Hidden (Marchwood Vampire Series #1) (31 page)

Once packed
and ready to leave, he and Refet sent all the workers back to their
homes with their wages and his thanks. Then Harold sent the convoy
of coffins on its way to the Port of Smyrna, complete with four
armed guards. He and Refet would catch them up later that day or
the next, on horseback.

Soon, the
sound of creaking wheels and the sight of swirling dust clouds
faded into the distance. Harold and Refet could delay no longer.
They knew what they had to do.

‘
Are you absolutely sure you are alright to do this?’ Harold
asked Refet.

‘
It must be done.’

‘
Very well. But you must be quick getting out of there. Are
you a strong enough swimmer?’

‘
I excellent swimmer.’

‘
Good. So we will do it at twelve o’clock on the
dot.’

‘
I go now.’

‘
Good luck, Refet. I shall see you later.’

‘
God willing.’ Refet mounted his horse, dug his heels into its
flanks and the sleek grey mare took off at a fast
gallop.

Harold watched
Refet disappear into the rocky blue horizon. He was alone for the
first time in weeks. Alone, completely and utterly, in every sense
of the word. He sat at the top of the shaft and wept. He cried for
his family, for his wife and his children and, strangely, he cried
for his long-dead parents. What he wouldn’t give to be able to sink
his head into his mother’s chest and weep like a little boy, to be
comforted as only a mother knows how to comfort. But this was all
useless wishing. He was alone and had to make the best of it. He
had no other choice.

He stood up,
wiped his tears and shook himself briskly, fanning his face with
his hat and clearing his throat self-consciously, even though there
was nobody there to witness his breakdown. He wandered around the
deserted site trying not to think about anything in particular,
counting down the minutes until he had to do what was required.

When it was
nearly time he climbed down the rope, hand-over-hand, until he
reached the cool dark chamber. He thought back to the first time he
had been here, to when his family and friends had been alive,
excited and happy, on the verge of a great discovery. Now it was
all in ruins. They were either dead or changed forever and he and
Refet were about to ensure that nobody would ever again be able to
stumble across the most amazing archaeological find of the
century.

He felt cold
now that the heat of the sun had left his skin. He rubbed the
sleeves of his jacket against his goose-fleshed arms and checked
his pocket watch again – a quarter to eleven. Not long now. He had
better get started.

*

Refet reached the river a little earlier than anticipated. It
was good they were going to do this. It was the only thing
they
could
do,
for what had happened could never be allowed to happen again. The
legends were a warning and if
they
had ignored it, then others too might ignore it
in the future and suffer the fatal consequences.

He tethered
his horse under a willow tree and prepared himself for the dive. He
took off his tunic, tied a small wooden box around his waist and
said a quick prayer to ask that all would go smoothly. Then he
lowered his body into the cold river and headed towards the twin
peaks of the fairy chimneys which jutted out of the frothing water.
He reached the nearest peak and held on while he got his breath
back. Then, when he felt ready, he took a huge breath and
dived.

Underwater,
all was muffled and quiet after the hectic roar of the river. Refet
swam gracefully, undulating his body towards the large white cave.
He soon found the narrow entrance at the back which led to the
underground lake. As he wriggled through, bubbles of air escaped
rapidly from his mouth. Eventually, he surfaced in the dark cavern
lake and pulled himself onto the stone shore. He wiped the water
from his eyes and untied the box from his waist. It was sealed with
pitch to make it watertight and now he cut it open with his knife.
Good, everything inside was bone dry. He lit a candle and got to
work.

By ten past
eleven he was set up. He tried not to think about what lay hidden
in this place, but images of his massacred comrades and the two
doomed families came unbidden into his mind. The seconds dragged
by. Every minute felt like ten as he checked and re-checked the
heavy pocket watch that Harold had given him.

The walls of
the cavern were green and mossy, and strange pointed stalactites
hung down from the ceiling like giant swords ready to parry and
thrust. He listened to the drip, drip and ripple of water from the
underground lake which echoed throughout the huge cavern.

