The Red Slayer

We wait all of ten seconds after Dad leaves to begin planning our evening. With the sun slipping behind the horizon, the night will be ours for the taking. I don’t mean to go far. I just want to see how far the tunnels beneath the city go.

‘There’s a map in the computer desk,’ says Dante. ‘They’re so dark and eerie. Like the London Dungeon without all the tourists.’

The moment we reach the lab, I rush to the giant patch of blank wall, wondering where the button to open it is. I slide my gloved hands over the bricks for a hidden switch until Dante politely points me toward a discoloured patch of wall in the corner, concealing a keypad.

‘The code’s some sci-fi reference,’ he says. ‘“Your plastic something-something”.’

‘“Your plastic pal who’s fun to be with”,’ I reply and type in all twenty-nine digits. The wall performs its familiar clicks and clunks until it slides open once more. The black abyss spreads before us, pulling me in with its mystery. I step across the threshold, activating the night-vision in my mask to see how far it goes.

‘Creepy,’ I remark. ’All we need is a lake, dramatic music, and some dry ice, and we could re-enact Phantom to our heart’s content.’

'Your heart’s content,’ jokes Luke, stepping into the darkness with me.

‘Okay, but who’s the Phantom?’ says Dante.

'I’m the Phantom,’ I assert pompously. ‘You guys are my…Phantomettes.’

Olga, last to enter the tunnel, shakes her head at us. 'We are not calling ourselves the Phantomettes.’

The wall slides closed in seconds. The only way is forward. Olga takes the lead as she reads the map, Dante and I behind her, and Luke in the rear, marking every corner with chalk arrows. Good thing too. I can’t imagine the horror of being trapped in a pitch-black maze with no shortage of dead-ends.

‘If this place is so big,’ I say, ‘Where is my underground lake, and my boat and lair with my masked drama queen brooding over an organ?’

‘There’s no lake on the map,’ says Olga. Killjoy. She stops at the cusp of a tunnel to our left. The narrow walls allow only single-file traversal. On the map, it crosses with a thick line. A larger tunnel perhaps?

The call of the unknown draws us in. I listen out for any sign of danger and slowly pick up a strange humming. Not the type you get after a loud concert or explosion. It feels electric; like a fridge or an elevator.

At the end of the tunnel, a wide space opens before us. From left to right, the passage spreads on and on and out of sight. A few lamps are lit here and there, but otherwise it’s still dark enough to keep our night-vision on.

‘Wait!’ I shout as Olga attempts a step forward, pulling her back into the narrow tunnel. Seconds later, metal screeches through our eardrums, followed by a train powering down the tunnel at full speed.

‘Woah!’ Olga gasps. ‘That was close.’

‘This must be the Bakerloo Line. There must be a safer tunnel elsewhere.’

We turn around, retracing our steps back to a wider space. Luke writes DANGER! DANGER! HIGH VOLTAGE! at the entrance before Olga guides us towards a winding staircase made of brick. It curves downward into a forgotten tunnel running beneath the lethal track.

After that narrow escape, our guard is officially up. A train rattles above us as we go. I’d worry about a cave-in, but this is Victorian brickwork. Construction made to last. If it survived the Blitz, it can withstand trains.

‘Another half-mile and we’ll be under Mayfair,’ says Olga.

‘Already?’ says Dante. ‘We’ve only been down here an hour or so.’

‘Yeah, but we’ve managed to cut straight across, whereas up-top you have all those winding streets.’ I look up at the arched brick ceiling. ‘Where’s the nearest place to surface?’

Olga studies the map again, tightening her lips. ‘There’s nowhere in a mile radius of Grosvenor Square or Buckingham Palace to surface. We’ll have go to Soho.’

‘Lead the way,’ I say dramatically, though I end up walking ahead of her and listening for her directions. We ascend another winding stairway. As we climb, I sense vibrations in the walls. This time, my friends feel it too.

‘More tracks?’ asks Dante uneasily.

I press my ear against the wall closest to the vibrations. The others crane forward on tiptoe, eager to hear my conclusion first. ‘Nightclub,’ I say. ‘We’re in Soho all right.’

The exit sits atop a ladder beneath a metal grate. Dante checks it out first because I don’t want people looking up my skirt. ‘Coast is clear,’ he whispers, rising out further. ‘We must be in an alley.’

