The Vampire's Grave and Other Stories Page 11

  By the time I get back to the table with two pints of Guinness, Davey has managed to start talking to two girls who are sitting nearby. He's always been the kind of guy who can strike up a conversation with anyone at any time, and he's already managed to get the girls laughing and chatting.

  “These fine ladies are having a bit of an all-day party,” he explains to me as I sit down. “I've just scored us an invite to tag along!”

  “That sounds great,” I reply, although I can't help thinking about something that Madeleine said to me shortly before she disappeared. “I might have to catch up to you, though. I kinda need to go check something out first.” I pause, realizing that I have to at least take a look. “How far are we from the national museum?”

  ***

  It feels good to get away from the bars on Dame Street and slip across a bridge to the south side of the river. Light rain is falling and the skies are darkening, but I'm filled with a sudden urge to put one of Madeleine's stranger claims to the test, even if I know deep down that I should just get her out of my mind. By the time I reach the steps of the museum, however, she's all I can think about.

  It doesn't take long for me to find Hall C, and sure enough there's an exhibition about the history of Dublin. I take my time wandering from display to display, and I'm fully aware that I'm stalling. There's a part of me that wants to find evidence that Madeleine was telling the truth, but there's a much more rational part of me that wants to prove she was full of lies. And of course there's another part of me that makes me keep looking over my shoulder, just in case she might be somewhere around.

  Finally I get to the far corner, where I find several photos showing early images of people in the city. It's strange to see the faces of so many people staring back at me, and to think that more than a century and a half has passed since these images were captured. In photo after photo, I see the faces of men and women, and children too. Some of them are dressed in old suits and dresses, whereas others seem to be wearing little more than rags. The pictures are part of a collection that aims to explore the entire spectrum of nineteenth century Dublin society, from the poorest workers to the richest businessmen.

  And then I see her.

  I swear, my heart jumps slightly in my chest as I see a very familiar face staring out from the bottom left hand corner of one of the photos.

  She's staring at the camera with an expression that seems to be a mix of curiosity and amusement. Curiosity, perhaps, because back then most people had never had their photo taken, and many of the other people in the image share that expression. Amusement, however, seems to be hers and hers alone, making her stand out somewhat from the rest of the crowd.

  The label next to the photo simply describes these people as a group who were photographed in a Dublin street. There's no mention of any names, but I can't deny the fact that the girl looks exactly like Madeleine.

  She's even wearing the same necklace.

  Reaching into my pocket, I take out the necklace and hold it up. Sure enough, it looks the same as the necklace in the photo, even though I know that's not possible.

  I feel a chill run through my body as I contemplate the idea that everything Madeleine told me might have been true, but then I take a step back and remind myself that the whole idea is preposterous.

  She's a liar.

  Or a fantasist.

  She must have come to this museum once, seen the girl in the photo and noticed the resemblance, and then concocted some strange fantasy in her head about having actually been that girl. As for the necklace, it wouldn't be too hard for her to commission someone to produce a cheap copy, and then she'd be all set to play her little game. I'm sure I'm not the first guy she's tricked like this, and I probably won't be the last. She's just some kind of very clever, very manipulative psychopath who's traveling Europe and pretending to be a vampire.

  She might have been real and not a figment of my imagination after all, but that still doesn't mean she was telling the truth. There are no vampires or ghosts or other weird creatures in the world. There can't be.

  Fifteen

  The party, when I finally get there later that evening, is loud. Too loud. Ear-splittingly, soul-crushingly loud. I've never been much of a party guy at the best of times, and this whole thing is way out of my comfort zone.

  But I stay anyway.

  To be honest, I need something to jolt me out of my own thoughts. Since leaving the museum, I've been lost in contemplation of that photo, and it doesn't help that I dropped by the gift shop and found a small book of photos that includes the same image. I have the book even now, tucked into my coat pocket, and it takes all my willpower to keep from pulling it out and spending the rest of the evening staring at the picture that appears to show Madeleine.