At five to
twelve Refet stood up and prepared himself, stretching and pacing
like a caged tiger, flexing his fingers and rolling his shoulders,
his taut body suddenly flooding with adrenalin.

Lighting the
fuses, he watched them snake away towards the millstone entrances.
He slipped like a fish into the underground lake and dove down and
away into the narrow underwater tunnel and back through the white
river cave. He finally surfaced out in the fast-flowing river and
the brightness of the noonday sun.

Refet took
huge gulps of air and squeezed his eyes closed against the spray of
water and white daytime light that took some getting used to after
the black gloom of the caves. He trod water, fighting the current
and finally opened his eyes and focused, looking for the river
bank.

He was about
to head for dry land when he felt a deep rumble beneath him. The
water sucked at his legs and pulled him backwards, smashing him
sideways into one of the fairy chimneys that protruded from the
water. He was just able to reach out and wrap his arm around
it.

Refet stayed
there for a second or two before he realised the cone-shaped rock
was slowly tipping over, sinking into the water. He let go, but
found he too was being pulled down into the spinning vortex of
water and rocks. The whirlpool spun him around and sucked him under
again. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the spinning
slowed and stopped. He was thrown back up to the surface like a
cork and the water resumed its flow.

Choking and
spluttering, Refet let the river take him downstream while he
floated on his back trying to get his breath. Then, when he had
recovered enough, he struck out towards the river bank, heaving
himself onto dry land. He lay there, letting the heat warm his
tired, battered body.

After some
time, he could not have said how long, Refet finally had the
strength to sit up. His clothes were almost dry and he already felt
hot and very thirsty. He crawled forwards, scooped some river water
into his mouth, stood and walked back upstream. The two fairy
chimneys, with their ancient heads above the water line, had
disappeared. The explosion had done its job and dislodged them.
Good. No clues left as to what lay beneath.

His task
complete, he would wait here for Harold. They would leave this
cursed place and travel across the ocean to England and his new
life. He tried not to think of the other matter that would soon
need to be addressed - that of the Englishman’s family. God
willing, they would continue to sleep in their coffins and never
wake up, but somehow he did not think things would be that
easy.

*

Having climbed
hand-over-hand back up the rope with the long fuses between his
teeth, Harold lit them and let them go. He prayed they would not
burn out before reaching the sticks of dynamite he had placed by
each of the four entrance ways. Had he calculated correctly? Would
the charge be enough to collapse the tunnels completely?

The blast
rumbled the earth and soon all that remained of the shaft, was a
wide, shallow depression in the ground that would soon blend into
its surroundings. Harold had one last swift glance around the
abandoned site and shook his head, ruing the day he had ever come
to this damned place. He mounted his horse and made off towards the
river near Zelmat, where Refet waited.

*

After many
days of uneventful, melancholy travel, Harold and Refet found
themselves back in England adjusting to a new way of life. The five
children remained unmoving in their coffins.

He had
arranged for the bodies of Didier and Marie-Louise to be returned
to their families in France and had written to say that the
children had not been recovered from the rock fall that killed them
all. He hated to lie like this, but the truth was too shocking to
be revealed and Harold wanted to spare their families from any
further pain and worry. He would take on the responsibility of
caring for them. It would help to ease his grief and give him some
kind of reason to go on. He would do whatever it took to revive
them.

Harold made a
space for the sleeping children in the large cellar of his country
home. He created a beautiful comfortable room down there, hidden by
a false wall to prevent discovery by his servants. He constructed
large wooden crates, lined with soft blankets for them to lie on.
He spoke to them every day and read to them from books and
newspapers.

Harold did not
sleep well in his huge four poster bed anymore; it felt too big
without Victoria and he usually spent most of his nights tossing
and turning or wandering around his house in the quiet small
hours.

