The Blood Line (18 page)

‘You know,’ said Box ‘that if we spend too long together then one of us will die. The world just doesn’t seem to like the same person to occupy the same space too many times. It makes the universe uncomfortable. I have been running from you for a very long time, worried about what the world might do to me if I got too close. But recently I have come to a decision. I have a fifty-fifty chance of dying. You might not make it. It’s just as likely as me dying. But I cannot believe the world wants you in it. And I am tired of running. You have killed most, if not all, of the other versions of me. By the law of averages your luck has to run out eventually. So let’s just see what happens.’

Qayin just continued to stare, pure hatred on his face. He shook again, his black cloak stirred in the breeze. Then with a snarl he leapt forward.

*

An hour later, on 30 November 1948 at about 7 o’clock in the evening, a couple strolling on Somerton Beach looked over at the figure lying propped up against the rocks. They assumed he had been drinking and had fallen asleep. They did not get too close. If they had they might have realised that the man was dead. They would have found no marks on him, for murder with presence does not always leave a sign. As it was, all they could really see and all that they later remembered was what the man had been wearing. A suit, tie, coat and a hat. A bit unusual given the weather. They did not see the identical man who lurked nearby, clad in a black cloak wondering what to do next as a small convulsion caused his body to twitch.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Hoia Baciu Forest, Romania

‘O
ut of the frying pan and into the fire,’ muttered Hob.

The line on Jenny Greenteeth’s island had indeed brought them to the edge of the woods and they stood on a hill looking down on Hoia Baciu Forest under a heavy, dark-grey sky.

‘It’s smaller than I remember,’ said Hödekin.

From their vantage point they could see the whole forest and it was indeed fairly small. They could easily pinpoint the centre where the line was, but from this height they could not see the bare circle where no trees grew.

Humans had long ago noted the strange empty centre of the forest and had often reported feelings of unease and anxiety which intensified the nearer one came to the guardians of the line who stalked the edge of the clearing. In more extreme cases humans had reported feelings of nausea, dizziness and headaches and if they ventured too close to the centre the appearance of rashes, burns and scratches. There were reports of strange lights in and above the trees, glowing orbs and disembodied voices which had led many to say that the area was under the control of malevolent ghosts or a poltergeist. There were all kinds of theories about who these spirits might be. Others had guessed at the presence of a doorway to another place. These guesses were surprisingly close to the truth. At the centre of the empty circle, right in the middle, was the line which the kobolds needed. If ordinary men and women seemed to excite whatever it was which guarded that line then it was Hob’s guess that once he and Hödekin stepped into that wood all hell would break loose. Literally.

As they approached the edge of the treeline the gloomy day seemed to darken even further. A feeling of being watched began to settle on the kobolds. As they chose a path and passed the first tree the temperature seemed to drop and the voices began almost immediately. Faint whispers at the very edge of their hearing overlapped one another. Mostly it was impossible to hear words amongst the disembodied mutterings but occasionally a few angry words would flash out of the susurration.
Get away! Get out!
And worse and ruder words besides. Other voices seemed to delight at their presence and there would be the occasional short evil laugh. Each time the words were like fingernails on a chalkboard. The kobolds nodded grimly to each other and pressed on.

As they walked on through the forest, past curiously warped and twisted trees, they had the impression that they were being flanked by a legion of invisible beings. Occasionally they would feel a short tug of an arm or a hand pulling at their clothing, their hair, their limbs. Hob felt a sharp yank on his beard which wrenched his head to the side and a moment later Hödekin cried in alarm as something like a fingernail raked down his forearm leaving a bloody scratch. Yet still the kobolds pressed on, grimly determined, silent. The further they walked under the dark trees the larger the supporting host seemed to become as though every piece of malevolence in the forest was flowing towards them, pressing against them and trying to hinder their passage. Soon, it was all they could do to inch forward, one agonising step at a time.

Eventually, although it had begun to seem impossible, they reached the edge of the clearing. By now the pressure against them meant it was all they could do to force themselves forward. It was like walking into a hurricane. The voices had become increasingly angry as the kobolds had pressed on and the violence had increased. Both kobolds were covered in burns and scratches. Both had bruises where heavy objects, mostly rocks and branches, had appeared out of thin air a moment before they had struck. Both kobolds had had to bow their heads and push forward, bodies at an angle, driving forward as though part of a rugby scrum. It felt like being an airplane and trying to pull out of a steep dive, engines screaming, noise and effort filling every molecule. The pressure was immense, the pounding relentless, yet neither kobold was able to hit out at anything tangible. It was an onslaught which could only be endured. An invisible army tried to hold them back.

