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“Ha!” scoffed Roxy, folding her arms. “There's no way you have the balls to do that.”
“I do too!” Eggsy protested, frowning at her. “And it's a dare, anyways. Ain't gonna back down from a dare.”
“You're too chicken.”
“Am not!”
“You are. Remember that time I spooked you in the haunted house.”
“That wasn't the same!” Eggsy cried, trying not to turn red. “You jumped outta me when it was all quiet. It don't count.”
“It does,” Roxy insisted, grinning. “You squealed like a little girl!”
“My voice had just broke!”
“Irrelevant. You're not going up there.”
“Wanna bet?” Eggsy snapped.
“Sure. What do I get when you lose?”
Eggsy thought for a moment and then shook his head. “Nah, wait. I don't wanna win something. I know what I want.” He smirked and Roxy scowled.
“Enough of that.”
“It's not like that!” cried Eggsy, turning red again. “What the hell d'ya think of me?!”
“Well...” said Roxy, raising an eyebrow with her own smirk.
Sighing, Eggsy shook his head. “Look, I bet you that you can't go up there, either. If you do... I'll buy all your drinks for a month.”
“And if you go in there, I'll buy you a whole new wardrobe,” Roxy told him, plucking at the sleeve of his tracksuit jacket.
“Deal!” Eggsy grabbed Roxy's hand and shook it so hard and fast that she stumbled backwards when he let go. She pulled a face but made no other comment.
Later that night, they met up at the bottom of the hill. An overgrown hedge separated them from the estate, a crooked gate the only way in. It was chained shut but the metal had rusted and Eggsy easily cut through them with the pliers he had brought for this very situation. He pushed open one side – which took a lot of effort due to the stiff hinges and the long grass – and gestured for Roxy to go in first. She smirked at him as she did so and he slipped in after her, pushing the gate closed. It creaked rather loudly and Eggsy winced, his heart beating faster as he wondered who would hear it.
“Come on,” whispered Roxy. She had dressed well for the break-in: tight-fitting black trousers so they didn't catch on anything; long-sleeved black top to prevent cuts to her arms; hair tied back and out of her eyes; a pair of black leather gloves. Eggsy thought she looked like a professional cat burglar. He was wearing his usual get-up – he probably looked inexperienced, though he was far from it.
“When we get up there,” he asked as they started climbing up the overgrown hill, “what're we gonna do, huh?”
“I don't know. Look around a bit, I suppose.”
“How do we prove to Dicklie that we were here?”
“That's why I brought a camera.”
“ Aces ,” breathed Eggsy.
They continued to trudge up the path in silence, having difficulty stepping on the long grass. Eventually, they crested the hill and found the destination. A large mansion rested there, windows broken and paint peeling. It seemed in pretty good nick for something which had been sitting empty for a hundred years and Eggsy liked it immediately. To him, it was a perfect mix of posh and rough, bound together in mortar and cement.
Strangely, there was a perfect circle of cut grass around the house. It was the only thing that bothered him and he glanced at Roxy who tilted her head with a questioning look. Then she pulled out her camera and began to record the first images of the house up close. No-one had been here for a century, the blot on the hill looming over the town. As Eggsy turned to take in the view behind them; he could see London in the distance and he grinned. It wouldn't be too bad to live up here if someone took care of the place better.
“Come on, you,” murmured Roxy, looping her arm through Eggsy's and pulling him towards the front door.
For a lark, Eggsy stopped her at the front door and pulled the old-fashioned doorbell. Then, without waiting for the reply he was sure they wouldn't receive, he used the knocker as well, banging hard enough to shake the door. Roxy stifled her giggles and, proud of making her laugh, Eggsy pushed open the door, stepped inside and called, “Honey, I'm home-!”
He broke off, staring around the perfectly kept foyer, candles burning in their candlesticks on the tables dotted about. The tiles were a shiny black and white, reflecting the light to make their torches unneeded. Directly before them was a grand staircase which looped around to both the left and right. Above the first landing was a huge picture of an old man, several middle-aged men and a bald guy, all standing around a large, round table. Eggsy turned to Roxy, eyes wide.
“What...? I thought ya said this was abandoned, Rox?!”
“I did,” said Roxy, slowly, stepping in as well. “It did- I mean, it was . Maybe someone bought it?”
“Who the hell would buy this dump?” Eggsy moved further in, attracted to a large, golden goblet sitting beside a door. “I mean, look at this stuff – bet it'd fetch thousands, yeah? Why would someone with so much money buy a ratty old place like this?”
“Maybe they inherited it or something...”
Eggsy turned back to her and shrugged. “Whatever's going on, we gotta go. They might be in an' I just rang the door-”
Suddenly, Roxy gasped, eyes wide. She was staring over Eggsy's shoulder and he immediately felt his fight or flight instincts kick in. But something kept him frozen, fear gripping his heart. He was fairly sure, if he could, he would damn well do more than just squeal.
“It's quite rude to walk into someone's home uninvited,” said a deep voice behind him.
Fumbling for words, Eggsy stuttered until he managed to say, “Yeah, bruv, sorry 'bout that. We'll just-”
“-go?” finished a different voice. It was just as deep but there was movement out of the corner of Eggsy's eye and he found he could turn his head slightly. There, walking towards Roxy, was the bald guy from the painting. “I'm afraid we can't let you do that.”
“No-one must know about us,” added the first voice.
“Who are you?” breathed Roxy, stepping forward.
Fighting whatever hold these people had on him, Eggsy desperately wanted to tell Roxy to leave, to run. But he found he couldn't even open his mouth. He could do nothing as Baldy moved closer to Roxy and Roxy almost floated towards him in some sort of trance.
“My name is Merlin,” Baldy answered – and Eggsy didn't like that. People weren't meant to know them, they said, and now they were introducing themselves. That could only mean something deadly.
“And my name is Galahad,” added the voice which was still right behind Eggsy .
“Like the Knights of the Round Table?” asked Roxy, still seeming rather out of it.
“Exactly,” replied Galahad.
Finally, Eggsy found his voice. “If you're Merlin,” he said, “how come ya don't have a beard? Or hair?”
Merlin had closed the distance between himself and Roxy quite considerably and was a foot in front of her. However, at Eggsy's words, he ignored her in favour of turning to Eggsy, eyes narrowed. “If you're referring to the adaptations they've made of me in film and TV, I assure you, they got it quite wrong.”
“You're bald instead?” Eggsy asked, trying to keep him distracted from Roxy who seemed to be coming to her senses.
No such luck, though. “Merlin,” said Galahad, tone a clear warning. Eggsy could almost imagine someone raising their eyebrow, maybe tipping their head in Roxy's direction. Merlin immediately turned to Roxy and she met his gaze.
Realising Merlin's method, Eggsy cried out to Roxy. “Don't look at 'im, Rox! Run!”
Unfortunately, it was too late for both of them. Before Roxy could shake herself from her trance, Merlin grabbed her firmly by both hands. Then he leaned forward, as if he was about to kiss Roxy's neck. That incensed Eggsy and he swivelled, getting ready to tackle him. Then he noticed Merlin's teeth – his canines were elongating until they were two sharp fangs. Eggsy gasped and took an involuntary step back.
Right into the arms of the waiting Galahad.
Behind him, he could feel the man or whatever he was lean over him, his breath ghosting across the back of Eggsy's neck. Then it moved to the side, to his jugular. He couldn't move, trapped by some sort of mind trick and the strong grip anchoring him in position.
Eggsy could only watch in horror as Merlin bit into Roxy's neck at the same instant a sharp pain blossomed in his own.