Will spent the rest of the night and all of the daylight hours in the tunnels. There was peace and calm down there now, no sense of the tectonic shifts that had taken place earlier, no sense of brooding disquiet. He wondered if the change in atmosphere had come about because these tunnels no longer led to the gateway he’d sought.
That seemed likely. On his own he was able to rebuild an image in his mind of how the labyrinth had been rearranged, and within the first hour, he could tell that there was no longer any way of even getting close to the site of the circular chamber.
It didn’t stop him looking, or calculating how many walls he might have to knock through to reach a gateway that could have been demolished anyway. He didn’t see how it could be done, particularly when Wyndham probably had it within his power to set the walls moving all over again.
Just before darkness fell the following afternoon, he spent a little time in the one tunnel he’d otherwise avoided, where Eloise had been trapped. It puzzled him and made him angry again, wondering what had happened to her in there. He’d come close to admiring Wyndham, this unseen adversary, but he was determined now of one thing – he would destroy the sorcerer, or be destroyed in the process.
He didn’t linger once he’d left the tunnels, but headed directly to the school. Instead of approaching in the normal way, for his prime spot in front of the Dangrave common room, he walked round the back of the building and cut along in its own shadows until he was able to look from a small shrubbery into the headmaster’s study.
He was sitting there now, a slim, sporty man in his forties. On a shelf on the far wall there were some trophies, which Will imagined were his, some for running, others for tennis. His hair was receding, but it was cut short enough so as not to make too much difference. He had a clipped military bearing somehow, a look that seemed out of place with what Eloise had told Will about the school.
A secretary came into the office, but even without Will being able to hear the brief conversation, it was clear she was saying goodnight, that her working day was over. The headmaster smiled and went back to his paperwork.
Over the next ten minutes the headmaster didn’t stir and nor did Will. He heard a few cars driving away from the other side of the property, could smell food and hear the general good-humoured clatter of the school having dinner.
Will made his way inside then, through a door nearby which allowed the headmaster access to his own private shrubbery garden. He walked past the two darkened administrative offices, into the small hallway where visitors and students were kept waiting.
He looked at the nameplate on the door: Dr Paul Higson.
Will knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for a response. The headmaster looked up as if annoyed that someone should come in without being summoned first, but he saw Will and smiled awkwardly.
“Just a moment, please – I’ll just finish reading this paragraph.”
“Of course,” said Will. He closed the door behind him and walked across to stand in front of the desk.
The headmaster pored intently over the document in front of him, a pen poised in his hand. It would be quick, Will imagined – hypnotise him as soon as he looked up from his paperwork, fill his head with thoughts of Eloise going to visit a sick relative, remind him that he’d forgotten to inform the other staff members. If it didn’t work perfectly, it would work well enough to make Eloise’s new absence less problematic.
The headmaster put his pen down and said, “Just a second and I’m with you.” He was still looking closely at the document, and for the first time, Will became suspicious. It seemed odd that anyone in the headmaster’s position would so resolutely fail to make eye contact with a visitor, a stranger at that, someone who was not a student of the school, but appeared to be of that age.
Higson reached into the drawer at the side of his desk, saying, “Just staple these together and I’m done.”
Will glanced at the stapler sitting on the desk next to Higson’s telephone, but it was too late. Higson pulled a small but powerful torch from the drawer. He pushed himself backwards at the same time as he turned on the torch and directed its beam straight at Will’s eyes.
He said, “Stay back, get away from me!”
The pain was immediate and dazzling, ripping through Will’s eyes with a power that felt as if it might tear his skull apart. He was as stunned by his own stupidity as much as by the torch beam – obviously Wyndham had a connection with the school, obviously he’d had more than one person there working for him, so why hadn’t it occurred to Will that the headmaster himself might be in league with the sorcerer?
He was furious too, because this man was supposed to be concerned with Eloise’s welfare, but was actually part of a vicious plan to harm her. Higson was as guilty as Wyndham for the state Eloise was in now, perhaps more so given his duty of care.
