Vampire Shift

Chapter Eighteen


Entering the bar area of the Inn, I could see that most of those who had stared at me earlier had now drifted back out into the cold to make their way home. There were just a couple of barflies, sitting by the fire.

“You know I don’t have any of my equipment on me,” Craig said. “If things start to turn ugly up at the church, we should have our -”

Cutting over him, I said, “Forget it. CS spray and Tasers aren’t going to be any good against vampires.”

“What then?” he asked. “We can’t go unprotected.”

Then, turning towards the little table that housed all of the old woman’s bottles of holy water and crucifixes, I scooped some up and handed them to Craig. “Fill your pockets with these,” I told him. “Believe it or not, the crucifix you left for me worked.”

“You’re kidding me,” he said.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” I said, holding out my hands that were visibly shaking at the thought of what had happened that night with Kristy Hall.

“I guess not,” he said, and began to stuff his pockets with the religious items.

Taking all of the old woman’s supplies, I filled all of my coat pockets and headed towards the door. The cold outside hit me like a slap in the face. Burying my head low and thrusting my hands into my jeans pockets, I looked at Craig and said, “Ready?”

“Ready,” he said, pulling his hood over his head as we set off in the direction of the church.

Snow came down so hard and fast, it was like we were walking in a blizzard, and I couldn’t help but think back to the night I’d become disorientated in the fields and had been attacked by the vampires. I thought of Luke again and my heart ached. Despite what Craig had told me about him, a tiny part of me didn’t want to give up on him. All I could think about was how he had rescued me that night. I could feel that warm sensation pass over me again, as I remembered his touch, his kisses, and how he had held me so close to him. Reminding myself of all of that, I couldn’t – or didn’t -want to believe that he had played any part in my mother’s disappearance.

“What are you thinking about?” Craig asked over the howl of the bitter wind.

Not wanting to tell him about the deep feelings and misgivings I had about Luke, I lied, “I was wondering what you were doing outside my room tonight.”

“Just checking up on you,” he said, waving snow away from in front of his eyes. “I take a drink some nights in the bar, then pretending I need to use the bathroom, I sneak upstairs and just listen – you know – to make sure that you’re alright.”

“So why the disguise?” I asked him.

“I didn’t agree with Rom’s decision to send you here,” he said. “I asked him if I could come with you, you know, just to keep an eye on things – especially after what had happened to your mother. He refused, so I took a few weeks leave that were due to me. I couldn’t risk being discovered by anyone, because if it had gotten back to him that I’d disobeyed his orders, I would’ve been in all kinds of crap.’”

Discovering that Craig had put so much at risk for me, I gently squeezed his arm and thanked him.

“No problem,” he smiled, as the snow swirled all around us.

We walked in silence for a time, the only sound was the wind screaming in off the fields. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared of what might lay ahead for us, but I knew that whatever danger faced me, I would have to confront it. I’d made a promise to my father and I intended on keeping it. Then thinking of my mother again, I said, “So what was my mother’s secret name?”

With his head turned against the falling snow, Craig glanced sideways at me and said, “Police Constable Jessica Reeves.”

Hearing him say the name ‘Reeves’, I thought of the empty file that I’d discovered back at the police station, along with all the other records kept about the missing police officers. But all of the others had reports inside and a photograph – why had my mother’s file been empty? Perhaps it was because there were no reports to send – after all Police Constable Jessica Reeves, didn’t really exist. But wouldn’t the whole scenario have been more believable if they had created some fictitious records for her? If Rom had gone to the trouble of planting drugs in her locker – then surely he could’ve taken the time to write up a few fake reports?

Then looking sideways at Craig, I said, “You told me that my mother had to change her appearance.”

“That’s right,” he nodded.

“She dyed her black hair blonde, didn’t she,” I said.

Then, looking at me through the falling snow, he asked, “How did you know?”

Thinking of the hairbrush I’d found in my locker with the dyed blonde hairs and black roots, I said, “It doesn’t matter.” But the hairbrush hadn’t been the only place I’d found those hairs. I’d found them in Henry Blake’s tiny dead hand. That was only two days ago, which meant my mother was still alive and somewhere in The Ragged Cove. Realising this, I wanted to scream, dance, and punch the air with joy. But then another thought came to me, and my heart felt as if it were being crushed within my chest. What were strands of my mother’s hair doing in the hand of that dead boy? Before I’d had the chance to consider how my mother’s hair had got there, Craig, was tugging on my sleeve and pointing into the distance.

“See the church?” he asked.

I looked ahead, and through the blizzard, I could see the steeple of the church spiralling upwards like a black scratch on the overcast sky.

“Do you think this stuff will work?” Craig asked, patting his pocket containing the holy water and crucifixes.

“It did last time,” I mumbled, my teeth now chattering with the cold.

“Ok then,” he said, and set off towards the church. I followed him through the gate and up the gravel path. Reaching the doors at the front of the church, Craig pulled down on the handle and pushed. With a wailing sound, the door creaked open and we stepped inside.