Her Vampyrrhic Heart Read Free Page A

him to Whitby and the open ocean. As he drifted, he took photographs of different species of fish, or interesting features such as unusually deep chasms. An electronic instrument package attached to his belt automatically recorded his route, depth and speed. Tom had been hired by Yorkshire Woodland Heritage to survey the river that ran through the forest. They needed an accurate chart of the riverbed in order to assess if the channel was changing its course, or if there were archaeological remains, sunken boats, the bones of prehistoric animals or anything that might be of scientific importance.
    What especially interested Tom Westonby were the underwater caves. He’d found ten so far. To explore these tunnels running away into submerged cliffs was incredibly dangerous. Even so, he had ventured inside to shine his flashlight into these tomb-like caverns. Anyone seeing him would probably surmise that his scientific curiosity had been aroused by what he might find. But Tom Westonby knew exactly what he searched for when he swam through that liquid darkness. The man looked for his long-lost bride.

FIVE
    T he River Lepping carried Tom Westonby half a mile downstream. Six feet above him, the surface resembled crinkled silver foil. Ten feet beneath him, the riverbed consisted of pale sand and dark boulders that had been deposited here long ago when the Ice Age glaciers had finally melted. There were rumours that gold coins lay scattered at the bottom of the channel. When he saw a gold disc beneath him he swam down to retrieve it. Instead of being precious metal, the disc turned out to be nothing more than the metal cap from a shotgun cartridge. Not that finding gold would mean much to Tom Westonby – no, he searched for an infinitely more valuable treasure.
    His underwater survey had been straightforward this morning. During the forty minute journey the Diver’s Instrument Package, known simply as DIP, automatically collected GPS information and other readings much in the way an aircraft’s Black Box operated. On his return home, he’d connect the DIP to the computer by USB cable, and upload the data to the Yorkshire Woodland Heritage computer in Bradford.
    When he’d won the contract to do this work it meant he’d be his own boss. He liked it that way, because he needed to remain living here in the forest. With every day that passed his determination to bring Nicola Bekk home grew stronger and stronger. Some might call it obsession. He called it LOVE.
    A
ping
in his earpiece warned that he’d ten minutes of air left in the tank. Slowly, he ascended to the surface, hearing the rush of bubbles past his helmet. The PIP GPS would tell him where to restart the survey tomorrow; however, he liked to get a fix on his location with his own eyes. When he broke free of the water he saw trees overhanging the river. The bank to his right consisted of heaped-up boulders, so he chose the one to his left, which would allow him exit across a gentle slope of sand. A tree, with two upright branches forming a Y shape, grew at the water’s edge. That would provide a good marker for when he started the next leg of his survey.
    Tom waded through the shallows. As he did so, he pulled his face mask away, together with his helmet. He glimpsed his reflection in the shallows: a rubber-suited man, loaded with heavy air tanks and a weight belt. Now a twenty-minute walk faced him. Not that he minded. He loved the forest. What was more he sensed Nicola’s presence here. Often he’d get such a strong feeling that his lost bride could see him somehow.
    Once more he noticed his reflection. This time he focused on the face: a twenty-eight-year-old man with dark hair. Nicola had vanished from his life five years ago, and sorrow and grief had aged him. His eyes were dark and melancholy, and haunted by those memories from half a decade ago that began so happily when Nicola danced into his life. That precious time with Nicola