Mosi's War Page 10

  Papa Blood was magic. Papa Blood could never be caught.

  But he, Patrick Cleary, had found a way of getting him at last.

  Chapter 41

  Patrick couldn’t believe how many had turned up. They seemed to swarm from every part of the estate.

  ‘We’re going to meet the rest of them at the cemetery.’ Hakim held up his phone. ‘They’re already heading there.’

  ‘Is everybody ready?’ Cody called out. Taking charge along with Hakim. Patrick was happy to let them. He had too much on his mind thinking of what he had to do when he got to the cemetery. As they walked, more seemed to gather, coming round dark corners, from other blocks, even from other areas. And in spite of the fear eating inside him, Patrick couldn’t help but be excited.

  They passed some women who called out, ‘Where are you lot going?’ But they were laughing. They were only kids after all. Nothing to be afraid of. They didn’t answer the women. Just kept right on walking. Patrick held tight on to the spray can in his pocket.

  ‘This is really silly.’ Bliss came up to him, walked beside him. ‘If my mum knew I was here, she’d kill me. I had to lie and say I was at Ameira’s. And she’s at mine.’

  ‘We’re all in the same boat, Bliss. My mum would go spare if she knew I was here.’ Which wasn’t true of course, his mum would never know. She was out on a date. He hadn’t a clue when she would make it home.

  Even though there was so many of them, as they neared the cemetery they all became eerily silent. There was a moon, almost full, that now and then seemed to peep out of the heavy clouds.

  They spread out along the long wall. Some of them climbed on top and sat there, watching. There was a mist rising inside, fingers of it moving around the gravestones.

  Patrick found he was holding his breath. It was like a scene from a movie. Nothing seemed real to him.

  ‘I think we should all go home,’ Bliss whispered.

  ‘It’s an adventure.’ He was trying to convince himself as much as her. ‘When do we ever have adventures?’

  Hakim came running up then. He was breathless, but it wasn’t from the running. ‘Me and Cody and some of the others are going inside, are you coming?’

  Patrick had to go inside, yet he was afraid. Now the moment had come, he wasn’t sure he could do it. Could he make this work? ‘I’m coming,’ he said.

  ‘And why aren’t you asking me?’ Bliss snapped, her own fear suddenly gone.

  Hakim shrugged.

  ‘Because I’m a girl, I suppose. Well, Ameira and I are coming too.’

  Patrick saw Ameira’s eyes go wide with alarm. But Bliss had her by the arm, and pulled her on. ‘Come on, Ameira, we’ll show them.’

  The girls were the first ones in. They climbed over the wall and into the cemetery, with the boys following close behind them. And it was as if they were moving into another world. So close to the estate and the dual carriageway and yet, here, in this world of the dead, all was silent. The gravestones seemed to loom in the moonlight, and their footsteps crunched on gravel or squelched into the mud.

  ‘Spread out,’ Cody whispered.

  Patrick was sure he didn’t want to spread out too much. He didn’t like the idea of being alone here. But when he looked they all seemed too far away to him.

  As if on cue the moon was swallowed by clouds. It grew even darker. The lights from the street seemed miles away. A misty rain began to fall. Patrick pulled up the hood of his jacket.

  Where had they all gone? Patrick felt isolated. He could hear cars zooming up and down the dual carriageway, but he could hear nothing from his friends. He needed to get this done, but he hadn’t realised how afraid he would be. He blinked, trying to figure out where to start. He took the can from his pocket. It trembled in his hand.

  Patrick shook the can, bent down to a gravestone and sprayed one circle.

  O

  What was the name? His mind went blank. Same thing always happened when he had to do a test at school. Nerves deleted everything he thought he knew. It was happening again. He had never felt so nervous.

  Okafor . . . yes, it was Okafor . . . O. K. A. . . . He tried to spell it out in his head. Maybe, he thought, he should start with Papa Blood . . . yes, easier to spell.

  He began to turn the O into a P when, out of the darkness, a voice shouted, ‘There! Look, he’s there!’

  Patrick swivelled round. The can dropped from his fingers.

  He heard Hakim yell, ‘I see it!’

