She lay on the stone floor of the secret room. The sighing wind had stopped, replaced by the birds singing their morning song. Maddy carefully stretched out her body, testing each limb to see if she was okay. She was freezing, shivering uncontrollably. Her teeth chattered and her throat and eyes ached. Gingerly she tried to sit, but as she pushed herself up she winced as a stabbing pain shot through her wrist and she came over all light-headed.
Maddy looked down at the source of the pain, viewing her wrist as if it was an alien entity that didn’t belong to her. She twisted it around to view the inner part and saw immediately what she had known she would find – two large messy puncture marks, with dried blood caked around them. She tasted bile in her throat and felt panic. She was weak and struggled to get to her feet. She leant on the crate and looked at him … at it. It looked like the same beautiful statue it had always been. It looked harmless.
Madison staggered to the bottom of the cellar steps, but her legs were too weak to fully support her and when she finally reached the steps, she had to sit to regain her strength. After a few minutes she crawled upwards, screwing up her face in pain every time she had to lean on her wrist, exhausted at the mere thought of trying to make it all the way to her bedroom. But she craved the warmth and softness of her duvet and so she moved at her snail’s pace, inch by inch, through the kitchen, along the hallway, up the creaking wooden stairway, along the landing and finally, blissfully, into her room and her large, warm bed.
She knew she should be thinking things, feeling things and doing things, but all she could manage was to close her eyes and sleep.
*
‘Do you think she needs to go to hospital?’
Ben’s voice sounded small and far away, but it gradually became louder and clearer.
‘It’s just … she’s been like this for ages now.’
‘Doctor said she’ll be fine. Exhausted from the fever. Needs to sleep it off.’ Esther’s voice cut through her brain like a cheese grater.
Maddy lay there, unmoving with her eyes closed. Something had happened to her, something bad. She didn’t want to remember, but her memory rebelled, flashing up unwanted images. She remembered crawling up to bed, and now Ben and Esther were here in her room. She moved her hand under the covers to feel her wrist – it was bandaged. They must have seen! She opened her eyes.
‘There you go, Ben,’ Esther said. ‘She’s awake. No need for hospitals.’
‘Maddy, how are you? We was so worried.’ Ben leant over his sister, examining her face for any further signs of illness.
Madison opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She mouthed the word water and Esther helped her to sit up, passed her a glass and helped her to drink.
‘You’ve been so ill, Mads. Talking in your sleep and everything. You’ve been asleep for three days. Three days! I mean, is that a record or something?’
Maddy tried to take it all in. Three days? It only felt like this morning that she had crawled out of the cellar … The cellar! She had left the cellar door open and the halogen light on. The entrance to the secret room was uncovered. Had Esther been down there and seen the room? Worse still, had she seen what was in there?
That statue was alive and dangerous. It hadn’t killed her, but she was sure it could easily have done so. She thought of all the times she had sat millimetres away from it and she shivered. But it had felt incredible when her wrist was in its mouth … No, don’t even go there.
‘… Maddy. Mads? Are you listening? I was just saying ...’
‘Leave her be now, Ben. She needs rest.’ Esther led Ben out of the room.
‘Sleeping again? She will be okay won’t she?’
Maddy tuned out and fell back into a deep dreamless sleep.
Chapter Eighteen
1881
*
Harold awoke in his tent. His throat burned and his head felt as though someone had sawed through it with a rusty blade. He opened his dry, swollen eyes and looked up, expecting to see Victoria. Then he remembered. Could it have happened? Please God, let it have been a nightmare.
Refet walked into the tent. The young guard sat cross-legged next to Harold and held a tin cup of water to his cracked lips.
‘Did it happen?’ Harold croaked, sipping at the deliciously cool liquid.
Refet nodded twice and lowered his eyes. ‘I am sorry.’