  Davey was right, though.

  I need to find a way to relax and enjoy myself.

  “So I studied film,” Karen explains as we sit on a sofa in one of the less busy rooms. “To be honest, that was a total waste of time, but at least I got to be in an environment that encouraged me to think in different ways. I work for a company that does online marketing, and I kinda like that.” She smiles, before taking a sip of beer and keeping her eyes fixed on me. “So what about you, Ben? What do you do with yourself?”

  As I tell her about my online graphics work, while skating around the whole part about Sonja's suicide, I find my thoughts still drifting back to Madeleine. Something about her just seems to have stuck in my head, to the extent that I can't stop thinking about that final conversation we had on the ferry. Meanwhile, I'm telling Karen about my graphics work without even having to think about the words, so it's something of a surprise when she suddenly puts a hand on my leg.

  “Davey told me about what happened,” she says with a faint, knowing smile. She leans closer, close enough for me to smell her minty, beery breath. “You have sad eyes. I know this might seem a little full-on, but do you wanna come up stairs to my room, do a few lines of coke, and see if we can fuck you happy?”

  I open my mouth to reply, but the suggestion has caught me completely off-guard.

  Grinning, she grabs the front of her t-shirt and pulls it down until her bare left breast pops out.

  “I'm fine,” I stammer, getting to my feet so fast that I almost spill half my beer. “I really need to... I just...”

  I take a step back, nearly tripping over the edge of the coffee table in the process. I know I should probably just go with this girl and lose myself in a night of wild hedonism, but that's never been my style and right now I don't think anything can clear my mind. I've never touched cocaine in my life, and even though this girl is offering herself to me on a platter, casual sex really doesn't seem like the answer to any of my problems.

  “I'll be upstairs in the room next to the attic steps,” she continues, getting to her feet and brushing her body against me as she steps past. “If you're not in there with me in the next five minutes, I guess I'll just have to find someone else to keep me warm.”

  As she leaves the room, I can't help feeling that this is exactly the kind of situation I've been wanting for a while now. I need to move on from everything that happened in Stockholm, but at the same time something seems to be tugging at my thoughts. Finally, I head over to the doorway and look through into the corridor, and I swear I half expect to see Madeleine staring back at me.

  “So you're gonna take her up on it, right?” Davey asks, suddenly bounding into me and putting an arm around my shoulders. “I believe my dear friend Karen just made you an offer you can't refuse.”

  “She's very nice,” I say with a sigh, “but -”

  “But nothing, mate,” he continues, steering me toward the stairs. “Trust me, she's dynamite in bed, and you need to blow the cobwebs away.” He leads me up toward the first floor, and for some reason I don't pull away. “I see it in your eyes, man. You're still only half here. The rest of you's back in Stockholm, still mourning Sonja. This might sound harsh, but you've gotta put it behind you an
d move on with your life.”

  “I know, but -”

  “So in you go,” he adds, opening the door next to the attic steps and shoving me through. “Enjoy!”

  As he pulls the door shut, I look over at the bed and see that Karen has already stripped down to her underwear, and she's arranging lines of coke on a mirror.

  “I was hoping you'd show up soon,” she says with a broad, knowing grin. “Look the door, honey. I don't want anyone walking in on us. This isn't a cam session.”

  Even though I know this is an awful idea, I turn and slide the bolt across. I can't help thinking that maybe Davey is right after all, that while my instinct is to get out of here, I should force myself to surrender. After all, Karen's a pretty girl and she seems to only want some fun. There's no chance I'm going to take any of that coke, but as I make my way over to the bed and sit on the edge, I realize that if I don't go through with this, I might very well spend the rest of my life mourning what happened in Stockholm.

  Karen takes a snort and then leans her head back, laughing and shuddering slightly.

  “Your turn,” she gasps.

