Will Hill - Darkest Night

“Sir?” asked the Security Officer.

“I’m here, Captain Darcy,” he replied. “What is it?”

“I need you to go online, sir. Right now.”

Turner frowned, and opened a browser window. “What site?” he asked.

“Any of them, sir,” said Angela.

The Director’s frown deepened. “Stay on the line,” he said, and typed the address for BBC News into the search bar. The site loaded, and a thick black BREAKING NEWS headline filled the screen, twelve words that stopped the breath in his lungs.

VIDEO MESSAGE SHOWS VAMPIRE CLAIMING TO BE DRACULA, ISSUES WARNING TO HUMANITY

Turner clicked on the headline. The page shifted to an article that was only two paragraphs long, with More to follow beneath them, but he paid the words no attention; his eye was drawn instantly to the video embedded at the top of the page. The rectangular box was black, with the words A MESSAGE at its centre. With a hand that had begun to almost imperceptibly tremble, Turner clicked PLAY.

The words faded away, replaced by a dimly lit shot of a seated figure. Turner felt his stomach lurch. Little more than the figure’s face was visible, but that was more than enough; the pale skin, the narrow features, the piercing eyes, the moustache and the long hair were instantly, awfully recognisable.

Dracula.

“Citizens of the world,” said the first vampire, his voice low and smooth. “I am Dracula, and I bring glad tidings for you all. You shall have the privilege of witnessing my rise, which is now at hand. It cannot be stopped, nor given pause. It is certain. It is as inevitable as the setting of the sun. Those of you who kneel may find me merciful. Those of you who oppose me will die. In time, I will speak again.”

The footage returned to black, before two words appeared that chilled Turner to his core; he had seen them so many times, in photographs and grainy phone footage, on walls and pavements across the country.

Turner let out a long, deep breath.

“Are you still there, Angela?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” said the Security Officer.

“Get the Intelligence Division on this immediately,” he said. “Every single frame. I want them to find something that tells us where Dracula is. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where did it first appear? The video?”

“Everywhere, sir,” said Angela. “It was posted from hundreds of different accounts on hundreds of sites at exactly the same time, twelve minutes ago, and it’s spreading faster than Surveillance can track it.”

“Assume I don’t understand the mechanics of online distribution,” said Turner. “Could that have been one person scheduling the release under aliases, or is it hundreds of people acting at the same time?”

“It could have been either, sir,” said the Security Officer. “It was highly organised, whichever it was.”

“Clearly,” he said. “Which makes me wonder what else is being planned that we don’t know about.”

“Yes, sir,” said Angela. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“In terms of the Department, nothing yet,” he replied. “I don’t want to issue new orders or change the SOPs until we have more information. But I want you to stay in close contact with the police and the Intelligence Services. The public are already scared and paranoid, and this is only going to make things worse.”

“Understood, sir.”

“All right,” said Turner. “Message everyone in the Loop, then play the video on every screen. Let’s make sure everyone sees it and try to move past it as quickly as possible. Out.”

He reached out and clicked END CALL. There was a low beep as the connection was severed, then silence.

Jamie heard Kate shout for him to wait as he rocketed along the Level B corridor, but ignored her.

He banked to the right, past the metal doors of the lift, and crashed through the door that accessed the emergency staircase, a shaft of concrete and metal that descended all the way to the very bottom of the Loop. The door was ripped off its hinges and clattered to the ground, but Jamie didn’t pause; he spun up over the metal banister and shot down the shaft between the spiralling stairs like a bullet from a gun.

Concrete staircases and doors marked with letters flew past in a blur as the distant ground rose up to meet him. At the very last moment, the point at which it seemed that he must surely crash into the unforgiving concrete, Jamie pivoted in the air and slowed his descent, his arms wide, his eyes blazing. He landed silently in front of a door marked with an H and hauled it open.

He emerged in front of the airlock that controlled access to the long supernatural cellblock. He pressed his ID card against the panel beside the airlock door and waited as it slid slowly open. As the billowing cloud of gas passed over him and the inner door opened, he allowed a brief smile to rise on to his face; part of him had suspected that Kate would have already disabled his access, given that there had been no doubt where he was going.

Jamie exited the airlock, took a brief moment to compose himself, and strode towards his destination; the fourth cell on the right, the home of Valentin Rusmanov. Kate’s voice shouted in his head as he approached the ultraviolet wall that enclosed it, pleading with him to stay calm, to not do anything stupid, but he barely heard it over the torrent of furious panic that was roaring through him.

What did you do, you old monster? What did you say to her?

He stopped in front of the purple barrier and looked into the cell. Valentin Rusmanov was sitting in a chair near the back of the room, his legs crossed at the ankles, a paperback book in his hands. He was looking directly at Jamie.

“Lieutenant Carpenter,” said the old vampire. “What an entirely expected surprise. How are you?”

“What did you say to her?” growled Jamie. “Tell me right now.”

Valentin got slowly to his feet, stretched his long arms above his head, and regarded him with a wide smile.

“I assume you are referring to Miss Kinley,” he said. “In which case, I’m sorry to have to disappoint you. I don’t disclose the content of private conversations.”

Jamie took a step forward, his eyes flaming red. “What did you do?”

“I did nothing but listen, and talk,” said Valentin. “I assume she has left this charming facility?”

“You know she has,” said Jamie.

“Actually, I didn’t,” said Valentin. “Might I enquire as to why you are so clearly angry with me?”

“Why?” asked Jamie, his voice a low rumble of thunder. “Why the hell do you think? She came down here to talk to you and twenty minutes later she disappeared halfway around the world. That’s why.”

“I see,” said Valentin. “You have my sympathies, as I have no doubt you will miss her greatly. But if you are blaming me for her departure, then I’m afraid you are somewhat overestimating my influence. I would suggest you consider why Miss Kinley might have wanted to leave, why she might not have been entirely happy with the status quo. I suspect that will be a more productive use of your time.”

“Everyone thought you’d changed,” said Jamie. “You’ve been down here for months like a rat in a cage, telling us to believe you, telling us that you’re on our side, but you’re not, are you? You don’t give a shit about anyone apart from yourself.”