The Cross

Chapter Sixteen

The morning was crisp and bright as Dec sped westwards in the Audi banger, but it wasn’t the sunshine that was putting a broad grin on his face as he drove. Glancing at the shiny new laptop on the passenger seat next to him, he instinctively reached out and patted it like a faithful dog.

The reply from Errol Knightly had arrived just after seven o’clock that morning.

Hello Dec,

Thank you so much for your fascinating message. I certainly would like to meet up with you to discuss these enormously important matters. I’ve just returned from my national book-signing tour and am now back at my home, Bal Mawr Manor, in west Wales. Why don’t you come and see me a.s.a.p.? We have a lot to talk about.

Yours, Errol T. Knightly

Dec had jumped straight into his banger and burned rubber — inasmuch as the Audi could burn rubber — all the way out of Wallingford. Four hours later, and just about as far west as you could get before dropping into the sea, he saw the first sign for Newgale, Pembrokeshire, and his heart began to thump all over again at the prospect of meeting up with a real vampire hunter.

Him and Errol Knightly. What a team they were going to make. Dec was so excited about it that when the radio news came on, with one of its top items the growing concern over the apparent disappearance of MP Jeremy Lonsdale, he was too lost in his thoughts to even notice.

It wasn’t much longer before he arrived at Bal Mawr Manor, nestled among the rolling hills of the wild Pembrokeshire coastline. As he goaded the protesting Audi up a long hill, the glittering sea to his left, his first sighting of the place was the spectacle of four tall towers, circled by clouds of seabirds and silhouetted against the sun; beyond them was the greyly glittering Irish sea.

‘Looks like a frigging castle,’ he muttered to himself. The Audi managed to drag itself over the crest of the hill and the building came more fully into view. Dec let out a low whistle. The manor house was an arresting sight, perched on the cliffside overlooking an immense sweep of white beach. The nearest neighbours were farms dotted here and there against the green hills. A scattering of buildings in the far distance was all that remotely resembled a town anywhere within sight.

Dec drank it all in with a sense of awe as he approached the tall gates of the manor and found himself on a thickly tree-lined private road that stretched on for ages. Just as he was beginning to think he’d taken a wrong turning, the trees opened up and the road ended abruptly at a barrier. Beyond it was a ten-foot drop to a wide expanse of water that Dec realised with amazement was a moat surrounding the entire manor house.

On one of the barrier’s high pillars was a small black box that he knew from movies to be an intercom system.

He wound down his window, pressed a button, and a moment later a crackling voice from the speaker asked him who he was. Dec stammered out his name.

For a minute, nothing happened; Dec sat in the car gazing at the incredible dwelling across the water. The place was at least five times bigger than the whole of Lavender Close put together. What he’d at first taken to be ivy growing up the manor’s walls was actually a climbing sprawl of thorn bushes. Black shapes in the still waters of the moat were the half-submerged blades of two huge paddle wheels. Above the water, the massive closed wooden gate wasn’t a door, but a drawbridge, held up by enormous iron chains. Either side of it were gleaming metal crosses three yards high.

A sudden wave of self-doubt washed over Dec as he sat there, bewildered by the spectacle. What was a poor stupid kid like him doing, thinking he could get involved with something on this scale?

But then, just as the impulse gripped him to turn the car around and head for home, the drawbridge began to descend over the moat, lowered on its chains by some hidden mechanism behind the walls to reveal a huge stone archway and the courtyard beyond.

Dec gaped. The drawbridge touched down. The barrier rose. The crackling voice on the intercom informed him that he could enter. Dec swallowed hard and drove the Audi over the moat and into Bal Mawr. As he pulled up inside the courtyard, the drawbridge was already closing behind him.

Dec got out of the car. The same thorny growth covered all the walls. In one corner, a long carport housed a cherry-red Porsche 959 and a big dark blue Bentley. The Bentley had a puddle of oil under its sump.

An iron-studded door flew open and a big, beefy figure that Dec instantly recognised as Errol Knightly came striding confidently out to meet him. The Man Himself extended his hand warmly. ‘It’s a delight to meet you, my boy.’

‘I’m almost eighteen,’ Dec said as his hand was crushed in Knightly’s grip.

‘Of course. Come in, come in. Welcome to my humble abode. Sorry to have kept you waiting. The drawbridge is a little slow, but entirely necessary. As I’m sure you’re aware, the creatures of the night daren’t cross running water. I have the moat blessed by the local priest every Tuesday and those paddle wheels are activated from dusk till dawn to keep the current flowing. Can’t be too careful.’ Knightly pointed up at the walls. ‘See those thorns? Specially imported from Transylvania. Vampires can’t abide the sight of them.’

Dec couldn’t find much to say as Knightly led him inside the biggest hallway he’d ever seen. It made the entrance of Gabriel Stone’s mansion, Crowmoor Hall, look like a hovel. Huge iron candlesticks around the walls gave the place a medieval air. Dec’s nostrils twitched at a strange, sharp odour. Knightly noticed his expression, and boomed with laughter. ‘We burn incense in every room, twenty-four hours a day. For cleansing and protection. Vampires loathe the smell.’

Can’t say I blame them, Dec thought, trying not to breathe the stinging smoke as he followed Knightly through a doorway.

‘As you can see,’ Knightly said, ‘we’re well protected here. I only leave the place when absolutely necessary.’

‘That’d be when you go off on your travels to hunt down vampires? All over the world, like?’ Dec asked eagerly.

‘Yes, yes, to go off and hunt vampires.’ Knightly smiled broadly. ‘Let’s talk in the library. I’ll have Griffin bring us refreshments.’

Dec gaped in wonder as they entered a gigantic wood-panelled room with bookcases twenty feet high.

‘Sherry?’ Knightly asked.

Dec had never tasted sherry. ‘Um, got a beer?’

Knightly frowned, then smiled. ‘Beer it is.’ He tugged at an ornate sash that hung down the wall. Instants later a wizened, stooped little man who could have been any age between sixty and a hundred appeared in the doorway.

‘Griffin, this young gentleman would like a pitcher of whatever finest ale we have in stock. Just the usual for me.’

‘Right then,’ Griffin said. The crackling voice hadn’t been the fault of the intercom.

‘Griffin is my faithful manservant,’ Knightly boomed, clapping Dec on the back. ‘He’s been with my family for many years. Griffin, this intrepid young fellow wishes to join us in our crusade against the Undead.’

‘Aye,’ Griffin crackled sullenly, and shuffled off.

‘Now,’ Knightly said, rubbing his hands. ‘To business.’