  Patrick jumped to his feet. And he could swear he saw something too. A flash of movement in the misty rain, passing the gravestones. A giant shadow. What was it? One of the girls screamed. Suddenly everyone was yelling. The noise was taken up by the others who had waited outside the cemetery. There were more yells and screams.

  He was sure he too had seen that giant figure in the shadows. He could see people running through the cemetery. Soon they would all be gone. He didn’t want to be alone here, but he had to finish what he had started. He had to be quick. He got to his knees again, scrabbled round in the darkness for his spray can. Found it at last. No one would see him here. He was invisible. Even if he only sprayed it on one gravestone, he would not leave till it was done. He was so afraid and he wanted to run too, but he had to do this. He had to tell the world about Okafor. About Papa Blood.

  A . . . He couldn’t stop his hand from shaking.

  He stopped for a moment, took in a deep breath. Get a hold of yourself, Patrick Cleary. You’ve got to do this.

  And out of the darkness, as if it had emerged from the grave itself, a hand touched his shoulder.

  Chapter 42

  Patrick fell back. His breath sucked from his body. All he could see was a huge black hand with a ring on one of the fingers. A gold ring, with a big shiny diamond in the middle. Patrick looked up slowly. Yet he knew what he would see.

  Mr Okafor. Papa Blood.

  Looking up at him like this he seemed even more of a giant. He’d never been this close to him before. He’d never known fear like this.

  ‘Are you hiding?’ The man’s voice was like smoke. Deep and dark. A voice that could breathe fire at any moment.

  Patrick couldn’t speak. The hand on his shoulder lifted him to his feet. The beam from a distant streetlamp caught the diamond in the ring. Patrick could not take his eyes from it. ‘I won’t tell them you’re here,’ the voice said, with an almost smile in it.

  A soft voice, a voice to make you trust him, make you believe he was gentle. He held up a plastic bag. ‘I’ve been for some shopping. This is the shortcut home for me.’

  He moved out of the shadows, and Patrick looked at his face at last. A face wearing a stupid grin. But Patrick knew the truth now. He was looking at a monster. He saw him as Mosi must have seen him. A monster with magic in him. And then the giant smiled and that smile was scarier than anything else. ‘Don’t be afraid of me . . . I’m only Mr Okafor.’

  Patrick couldn’t look at his face any longer. He stared down at his hand, still holding his shoulder, at his ring. Anything. But that face.

  Patrick had never been so afraid. He thought of Grady. He’d been alone with him too. This man was a monster and he was alone with him here, in the dark, in a cemetery. Patrick felt his eyes being dragged back to the man’s face.

  ‘I know you,’ the man said. ‘You’re the boy who was on the television . . . the boy who saw the suicide. What a terrible thing for you to see.’ Was his voice changing? Was the gentleness turning to ice?

  Patrick took a step away from him. And in that second Papa Blood saw that Patrick recognised him. That Patrick knew who he really was. His eyes grew hard, like stone. Patrick felt his fingers begin to tighten on his shoulder. In that same second Patrick turned and bit hard into his hand.

  He hadn’t expected it and Patrick took the chance to pull himself free, and run as he had never run. Between gravestones, leaping over graves, not looking back. Terrified in the knowledge that, even if he escaped now, the monster knew, kne
w that he had discovered his secret.

  Chapter 43

  Mosi saw Patrick coming. Tearing like the wind across the concourse towards the flats. He’d never seen Patrick run so fast. Something had happened. Mosi had heard the police sirens, and the news had travelled fast in this jungle of high-rises. A kindly neighbour knocking at the door, making sure Mosi was safe and at home, had told them. The police had gone to the cemetery, the neighbour said, scattered the pupils. There were rumours about children gathering to hunt a vampire, just like in the old days, and that they were sure they had seen one in the cemetery.

  Mosi couldn’t make out Patrick’s face. His school hoodie was pulled up over his head. Boys all looked the same like that. But it was Patrick all right. He just knew it.

  And then he stopped, looked up, his eyes searching the windows, looking for Mosi.

  He caught sight of him, gestured to him with a wave. He wanted to talk to him. He seemed desperate to talk to him. Patrick had been running as if the Devil himself were after him. Or Papa Blood. What if he had seen Patrick wave, saw Mosi at the window. Mosi stepped back.