The fury seethed up inside Will until he could no longer feel the pain, and though he couldn’t see, his other senses told him exactly where Higson was. Will threw the desk to one side and lunged forward. He grabbed Higson by the shirt and tie and threw him up against the wall with so much force that a painting fell to the floor nearby.
Higson let out a cry of alarm and tried to redirect the torch beam into Will’s eyes. Will grabbed his hand and crushed it instantly around the torch. The torch dropped to the floor and Will stood on it, smashing it.
Will’s vision was coming back to him now and he looked up into Higson’s face. Higson was kicking and flailing at Will, becoming more fearful with the growing realisation that his strength was inadequate. All Higson could do was avoid Will’s gaze and he did this by turning his head frantically to the side, exposing his neck.
Will looked at the vein throbbing above Higson’s collar, but he was too angry even to think about blood for the moment. Instead he lowered Higson to the floor while keeping him pinned to the wall, and now that they were on the same level, he grabbed Higson’s face with his free hand and turned it forcibly to face him.
Higson closed his eyes and was whimpering now, all his military bearing gone, to the extent that Will no longer believed he had ever been a soldier.
“Open your eyes and look at me.”
“Never.”
“Then I’ll rip off your eyelids.”
“Please, don’t, I …”
“I have no intention of hypnotising you. But I tell you again, I will rip off your eyelids unless you open them. Wyndham has surely told you that I come from an age when such a torture would have been considered rather mundane.”
“I …”
“Open them!”
Higson opened his eyes, blinked them shut again, twice, and finally opened them properly, revealing them to be full of tears and terror.
“I was going to hypnotise you, but not now. Not now that I know you work for Wyndham.”
“I haven’t done anything.”
“Eloise is in your care, yet you have allowed Wyndham to conspire to do her harm – you consider that nothing? You allow him to fill the school with his spies – you consider that nothing?”
“But I haven’t, please believe me. Marcus Jenkins, he’s the only … what I mean is, he’s the only connection with Wyndham. I haven’t conspired, I swear it.”
“Then your oath is worthless. You avoided eye contact, you used light to attack me, things you would not know if you were not in Wyndham’s trust. Reverend Fairburn was the same before you and he, let me remind you, is dead. So ask yourself where your fear should lie, with Wyndham, or with me?”
Higson winced with pain, and looked panicked and distraught as he said, “I think my hand’s broken.”
“Three fingers and the knuckle of your middle finger, not even a hint of the pain and injury I could inflict upon you.” The pain behind Will’s own eyes had almost subsided now, and he said, “Eloise has gone away for a day or two. You’ll tell staff that you knew about it, that she’s gone to visit a sick relative. You won’t question her when she returns, nor will you speak to her.”
Higson nodded, eager to comply.
“I had planned to make you follow these instructions by hypnotising you, but I want you to be conscious of what I’ve told you because I want you to understand something else. If any harm comes to Eloise, whether you are directly responsible or not, neither Wyndham nor anyone else will be able to protect you – mark this, I will look upon it as a point of honour that her suffering is returned to you tenfold.”
“I understand.”
Will let him go and stepped away from him. Higson immediately clutched his injured hand, tentatively daring to look at the extent of the injuries. Will looked at the desk, solid and imposing, and casually pulled it upright again, leaving the debris lying on the floor.
He crossed the room to the door, but stopped and looked around briefly, then said, “My family built this house.”
Despite his wounded hand and his earlier terror, Higson produced an unconvincing expression of defiance as he said, “You’re a vampire – you don’t have a family.”
Will smiled. “I stand corrected. My brother’s family built this house.”
Higson looked bewildered, but said, “Yes, yes, I know that.”
“Good.”
Will left by the same door and headed back across the park to the new house. He would call a taxi from there. He had no family, not any more, but he had described Eloise as his family earlier, and it was true in one sense at least, because she was the first person in over seven centuries for whom he would be prepared to die, and the first for whom he would be prepared to kill in anger. His words to Higson had been a promise, and not intended for Higson alone.