For a while, that seemed the pattern; Bathsheba furiously attacking, Connery always on the defensive, using his speed and agility to stay alive. But perhaps he had only ever been getting the measure of her, or lulling her into a false sense of security. The next time Bathsheba attacked, Connery stood his ground, meeting her force with his own.
Bathsheba snarled as she was thrown to the ground and Connery went after her. She rolled aside, scrambling up the rock wall with gravity-defying agility, then twisting and leaping down behind Connery to attack again. Connery spun to meet her. He took a fist to the face but shrugged it off, grabbing her arm and flipping her over.
The fight became more intense. Bathsheba’s claws slashed and I saw the red of blood on Connery’s arm. He lashed back, backhanding her across the face and sending her flying. There was no room for chivalry in a battle between vampires. This was the ultimate in gender equality.
They clashed again, arms locking, forehead to forehead, teeth bared, each straining to reach the other’s jugular to deliver the killing bite. Bathsheba drove her knee up into Connery’s gut but he toughed it out, catching her off balance and upending her, pinning her to the ground. She thrashed desperately beneath him, hurling her supernatural strength this way and that, but Connery held her fast, his arms bulging with effort.
His fangs were bared and I realized that I was about to see a side of Connery I had never seen before. I wanted to look away but found myself peering closer with fascinated interest.
Then, suddenly, my attention was elsewhere as a sharp pang inside me drew all my attention.
“Jack…”
From between the rocks, I saw the whirlwind approach, so fast that I couldn’t even tell if he was running or flying. Connery had time to look up at the sound before he was knocked off of Bathsheba’s prone body and sent tumbling and rolling across the stony ground.
Jack came to a stop between the fighting pair, his appearance perfect and unruffled despite the speed of his approach, his face calm and domineering.
“No.”
Bathsheba had sprung back up as soon as Connery was off of her and was poised for her next attack, but the single word from Jack made her back down. There was, I thought, a price to pay for that strength of hers. Obedience.
Connery was under no such obligation. I had never thought of him as being particularly aggressive, as vampires went, but the fight had clearly awakened some old instincts in him – his blood was up and he was eager to win the fight. Rolling back to his feet, he launched himself at Bathsheba. Jack raised a lazy hand to knock him back, but the powerful older vampire was taken by surprise as Connery ducked the hand and delivered a sledgehammer blow into Jack’s face.
I had a hunch that Connery had enjoyed that very much indeed.
As Jack staggered back, as shocked as he was hurt, Bathsheba leapt at Connery again, now feeling she had free rein. She was trying to take him to the ground, but Connery was too strong and too fired up. He caught her as she jumped and used her momentum to fling her over his head to the ground. Growling like an animal, he then pounced on her, determined to finish her off.
It was the sort of thing he probably would have regretted afterwards, when his blood was running less hotly, so I was glad to see Jack racing forward again, grabbing Connery’s arm – drawn back to punch – and slinging him aside.
“No!” He shouted Bathsheba down again, before turning to Connery, who was already back on his feet, his green eyes burning. “You have a good right hook, Connery; better than I was expecting. But I won’t underestimate you again. And please remember that Ursula has outlived her usefulness to me, while you never had any usefulness to start with. From here on in, my not killing you is a courtesy, and one I will withdraw without a qualm.”
Connery’s eyes flicked towards me and he got a hold of himself. If it had just been him here, then I think he would have attacked again, and I suppose that Jack might well have killed him. But with me here to protect, he did the smart thing, however much his vampire blood told him to fight.
“That’s better,” said Jack. “Bathsheba?”
His disciple stood, looking none the worse for her fight, and a look of quiet respect passed between her and Connery.
“Good,” Jack went on. “Now the unpleasantries are concluded; what are you doing here?”
Chapter 8
The cave seemed like nothing at first, certainly not when compared with Castle de Coeur. I suspected that Jack was a man who was used to – and, in fact, demanded – the finer things in life, and this seemed like a massive step down, a sign of the terrible state into which fate had thrust him. But…
“Wow…”
It still wasn’t Castle de Coeur, and I would have guessed that it still wasn’t what Jack was used to, and the bathroom facilities were presumably extremely basic, but the cavern into which the cave led was still not what I had been expecting. Even living in exile, Jack knew how to live in style.
The cavern was lit by flaming torches around the wall and a small fire in the center of the room, the smoke from all of which funneled to a discrete ‘chimney’ in the ceiling. The floor was laid with a patchwork of overlapping rugs, which indicated that others had occupied this place between Jack and those who had carved it out millennia ago. And it had definitely been carved out, at least partially, because the walls were not just rugged rock, they had all been carved. Huge stony faces stared out at us from the walls as we entered, their craggy features thrown into relief by the firelight. Some were crude, symbolic representations of faces, little more than eyes and a mouth; others had been sculpted with the skill of a Michelangelo, perfectly capturing a person. Some were beautiful or handsome, others were nightmarish monsters. Some smiled, some were stern, many screamed. Most had fangs.