  “It's not for me,” I tell her. “Really, I -”

  “Don't be a pussy,” she replies, grabbing my arm and pulling me closer. “And take off that jacket, for God's sake. You're staring to make me feel like you're not really into this.”

  “But -”

  “Her name was Sonja, right?” she continues. “Your sister, the one who killed herself in Stockholm?”

  I pause for a moment, before nodding. “Half-sister,” I add. “On my father's side. He died a long time ago.”

  “That's, like, so awful.”

  I want to tell her that this whole thing is a mistake, but instead I look down at the lines of coke and start to wonder whether I should give it a go. After all, playing it safe hasn't exactly worked out too well so far, and it might be good to try something completely new. Sonja always used to tell me that I tended to stay within my emotional safety zone, and I know that if she could see me now, she'd be urging me to dive in and worry about the consequences later. My half-sister was always one for living life to the fullest.

  “How about a slightly different approach?” Karen asks with a grin. Slipping out of her bra, she settles flat on her back and then sprinkles a line of cocaine across her bare breasts. “Come on,” she continues, “we've got to get you in the mood. Trust me, it's the most amazing sensation you could ever feel in the world. If you've never had sex on coke, you've never really lived.”

  Even though every atom in my body is telling me to hold back, I can't help thinking that maybe she's right. And maybe one full-on, out-of-character night like this might be enough to shake me out of this growing madness.

  Finally, I lean down toward her breasts, forcing myself to give it a go.

  Suddenly a loud scream fills my ears, with enough force to make me pull back and fall off the bed. The scream is already over as I hit the floor, but its echo is still ringing in my ears.

  “Are you okay, honey?” Karen asks, still on her back. “I can't exactly sit up and help you without spilling all this coke. What's going on?”

  “Did you hear that?” I stammer.

  “The sound of your ass hitting the carpet? I sure did. Now get back up here.”

  Getting to my feet, I look toward the window. That scream seemed familiar, almost -

  “No!” Madeleine shouts suddenly, and for a fraction of a second I see her ahead of me. She's in a dark forest, bloodied and badly hurt, trying to drag herself away from two men who are towering over her.

  The image is gone in a flash, but for a moment it all felt so real and vivid.

  “You're kinda starting to piss me off,” Karen mutters, still flat on her back with cocaine on her breasts. “You are gonna get with the program, aren't you? It's kinda hard for me to snort this off my own tits.”

  For a moment, all I can think about is that image of Madeleine desperately trying to get away from whoever's pursuing her. I tell myself that it was just a flash of madness, a lingering thought from those insane few days in France and on the ferry, but at the same time her panic was so vivid and palpable, it's hard not to wonder whether she was somehow reaching out to me. Then again, I quickly remind myself that such things simply aren't possible.

  “I'm fine,” I stammer, “I just -”

  The scream hits again, and this time I take a step back, genuinely shaken by her fear and pain. I blink, and in that millisecond of darkness I see Madeleine being dragged back across the forest floor. Her fingertips are digging into the soil, but she's powerless to keep herself from getting pulled toward what looks like a set of ancient ruins in the moonlight. By the time I open my eyes, the image is gone again, and I turn to see Karen staring up at me with clear irritation in her eyes.

  “Are you serious?” she drawls, her face filled with disgust. “I'm giving you one more chance to get your sorry ass down here for some fun, or I'm gonna kick you out of this room, do you understand?”

  “I have to go,” I stammer, turning and unbolting the door.

  “Are you fucking serious?”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “At least fetch me a straw! What am I supposed to do like this?”

  Ignoring her stream of expletives, I hurry along the corridor and down the stairs. I'm vaguely aware of Davey calling my name, but all I can think right now is that I have to get outside so I can clear my head and work out whether these flashes in my mind are real or just another part of the madness.

