by Amy Cross
“The past two years have been the greatest of my life,” I said, limping toward the window at the far end of the house's dining room. I took a glass of wine from a nearby table. “So much death and destruction. So much pain, so much misery. The humans have really outdone themselves this time.” I looked out across the city and I felt a flicker of genuine excitement at the thought of so much life teeming out there in the darkness. “This is so much more enjoyable than their previous wars. When the bombs fall, I can feel the collective fear. I inhale it, Hugo. You can't tell me you don't do the same thing.”
“I hear London is an even better hunting ground at the moment,” he replied.
“I want the romance of Paris,” I told him. “I don't know why, but I've always felt that there's something here for me.”
“You don't seem to have found anything of note so far.”
“I mean that something's coming here!” I snapped, tiring of his pedantry. I took another swig of red wine from my glass. “You brought me here to convalesce, but that's just the start. Something important is going to happen to me in this city, Hugo. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. I hesitate to use such words, but in all honesty... I feel as if my destiny awaits in the streets of Paris.”
“Rubbish,” he said with a sigh.
“Maybe,” I whispered, but even at that moment I felt the same strange pull that – if anything – had been getting stronger over the previous couple of years. “I can't leave Paris until I've found this thing,” I added. “And while I wait, while I bide my time, why shouldn't I have some fun?”
I turned and raised my glass toward him.
“Cheers!”
To my surprise, I found that he was already heading out of the room.
“You might be willing to waste your days and nights like this,” he said darkly, “but some of us have more pressing concerns. Mark my words, brother. Some day you will come to regret your actions. I just pray that it's not too late.”
“Whatever,” I muttered, as I took another sip of wine and then turned to look out once more across the city. “It's coming, brother. It's coming soon. It's getting closer, and...”
I paused for a moment, as I felt a flicker of tightening anticipation in my chest. Something had changed out there in the streets of Paris, something had swollen slightly to attract my attention. I felt my senses start tingling, I felt a flicker of keenness stir in my mind.
“And maybe,” I added finally, “this strange thing has finally arrived.”
Chapter Three
Chloe
“Wait!” I yelled, as I was shoved hard through the door and sent stumbling into a prison cell. “There has to be some kind of mistake!”
I turned around, just as the guard slammed the metal door shut and turned a key in the lock. I rushed over and grabbed the bars, but I was too late.
“I'm a British citizen!” I stammered, unable to keep from pulling again and again on the door in the vain hope that it might somehow slip open. “You can't do this to me!”
The guard muttered something in German and turned to walk away.
“My name is Chloe Carter!” I yelled. “Stop!”
The guard did stop, but he was grinning as he turned to me.
“My name is Chloe Carter,” I said again, trying desperately to remain somewhat calm, “and there's been some kind of mistake. Please, you have to help me. You have to contact the British government and tell them that I'm here. They'll sort everything out. Obviously I'm trapped in some kind of... escape room? Is that what this is? A really, really intense escape room?”
The guard chuckled.
“Do you even understand me?” I continued. “Even if this was the Second World War, I'd have rights. You can't just lock me in here and... and...”
My voice trailed off.
The guard said something else, again in German, and then he wandered out into the corridor and shut the thick iron door.
“No!” I shouted, rattling the bars again. “Come back! Please! I need to talk to someone! Anyone!”
I waited, but the only response was silence.
Turning, I looked around the cell and scrunched my nose up as I started to notice a really foul smell. The cobbled floor was damp, with pools of water – and possibly other liquids – in various spots. The far wall had a large dark stain that I figured might well be blood, and the only window was a narrow letterbox shaped gap at the top of the wall to my left. There were scratches on all the walls, and it looked as if some previous prisoner had tried to mark time while he was in the cell. It was the most desolate place I'd ever seen in my life, and on top of all that it was also freezing cold.
“This can't really be happening,” I whispered, with tears in my eyes. “Somehow, this has to be some kind of sick joke.”
Chapter Four
Matthias
As I poured myself yet another glass of wine, I felt a shudder of nausea in my belly. I knew I'd already drunk more than enough, and in truth I just wanted to sleep. Yet sleep was an unwelcome option for me at that time, for I knew that the nightmares would return. Better to be drunk, even if – by that point – I hated the taste of anything. Even a good Chianti.
And I hate to wait.
Whatever was out there, it needed to become stronger so that I could find it.
“Matthias?”
Surprised by the interruption, I turned and saw the pathetic sight of Rimauld standing in the doorway.
“I'm sorry to bother you,” he continued, “but, well, one's turned up.”
“I don't need to feed tonight.”
“This one's fresh, though,” he countered. “Feed now, when you don't need to, and you won't have to worry for the rest of the week.”
He waited.
“I mean,” he added, “I could let it go, but that'd seem like such a waste.”
