fighting injustice and evil if he had no vision of a world in which good presided, where no one caused harm to others? He revered the higher aspect of people, the best they could become. That’s what it was all about really, a desire for people to choose the higher path.

Vladimir, Throne of the Fires, had to be one step removed from the world he lived in. He had to rise above it, like a watchful owl that would soar above the land and then swoop down on an unsuspecting rat, pouncing on the vermin that polluted the land. Vladimir was beyond this world, beyond what was expected of normal souls. Someone had to administer karma, and to be an administrator you had to be separate from everyone. Therefore, he
appreciated
love but he could never give any, nor, for that matter, receive any.

Besides, angels didn’t concern themselves with human desires and physical relationships. Vladimir was no different in that respect. All of his drive was focused into a purity of intention, and any give or take of love on his part would bring him down onto the same level as everyone else. Any desires, any need for love, he saw as a weakness.

He certainly had no love for the person who was tied to the chair in front of him. Looking at him absolutely disgusted him, as the harrowing thoughts of the suffering he’d brought on people grated in his mind like barbed wire being dragged over skin. Wayne Ticehurst was evidently incapable of love, proper love that was, not some perverted action that may have been his way of demonstrating a loving expression.

Tonight was a special assignment for Halo of Fires, one that Vladimir and his Dominions had delicately investigated. After learning the cold facts of this case, Vladimir was incredibly psyched up. He’d spoken to his victims; he’d felt their suffering.

‘Prison didn’t change you then, Wayne,’ Vladimir delivered. ‘Why would it? Too busy playing your X Box and watching
Big Brother
to think about what you’d done. Ain’t that right?’

Wayne shook his head vigorously. He couldn’t make a proper verbal response other than whimpering because Clint had just finished taping his mouth up with duct tape. There were tears in the man’s eyes. With shaved hair, he was an absolute hulk of a man, bigger than both Jake and Clint. He must have been an absolute horror to the people who’d been within his clutches.

‘Why would it stop you? Maybe you were just thinking of the day you’d be let out so you could go do it again.’

‘Once a rapist, always a rapist,’ Jake added, disrupting Vladimir’s rehearsed flow.

Instead of picking up where he’d left off, the interruption shook off his pristine composure and Vladimir darted over to rapist Wayne, pouncing, unleashing the fury. His searchlight eyes pierced into those of the demon so it would see nothing but the pure anger that it had created in Vladimir. That would terrify him. It usually did with people. Vladimir’s eyes were so smothering, as if they could reach right inside you and strangle the light out of your soul.

As Vladimir looked into the demon’s cloudy eyes, he felt no fear: it wasn’t because he had the Powers Jake and Clint by his side. Vladimir was certainly a waif compared to this brute, but what harm could he do to him? No one could penetrate Vladimir’s wall of composure, not even bullets. Vladimir was indestructible. Faster than a speeding bullet? He didn’t even have to move to get out of the way of them.

‘Everyone pays the price sooner or later, you worthless piece of scum. And for you, Wayne, it’s going to be now.’

Up until that point he’d kept the machete concealed. But now he brought it up to Wayne’s face and gently slid the blade against the rapist’s stubble.

‘We’ll make it impossible for you to destroy anyone else’s life.’

At that point Vladimir straightened up and handed the machete to Jake. Clint leaned towards Vladimir’s ear and whispered: ‘You really want us to…?’

‘Yes.’ After spitting in the Kolley’s face, Vladimir walked out of the flat. He would leave Jake and Clint to finish off the work. He didn’t need to see that particular bit, didn’t want to tarnish his feathers.

Standing out in the hallway on the top floor of the Altham Court flats, Vladimir could hear the demon’s duct tape muffled cries filling the building. The screams of pain echoed all the way down the barren stairways, the sound of the sinner consumed by the flames that his own actions had created.

Vladimir could feel Wayne’s excruciating suffering disturbing the ether, sending out its torment of energies, like a rock that had been thrown into a murky pool of water. The waves would be a message to those who may be tempted to stray from the light, that consequence awaited them if they should venture onto the paths of malevolence.

For on those paths, Vladimir, the Angel of Karma, awaited them all.

When the screams were starting to die down, Clint and Jake appeared from the flat, their hands scrubbed.

Vladimir felt a vibration against his leg so brought out his mobile phone to read the text message.

‘What’s next?’ Clint asked as he dried his hands over his jeans.

‘Another spark, another flame,’ Vladimir replied, putting his phone away.

‘Got some wheels to burn,’ Jake added.

Vladimir started making his way down the stairway and the two Powers followed. He hadn’t yet told them that the car in question, the one they were supposed to break into and steal, was already engulfed in flames somewhere. But by the time that Vladimir had navigated Jake to a secluded farm track that led into Barrow Hill Thorns, a wooded area a couple of miles out of the town, Clint was becoming a little frustrated with Vladimir’s tightlippedness.

‘So, someone else did the job, right?’ Clint asked. ‘And you’re bringing us out here because…? Who did it? Was it Cassidy?’

Vladimir just stared enigmatically out of the side window, and when Clint did the same he caught sight of the fire burning away within the woods.

‘How can it be Cassidy?’ Jake contributed as he jammed on the brakes and switched off the Mercedes’ engine. ‘He can’t even drive.’

‘Well, I don’t know! Tell me then.’

‘You think I know what’s going on here?’ Jake grumbled.

Vladimir undid his seatbelt and said: ‘Come on, I want your opinion on something.’

He got out of the car and approached the glowing flames that flickered within the gnarly boscage of twisting trees. After Clint and Jake exchanged a glance, they did the same. Jake could eventually see the silhouettes of two figures, looking like two homeless guys standing around a fire to keep themselves protected from the biting night air.