Olga climbs up next, followed by Luke and me. We slide the grate back into place and start searching for a way up. Where there’s an alley, there’s a ladder.

At the top of a converted office building, Dante and I simultaneously put our hands on our hips and stare out at the city rooftops, studded with lights of all colours. ‘What a lovely evening to be outside,’ I say.

‘Race you to the London Palladium?’ he says, which we spot a few streets away.

We jump into starting position, about to speed off, when I feel a tugging on my cape. Dante likewise gets pulled back by his hood and we stumble backwards with Olga keeping a firm hold of us.’

‘Hang on,’ she says, ‘Don’t go running off willy-nilly. Luke and I are still new to this.’

‘We’ll parkour at a fairer pace then,’ says Dante. ‘After all, you won’t have crashmats to save you.’

I grin. ‘Welcome to the extreme.’

Olga gulps. 'And if I go splat on the pavement?’

‘You will with that attitude. It’s easy. Watch.’

I bolt towards a gap that can’t be jumped. The only way across is to wall-run across a giant billboard of a woman’s pearly-white grin. I’m over in seconds and back again.

Olga sighs. ‘You make it look so simple.’

‘It can be simple.’ I grab her by the shoulders. ‘It’s just momentum and confidence.’

‘Like this?’ asks Luke, preparing to run up until Dante sticks his arm out to stop him.

‘You don’t want to approach from that angle.’

‘Angle?’ asks Olga, angling her head at the billboard. ‘Of course. If you’re running parallel to the wall…’

‘No momentum,’ adds Luke. ‘I can’t believe I overlooked that.’

‘And they say we don’t need maths in real life.’

Dante nods and demonstrates a perfect run across the gap. I nod at Olga, she nods back, lines herself up and launches into a sprint. One moment, she’s running across the bleached white teeth; the next, she dismounts on the other side with a perfect roll on the next rooftop.

Luke and I explode with applause and cheers as Dante helps her up and high-fives her. Once we’re all over the gap, she receives more than her fair share of pats on the back.

‘Thanks for believing in me,’ she says, bearing the widest smile I’ve ever seen.

‘And now, the London Palladium!’ I announce. ‘Phantomettes, away!’

From then on, the journey is rather straightforward, mostly because the gaps aren’t nearly as big. The theatre’s roof makes the perfect resting spot between two larger buildings and makes a great playground for parkour.

Olga tries out some more moves while the boys shed their masks (and deerstalker) and return to ground level to find some food, returning twenty minutes later with McDonald’s bags and bottles of water poking out of their pockets.

‘We couldn’t carry milkshakes and climb,’ says Dante, passing me fries and a mayo chicken before putting his mask back on. ‘Chicken okay? You haven’t gone full vegan yet, have you?’

‘Chicken’s fine,’ I say. ‘That time you caught me eating beef burgers was a one-time thing. Haven’t had red meat since.’

Olga tucks into her veggie burger happily. ‘This is the first burger I’ve had since that day. Been dieting ever since.’

‘It’s worth it, though,’ says Luke. ‘We both lost so much weight.’

She nods. ‘It’s nice not to have my school skirt sit under my boobs anymore.’

‘And when we were swimming in P.E. last week, all the girls kept staring at my abs. And a few boys.’

‘Girls can’t resist a fine set of abs,’ I say. ‘All my favourite Phantoms have great abs.’

‘What about Tara?’ asks Luke.

I shake my head.

‘I’m not surprised,’ says Olga. ‘She’s all skin and bone.’

‘It isn’t her looks that make her attractive. It’s her empathy. When I’m in a slump, she pulls me out. I depend on that when you three and Dad aren’t there.’

Dante nods, holding a McNugget in his mouth. ‘I wonder what would have happened if she discovered the vampire den with us.’

I scoff unintentionally. The others look up from their food with curious faces (at least, I assume they’re curious behind their masks). ‘It’s not that she wouldn’t have wanted to train with us, but she wouldn’t be allowed out because her stepdad put a curfew on her.’

Luke gasps. Like me, he’s never heard that word in the wild. It’s a thing of nightmares. An empty threat from parents. A baffling restraint on human liberty. Dante and Olga by comparison, barely react.

‘That sucks,’ says the latter.

‘My sister has to be home before six on weekends,’ adds Dante. ‘And no male friends. Yet I can be friends with you two. Double standards much?’