I opened my mouth to tell him to leave, but at the last moment I realized that there might be a hint of truth in his suggestion. Besides, as much as I hated the idea of leaving the house, I much preferred the taste of blood over wine, and I certainly needed the distraction. Plus, I knew that the blood would have the added benefit of sobering me up a little. The blood would make me stronger.
Chapter Five
Chloe
“Gah!”
My right foot slipped and I fell back, tumbling down from the window and landing hard on the cobbled floor. I banged my elbow hard, and as I sat up I realized that the situation was hopeless. Even if I managed to climb all the way up to the window, it wasn't as if I'd be able to crawl out. And something told me that nobody out there was likely to listen to my pleas for help.
Every so often I heard voices drifting in through the window, but they were all talking in German.
I'd been in the cell for hours by that point. I'd seen not a crack of daylight since I'd been put into the cell. I kept telling myself that there was no way anybody would leave a person to languish in such a rotten place overnight, but at the same time I was starting to think that maybe that was exactly what was going to happen.
In the distance, another loud boom filled the air, then another.
Bombs.
I could hear planes, too, and I figured that this must be an air raid. Every so often the explosions sounded closer, and I swear I'd felt the ground shudder beneath my feet.
I got to my feet and dusted myself down, but on this latest fall I'd managed to land in one of the larger puddles. I sniffed the sleeve of my shirt, and then I started to gag as I got a strong whiff of something that stank an awful lot like pee.
Suddenly I heard a key turning in a lock, and I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see a woman shuffling through from the corridor.
“Help me!” I gasped, hurrying over to the bars as I watched her coming toward me with a basket in her hands. “I'm trapped in here! You have to get me out!”
She looked at me briefly, with deep, soulful eyes, but then she set the basket down and it was clear that she was trying very hard t
o ignore me. She was young, about my age, and strikingly beautiful, and I watched as she took a chunk of dry-looking bread from the basket and slid it between the bars.
“What is that?” I asked frantically, trying not to panic. “Food? Are you trying to feed me?”
She looked at me again, almost apologetically, and then she took a metal cup from the basket and slid that through after the bread. There was water in the cup, although some had already spilled over the sides.
Another loud explosion boomed in the distance, shaking the cell.
“Please,” I continued, “I'm begging you. I need you to get help. I need you to call someone. Anyone! There's been a terrible mistake and I'm not supposed to be here! Can't you see that? There's been a terrible mistake.”
I waited for her to reply, but she meekly picked the basket up and hurried back to the main door.
“You have to help me!” I shouted, shaking the bars once again. “This isn't right! I need the bathroom! There's no toilet in here! You have to at least let me use the bathroom! It's inhumane to not let me use the bathroom!”
She turned and looked at me for a moment. And then, just as I thought she might be about to say something, she shut the door and turned the key in the lock.
“Come back!” I shouted. “You have to call someone! You have to get me out of here!”
Outside, the air raid continued.
Chapter Six
Matthias
“Right in there,” Rimauld remarked a short while later, once we'd taken a short walk to an old factory not too far from the house. “You can't miss her. She's the one whining on the floor.”
I took a step forward, into the cold darkness.
“Aren't you forgetting something?” Rimauld added.
Sighing, I reached into my pocket and took out some money, which I stuffed into his dirty little hands. As I did so, another bomb exploded in the distance. An air raid had begun earlier, bringing more misery to the city.
“I trust that you already gave the better specimen to my brother?” I asked.
“You know Hugo doesn't like being given them so easily,” he pointed out. “Hugo prefers the thrill of the hunt. The chase. He's probably out there now, following some poor soul. He doesn't like his meat tossed to him. He doesn't like it easy.”
I nodded.
He was right.
My brother and I were in some ways very different to one another. I drank blood because I needed it for strength, whereas Hugo was a huge fan of the pursuit. He loved the traditions of vampire life, the rituals, and for him the moment of feeding was the final part of a long process. He could be a little weird like that.
I turned to go through the doorway.
“Enjoy her,” Rimauld sniggered.
I hesitated for a moment, with my back to Rimauld. I had never felt the need to hide my disgust at this creature, and there had been many times when I wanted nothing more than to rip him apart. He had worked for my brother for as long as I could remember, and he seemed content to spend his time as a kind of parasite. I had never before met a vampire with such an appalling lack of dignity, and in truth I was angered by the thought that such a wretch could survive in the world. Still, killing him would have invited further conflict with my brother, so I knew that there was no point. And occasionally he could be useful.
“Get out of here,” I said finally, before slipping into the darkness.
“They say this raid is going to be a long one!” he called out.
“So?”
“Just thought I'd tell you.”
“You told me. Now leave.”
As soon as I was inside the factory, my senses were overcome and I forgot all about Rimauld. Instead, I was seized by an intoxicating need to find the shivering wreck that waited in the darkness. All lingering thoughts of pity were washed away by a riding tide of desire. I could not risk using any kind of light, since the streets were supposed to be empty, so I simply made my way slowly through the pitch-black room while listening out for the soft sniffling sound that I knew would be lurking somewhere in the dark.
