Mauve (A Very British Witch Book 3) Read online

  “Oh yes, thanks for bringing that up, Karl. I was just coming to that. So, does anyone have any brilliant ideas?”

  Tarquin glanced at everyone, before returning to Scarlett and winking.

  Scarlett smiled at Tim. “Yes, I err… ”

  “You got an idea, Scarlett?”

  “Yes. I discussed it with Tim and well, he’s agreed to help us out.”

  Tarquin smiled at Scarlett, looked down and mouthed, “Well done.”

  “Is this right, Tim? Well done and thanks. I always had you down as a decent fellow.”

  Tim swallowed a leftover crumb of Tabitha’s snack.

  Scarlett continued, “It’s just that Tim is going to get into trouble, because it’s his badge that’s going to be logged in and out. Even if he’s not there, they’ll know he was involved in some way.”

  Tarquin frowned. “This right, Tim?”

  “Unfortunately so, yes.”

  “Well we’ll just have to find a workaround then, won’t we?”

  Tabitha raised her hand. “Tarquin?”

  He looked at her over his shoulder. “Yes, Tabitha? You’ve been very quiet back there, glad you’ve decided to speak up.”

  “I don’t think it’s fair to drag Tim into this and risk putting him into trouble.”

  Everyone nodded and mumbled their agreement.

  “So, Tim, is there anyone else’s badge we could use? Could you take it when they’re off guard?”

  Tim furrowed his brow, in the manner that people do when they’re not sure about something. “Well—” His eyes widened as if struck by a sudden revelation. “Of course, I know just the person.”

  Karl sighed. “Well come on then, Tim, do enlighten us and for God’s sake, get on with it!”

  Tim flashed Karl a grin and shook his head at Scarlett. “Well, there is someone in the base, he’s a right nasty piece of work. Honestly, the way he treats the specimens—as he calls them—like they are nothing. He authorizes and actively encourages torture, mistreatment, unethical experiments, the works. It’s nothing short of barbaric.”

  Tarquin gasped. “What about the person in charge? Does he know about this?”

  “He is the person in charge of the project. Despite Gregory, my CO, being head of the base, he doesn’t have much control over the project itself, or the sadist running it. Wing Commander Simon Moseley is his name.”

  Karl chipped in. “Sounds like the perfect person to lay the blame on.”

  Tim fought to stifle his laugh before continuing. “And what’s more, he’d be the one investigating the break-in. It’ll be his head on the chopping block, so he’d have no stone left unturned. So, if it’s his card he won’t be quite as obsessive about getting to the truth. The last thing he’d want is to be a suspect himself.”

  “A monster like that, he might end up in a cage like his specimens,” Tabitha contributed, from behind Tarquin, “and poetic justice will be served.”

  Everyone clapped and nodded their approval.

  Tarquin was still grinning when he resumed center stage. “Thank you, Tabitha, for that. So, everyone, let's devise a plan of action.

  “Tim—you’ll get your hands on Moseley’s security card, then leave the premises, just like you’re heading home as you do every day.”

  Tim nodded. “Okay.”

  “Then Scarlett—can you meet Tim out on the road?”

  Scarlett nodded. “Sure.”

  “Then, whilst you’re doing that, Tabitha and I will get to work on the spell.”

  Tim had a question. “Spell? Can you just explain to me what this spell will actually do? Think I must have missed that bit.”

  “Oh, certainly.” He glanced at Tabitha. “Over to you, old friend.”

  “The spell, yes, okay. We’re going to cast a spell that will allow Scarlett and Tim to walk through the building unchallenged. We’re going to give people a kind of blind spot… and we’re adding a special little twist to it, to cloak you from the cameras as well.”

  Tim looked intrigued. “Tell me more, Tabitha. What kind of a blind spot?”

  “The spell will both hide you from the cameras and make you invisible to all the base personnel, at least anyone that isn’t supernaturally predisposed… we need to make sure Ronnie can see you, after all. But not only that, it will play games with everyone’s memories, other than yours, of course. It will be like Ronnie had never been there to begin with.”