It was the
beginning of June and the weather was unseasonably warm for
England. Even with all the windows propped open as wide as they
could go, there was no breeze and the heat hung thick and
heavy.

Harold awoke
from a fitful sleep and noted a change in the air. A chill
enveloped him and he had the strange sensation that he was being
watched.

Chapter
Nineteen

*

How did you
make sense of something that didn’t make sense? A statue that
wasn’t a statue. Was it alive? Was it supernatural? It hadn’t
talked or anything. It hadn’t even opened its eyes. Could it really
be what Madison thought it was? A ... a ... She couldn’t even say
the word in her head without it sounding so far-fetched and
ridiculous that she was in danger of checking herself into the
loony bin.

And if it was what she thought it was, then why hadn’t it
attacked her before now? Was it because this time she had gone down
there at night? There were too many unanswered questions, but the
main one was,
were she and Ben
safe?
She looked at the bandage on her
wrist. She had been in bed for four days now and felt much better,
physically. But mentally she was a wreck.

She peeled
back the tape and began to unwind the bandage, tensing her body in
preparation for what she was about to see under the dressing. The
soft skin on her inner wrist was yellowish, bruised and tender. But
the marks themselves had healed quickly - now showing as two small
triangular-shaped scabs. She took the bandage off completely and
decided get up and see Ben. She needed to talk to him about what
had happened and find out whether or not Esther and Morris had been
into the cellar.

The Foxtons
were still here, in a room on the second floor. Esther brought
Maddy her meals in bed, changed her dressings and gave her the
medicine Dr Wilson had prescribed. She talked a lot; mainly about
Ben and the housework, but she delivered it all in her usual abrupt
manner - more a monologue than a conversation. Maddy wondered how
long they planned on staying. She was grateful for their help, but
could do without them being here all the time; it was doing her
head in.

‘
Hey, geezer,’ Maddy peered into Ben’s bedroom. He was
sprawled on his bed doing his homework.

‘
You’re up!’ Ben threw his pen down and grinned at her. ‘Are
you better now?’

‘
Getting there, shortie. Still a bit shaky.’

She got on his
bed, pulling her feet up under her. ‘I was really out of it, wasn’t
I?’

‘
Yeah, you were bad, Mads. Shivering and talking in your sleep
and stuff. But I meant to ask you about something weird, cos the
morning you got ill, the cellar was open with the lights on, but
you were still in bed. Did you go down there or
something?’

‘
Yeah,’ Maddy said, relieved he hadn’t noticed anything else
amiss. ‘I was down there when I started feeling ill and I felt so
bad I must’ve forgotten to turn everything off. Did Esther or
Morris go down there? Did they see the statues d’you know?’ She
asked the question as casually as she could.

‘
Don’t think so. Dunno. Mads, are you well enough to help me
with this history homework? It about Wat Tyler, this peasant bloke
…’

‘
Yeah, Ben, sure. What do we have to do?’

Ben spent the
next hour or so, talking to her about the fourteenth century
peasant revolution and Maddy listened, finding it a welcome
distraction from her turbulent thoughts.

*

That night,
Madison woke at about three in the morning. She couldn’t sleep. She
couldn’t get her mind away from what had happened. She knew it was
madness, but she felt a compulsion to revisit the cellar and see if
the statue creature would wake again. Because, although what had
happened was horrific, Maddy couldn’t shake the memory that it was
also sublime. She had never experienced feelings like that in her
life. It had been like being connected to the cosmos - terrifyingly
wonderful. And he … he still drew her to him with his beauty; it
was like an addiction.

And so, fighting against the rational part of her brain which
screamed at her to stay away, she tiptoed down the stairs towards
them, towards
him.
She unlocked the utility room door and crept down the cellar
steps with the torch in her hand. Maddy turned on the halogen
light, but nothing happened. The bulb must have burned out. The
crates were still pulled away from the opening, so she walked
through to the small room in the cold torchlit gloom.