And then blissfully they reached the clearing, side by side. The epicentre of everything which was wrong with that haunted forest. With a final Herculean effort they pushed into the clearing and suddenly, as they left the last of the trees and moved into the open space, the resistance suddenly vanished and both kobolds fell forward onto their knees at the sudden absence of it. The whispering and occasional screaming which had battered them since they had entered the forest suddenly stopped and the silence was almost overwhelming. Both kobolds pulled themselves to their feet feeling suddenly incredibly light of body.

Hödekin nudged Hob and pointed to a dark patch directly opposite them, under the trees, at the other side of that empty circle where only grass grew. There, in the shadows, a pair of green eyes caught the light.

Hödekin looked to Hob and saw that his face was grim.

‘Shuk,’ he muttered ‘The worst of the garoul.’

The beast stepped out of the treeline. Shuk was much more wolf-like than the other garoul they had ever seen. Or certainly less man-like and more like a beast. He was a huge black dog, with massive powerful shoulders. He walked on all fours whereas many garoul moved fluidly between walking on two legs and four. His face, under his green eyes, was all blunt muzzle and sharp teeth. He ambled over to sit on his haunches at the very centre of the circle, immediately next to where the line would appear. He spoke with a deep snarl.

‘Come, little kobolds. Come open the line. If you are quick enough to reach it I will let you use it.’

Neither kobold spoke, but Hob extended his presence towards the line and pulled it open. Then he reached into his pack and pulled out a golden circlet, unadorned with precious stones but no less a crown for that. He set it on his head and standing tall spoke to Shuk in a voice that was loud and clear.

‘You will let us past. You will let us return to Kalapa.’

He took a single step forward. Hödekin followed.

‘Why Shuk, do you do the bidding of the Riven? Why do you stand here for an age whilst the Riven go about their business, leaving you to work for them like a guard dog.’

A low growl began in the back of the garoul’s throat and his lip curled showing a row of massive teeth.

Hob and Hödekin took another step forward.

‘Why not leave this place? You are not Cerberus, bound to guard a gate.’

Another step.

Hob now took the crown back from his head.

‘I only want to take this crown back to the Palace where it belongs. That is important to us kobolds.’ He tossed it gently into the air and with a push of presence sent it spinning into the line so that in a moment it had vanished.

Shuk came to his feet and his snarl grew suddenly louder.

Hob held his arms wide placating. Another step.

‘We are just two little kobolds. There is no need to fear us.’

That was too much for Shuk.

‘Fear you!’ he roared. ‘I fear no-one.’ And he leapt towards them.

‘Run!’ cried Hob and he pushed Hödekin before him as they sprinted as fast as they could sideways across the clearing. Shuk bounded after them, incredibly quick. Hob was able to turn and use his presence to just enough effect to off balance the garoul as he thundered towards them. He barrelled past before using his claws to turn quickly in the long wet grass and push back towards them.

It was then a straight race towards the line. A flat out sprint. It was a race the kobolds were never going to win. Focused on the line ahead and on keeping the path open Hob wasn’t able to do much with his presence. Suddenly he was swept off his feet. He felt a spray of something patter across his face and he knew within a split second and with a cold certainty that it was blood. As he fell he saw Shuk go past in a blur. Then Hödekin crumpled to the ground next to him, his chest already a red tangled mess. Hob hit the ground hard, winding him and for a moment his hold on the line faltered. They were so close to it.
Must keep it open
, he thought, knowing that it was their only chance of survival. As quick as he could he had a hand on Hödekin’s collar and Hob was up, driving forward, towards the line, dragging the other kobold behind him.

Shuk came back like a bullet. Hob was a footstep away from the line when he was again knocked to the ground, landing heavily on his back. He looked into a dark sky and had a single frame image of a ginormous dark paw, claws outstretched in the air above him, the last image that a seal pup must see before the killing blow from the ice-bear, and then all went black.