  Tarquin turned around to look at her. “But, I must point out, just in case you’re not aware old friend, that messing around with people’s memories comes with consequences. Consequences that could have a resounding effect on the way they see the world and in turn, their personalities. People are bound to get suspicious.”

  Tabitha smiled. “Yes Tarquin, I’m well aware of that, old friend, but it’s a chance we’ll have to take. We’ll just have to cross that particular bridge when we come to it.”

  Scarlett listened in silence as Tarquin continued.

  “So, Tim and Scarlett will just walk in together while Tabitha and I cast the spell.”

  Karl came to life. “And where are you going to cast the aforementioned spell?”

  “In the car.”

  “What you’re just going to drive to the base and sit outside doing your stuff, unnoticed?”

  “No, but we will have to get as close as possible. Maybe in a lay-by or something or we could veer off the road into a field. Wherever we end up, we can’t get discovered; you’re completely right about that, Karl. Because if we are then, not only will the entire operation be in jeopardy, but Scarlett and Tim will be seen and most likely arrested. That answer your question, Karl?”

  Karl nodded and folded his arms.

  This time, it was Scarlett that had a question. “So, we’re going to enter the facility using Moseley’s card, which Tim will have taken, right? So what happens when Moseley notices his card is gone?”

  “I’m going to have to exchange it with mine, then switch them back when we’re done,” Tim explained. “Their only thing that distinguishes his card from mine is the serial number, which I’m hoping he won’t notice.”

  Tarquin nodded.

  “But what then? What do we do, exactly?”

  “Good question. Tim, do you know where Ronnie is being kept?”

  “Yes. He is, or is likely to be, down in the basement lab. It’s not usually a place I’d want to go to with a lady, but on this occasion—needs must and all that.”

  “Excellent. So, Tim, if you could take Scarlett, down to the basement lab, do you think you could break him out? Do you have the means to do that?”

  “Moseley’s badge will give me the means. Yeah, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “And I assume that from the basement, you’ll be able to get him out quickly? You must know the place like the back of your hand by now.”

  Tim sighed. “Yeah, no problem. I go there every day.”

  “Well then, that’s absolutely fantastic.” Tarquin stepped back and smiled at everyone. “Ladies and gentlemen, this meeting is adjourned. Good luck to you all.”

  +++

  M40, coming into Coventry

  “Oh come on, will you. Look, he’s moving!” Cliff called out of his window to the rear of the car in front. Motorways always made him cranky. True, there were no annoying kids, old folk taking forever to cross the road or music blaring out from nearby cars at traffic lights, but at least the normal roads didn’t drive him insane with boredom.

  It was just plain sailing for miles, with absolutely nothing to do or think about and then it hits you. First the warning lights then the signs, then the cars in front start slowing down. Before you know it, the local radio is warning of delays and you’re stuck in a damn queue that goes back as far as the eye can see.

  The car in front moved about ten feet forward then came to another standstill. “Oh, I don’t believe this!”

  Through the windscreen, the sky had turned a gray-blue color. It wouldn’t be long before
the blue started to fade and turn to twilight.

  In England, at certain times of the year, a sky of this color meant only one thing to a traveller—the dreaded rush hour. A time when completely sane, rational people turn into serial killers, shouting, snarling, shaking their fists and making all kinds of threats in the deadlock that stopped them getting home and making the most of their evening.

  It was the same in the mornings too. Everyone was in a foul mood because they wanted to make an early start, so they could leave early and so avoid the evening rush hour.

  Coventry was not a place he’d go to by choice. Known only for Lady Godiva, its car industry and its football team’s 1987 FA cup win over Spurs, it could hardly be described as the pulse of the country, or anything else come to think of it.

  But then did anyone actually want to go to Coventry, apart from the people that lived there? For Cliff, there was no choice. Having agreed to meet the orderly at Coventry University Hospital, he had more reason than most to be eager to get there.

