Shot Through The Heart (Supernature Book 1) (27 page)

Séan shook his head slowly, not speaking.
 

Mark jumped in. "Why me?"

"Why you?" echoed Séan. "Because you've let a monster escape."

"No," said Mark, "I meant, why did she pick on me?"

Séan's brow furrowed. "Let me think," he said. "You said the reason you visited in the first place was to find out what happened to your researcher, right?"

"Aye," said Mark. "Kay had disappeared."

"And who told you about it?" asked Séan.

"Ruthven," said Mark.

"Right," said Séan. "I did some digging. It would appear that your researcher was the first person in over fifty years to visit the island, other than Mr Rennie's fortnightly deliveries. It looks like Lady Ruthven targeted you, Mark -
Boabhan Sith
is notorious for picking on lonely young men."

"I'm hardly lonely," said Mark. "I've got a wife and a kid."

Séan fixed him with an intense stare. "And that's going okay, is it?"

Mark looked away. "Not really."

"She can sense that," said Séan. "How did she first contact you?"

Mark thought back to that morning in the flat, fresh from the argument with Sarah about Beth. "She phoned me."

"Even so" said Séan, "she would be able to detect it."

"Why not select Kay?" asked Mark. "She didn't attack her."

"Is Kay a lesbian?" asked Séan.

Mark thought about it - when they'd met, she'd just split up with a boyfriend. "Not that I know of," he said.

"Well, there you go," said Séan. "The
Boabhan Sith
is driven by sexual attraction. It's tied to our need to reproduce, feeds off the pheromones. Ruthven would have known as soon as she spoke to you that you would fall right into her trap. She had you over at the castle a few times, didn't she?"

Mark nodded slowly, feeling utterly helpless. "She did."

Séan shook his head. "Well, hopefully you know now," he said. "Her plan was hatched when she first spoke to Kay."

"So I was doomed from the start?" asked Mark.

Séan shook his head. "A little self-control would have gone a long way," he said.

Mark swallowed hard - he'd been played like a musical instrument. Whatever Ruthven had wanted, he'd given her freely. He'd fallen willingly into her trap.

"Right, let's go," said Séan.

Mark grabbed his arm. "Wait," he said. "Go where?"

"Into the castle crypt," said Séan. "She might still be down there. We have to check."

Mark let him go. Séan walked back to his car to arm himself.

"What about us?" asked Mark. "Don't we get anything?"

Séan looked him up and down. "You have to earn your weapons." He picked up an ancient-looking crossbow and loaded four arrows onto clips on the frame, and another one ready to be fired. He slung it on his back then tossed a box to Mark. "The closest thing to a weapon I trust you with is a nail gun. We might need it down there."

"Don't I get one?" asked Buffy, as Mark pocketed the nail gun.

Séan gave him a withering stare. "Come on," he said, before striding ahead down the lane.

At the castle, Mark saw the water level was low. They were able to wade through. The front door loomed ahead - Mark shuddered, remembering previous visits.

"It's locked," said Séan. He hammered his fist on it.

"What are you playing at?" asked Buffy. "They'll know we're here."

"We're getting in," said Séan.

"Is that the right way to do it?" asked Buffy.

Mark heard a bolt lift, screeching in the casing. The front door slowly opened. Ivor stood in the entrance, looming over them.

"Where is she?" asked Séan.

Mark was stunned by Ivor's speed. He lurched forward, knocking Séan and Buffy down with a single blow. Mark could only watch as the crossbow rolled towards the edge of the jetty.

He tried to scrabbled away from Ivor. The giant grabbed him by the throat and lifted. Mark choked as the fist tightened around his windpipe. Kicking and scratching at the hand around his throat, he struggled to breathe, lungs burning. He made no impact.

He gave up.

The grip released and Mark fell to his knees.

Ivor toppled forward, groaning. He landed on Mark, his body almost crushing him.

Mark pushed him off, staggering to his feet. Séan stood over Ivor, pulling the blade of a machete out and resheathing it.

"You killed him?" asked Mark.

"It had to be done," said Séan.

"Was he vampire?" asked Mark.

Séan shook his head. "No, he's just very big and strong." He smiled. "
Was
." He took a deep breath. "We think he was an insurance policy for Ruthven - he would either get Ruthven the blood she needed or they would feast on him if they became desperate."