‘Yeah,’ I say, ’But she can’t do anything. He grabs her from school as soon as it’s over, and she has to call home every hour when she’s out on weekends. I don’t understand it. Tara never misbehaves. What gives this rando the right to control her life? They’re not even related.’

Luke gently pats me on the back. ‘Iorwen, sweetie, you’re rambling.’

I sigh. ‘I’m sorry. I just wish I could do something. What good is being a superhero when you can’t rescue your own girlfriend?’

‘You’ll find a way. You always do.’

After finishing our food, we start heading back to the tunnel. Tonight was a fun romp, but there’s no need to take it further. We each run across the billboard again, reaching the other side safely. We’re about to descend into the alley when—CRASH!

Two figures scuffle in the shadows. I reach for the night vision switch in time to see a female figure throw a lanky male into an industrial-sized bin.

‘What’s happening?’ Luke whispers.

‘Maybe he’s trying to assault her,’ says Dante.

I give it five more seconds to develop. With the man’s body sliding down the bin like a rag doll, an assaulted woman would take this chance to run. Yet she pulls him up by his armpits and lets his head droop to one side to expose his neck.

‘Vampire!’

I go sliding down the nearest drainpipe at the speed of sound. Blood pumps in my ears. Adrenaline on the rise. With time slowing down, I see my opening. Springing from the brick wall, I perform a somersault in mid-air, just in time for my boot to smack against her jawbone as she moves in to take a paralyzing bite.

I land on a kneel and pick myself up. The vampire woman is on her knees with her jaw now lacking several teeth and hanging askew. The man, meanwhile, stares between us, too concussed to speak.

‘Yer migh’ wanna get oot of ‘ere, mate,’ I say, thinking up a Scottish accent on the spot.

He’s wise enough to follow my advice. The woman stares after her lost prey as I push her into the wall.

‘You,’ she hisses, holding her jaw together to speak. ‘Where did you come from?’

‘Up above,’ I say, grinning.

‘You wanna take his place? I’m only meant to target boys tonight, but you’ll do as a pick-me-up.’

‘I don’t think so!’ Luke declares, jumping from the ladder we took earlier to stand by my side. Olga lands next to him while Dante smashes a wooden pallet with his foot to make a stake which he tosses to Luke.

Regardless, the woman lunges forward. I jump out of the way, Olga trips her up. Luke holds out the splintered plank for her to fall onto. Her body starts ageing before she hits the ground. Two seconds later, she is dust.

‘Great teamwork, guys,’ I say. ‘And Luke, your first kill.’

‘Next time,’ says Olga, ‘Please tell us what you’re going to do first.’

‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘But if I hesitated, that guy would be paralyzed, have witnessed the slaying, and we’d have had to take him to hospital.’

I regard the pile of ashes on the ground, as well as the empty clothes. We should do something about those. The four of us kneel down to gather them up. Luke uncovers a pink handbag with peeling leather and a worn chain. I take it, curious to learn this woman’s name. The moment I open it, a phone starts ringing from within.

‘Odd,’ I say. ‘It’s a flip-phone. These are ancient.’

‘Does it have a caller ID?’ asks Dante.

‘Yeah. “Boss”.’

I can’t contain my curiosity. She had a London accent; I could pass as her. I flip the phone open, which connects me to the caller instantly. I clear my throat as my friends lean in. ‘Yeah?’

‘Crystal? What is keeping you? Where is that subject you promised?’

I nearly toss the phone away like a grenade. My heart palpitates, every inch of my skin bristles with goosepimples and bile rises in my throat.

Luke meets my eye, about to say my name. I swiftly put my free hand over his mouth and shake my head.

‘Well?’ barks the man in the phone.

‘Yes,’ I say quickly. ‘Yes. Uh, I—I think you’ll be pleased.’

‘Good,’ he replies with a level of hunger I can’t ignore. ‘When can I expect you back?’

My voice rises to a high pitch. ‘In an hou—’ I stop, clearing my throat again. ‘An hour. Tops. See you there?’

‘Indeed. This time, I’m sure it’ll work.’

He hangs up without saying goodbye. It’s not unlike him. I snap the phone shut. My legs give way underneath me.

Luke catches me like clockwork. ‘Iorwen,’ he says, almost as breathless as me. ‘Was that who I think it was?’

I nod. He pulls me upright and holds me tight.

‘Who?’ asks Dante. ‘Who was it?’

I shudder once again. ‘My uncle.’

© Alice of Sherwood, April 2020