  As arranged the previous day, he was on his way to acquire a much-needed supply of blood. As loathsome as the place was, it meant he wouldn’t be drinking pigs’ blood or taking tinctures, which came as a huge relief. In short, it was a price well worth paying and despite everything, he was feeling relatively happy. As happy as a vampire on the crave for blood could be, anyway.

  He glanced through the windscreen at the darkening sky. If he didn’t get there soon, if the blasted traffic didn’t start to move, he’d have to find alternative means of obtaining blood. And in a town that wasn’t exactly renowned for its wildlife, he’d have no alternative but to ambush a poor, unsuspecting person.

  He took another look at the sky and a shot of panic crossed his face.

  An engine, right at the front of the queue, fired up, rumbled, then whined as the car shot away. The car behind followed suit, as did the car behind that. A minute or so later, the car in front of Cliff departed, leaving him with a clear run at last.

  Foot pressed to the floor, the traffic signs, flyovers and turnoffs rushed towards him as the deafening wind beat against the side of his face through the tiny opening at the top of the window. The cars in front slowed and one by one, turned off the motorway. Once Cliff was finally on the regular road, he felt a momentary stream of relief before taking another glance at the sky.

  The car roared along the road, only just avoiding a head-on collision on more than one occasion. It was only once the hospital came into view that he felt able to relax and clear his head. His reflexes were never as sharp when he hadn’t been on human blood, and he should have known he had to be more careful.

  The indicator ticked and Cliff turned through the hospital gates, only to find a minibus blocking his path. Waiting patiently for it to move, he got to thinking about Ronnie. Maybe all this wouldn’t have happened if he had been there to help the other night.

  He felt determined that tonight would be a different story. He glanced at the clock on the panel above the dashboard. All being well, he should be back in Bicester by the early hours of the following morning, so, if he was lucky, he should have just enough time.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  University Hospital Coventry & Warwickshire, Clifford Bridge Road, Coventry, UK

  Okay, so he’d got it a bit wrong about Coventry. He didn’t go there all that often, so the only images he had were of roads, houses, and a shopping district.

  The hospital, however, was in entirely different surroundings. True, the surrounding area was a maze of roads without a tree in sight, but as soon as Cliff turned down the road leading up to the hospital, a whole lot of green came into view in the distance. Probably man-made green, but green all the same and today it was actually pleasant.

  Typically, approaching the gates to the vast car park, he hit a queue. The twilight sky was in the process of converting to dusk and he could just about make out the outline of the moon. It was getting late and he hadn’t had a ration of blood for several hours now. It was no wonder he was feeling light-headed and irritable.

  As the car in front started to inch forwards, he imagined taking a drink of the cool blood later on and felt a tingle as he imagined a river of color gushing into him. It had been a long and frustrating few months, but hopefully, it would soon be over.

  Coventry University Hospital had a distinctive exterior. A tree-lined road from the gates bisected the car park, leading to the circular entrance to the main reception. And needless to say, it had one of those revolving doors that everyone hates, with few exceptions.

  On this occasion though, none of that seemed to matter to Cliff as he grabbed the internal mail envelope from the passenger seat, got out and banged shut his car door. Tucking the envelope under his arm he set off on the short journey along the path to the reception. He’d decided to look on the positive side, and told himself that in just a couple of hours, he’d be fully replenished. He’d have all his strength back and he’d be on the way back to Bicester to help a friend in need.

  “Good evening,” he said to an elderly lady as they passed.

  The revolving doors welcomed him in without a hitch. Taking the time to smile at the receptionist, who looked back at him with a puzzled expression, he went straight on to the cafeteria. He was half way along the corridor when he caught sight of the sky through the window. The moon was highly prominent now, the blue sky all but consumed by rays of reds and oranges. He didn’t have long.

  A porter, wheeling a bed approached. “Excuse me, sir, are you okay?”

