The Cross

Chapter Fifty-Five

The Swiss Alps, north-east of Zermatt

Baxter Burnett had bought the luxurious, rambling three-floored chalet, perched high over the mountain valley, from an Austrian industrialist billionaire who’d used it as a hunting lodge. Taking pot-shots at curly-horned wild goats in a blizzard had never been Baxter’s idea of fun; whereas entertaining two or three star-struck wannabe actresses at once by a crackling log fire was much more in his line, and with a little imagination and a lot of hard cash he’d transformed the place into a perfect haven of hedonism and debauchery. Gabriel Stone was unimpressed by the movie star’s lamentable taste in art, and even more so by the tubes of Solazal he found in the bedside drawer and promptly tossed in the fire — but the chalet would do very nicely for a few weeks, as a base from which to celebrate the success of his mission.

It was eight thirty and the night was cold. Standing on the balcony overlooking the valley, Gabriel breathed in the crisp mountain air and looked out across the stillness at the twinkling lights of towns and villages in the distance. The heavy snow had come early that year, capping the tops of the pine forest. Stars were shining in their millions; the Milky Way laid a luminous wash across the whole white landscape.

Far below, a vehicle was tracking its way slowly along the winding valley road. Gabriel watched its progress like an eagle surveying its prey. He imagined the humans sitting inside, cradled in the warm blast of their heater, listening to their music, completely oblivious of the predator’s eye on them from high above. Nobody out here in the snowy wilderness would have heard their cries for help. And they would never know how lucky they were to have reached their destination that night.

As Gabriel watched the vehicle disappear behind the trees, a pair of willowy arms encircled him from behind and Kali’s tousled black hair nestled against his shoulder.

‘Hmmmm,’ she sighed happily. ‘It’s so good to be here, just the two of us. Like old times.’ She kissed his ear. ‘Do you remember the old days, Gabriel, sweet?’

‘With as much fond pleasure as I look forward to the glorious times yet to come,’ Gabriel said, stroking her hair. ‘Get dressed, Kali. The hunting hour is here.’

Access to Baxter Burnett’s top-of-the-range cable car was from a custom-designed boarding station on the ground floor of the chalet. Through its grand expanse of glass, the cable car offered a 360-degree view of the valley below and the stars above. Its smooth cable system glided it downwards, suspended high over the snow and the trees, to the landing station at the bottom, where a gated private lane led to the winding valley road. Waiting for them there, its black body-work gleaming under the stars, was the brand-new Ferrari Enzo that Gabriel had had delivered earlier that day, the funds wired the night before to the dealership in Geneva from the numbered account in Zurich that his late, much-missed ghoul, Seymour Finch, had opened for him.

‘This is a pretty little toy you’ve bought yourself,’ Kali said as he held open the passenger door for her. Grinning boyishly, Gabriel leaped behind the wheel and fired up the engine. The blast of the twin exhausts melted the snow, the tyres spun against the road and the Ferrari took off like a missile.

‘Some aspects of the modern world suit you well, Gabriel,’ Kali said, leaning back in her seat and noticing his obvious enjoyment as he threw the car into tight bends at 125 miles an hour.

‘I will admit that it offers certain pleasurable distractions that we could once only have dreamed of.’ He glanced at her and saw her broad smile. ‘What amuses you?’

‘I was remembering the look on that poor fool Baxter Burnett’s face when you told him how much of his money you were going to take.’

‘What of it?’ he asked innocently.

She laughed. ‘Oh come on. Don’t you think it was just a tiny little bit mean of you, pretending that you were running low on funds? With all the gold and diamonds a vampire could wish for, and all those millions you have stored in the human banks?’

Gabriel powered the Ferrari hard out of a bend and the engine note soared like a racing car’s as he accelerated down a long straight. ‘You know as well as I do, Kali my dear, that a lifestyle such as ours requires a great deal of forward planning. I have no intention of spending all eternity as a pauper.’

Arriving at a small town twenty miles or so further on, the Ferrari prowled the streets in search of likely victims. ‘There’s a charming little Bierkeller,’ Kali said, pointing. ‘Let’s scout it.’

Gabriel parked around the back of the place and showed Kali inside, down a spiral of metal steps leading down to a busy traditional Swiss beer cellar. Gabriel ordered a bottle of the best champagne, and at their little corner table they clinked a toast and sat surveying the humans in the place. Discussing the hors d’oeuvres menu for the evening was almost as much fun as the actual feeding.

‘What about those two?’ Kali said, pointing with the rim of her glass at a handholding couple a few tables away.

‘Possibly, possibly. The female is somewhat rachitic, of the unhealthy thin-blooded type. Most likely vegetarian. I would tend to favour the hale and hearty specimen over there,’ he added, pointing at the fleshier of two men sitting near the bar.

One or two faces turned towards the stairs as a din of tramping footsteps announced the invasion of the beer cellar by a boorish troop of young males in their twenties. From the beery smell they brought with them, it was obvious this wasn’t the first establishment they’d inflicted themselves on that night.

‘British tourists,’ Kali said, rolling her eyes. ‘God help us.

‘ The seven young men piled around a table in the middle of the room and hollered for drinks. Within minutes their raucous laughter, crude banter and constant blaring of mobile ringtones made it all but impossible for anyone else around them to have a conversation. When the landlord went over to their table to ask them politely to keep the noise down, he was sent away with jeers and threats.

‘Is there no escape from vulgarity?’ Gabriel said. ‘Come, let us pursue our activities elsewhere. I find this environment oppressive.’ He and Kali finished their champagne and got up to leave. As they passed the rowdy table, one of the yobs twisted round in his chair to ogle Kali and lick his lips. His overfed pal next to him, sporting a roast-beef complexion and a neck like a bullock’s, grinned up at Gabriel and called out, ‘Hey, mate, what’s the matter — couldn’t you get a white one?’ They all burst out laughing, elbowing each other and raising their beer glasses.

Gabriel stopped and peered down at him. ‘This is Kali,’ he said. ‘Named after the Hindu goddess of death and destruction. I would advise caution. This Kali makes the original appear like Mother Teresa of Calcutta by comparison.’

‘What the fuck’s he on about?’ the yob asked his pals.

‘Woooo, I’m really scared,’ another one said in a mock-frightened voice.

Kali tugged at Gabriel’s sleeve. ‘Let’s go.’

It was twenty minutes later when the landlord finally managed to turf the rowdy crew out of his establishment. The street outside echoed with obscenities as the tourists staggered away in search of another bar. The large beefy member of the gang broke away from them for a moment to lurch a few steps up a dark alleyway near the Bierkeller and urinate against the wall. As he did up his flies, he let out a loud belch and was about to lumber off to rejoin his friends when a force that felt like a steel cable jerked him backwards off his feet and dragged him into the shadows of the alleyway.

By the time his companions missed him, his pallid, bloodless remains were already beginning to freeze at the bottom of three different rubbish bins and a recycling skip.

For Gabriel and Kali, the night had only just begun.