*

Pueblito de Allende, Chihuahua, Mexico

8 February 1969

Ana Maria climbed out of her bedroom window and onto the flat roof above the porch. She hesitated for a moment and then reached back to scoop up the teddy from her bed.

‘Okay José,’ she whispered. ‘You can come too, but you have to be quiet or mama will kill us.’

The bear had been a recent Christmas present and she had not yet done anything without him. Tonight she would show him the stars. Tucking him into the top of her nightdress she nimbly crossed to the tree which stood in the dusty backyard and silently crept down to the ground. Once her feet touched the dirt she was off and running towards the edge of town and out into the Mexican desert.

She knew the best paths to take where she wouldn’t be seen but this late it wasn’t too risky. There was no-one around but dogs. She had been creeping out at night for as long as she had been able to climb. She often couldn’t sleep and tonight was one of those nights. She had waited until the middle of the night before making her bid for freedom. She had once left too early and had been caught sneaking past the house. She had been in so much trouble. Now, she always waited until the dead of night and always made sure she was back before dawn.

Finally, she cleared the last few houses. But she kept going on towards a favourite spot atop a hill away, from the town. From there, away from any light, the views of the night sky were spectacular.

Eventually, she reached the top of the sandy hill and flopped down in the dust, pulling her jumper closer around her. She lay back and looked up at the stars, carefully positioning José so that he would have a good view. It was a very clear night with no moon to drown out the view. Even without any moon the starlight was bright enough to see by. The heavens were incredible. This view was just about the only good thing about living in Pueblito de Allende, Chihuahua.

She guessed that was why the mysterious stranger came here, the man who, local legend said, had given the tiny town its name. He had apparently been coming here for many, many years and did nothing but stare into the sky reaching his arms towards the stars. Some of the older boys said that he was a devil and that he came here because there was a door to hell nearby. Ana Maria didn’t believe any of that but, as the thought that he might be near occurred to her, she pulled José near and hugged him tightly.

She looked hard at the stars using the edges of her vision to see the best parts of the sky. The starry swirl was mesmerising. Every now and then a shooting star crossed her field of vision, long bright scratches of fire against the blackness.

Then suddenly, her skin prickled and she shivered as if someone had opened the door to a cold store nearby. She sat up, feeling nervous, and looked around. All of a sudden a black-cloaked figure appeared as if out of nowhere. Ana Maria’s heart froze in her chest. It was the mysterious stranger. He was here.

After a few seconds, during which she was paralysed with fear, Ana Maria decided that he hadn’t seen her. He was some way away and she couldn’t see any detail other than the black cloak which he wore. He seemed to be facing the other way. As carefully as she could she crept behind a nearby bush. She crouched there holding José tight, shaking with fear as she watched the man.

She had been right about one thing. The stranger seemed to be intent on the stars above. Why would anyone come to such a small place as Pueblito de Allende? Why would someone come so often as to give the place his name? The stranger stood, his head back. Ana Maria followed his gaze into the sky. Another shooting star, a large and bright one, flashed its way through the night.

Quick as a whip the stranger thrust an arm towards the night sky. Ana Maria whimpered in terror and hid her head in her lap. A low hum had begun to fill the air and when she looked up again the stranger had both arms reaching up as if he was grabbing something heavy and pulling. He seemed to be under enormous strain. He gave a low cry of effort as though he was under some terrible force. It looked as though some invisible rope was trying to pull him into the air, but he yanked back hard.

Then his arms began to move down and Ana Maria saw with fear that a new shooting star had appeared in the sky, high above the earth, and it was falling straight towards them.

As the tail of star grew longer and larger Ana Maria could see that it was going to fall some way away from them, further out into the desert. But what had the mysterious stranger done? Had he managed to pull a rock out of the sky? Was that magic? What would happen when it landed? She trembled as she watched it approach. She didn’t have long to wait. Suddenly, there was a massive flash which lit the entire sky like a huge lightning flash followed a few seconds later by a bang so loud that it blew her off her feet and made her ears ring. She landed in the dusty sand, winded. As she pulled herself to her feet she heard strange whistling sounds and then a series of thumps. One thump was close by, louder than the others and she scurried over to the place on her knees. There a piece of rock the size of her fist had made a big dent in the sand. The star had exploded before it had touched the ground!