And I could already sense her fear.
Even after just a few seconds, I knew that this specimen was indeed young, although she was certainly an adult. That was good; I preferred to not feed on children. I could smell fresh blood, which meant that she was injured, and above all I could pick up on her absolute terror. Had Rimauld told her about me? Did she know that I was more than just some common murderer?
A moment later I heard metal chains clanking, and I realized that Rimauld had properly secured her for my arrival.
“Who's there?” she gasped suddenly, her voice trembling with fear.
I stopped.
“Please don't hurt me,” she continued. “I just want to go home.”
“What is your name?” I asked.
I heard her let out a startled gasp.
“What is your name?” I asked again.
Why?
Why did her name matter?
“Helene,” she replied. “What... I mean, who are you? Have you come to help me?”
“In a manner of speaking,” I said, before stepping forward again. “Certainly your suffering is going to come to an end very soon.”
I was tantalisingly close now, just a few feet from my victim. The metal chains clanked again, and I could tell that poor, dear Helene was trying very hard to keep from panicking. Rimauld had filled me in with a few details along the way, enough for me to understand that Helene was a poor French woman who'd taken a wrong turn on her way home. She'd probably spent the past few years living in fear, following the invasion of Paris. Most likely, her life had been utterly miserable.
Realizing that I had reached her, I knelt down.
I heard the chains moving again.
She sensed me.
“Have you come to help me?” she whimpered again, and this time I could hear that she was crying. “Please, I just want to go home. My parents will be expecting me.”
It is good, I remember thinking, that she cannot see my face. That she cannot see my eyes when I am on the verge of feeding.
“Are you a good man?” she continued. “I'm sure you are, Sir. If you want something from me, then just take it but... Let me go after you're finished. I won't tell anyone, I promise.”
A fine offer.
Perhaps somebody else would have taken her up on it.
She was clearly a survivor, but she would not survive me.
I leaned closer, but at that moment I heard a loud bang in the distance, and the light of an explosion briefly lit the room through a shattered window. In that flash, I saw Helene's terrified eyes staring back at me, and she screamed just as darkness returned.
Then came more bombs.
The ground shook beneath us, and now the room was lit by an ever-changing orange glow that was cast by explosions across the city. I could hear the distant roar of British planes flying overhead, but my gaze was fixed solely on Helene as she sobbed and pulled herself back into the corner. It was as if she was trying to squeeze herself into the tightest spot possible, in the desperate hope that I would not notice her at all.
“No!” she cried as I moved closer. “What are you? Please, no!”
She turned her face away, but in so doing she merely succeeded in exposing the side of her neck. It was in this moment that I finally lost all self control, and I lunged at her in a lusty, bloodied frenzy. Bombs continued to fall outside as I tore Helene's throat open, and she struggled for several more minutes as I slowly drained the blood from her body into mine. It was a nasty, messy scene, but it was also necessary. There was nothing unnatural about the strong feeding upon the weak.
Chapter Seven
Chloe
I could hear more voices outside.
Bombs were still falling in the distance, and the temperature had plummeted. I was so cold, I was actually starting to shiver, and as I stared up at the moonlit window I could actually hear my teeth starting to chatter.
“H
ello?” I called out finally. “Is anyone there?”
The voices stopped.
“My name's Chloe Carter,” I continued, “and I'm trapped down here. Can somebody help me? I don't understand what's happening, but -”
Suddenly the voices started laughing. Big, deep belly laughs, as if they thought something was really funny.
“Do you understand me?” I shouted. “I'm British and I'm not supposed to be here!”
The laughter continued, and this time one of the voices started chuckling about something in German.
“I need help!” I yelled.
One of the voices shouted something, and the other voice continued to laugh. They sounded very excited about something, and a moment later I heard footsteps getting closer to the window.
“I need to get out of here!” I shouted. “I'm not -”
Before I could finish, I saw a hand at the window, and then something was pushed through. I watched as a small object dropped to the ground in front of me, and then to my horror the object twisted around and ran past my feet. I turned and watched as the creature scurried out between the bars, and I realized after a moment that it was a rat.
The voices were laughing again.
“That's not funny!” I shouted, turning to look back up at the window. “I'm not scared of rats, you know! I actually think they're kinda cute!”
I glanced around, just to make sure that the rat was nowhere nearby, and then I turned to the window again.
“I'm a British citizen!” I said firmly. “I demand to be put in touch with the embassy! Do you hear me? I demand that you respect my rights!”
Chapter Eight
Matthias
“Help!” a woman shouted in the street. “Help me!”
I glanced over my shoulder and saw that a shop was burning. The place had obviously taken a direct hit, and flames were roaring into the night sky. The air raid seemed to have ended, but fires had taken hold in several parts of the city and I could already hear the screams of people trapped nearby. I briefly considered going to help them, but of course I quickly realized that there was no point.