His Vampyrrhic Bride (36 page)

Tom mixed up a batch of mortar for the rebuilding of the living-room wall. This was Skanderberg, and this is where he lived now. Or, more accurately, he lived in the timber cabin behind the house. The fire that Bolter had started six months ago, on the same day the flood raged through Danby-Mask, had badly damaged the part of the house that contained the kitchen and living room.

Tom reclaimed masonry from the fallen walls, cleaned it, then used the stone blocks to rebuild the ancient structure. He loved the solitude. A forest in winter has its own serenity. Every morning, when he made breakfast, he’d watch red deer from his cabin window as they nuzzled among the fallen leaves for shoots.

Mrs Bekk lived in the converted barn next door to Mull-Rigg Hall. His parents and Owen had moved into the main house. They were happy there. What’s more, they were happy that Tom was friends with his father again. In the summer, Chester Kenyon had married Grace, and Tom had been best man. Now the couple expected their first child. The dive school had opened in Greece, although Tom played no part in the business, which was operated by Chris Markham. Quietly, he and Chris were going their separate ways. After all, friends occasionally drift apart without a trace of envy or bad-feeling – so, no worries. It’s OK. That’s just the way life flows sometimes.

More than anything, Tom found contentment living out here in the wilderness. He looked forward to rising early every day in order to gradually reassemble the Bekk family home. He sincerely believed Nicola would be proud of him for rebuilding Skanderberg.

Three days ago, he’d collected twenty straight-backed chairs from Mull-Rigg Hall. Then, as if preparing for some quirky woodland concert, he’d set them out amongst the trees that grew just beyond the garden fence.

Today, Tom hoisted a particularly special stone back into place. There it was again: the carving of Helsvir that must have been made by one of Nicola’s ancestors a thousand years ago. Unlike the weather-worn image on the archway out there in the garden, the lines that formed the creature in this etching were sharp and crisp. He could clearly see the circles that adorned its flanks and back – those circles were its many heads. An array of limbs bristled from beneath its large body. Tom Westonby had grown to like Helsvir, even though he’d not seen it since that night in the flooded village. After all, the creature was taking care of Nicola now. Wherever she was. Because he’d never seen her with her vampire brothers and sisters, who seemed content to mysteriously reappear from time to time in order stand out in the forest at midnight . . . as still as death, and never speaking.

After the flood, Danby-Mask, and this remote valley, had returned to their ways of age-old seclusion. If anyone should mention rumours of eerie figures glimpsed in the forest, or the day a gigantic creature prowled the village’s flooded streets, then such sightings were judiciously dismissed as
that’s just the ale talking
, or the result of a practical joke played by mischievous children.

When Tom was satisfied that the carving was level in its wall niche, he applied mortar to the edges of the slab. He worked so diligently, and was so wrapped up in memories of Nicola – especially when she’d told him how she’d played amongst those chairs at Mull-Rigg Hall as a child – that he didn’t notice night had fallen.

Winter had pulled darkness into the forest so quickly that he could barely find the path back to the cabin, even though it stood no more than forty paces from the cottage.

On the way he saw her. A lone figure sitting on one of those straight-backed chairs that he’d brought from his parents’ house and placed amid the trees. The beautiful woman was as pale as the moon; her blonde hair fell softly over her shoulders; those white eyes of hers carefully watched his face.

Nicola remained in the chair for only a moment. Then she disappeared as fast as a blink of an eye – some malicious force had tugged her back to wherever that enemy of love had banished her. Yet he knew in his heart of hearts that she was trying to find a way back to him.

And just as she had been transformed into a vampire six months ago, wasn’t there a chance that she could change back into that most wonderful of human beings again in the future?

Yes – and YES again.

Of course, this was just the start of Nicola’s return journey. This wouldn’t be easy. There’d be a host of obstacles, problems and dangers to overcome before he was fully reunited with her. Nevertheless, at the same moment as snowflakes started to fall through the trees to brush against his face, he knew that all-important flame of hope had begun to burn inside of him.

Tom Westonby also knew that he’d never let the precious flame die. Not while he had life in his body and breath to speak the name of his bride.