  Finally reaching the front garden, I stagger over to the gate and then I wait, ignoring the sounds of the city and instead listening to anything that might start flickering to life in my mind. The party is still raging behind me, but my whole body feels strangely sore, as if every layer of skin has been peeled away and then slapped back roughly – and crudely – in place. I wait, trying to stay calm, but I'm certain I'll hear that scream again, and maybe even -

  Suddenly there's another flash.

  Madeleine is being grabbed from behind and pulled back toward a ruined church. Something thick and large and dark is embedded in her chest, glistening in the moonlight, and a moment later she's twisted around and I see that she's been impaled on what looks like a broken chunk of wood. Two figures are holding her by the shoulders, dragging her closer and closer to the church, and she's sobbing and screaming as she tries desperately to fight back. She can't run, however; instead, the figures continue to pull her along and her knees bump through the muddy ground. Her arms and legs look weak and immobile, as if now she can barely even move at all.

  After a moment, I realize the two figures are speaking softly and quietly, their voices barely audible beneath Madeleine's scream.

  I think they're chanting.

  “Hey dude,” Davey says suddenly, putting a hand on my shoulder.

  Spinning around, I find him grinning at me. Before I can react, he shoves an ice-cold can of beer into my hands.

  “You look totally out of it,” he says with a smile. “Drink up, my man. The night's still young.”

  “I -”

  Suddenly I hear Madeleine's scream louder than ever, and I flinch. At the same time, I see her on her knees once again, and this time she's burning. Flames are rippling across her flesh, burning her to the bone, but she seems powerless to fight back. Dropping forward and resting on her elbows, she seems to be waiting for something, and all the while her silhouette is becoming darker and more charred as the flames eat through her flesh. The fire is spreading, too, and has reached several nearby trees, as if the whole forest is going to burn around her.

  Finally she raises her head and looks toward the ruined church, and I see that most of her skin has been destroyed, leaving just a few strands of burning flesh still clinging to her skull. Her eye sockets are just empty holes now, and -

  She screams one more time, loud enough to make me take a step back, and then she's gone.

  “Ben?” Davey says cautiously. “Dude? Are y
ou okay?”

  Staring at him, I realize that I'm still at the party, and that the music is still pounding.

  “I should go,” I stammer, feeling as if this is the last place in the world I want to be right now. “I need to... I...”

  “Go where?” he asks with a frown. “Dude, you're staying on my couch, remember?”

  Sixteen

  Cold morning light streams through the window as I make my way downstairs. The party finally ended a few hours ago and the house has fallen quiet, although the place is a complete mess and there are several random sleeping bodies slumped in the hallway. It's like the aftermath of one of those huge parties we used to hold when we were students, like a throwback to a time when everything was simpler. So much has changed in three years.

  “Hey dude,” Davey says as I enter the kitchen. He seems to be the only other person who's awake right now, and he's cooking fried eggs. “Hungry?”

  “You're still up?” I ask, genuinely surprised.

  “You know me, I like to motor through the hangover. Sleep's the enemy.”

  I head over to the fridge and grab some milk, but after a moment my attention is caught by the screen of his laptop. I see pictures of fire engines and police cars in a forest, and my blood runs cold as I realize that the scene looks very familiar.

  “Oh yeah,” Davey mutters, as he turns the eggs over, “there was this big fire last night out in the woods. They reckon someone tried to burn down the trees near the old church.”

  ***

  By the time I get out to what's left of the church, the gray morning sky has brightened a little, although the air remains cold and somehow the entire world still seems to be asleep.

  Stopping in my tracks just as I reach the edge of the burn-zone, I see that the church is exactly as I imagined it in those flashes last night. Just a few stone walls left standing without a roof, and what's left of a tower. Reaching the fence, I stop for a moment and look around, but all the police and fire crews are long gone. Police tape rings the scene, fluttering in a low morning breeze. According to news reports, the current belief is that someone tried to burn the old church down but eventually gave up, so I guess this scene isn't exactly a priority.