Buffy appeared alongside, rubbing his shoulder. "What happened?" he asked.

"Séan stabbed him with his
Crocodile Dundee
knife," said Mark.

Séan frowned. "My what?" he asked. "
Crocodile Dundee
had a Bowie knife." He tapped at his sheath. "Machetes are very different weapons."

"Never mind," said Mark.

"Is he dead?" asked Buffy.

"Yes," said Séan, turning around and walking towards the open front door. "Come on."

"Where's the crypt?" asked Mark.

Séan shrugged. "I thought you'd know, given how often you've been here."

"Funnily enough, Ruthven never took me down to the crypt," said Mark.

Séan wandered the ground floor of the castle, prowling the long corridor, a large torch illuminating the way, making Mark blink. He knelt, pointing at the parquet. "Here we are," he said. "Someone has transported soil down here. I only hope they've been topping them up rather than transporting coffins out."

Séan led them further into the dark. They stopped outside a door at the end of the corridor and took a deep breath.

"Is this it?" asked Buffy.

Séan nodded. "I think so" he said, before opening the door and shining the torch inside.

Mark peered in - a winding staircase led down. "Bingo," he said.

"Let's go," said Séan.

"Shouldn't one of us wait up here?" asked Buffy.

"Are you scared?" asked Mark.

"I'm just saying," said Buffy. "Someone could trap us down there." He tapped the door. "That's not shifting in a hurry."

"He's got a point," said Mark.

"Okay, Alan, you stay up here," said Séan. He looked at Mark. "You're not getting out of this so easily."

"Fine," said Mark, desperately trying to keep his breathing under control.

Séan took the lead, striding down the stairs. Mark nodded at Buffy, fear etching his friend's face. "See you on the other side," he said, before following Séan.

They descended into pitch darkness until Mark slipped on a step. It was wet. He realised they were below the water level of the loch.

Séan swivelled the torch around the room. Mark took in the cavernous chamber carved out of the rock. He couldn't see any coffins.

"Nothing," said Séan.

"They would definitely put the coffins down here?" asked Mark.

"Yes," said Séan. "Only place for them."

"What about upstairs?" asked Mark. "Lots of rooms up there."

"Has to be down here," said Séan, shaking his head.

Mark spotted something in the corner. Medical equipment - tubes and pumps. "What's this?" he asked.

Séan swore under his breath. "It looks like they've been converting," he said. "Or readying for conversion. We could have a vampire army to kill."

Mark swallowed hard - another crime that he would have to take the blame for. "So this is how they convert people?" he asked.

Séan nodded. "It's a viral infection, basically," he said. "It takes over your body and mind."

Mark realised that Ruthven was as much a victim as he was in this. "So there's a real Elizabeth Ruthven in there?" he asked.

"Not any more," said Séan. "That part of her long since died."

Mark rested the bulky nail gun on the floor and inspected the medical equipment, thinking that it was the complete opposite of the cinematic pointed teeth used to convert people. Seeing it in real life, the cynical way that Ruthven planned to create her army made him determined to stop her madness.

"Help!"

Mark looked up. "Buffy!" He lurched towards the sound, taking the steps two at a time.

Buffy was gone.

"Where is he?" asked Mark, breathing hard, pulse racing.

Séan appeared behind him, the torchlight dancing around. "There," he said.

Mark saw that one of the doors down the corridor was ajar. They crept forwards as Séan loaded a bolt to the crossbow, using it to nudge the door.

Buffy lay prone on a bed, a Lost Girl leaning over him. She raked her long, blackened talons down his cheek.

"Get away from him!" shouted Mark.

She spun around, her green eyes ablaze.

Séan pushed Mark aside, pointing the crossbow at her. When he fired, the bolt shot straight through her heart.

She screamed out, falling back against the wall, blood spurting out. Mark couldn't help but think that the blood looked thin, like the dregs of a tomato ketchup bottle filled up with water ahead of being chucked in a recycling bin.

Mark covered his eyes as Séan pulled the machete out and hacked at her throat. He tried to blot out the grinding sound. He knew he should help Buffy, but he was rooted to the spot.