His wife was dead. She had been stolen from him. But his children … ‘Leonora! Freddie,’ Harold cried. He suddenly remembered the rest - what his children had become. He felt Refet’s hand on his shoulder. Thoughts came to him of the legend of the demons. But it was impossible.
He had to know where his children were. Did Refet know of their strange awakening? Or had they remained unconscious, their condition undetected?
‘We have put all bodies into wood ... uh how you call them?’
‘Wooden coffins,’ Harold said quietly.’
‘Yes, cor-fins.’ Refet lowered his eyes. ‘They all in first cave near the ground. You take home.’
Harold nodded and breathed a long sigh of relief. Refet did not realise all was not as it seemed. The dim light must have prevented the guards from seeing the changed nature of the children. They should all be safe below ground. He would go down and see if they still lived.
He hoped they were all risen from the dead and that he would be able to hold his dear wife once more. He tried to sit up, but to move his body, was to feel sharp needles piercing his skin and bones. He groaned with the shock of pain.
‘Stay, stay,’ Refet said. You must get well. You have been ill with fever.’
‘I must see my family,’ he wheezed.
‘They not go anywhere. You must stay. Rest.’
‘But you do not understand …’ Harold tried to sit up again, but this time he almost passed out.
‘I know you want see, but first you rest,’ Refet said. ‘You sleeping three days, but maybe you need more.’
‘Three days!’ Harold ignored the shards of pain in his head and pushed himself up. ‘But they need me, I must go to them!’ He tried to stand and instantly fainted.
Harold drifted in and out of consciousness for two more days before waking again in the middle of the night. This time, the pain was a dull ache throughout his body. Refet slept at the foot of his bed, his deep, regular breaths filling the tent. He was a good man, Harold thought as he pulled on a pair of crumpled breeches and crept past him.
He walked shakily to the ventilation shaft. Two guards sat at its mouth and he motioned to them to lower him down. They looked at each other with worried expressions, but Harold insisted and they eventually complied. The rope cut into his chest and he felt dizzy and sick. He forced himself to continue and not shout to the men to pull him back up. Once at the bottom he had to sit for a minute until he felt strong enough to stand.
The coffins lay in the small chamber. Eight of them. Harold guessed the three containing the guards’ bodies had already been transported back to their families, unless they too were changed.
He prised open the lid to the first one. In it lay the five-day-old corpse of his beloved Victoria. She was quite, quite dead and Harold felt the hot sweat of nausea sweep up from his gut to his scalp. He staggered over to the corner of the room and dry-retched. He did not vomit, but his body shuddered and heaved and his hands shook uncontrollably.
He pulled himself together and tried not to think of the body as anything to do with the vibrant, wonderful woman who used to be his wife. He replaced the lid and sat in the slimy darkness. All hope of being reunited with his beloved was gone forever. He had lost her. But he could not afford to give into his misery now. He had to check if there was still a possibility his children were … if they were … alive?
Harold got to his feet and opened the next box, preparing himself for another awful sight. In it, he saw Alexandre. But this was Alexandre as he had never seen him before and not in a stomach-churning, decaying-corpse way. Before he died, Alexandre had undoubte
dly been a handsome youth, but now … now he appeared almost luminescent in his beauty. Pale and flawless.
Harold was transfixed. He nervously put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and tried to shake him awake, but his body felt rigid and hard, like stone. Alexandre did not move a millimetre. He did not even appear to be breathing. There was no doubt then. Something supernatural had occurred and the only explanation was that he had become one of the demons. But surely these kind vibrant children could not have become demonic.
‘My children,’ he whispered. ‘Are you too like this?’
He set about opening each of the coffins. Marie-Louise and Didier were undoubtedly as dead as his wife, but all five children were transformed into these amazing sculpted creatures. None of them woke or twitched a muscle. Harold desperately tried to shake Leonora awake, but she would not rouse.
He fumbled around for a sharp stone and dragged it across his fingertip. His blood dripped onto his daughter’s lips, but still she did not stir.