Though the faces themselves were unpainted, between them, filling up the walls and ceiling, was an ever-shifting frieze of art. They seemed like tribal paintings; stick figures and animals in shades of charcoal, chalk and ochre, dancing between the massive faces as if they were the ones who had hewn them from the rock. Looking closer, I could pick out which of the figures were human and which vampire, and the frieze seemed to show an everlasting chain of life; the animals were hunted by the humans, the humans were hunted by the vampires, and the vampires warred with each other.
Another running theme, particularly in the more expansive pictures on the ceiling, was that of light and dark. The vampire terror of the sun must have been a primal one back then. Before the era of buildings, darkness was harder to find – get caught far from home with morning coming and you were screwed. I could not help also noticing depictions of humans staking out vampires under the sun to burn. Even at this early point in our history, we knew our enemy and his weaknesses.
It was a spectacular place, and one that spoke to a legacy of vampire life on these Isles that we never really think about. How vampires evolved – or if they evolved – no one knew, but they had been part of our existence for a long time.
To add to the historical spectacle, Jack had brought along a few creature comforts of his own; the bed looked comfortable and the bedding was clearly expensive. A lightweight wardrobe in the corner bore testament that, even in the wilderness, Jack preferred to be well-dressed. A chair by the fire looked familiar to me from Castle de Coeur. Jack traveled in style.
And yet, there was a melancholy to it that was enhanced rather than alleviated by these touches. It felt like the work of a man clinging to what he had so he did not have to face what he had lost. Color it whichever way you pleased, the great Bronx Jack – mysterious and powerful – was living in a cave, and was doing so out of fear.
“Take a seat,” suggested Jack, as he seated himself in the only chair in the cavern.
Connery and I contented ourselves with sitting cross-legged on the rugs.
“Can I offer you a drink? Our cellar here is somewhat limited, but I’ve a rather fine Scotch.”
“No thanks.” I was keen to get down to business.
/> Jack’s dark eyes settled on me. “It is good to see you again, Ursula. I was sorry you felt the need to leave my castle so precipitately.”
I could practically feel the tension building in Connery. He would have given anything to get up and punch Jack in the face again. Fortunately, he knew better.
“That’s not the last time we met,” I reminded Jack.
“Ah, yes.” Jack nodded, sadly. “The night that changed everything. Unfortunate on all counts.” He smiled at me. “Sorry for leaving you there but I saw that your ‘friend’,” he indicated Connery, “was coming round and I was fairly sure that he would save you.”
“He did.”
“Good.” Jack smiled again. “I needed to get Bathsheba out of there. I didn’t feel any great loyalty to you by that point.”
“We could have talked,” I said. This wasn’t what I had come here to say but maybe it would help negotiations to remind him that none of this might have been necessary. “Neither of us wanted to see the 1st King resurrected. We could have talked.”
To my surprise, Jack’s eyes dropped to the fire and I saw regret on his face. “Yes. That is true. Should have, really. But I am used to getting my way. And I did think I was right – and still do. I was the best person to watch over those ashes. I could have protected them better than your resistance friends. But yes; I should have said that rather than trying to take them by force. I think I was perhaps still a little mad at you for your ungracious treatment of my hospitality.”
“You kept me prisoner.”
Jack sighed. “You’re still insisting on seeing that in a negative light?”
“Very much so, yes.”
Jack’s eyes remained trained on the fire. “It is possible that I have conducted this entire affair poorly. I might have achieved better results by talking to you. But,” he looked up, the arrogant pride back in his face, “that has never been who I am. I take what I want. I take the path of least resistance, the direct path. It usually works.”
“Not this time,” said Connery.
Jack looked at Connery for the first time and I could almost see the hatred between them, hotter than fire. If Jack decided to kill Connery, there would be nothing I could do to stop it, especially if he no longer needed me.
“You asked why we were here,” I spoke, trying to break the moment between the two men. “I’d have thought you could guess.”
Jack shrugged. “I suppose I could. You found the way to the King’s urn, which means you have seen the dreams and understand a little more of my history than I am frankly comfortable with.”
“You killed the King of Nightmares two hundred years ago.”
A faint smile played on Jack’s lips. “I did. But that was another life.”
“You still did it,” I pressed. “We need you to do it again.”
Jack stared at the fire again. “No.”
I was genuinely surprised. “You don’t want him around any more than we do. You know you can do it because…”
“No,” Jack repeated, shaking his head firmly. “I can’t.”
“Then tell us how you did it the first time,” I begged.
Jack stood up from his chair.
“I’m sorry you have wasted your time in coming here. You may stay the night if you wish – I know you’ve had a long journey.”
“Jack,” I stood to appeal to him, “do you have any idea of how many people will die under the King of Nightmares?”
“I do. And I have no plan to be among them. Would you like something to eat?”
It would have given me the greatest pleasure to storm out of there immediately, but returning to Lundercity empty-handed was a horrible thought. If I had more time I was sure I could still change Jack’s mind, or at least understand why his refusal to help was so absolute. I had to try.