Half crouching, he crept towards a door at the end, cringing as he slowly opened it.

A wooden coffin lay against the far wall, a candle burning on top. Between it and the door were the bodies of two men, skin pale and eyes dead. Mark recognised them immediately.

The men from the ceilidh.

Mark sat shaking on the floor, he didn't know how long.

He started to take in the outside world, looking around the room, slowly. He needed to tell DS Lorimer. The Lost Girl lay slumped against the far wall, her head placed between her feet. Mark almost lost the Pringles.

Buffy sat up on the bed.

Mark staggered over. Buffy's eyes stared blankly. There wasn't a scratch on him. Mark waved his hands in front of Buffy's eyes. Eventually, they focused.

"Where is he?" shouted Buffy, getting to his feet.

"Who?" asked Mark.

"Séan!"

"No idea," said Mark. "Bodies in the cupboard."

"Eh?"

Mark swallowed hard, his throat constricted. "There are bodies in the cupboard," he said. "People from the ceilidh."

"Are you sure?" asked Buffy.

"Positive," said Mark.

Séan appeared through the door.

"Where the hell have you been?" shouted Buffy.

"I've searched the ground floor of the castle," said Séan. "It's clear."

"What does clear mean?" asked Buffy. "No vampires? No bodies?"

Séan nodded. "Both," he said, grinding his teeth. "No trace of Ruthven or any of her brood." He pointed to the Lost Girl. "She's the only one here and I found no more of her victims."

"I can't believe you cut her head off," said Mark.

Séan shrugged. "You'll just have to believe it," he said.

"Can I have a crossbow?" asked Buffy.

Séan shook his head. "No," he said. "I can't trust you with it. You might kill each other or, worse, me."

Buffy smacked his fist off the wall. "No way," he said, squaring up to Séan. "I got attacked by a
vampire
."

"Keep your voice down," said Séan. "I've not checked upstairs."

Buffy glared at him. "If you'd been any later, she would have bitten my throat open and drunk my blood."

"Actually, she would have used her talons," said Séan.

Buffy hit the wall again, harder. "I could have been
killed,
" he shouted. "There were dead men in her cupboard."

"What do you want me to say?" asked Séan.

"I just want a crossbow," said Buffy.

"Do you know how to fire one?" asked Séan.

"It's just like a spud gun," said Buffy.

Séan looked down at the Lost Girl and smiled. "Fine," he said, before raising his finger quickly. "But not a crossbow. You can have some knives."

"What use are knives against
that
?" asked Buffy, pointing at the corpse. Mark saw the severed head and felt his stomach heave again. "She's got massive
talons
coming out of her
hands!
"

"A blade would be better than your own hands," said Séan. He reached down to a trouser pocket, handing them each a six-inch knife, sheathed in a leather holster. "If they get close, aim for their heads. Get an artery - they can't cope with the blood loss." He drew a line under his jaw, towards the ear. "Aim here."

Mark's was starting to realise that he was so far out of his depth. He didn't have any analogies, or ways of coping with it. They were subservient to Séan's mysterious methods. "So what the hell are we going to do?" he asked.

"The only thing I can think," said Séan, "is that she's gone."

Mark stared out the window, watching the sky get lighter. "Can she handle sunlight?" he asked.

Séan nodded. "Why wouldn't she?" he asked.

Mark shrugged. "There's that nonsense about invitations," he said. "There's water, there's shape-shifting, there's garlic."

"Well," said Séan, "sunlight doesn't affect them. Haven't you read
Dracula
? The scene where he's walking about in London at midday."

"Of course I've read it," said Mark. "That's just a book, though."

"Is it?" asked Séan, his expression like stone.

Mark went back to staring outside. If her movements hadn't been limited by sunlight, she could have gone anywhere. Find a remote family, kill them slowly. There were a few private air fields around. Anything.

It dawned on him. The van. He'd seen a delivery being made to the hotel the day he left.

"I know where she is."

"I'm sorry, Mr Campbell," said Harris, "but I'm afraid your room is taken."

"I thought I had it booked," said Mark.

"I'm sorry," said Harris, "but you checked out."

"Who is staying there?" asked Mark.

Harris smiled. "You know I can't give that sort of information out," he said.

Mark rubbed his chin. "Fine," he said.