  But when he dared to look again, the estate was deserted. Even more deserted than usual. The rain was heavier now, the mist like a fog. A solitary dog loped between the flats, and then was gone.

  He had to see Patrick, find out what was going on. What had happened.

  ‘I’m going out,’ he told his parents as they sat in the living room.

  His mother looked alarmed. ‘Going out? Tonight?’

  He smiled to reassure her. There was nothing to be afraid of. ‘Only to the landing. My friend, Patrick, is coming up in the lift. I want to talk to him.’

  His father looked puzzled. When had Mosi ever called anyone a friend?

  ‘Patrick Cleary,’ Mosi explained. He looked at his mother. ‘You said you liked his grandmother.’

  She smiled, remembering. ‘Ah, yes, a kind woman.’

  His father still looked worried. ‘You’re not going into the night?’

  ‘No, Father, I am not going into the night.’

  Chapter 44

  Mosi was waiting at the lift when the doors slid open. Patrick was out of breath, his face drained of any colour. He was covered in sweat. He stumbled from the lift and swept the hood from his head. His red hair was clamped to his scalp. He looked terrified.

  Patrick shook his head, too breathless to speak. He leaned against the wall. It was a few moments before he was able to say a word. ‘Was he following me?’

  ‘No one was following you, Patrick.’ And Mosi could always tell. ‘Who do you think was following you?’

  He wanted Patrick to answer, the police, or Cody, or even Hakim, but he had the ice-cold feeling in his heart that it was someone else. Only one person could cause such terror. He touched Patrick’s arm.

  Patrick stared at him. His words came in breathless bursts. ‘Okafor . . . Papa Blood . . . He knows I know who he is, Mosi. I was in the cemetery . . . I had a great idea to get him . . . I was going to spray it on the walls, on the gravestones, that Okafor was Papa Blood . . .’ He punched the wall in anger. ‘I didn’t even manage that. He was there . . . he grabbed me . . . I’m sorry, Mosi. I couldn’t hide it. He saw by my face that I recognised him. He knows me as well. He said . . . “You’re the boy who was on the television. The boy who saw the suicide.” He knows who I am, and he knows I recognised him.’

  ‘He saw you writing “Okafor is Papa Blood” on the gravestones?’ There was terror in Mosi’s voice.

  Patrick shook his head. ‘No, no, I never got the chance to write anything . . . and he was there . . .’

  ‘Then how could he know you recognised him?’

  Patrick wasn’t listening. ‘I’m going to need police protection or something.’ He gripped Mosi’s hand. ‘I’ve got to go to the police. Don’t worry, I won’t bring you into it. I promise.’

  ‘So how are you going to explain to the police that you recognised this man? There are no photographs of him anywhere.’

  Patrick was shaking his head. ‘I can’t think. I’m too scared.’

  But Mosi was still puzzled. ‘Why should he have suspected that you knew who he really was? You, a boy from the estate? How could he see that you recognised him?’ he asked again.

  For a moment, the idea that he might be wrong took hold of Patrick. His face seemed to light up. Mosi saw the hope there. But it only lasted for a second. Then Patrick shook his head.

  ‘No, Mosi, he saw the way I was looking at him. He saw how scared I was. I couldn’t hide it.’ His voice became a whisper. ‘Believe me, Mosi. I saw his face change as soon as he realised I knew who he was. That I knew he was Papa Blood.’

  Chapter 45

  ‘I shouldn’t have told you.’ Mosi was almost speaking to himself. ‘I’ve put you in danger.’

  ‘Maybe I could go to Bliss’s dad,’ Patrick was also talking to himself.

  ‘Bliss’s dad?’

  Patrick nodded. ‘Her dad’s always helping people on the estate. Advising them of their rights and things like that. He’s a nice man. Or maybe I could make an anonymous phone call . . .’ His eyes lit up. ‘Yeah, an anonymous phone call.’

  ‘He would think it was one of us, one of the refugees from his country. We’re the only people who could recognise him, Patrick.’

  ‘But he’d be arrested, Mosi. He’d be in prison.’

  ‘He is magic, Patrick. No prison could hold him.’