So we ate. Or, I ate, while the vampires continued their staring match.
After I had eaten, I tried to engage Jack in further conversation, but he shut down any attempt at even discussing it.
“We might as well go,” I admitted to Connery, my heart heavy and sad.
“You should rest first,” he replied, ever solicitous.
“I’m fine.”
“I know you better than you think.”
He was right, of course. Tracking Jack up here had left me feeling oddly empty and washed out, as if I had lost a part of myself on the way and was only now starting to build it back again. I badly needed sleep, and even walking back to the car felt like an effort.
“Do you promise that you and Jack won’t kill each other while I sleep?”
“I promise,” said Connery with a smile. “There’s no way I could kill him. He’ll just kill me.”
“Well, that’s alright then,” I joked.
It was when I was rolled up in a blanket, some small distance from the fire and with sleep encroaching, that I heard the men starting to talk again.
“For whatever reason,” said Connery, “she did think you were going to help. She had faith in you.”
Jack laughed quietly. “I can’t imagine why. Is that why you hate me so much? Because she believes there is good in me?”
“Something in those damn dreams you inflicted on her has made her see a good side in you that… I don’t know if it ever existed, but it certainly doesn’t now.”
“How can she even know if the dreams are real?” Jack asked, highly amused by the whole situation.
“Ursula’s the smartest woman I’ve ever met,” replied Connery. “She knows what’s real.”
There was a long silence. “Yes. I suppose she does. And yet, you don’t trust her?”
“I trust her.”
“Really?” Jack’s voice was insidious, seeking out the cracks in Connery’s armor. “I sense the tension between you every time you look at me. You wonder about what passed between us in my castle. You wonder why she is trying to uncover the good man I might have been back then. And you wonder what might happen if she succeeds. You wonder if she might prefer the hero who killed the King of Nightmares to a man like you.”
What I heard next surprised the hell out of me; it was Connery laughing. Everything Jack had just said had been what I thought was on Connery’s mind and yet here he was, laughing it off.
“I don’t wonder any of that, you arrogant prick,” laughed Connery. “I trust Ursula. Completely. I don’t trust you. She knows you are an old and powerful vampire, but I don’t think she fully understands what that means or just how powerful you might be. And I don’t know how to tell her my fears because they’re her own worst nightmares.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes.” Again, I could hear the hatred in Connery’s voice. “Ursula told me everything that happened at your castle. But we both know that what she remembers might be all fantasy. My guess is that you are powerful enough to have put memories into her head, to disguise what really happened. I don’t know what you might have done to her, and I’m afraid to tell her that she doesn’t know, either.”
Connery’s words went through me like ice. His hatred of Jack had been more than mere jealousy; he had been afraid for me, and now I doubted my own memories of what had happened at Castle de Coeur.
“And now she has come back to me, apparently of her own free will,” Jack said in an even voice. “And, of course, you wonder if it is indeed of her own free will.”
“Yes.” The tension in Connery’s words was evident. “If you wanted her, you could draw her, and she would never even know it. She thinks she can feel when you’re influencing her, but the truth is that you can disguise it if you want. If you killed me now then you could make her forget I ever even existed, and she would be your next ‘bride’.”
“She is a beautiful woman.” Jack’s reply chilled me even further. Was it too late for me to run?
“She’s more than that,” said Connery.
“Yes, I suppose she might be.” There was a long pause before Jack spoke again. “Everything you say is accurate. I could do all those things.
But I did not and I have no plans to do so.” Relief washed over me in a cool wave. “I don’t know how much you trust me – pretty little, I suspect – but believe me when I say; nothing happened to Ursula at the castle without her knowledge. If she has told you the truth then she has told you what happened. Further; I have no designs on her. When I first saw her,” he paused again. “For a moment, I dared to dream. Her similarity – her physical similarity – to a woman from my past is remarkable. But would you love someone just because they looked like Ursula? Perhaps, when I drew her to my castle, I wondered if I could make myself believe that she was someone else. But as soon as she arrived… She is so different.” He laughed, and I could have sworn I heard tears in the laughter. “You have nothing to fear, Connery. Ursula was useful to me but nothing more. Her ancestry allowed me to use her to find my enemy. And that ancestry took me back to the love I lost. But it remains lost. There has only ever been one woman in my life and the more I see of the world, the more I think that there will only ever be one woman.”
Jack’s Story
How I came to be… let us say ‘engaged’, to kill the King of Nightmares, is of no consequence. I was in the States at the time – it had become my home some centuries ago, but I had always kept a foothold in Britain, where I was born some time earlier – how long is equally of no consequence.
Castle de Coeur, I had acquired before I left for the colonies – as we were calling them at the time – and had kept as my own, though it was looked after by a friend, Lady Appleton, during my protracted absences. It was a useful base of operations for such a mission because I had been away for so long that few vampires in Britain knew who it belonged to.
The King of Clubs 3 Page 6