He finally replaced the lids and called up to the guards to lift him out of the cavern.
Later that morning, after sleeping a while longer, Harold awoke, washed and dressed. Refet smiled to see the Englishman up and about. Over the past few days he had made it his duty to ensure he was cared for properly and had whatever he needed.
‘Refet,’ Harold said as they ate lunch together. ‘I do not believe I have thanked you properly for your part in what happened the other night. I would surely be dead, if not for you. Thank you. I am in your debt.’
‘You are welcome,’ Refet said. ‘But I did nothing.’
‘No, you are too modest. You are a brave man of excellent character and I know Isik would have been proud of you.’
‘He was like father to me,’ Refet said. ‘I still not know what happened down there.’
‘Did you not then discover anything of what occurred that night?’
‘No one want look there. Too frightened. They say … the blood demons.’
‘Do you know of this legend?’
‘I did not know the full story which Bayan Sahin told. But everyone here has always known of the legend of these creatures.
‘What did they do?’
‘They killed people. They evil.’
‘Did they ever transform people? Make people like them?’
‘Yes. They change some. Maybe to make bigger numbers of their kind. Why you ask? You think demons kill you family?’
‘Maybe.’
‘I too think maybe.’
Harold looked at Refet, trying to work out how much to tell him. He decided to stay silent on the matter for the time being,
‘I thank you for the part you played, my friend.’ Harold repeated. ‘I thank you from the depths of my soul.’
‘You too are my friend,’ Refet said, putting his clenched fist to his heart and clasping Harold’s arm. ‘I wish could take your sorrow and throw in river.’
‘Yes, that would be good,’ Harold replied. ‘But I am afraid no river will ever wash away this pain.’
*
Before leaving Turkey, Harold approached Refet with a request.
‘Refet, my friend, please do not feel obliged to say yes, but I have a proposition for you.’
The young guard listened.
‘I may need some help on my journey back to England and then, once home, I will have need of a trusted employee to help me with something most sensitive and secret. I should like to offer you a job, for life, with me in England.’
Refet said nothing, but waited for Harold to continue.
‘I have a large, beautiful house and there is another decent-sized property on the edge of my land that you could have as your own.’
Refet waited, but then when it was clear Harold had finished talking, he spoke.
‘This sounds like good … chance for young man like me, but forgive me, Harold, Sir, I not think you tell me whole truth. You must tell me what secret you hide.’
‘Yes, Refet, you are right. I have not told you everything, for in truth I do not know how you will react to this news and I need to know I can trust you not to betray my family. Do not take that as an insult, for I know you are a trustworthy man. It is just ... well ... what I am about to tell you may cause us to disagree.’
‘I not understand. But I never betray you. You have my word.’
‘Even if what I tell you is so shocking your first instinct is to do just that.’
‘I try to, how you say? Think, before do anything. But I worry now. Why you not just tell me?’
‘Yes, I will tell you. I will tell you.’ Harold said, but then he hesitated. If he told Refet about the children, he had to be sure he would not try to destroy them. He knew they may be potential killers and once he had taken them from the underground caverns, they could be a threat to anyone. He did not know if their human character had changed. But he also knew that, killers or no killers, he would lay down his own life to protect them.
Refet waited for Harold to decide whether or not he trusted him enough to share his secret.
‘My children are not dead,’ Harold finally said. ‘Come with me and I will show you.’
Refet said nothing but followed him down into the dark ventilation shaft to the coffins. Harold opened one of them and on viewing its contents Refet appeared more shocked and horrified than if he had been looking at a stinking, rotting corpse. He found himself staring down at Alexandre who was monstrously, supernaturally beautiful.
‘What is this?’ Refet whispered.
‘Do not worry,’ Harold clasped his shoulders. ‘He will not harm you. He has been changed but he does not stir. See? He is still.’