  “What? Oh yes, I’m fine thanks.”

  “You here visiting someone?”

  “Yes. Damn traffic. Made me late.”

  “Oh well not to worry. Visiting hours don’t start for another twenty minutes. Why don’t you go into the cafeteria and grab a coffee? You look like you could do with it.”

  “Oh, thank you, I will.”

  He stood with his back to the wall to let the porter pass before continuing along the corridor. He was on his way to the café to begin with and if the damned porter hadn’t stopped him to tell him to go to the cafeteria, he’d be there by now. He looked on at a group that had just joined the back of the queue. And I’d be in front of them.

  Five minutes later, he was sitting at a quiet table, sipping coffee, legs fully extended. For some reason, the place didn’t feel so hectic as it had the night before. The drive there had also been plain sailing in comparison to yesterday’s too. He had good reason to believe it was all going to pass without a hitch.

  “Evening,” the orderly said, sitting down on the chair opposite, and placing a black bag by his foot. He seemed almost like a different person than Cliff had met with yesterday. It was like he had been on previous occasions: full of life, present, aware.

  Cliff found that he was relieved that his affect on the orderly wasn’t manifesting any by-products now.

  “I have what you asked for,” the orderly told him. “Bear with me.” Just as he bent down to open the case, a teenager walked in and began blaring music from his phone.

  Boom, Boom. Bloody inconsiderate little— Boom. Boom. The music turned staccato, just a collection of words and sounds, not a melody in sight.

  The orderly looked up. “Here are you feeling okay? You don’t look well.”

  A wave of panic rushed around in his head. “Yes. I will be soon.”

  The orderly rezipped the bag and pushed it under the table with his foot. “I trust you will find this to your satisfaction.”

  Cliff felt the bag up against his foot and leg. He checked around to make sure that no one was watching, and then he pushed the envelope he’d brought in with him, in plain sight, across the table. “I’m sure I will,” he responded.

  A warm wave washed over him and everything felt okay again.

  “Thank you, sir. I trust this concludes the business at hand?”

  Cliff nodded, smiled and pushed his chair back. “It does indeed. I’ll see you in a month,” he added. Then, he picked up the ba
g and strode confidently towards the door.

  +++

  Cliff turned out of the hospital grounds, took a right and headed down the dual carriageway. Wanting to find somewhere more private to drink he slowed, looking for a road to turn into. He found one, and realizing it was a residential estate he looked for somewhere away from the houses to pull up.

  After driving around a few roads he found a green and a park. He pulled up alongside it and killed the headlights. Through the windscreen he saw an abandoned set of swings, a roundabout and a seesaw. Beyond them was a small stretch of grass, stretching all the way back to a row of houses that flickered in the distance.

  Confident he was in a suitably private location, he opened the cool bag and extracted a packet of blood. Holding it up to his mouth, he raised his chin and took a sip. The cool blood refreshed every single part of his body, like an ice cube on a summer’s day.

  A bolt of electricity shot through his veins. His muscles tensed, he sat up straight. He felt like he had grown ten feet tall. He was invincible. No one was going to stand in his way. And when he got back he was going to rescue Ronnie.

  He took another sip.

  Shaking his head from side to side, he stared through the window, ran his fingers down the packet. Another sip and his torso flinched, started twisting, writhing around. Eyes wide, grinning, he took another sip and another, then a long gulp.

  Only then did he remember a conversation weeks ago with Karl. Karl had told him anecdotes about some vamps having a reaction after being on a restricted diet of blood, once they started feeding normally again. He’d recommended slow reintroduction to full feeding.

  Cliff felt his palms get sweaty. His head started pulsing. A panic rose in his chest as he felt his heart-rate increase. He glanced out at the houses on the other side of the field.

  He felt primal. Animal-like. His demonic nature welled within him, urging him to cover the distance between here and the beating hearts pumping fresh blood through the bodies there in the houses.

  He exuded a low growl and licked his lips.