‘
These
two?’ Jake said.

The car was a silver Porsche Carrera GT, and had been sprayed inside with lighter fluid. The arsonists were two youngsters, one who wore a baseball cap, one who had a pair of sunglasses tucked into the neck of his shirt.

‘Who the hell are they?’ Clint asked.

‘You let these two do it?’ Jake went on.

‘I did give you a crack at this car last week, if you remember, Jake.’

‘Told you I could get into it,’ Eddie said.

‘He cracked the Kintner Immobiliser!’ Clint exclaimed.

‘How did you do it?’ Jake asked.

‘Piece of cake, mate.’

‘Yeah, Buicks, buses, cop cars, we do them every day in Vice City,’ Larry added.

‘Is life one big computer game for you, Larry?’ Eddie asked.

‘So, what, Vlad?’ Jake continued, ‘We’re doing a work experience program with the college now? Does Henry know about these two? What are you thinking?’

‘I don’t know,’ Vladimir replied. ‘What do you two think?’

Clint looked them up and down, and with one eyebrow raised said: ‘You ask me, these couple of punks look like our typical Kolley trash.’

‘Fuck you,’ Eddie said.

‘Yeah, that one’s a volatile one,’ Vladimir said pointing at Eddie as though he was at a pet shop picking out a puppy Rottweiler. ‘Large bomb on a short fuse. Waiting to blow everyone to kingdom come.’ Vladimir now looked at Larry. ‘But this one, who knows? Usually wearing his glasses so it’s difficult to tell.’

‘Like a young Peter Griffin,’ Jake spat.

‘Hey, we helped you out,’ Eddie shot at Jake.

‘No, I stopped that guy owning both your arses.’

‘Yeah, coz you’re such a fucking He-Man. Let me phone
Gay Times
and get you on their front cover.’

‘Eddie, dude, shut the hell up,’ Larry said.

Jake turned to Vladimir, the blank expression on his face enough to suggest that he didn’t really need to say any more.

Vladimir sighed. ‘That went well.’

There was silence except for the hiss and crackle of fire, everyone waiting for Vladimir to say more. Instead, he just stood watching the flames inside the Porsche, building in their ferocity, dancing in the darkness like lunatics who’d escaped from an asylum. Everyone else faced the flames as well, as though they’d all been hypnotised by the explosion of repressed primal passions.

‘Who did this car belong to?’ Larry asked.

‘Some charity worker,’ Vladimir answered.

‘Really?’

‘Yup.’

‘We stole a charity worker’s car?’

‘That a problem for you?’

‘I thought you dealt with, you know, wrongdoers.’

‘We deal with anyone we have to,’ Jake informed him.

‘Eddie?’ Vladimir asked.

‘I don’t care. Don’t care who’s car it is. Fuck ‘em.’

‘You don’t believe in charity?’

‘Only the Eddie Jansz charity’

‘He’s a worthy cause, is he? Disadvantaged individual? In need of others’ help?’

‘You gotta look out for number one. Screw everyone else.’

‘Why didn’t you tell us this was a charity worker’s car?’ Larry whittled on.

‘Why didn’t you ask?’

‘I just assumed whoever’s car it was they deserved this to happen to them.’

‘They did.’

‘They did? How?’

‘The charity was a sham. Supposed to be for homeless people, but the only person it went to was our Kolley. I don’t think charity workers can afford Porsches.’

Eddie looked at the devastated car, its broken windows and melted upholstery that bubbled in the immense heat. ‘I dunno. They might be able to afford
this
one now.’

There was silence, and then Clint started chuckling, a laugh that soon swelled into a hearty roar.

Jake looked at him as if he’d been breathing in too much smoke. ‘Well, we better not let this turn into a merry camp fire,’ he said. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’

‘I changed my mind, Vlad. I like this clown,’ Clint added before he and Jake trailed back through the trees.

Vladimir remained with the two youngsters and the burning sports car.

‘So?’ Eddie asked.

‘So what?’

‘So obviously we didn’t get the seal of approval from the Masters of the Universe contingent. That’s it now? We’re not going to hear from you anymore? Man, what a bunch of tossers.’

‘How’s your dog doing?’

‘What?’ Eddie asked, as if it was the last question he expected to hear right now.

Meeting people was a lot like seeing road signs go by on a car journey. Every sign meant something, told you that you were twenty miles from Timbuktu, or warned you about what hazards might be ahead. But some road signs were more significant than others. Some signs told you how far you were from your own particular destination, told you which way to go, which exit to take. These were the ones you paid most attention to.

The two students before Vladimir were like weathered signs too close to the side of the road, battered by the relentless winds and broken by bulging lorries, or defaced by aerosol-spraying vandals so that their original message had become obscured, lost.

Vladimir’s extraordinary perceptions told him that there was something to be read within these two, something beyond their cockiness and cold, uncaring scowls.

The heat from the fire prickled Vladimir’s face, but he could feel a much more powerful fire burning somewhere. Pain. It pulsed beneath their auras, and it chimed with Vladimir’s own.

‘I’ll be in touch,’ Vladimir said before heading back out of the trees.

Chapter 7.4

Danny had done pretty well at avoiding her. He’d stayed away from the places that she went to and he would hole himself up at the flat whenever he wasn’t at college. He’d decided to cut himself off from the outside world and distract himself with Larry’s Playstation and cheap whisky. It seemed a good idea, ignoring all thoughts of her, almost convincing himself that she didn’t exist. Maybe one day he’d even forget what had happened. So far it had worked out fine. It turned out that mortal fear was a powerful motivator.