  Patrick slumped against the wall. He knew that was true too. ‘There’s got to be something we can do.’

  Mosi held his shoulders, and he said again more sure than ever, ‘You must be wrong, Patrick, think about it. Because there is no way a boy like you could recognise him. You’ve been afraid and you imagined it.’

  Patrick was trying to think. He’d been nervous, yes, and at that moment when Papa Blood had touched his shoulder, looked into his eyes, he had been frozen with fear.

  Maybe he was mistaken. Maybe Mosi was right. How could this man have even thought that Patrick knew who he was? The thought comforted him. He began to breathe more easily. ‘You’re right. Of course you’re right. I was just so scared, Mosi.’

  Mosi touched his arm. ‘Go home, Patrick. You’ll be safe at home. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Decide what we have to do.’

  Patrick walked up the three flights to his flat. For once, he hoped his granny was in. She would have made soup. She made the best lentil soup this side of the border. He was suddenly desperate for some. Desperate to be home.

  He stopped now and again and listened for noises, looking down the well of the stairs, watching for a movement. But he hadn’t been followed. Mosi had assured him of that, and Mosi would know. His fear had made him nervous, that was all. He felt better now. Of course he’d been wrong. The thought comforted him. Tomorrow, him and Mosi would talk about it, find a way to get Papa Blood. The graffiti, he was thinking, was still a good idea. He could still use it. Catch him with graffiti sprayed on the walls of the estate.

  The phone buzzing in his pocket made him jump. It was Cody. ‘Did you get away OK?’ He sounded excited. Didn’t wait for Patrick’s answer. ‘It was dead good, wasn’t it? Did you get any crosses done? I only did two, and then somebody shouted they saw something, and everybody was yelling . . .’ And then he began to babble on about the police arriving, the chase, till Patrick was laughing too. ‘Hakim was running like a mad horse. Legs all over the place. He did a leap over the gates at Parkview and he still didn’t stop running. I told him I’m going to put him in for the Olympics . . . it was a brilliant night, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Did you really see something?’ Patrick wanted to know.

  ‘It was definitely the vampire I saw.’ Cody, like his granda, would always say he had seen the vampire. ‘Definitely,’ he said again. ‘Hakim saw something as well. Did you?’

  He wanted to say . . . Mr Okafor. He saw Mr Okafor, but he had to think about this. ‘I saw something. I think . . . Did anybody get caught
?’

  ‘I don’t think the police were trying to catch anybody . . . just wanted to . . . erm . . . what’s the word?’

  ‘Disperse us.’ For some reason the word came easily to Patrick.

  ‘Aye, disperse us. Anyway, we were all running in different directions, they didn’t know who to follow.’ His voice was an excited giggle, and now Patrick was laughing too. He found he was at his front door. He put the key in the lock, opened the door and stepped inside. Talking to Cody was making him feel better. ‘What about Bliss?’

  ‘For a minute I thought she was going to go over and talk to the police and explain things, you know Bliss. But then, Ameira grabbed her and shouted, “Your dad will never understand,” and Bliss was away, running like the rest of us. It’s the best night I’ve had in ages. Who says we’ll do it again the morrow night?’

  ‘Mrs Telford will have us all chained to the school railings when she finds out.’

  Cody dismissed that. ‘I don’t see how she can be annoyed. She’s always saying we should do things together, and we did. Hakim and me had a great time. He’s all right, you know.’

  ‘I don’t think vampire hunting was what Mrs Telford had in mind.’ But Patrick was laughing too.

  He was glad Cody had phoned. That call, talking about what had happened, laughing, all put a distance between what he’d seen later, as if it hadn’t really happened. And of course, he’d been wrong. He could see that now. Okafor hadn’t seen that he recognised him. He certainly hadn’t chased him out of the cemetery. Probably just lumbered home with his shopping. His own fear had made him overreact. Yes, that was it.

  Anyway, he was safe now. He was home.

  Chapter 46

  ‘Granny?’ he called out, but he knew his granny wasn’t here. There were no lights on, no smell of her in the flat. Nothing. Patrick walked into the living room and switched on the television to see if there was anything about their adventure on the local news.