Refet backed away and took hold of the rope. He said something in his native language and then switched to English. ‘We not safe. I know they were you family, but they gone. These ... someone else. Not same as you family or friends.’
‘Please, Refet. Wait. They may have changed but they will always be my children and I need your trust and your help. Will you help me? My offer still stands. We can try to puzzle this out together.’
‘I go up now. We not safe down here.’ Refet shinned up the rope and pulled Harold up after him.
Harold gave Refet space to think about his proposal. He prayed he would not tell the other guards or try to harm the children, but he did not think he was the sort to do anything rash.
That night, Refet came to Harold and agreed to help him. But Harold knew it was more from a desire to keep an eye on them, than to actually protect them from danger or from being discovered.
‘I will come with you. I feel it my duty. If they do something wrong I must stop them. You understand this?’
‘Yes, Refet,’ Harold understood. ‘That is acceptable.’
*
A few days later, Harold had recovered enough to make the long journey home to England. They loaded up the carts and Harold ensured the coffins were sealed up tight. He did not know for certain if daylight was harmful to them but, according to the legend, the ancient demons had not come out during the day and he did not want to take any chances with his children’s safety. He covered the wagons over with thick sheets.
Once packed and ready to leave, he and Refet sent all the workers back to their homes with their wages and his thanks. Then Harold sent the convoy of coffins on its way to the Port of Smyrna, complete with four armed guards. He and Refet would catch them up later that day or the next, on horseback.
Soon, the sound of creaking wheels and the sight of swirling dust clouds faded into the distance. Harold and Refet could delay no longer. They knew what they had to do.
‘Are you absolutely sure you are alright to do this?’ Harold asked Refet.
‘It must be done.’
‘Very well. But you must be quick getting out of there. Are you a strong enough swimmer?’
‘I excellent swimmer.’
‘Good. So we will do it at twelve o’clock on the dot.’
‘I go now.’
&n
bsp; ‘Good luck, Refet. I shall see you later.’
‘God willing.’ Refet mounted his horse, dug his heels into its flanks and the sleek grey mare took off at a fast gallop.
Harold watched Refet disappear into the rocky blue horizon. He was alone for the first time in weeks. Alone, completely and utterly, in every sense of the word. He sat at the top of the shaft and wept. He cried for his family, for his wife and his children and, strangely, he cried for his long-dead parents. What he wouldn’t give to be able to sink his head into his mother’s chest and weep like a little boy, to be comforted as only a mother knows how to comfort. But this was all useless wishing. He was alone and had to make the best of it. He had no other choice.
He stood up, wiped his tears and shook himself briskly, fanning his face with his hat and clearing his throat self-consciously, even though there was nobody there to witness his breakdown. He wandered around the deserted site trying not to think about anything in particular, counting down the minutes until he had to do what was required.
When it was nearly time he climbed down the rope, hand-over-hand, until he reached the cool dark chamber. He thought back to the first time he had been here, to when his family and friends had been alive, excited and happy, on the verge of a great discovery. Now it was all in ruins. They were either dead or changed forever and he and Refet were about to ensure that nobody would ever again be able to stumble across the most amazing archaeological find of the century.
He felt cold now that the heat of the sun had left his skin. He rubbed the sleeves of his jacket against his goose-fleshed arms and checked his pocket watch again – a quarter to eleven. Not long now. He had better get started.
*
Refet reached the river a little earlier than anticipated. It was good they were going to do this. It was the only thing they could do, for what had happened could never be allowed to happen again. The legends were a warning and if they had ignored it, then others too might ignore it in the future and suffer the fatal consequences.
He tethered his horse under a willow tree and prepared himself for the dive. He took off his tunic, tied a small wooden box around his waist and said a quick prayer to ask that all would go smoothly. Then he lowered his body into the cold river and headed towards the twin peaks of the fairy chimneys which jutted out of the frothing water. He reached the nearest peak and held on while he got his breath back. Then, when he felt ready, he took a huge breath and dived.