Just a few moments after we saw the sign telling us we were entering Blackchapel, we’d passed through the small town high in the mountains.
In a town that comprised a hotel, a filling station and a few shops that whizzed past the car window, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye that drew my attention. A lone car was parked outside the hotel. A lone car that looked suspiciously like one of the police department’s unmarked cars. Unmarked cars are supposed to blend in anywhere but the sight of a slightly battered dark blue Ford out here in the middle of nowhere made me a little suspicious. I hoped this was my cop’s instinct rather than another one of my new powers.
We made our way through the mountains in silence. Skinner had long since lost topics of conversation with Jackson and I had lost the will to interrogate him about being a vampire. I had learned all I wanted to learn so far today and I didn’t want to think about what surprises were in store when we arrived at the place our driver called home.
The car turned a corner and we were faced with a huge chasm. As we worked our way round the sheer drop next to us, I looked round and saw a car on the road behind us.
The dark blue Ford.
I knew this was far too much of a coincidence and had to do something to find out who was in the car. If it was Dave, I needed to know. I needed to know that he was okay and I needed to know that he was nearby if I ran into trouble.
I grabbed my stomach and shouted, ‘Stop the car!’
Jackson looked in his mirror, ‘What’s wrong back there?’
‘I think I’m going to be sick.’
‘What? We’re nearly there.’
‘Pull over. Please!’
Jackson stopped the car before the corner at the edge of the chasm. I flung the door open and stuck my fingers down my throat. As the burning flow of vomit moved up through my throat and splashed onto the floor, I wondered if I could have thought of a better way of getting him to stop the car.
The car that had been following us drove past and I made eye contact with the driver. As I suspected, it was an unmarked car and the driver was a police officer. A detective called Dave to be precise.
I spat the last piece of vomit onto the road and closed the door.
‘Are you okay?’ Skinner asked.
‘Yeah, I’ll be alright,’ I said, ‘Must have had too much for breakfast.’
Jackson took us barely a mile down the road until we reached a metal gate at the side of the road. I saw that Dave had pulled over just ahead and I’m sure our driver didn’t fail to notice him either. He took a radio control out of his pocket and pressed the button. When the gates were open, Jackson took us into the darkness ahead.
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